Post by DVS on Feb 8, 2015 4:45:46 GMT -5
The Adventures Of...
“Jesus, just look at this list...”
“Jesus, just look at this list...”
David's eyes scan up and down, pan back and forth. He's concerned and studies the medical bill. He and the Super Deviant are sitting in the bleachers of the Dungeon, a conditioning fortress attached to David's unbelievable Oregon homestead. Dan isn't dressed in all black today, and he isn't representing the Super Deviant. Today – Dan Van Slade resembles The Deviant, a truth-be-told get up from the torn blue jeans to the tattered black t-shirt with the arms cut-off that says in bold white: ' FUCKIN' DEVIOUS '. The only new addition to his attire? The WCF Hardcore Championship that he wears proudly, and tight, around his waist.
David's eyes continue to absorb the information gathered from the laundry list of injuries his client obtained from his match at WCF Payback. The agent, wearing a New England Patriots hoodie and beige slacks, tosses the papers behind him and passed the Deviant.
“Just out of curiosity,” David says as he ponders for a moment and scratches his chin, “did you by any chance realize the immense danger you put yourself through?” His question doesn't sit well with Dan, but the Deviant pushes himself forward and then sits on the bench next to his agent. He taps David on the leg.
“I understand what you're about to go through,” Dan responds, “I do. As a matter of fact – I thought about this well before I defeated Steve Orbit fair and square in Miami,” and then Dan leaps to his feet and beats his chest. “David,” Dan continues with a deep inhale followed with a complimenting exhale, “do your eyes see what's wrapped around the Deviant's waist?” Dan looks at his WCF Hardcore Championship and smacks it three times. “Hard as FUCK, David,” Dan says, “that's hard as FUCK,” and then he begins to buff parts of the belt with the palm of his hand.
“Winning that championship put your career on the line,” David continues, but his eyes study the belt. “I'm happy for you, but I think it's time that we start taking some of this into consideration...” and the agent is cut off.
“Do I need to get a new manager?” Dan stares off into the distance. His interruption leaves David speechless. Dan slowly looks at his agent who is still sitting beside him. “You've gotten this far, so – why would you want to poke at that?” Then comes the passion. “So – so I took a few chair shots. Big deal! It's going to happen. It's going to happen all the time. I can't care about that crap. Long story short – whatever doesn't kill me makes the Deviant a mother fuckin' beast,” he slaps his chest. The sound echoes throughout the gymnasium. “We can go on-and-on about all the wild shit I went through at Payback, but I'm not going to dwell on a few bruises and a couple of scrapes. I'm moving on, David,” and the Deviant sits down. “It's time to move on,” he places his hand on David's shoulder. “I gotta move on...” he stares off into the distance.
“Well...” David briefly pauses, “I don't think it's necessary to replace me. Not yet. There may come a time when my duty is done, but my gut feeling tells me my mission isn't over, yet,” David stops and turns to his client. “Just keep doing what you're doing. I'm sure that's what Percy would say. Just keep beatin' ass and takin' quite a few names. It's your time, and I'm proud to be a part of it.”
“Aw,” Dan responds, “that's...” and his chin briefly quivvers, “that's...all that you have to say?” Dan blankly stares at this agent.
“Um,” David blankly looks at Dan, “...what?”
“Your client just defeated Steve Orbit, bro, and that's the only thing that you have to say?” Dan questions, but gives no time for David to respond. “Look, man, I understand that my life is at risk. I understand everything. I think there's a general consensus that states I know what I'm doing. Fuck, David, you'd think that you've never been my agent. Fuck you, guy. Fact of the matter is this – I beat The Mack. The motherfuckin Pimp has been slayed. Ding dong – the pimp is DEAD. Dude walked right out of Payback holdin' hands with Johnny Fly. He passed the torch getting a fuckin' beat down from yours truly, and then he went to have a microwaved frozen dinner in the land where wrestlers go to die. Have fun with Fly! Tell'em I said Hi! I'm so happy I could cry! This rhyme no lie!”
“Yes, you definitely defeated Steve Orbit,” David retorts. “Not only did you defeat Steve Orbit, but you may have been associated with the ending of Maelstrom's career,” and then David pauses and begins to draw the picture with his hands, “the future forcast,” he goes on, “shows that the Hellstorm has been dissolved and better weather is on the horizon...”
“Nah,” Dan continues and looks at David, “as much as I'd like to say that's true – the cold front hasn't ended. The Ice Age is still the present I'm living in. I'm not necessarily cool with that because I keep getting this strange sensation that the Hell I live in has frozen over. I'd be a fuckin' asshole not to bring the flame and melt away all the shenanigans,” Dan looks away for a moment, “but I'll end the Vapor Kings one King at a time until he has nothing left. Not like he really needed Steve Orbit, or Buddy Roman, or...well...anybody. He's independently strong, and he has resources; resources that I need to cut-off. So, that's what I'm going to do. I know what my next step will be. It may take time, but I'll play a very big role in deciding the fate of the Vapor Kings, and the World Heavyweight Champion,” He looks at David. “So, that's where I stand. This shit isn't over until I say it's over simply through the re-distribution of my boot up quite a select few asses. So, fuck you all.” Dan tilts his head and smirks. David takes a deep breath.
“Well, you've got quite a bit going for you at this moment,” and then David pauses to watch his client stand. Dan begins to unbutton the WCF Hardcore Championship, removes it from his waist, and then raises it above is head with one hand. He looks around the gymnasium, and then closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath. Exhale. His eyes pop open, and his arm slowly descends. He turns his attention to his agent and tosses the belt over his right shoulder. He sits down.
“I've got everything going for me right now,” Dan calmly states, “and I'm not going to let it slip through my fingers. I know what I am, who I am, and the talent that I've got. There's not a single person in this company capable of deducing me into any shape or form. I suppose one could attempt to swat at me with a few verbal ass-kicking's, but it's not a verbal homicide, and it most certainly won't be the end of the motherfuckin' Deviant, son,” and then Dan stands to step down onto the hardwood floor. He spins around and reaches over to tap the face plate of the championship. “I'm about to become the most dedicated, hard-nosed, brutal motherfucker this company has ever seen. Doubt me? You'll see what happens. I've got a lot of doubters out there. There's a lot of people who want to see fresh meat attempt to pound their way passed a God damned conditioned career-killin' machine! Fuck'em. Dirt off these muscular shoulders of mine. I've got a fuckin' Leo Tolstoy novel full of problems, and all my haters aint even characters.”
“Hell of a version to 99 problems,” David says with a smile.
“Well, it's true,” Dan continues, “because I can't do 99 problems. I've got far too many. Personal issues, family problems, financial issues, friend problems, work related issues, relationship troubles – you name it and there's about a hundred things within that make my life a fuckin' Hell. But,” and Dan walks forward, places his right foot on the bench, and leans forward to whisper, “I don't fuckin' give a shit!” He says lightly as he steps off the bench and turns around. His back is to David.
“And, well, that's what makes you a superhero...” David sarcastically responds as Dan's eyes widen. The Deviant is stunned at first, but then cracks his neck slowly to the right, and then the left. He grins with a guffaw.
“No,” Dan says, “this is what makes me human. No more crap. I've got this shit raw, and that's about all there is to it. Bring the motherfuckin' cavalry and don't come light with the artillery. I'm packin' some fuckin' Apocalyptic shit and I'm more than willing to cause you some deep grief. I'm just a pain in the ass, and everybody's gonna have to deal with,” he looks over to the hardcore title resting on his shoulder. He taps the face plate once more. Dan closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then howls for the moon. “WOOOOOOOO!” Dan shouts out loud. David's eyes widen as Dan's eyes pop open. A most devious grin. Dan walks away.
“DUB-CEE-EFF...” Dan's voice is beginning to travel further, but it's still got an echo to it, “HARDCORE FUCKIN' CHAMPION BABY...YEAH!...WOOOOOOOOOO! THIS MOTHERFUCKER...” and he walks to the far double door exit. Dan bursts through the push bars and the doors swing open. “FUCK YES!” He screams as he exits the Dungeon. David, amazed, slowly shakes his head and continues to silently watch.
The Adventures of...
“Soy...Dan Van Slade...” The Deviant says as he sits at a desk with a pair of headphones wrapped around his ears. “Me gusto...queso...mucho,” he continues as he slowly bobs his head back-and-forth. A door opens. David enters the room, a guest room somewhere deep within his Oregon homestead. Sitting in the corner with is feet propped on an antique desk is the Deviant, and the Agent confronts him by removing his headphones.
“Te...gusto...” a voice can softly be heard transmitting from the headphone speakers. Dan's legs drop off the table. He spins the desk chair around and faces David. He glares and seems confused.
“Um, disculpeme,” the Deviant says with sarcasm, “but I'm trying to learn a little Spanish here, ya asshole...” and he snatches the headphones from David's grasp.
“Spanish?” David questions. “You're learning Spanish?” David looks at his client and seems amazed. “Why are you learning...SPANISH?” David throws up his arms and begins to walk toward the door.
“That'd be because of El Taimado...” Dan states as David stops in his tracks. The Agent peers over his shoulder and is estranged. “That's right,” Dan continues with a smirk, “this is all because of El Taimado...” Dan begins to rub his hands together.
“Did you say...” David says, but he pauses and ponders as he turns to face the Deviant.
“Yeessss...” Dan responds as David looks at his client with one perked eyebrow and a deep, blank stare. “That's right, ya motherfucker, it's time...”
“No...” David responds. His face is still blank. One raised brow. “No...not El Taimado...” David fearfully continues. Dan begins to laugh. Hysterically. It instantly ends with a serious staredown.
“That's right, El Taimado,” Dan says as he stands. He places his right hand in the front of his pants and digs. He's focused and determined to complete some sort of action as his hand surfs through the innards of his crotch as he bypasses his shlong until he removes a mask from his pants. “Ah-HA!” He shouts. “I knew I had this baby hidin' somewhere,” and he smiles at David, “after a few national and international flights – you tend to learn how to shove shit where it don't belong.”
“Jesus Fuckin' Christ, Dan...” David becomes a tad dramatic, “...are you seriously about to do this? Really? El Taimado? Some stupid fuckin' childhood backyard wrestling gimmick...?” David shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head. He rolls his eyes.
“Whoa,” Dan responds, “WHOA!” He shouts as his eyes widen and he takes a step back. Dan keeps his eyes on David as he side-steps a few feet to the bed and retrieves the WCF Hardcore Championship lying on the wonderfully embroidered comforter. He immediately whips the title around his waist and begins to button it. He takes his time, snapping each button like the crack of the spine that creates a flashback, and feels the comfort in gold and leather wrapped around his waist. He closes his eyes as the last buttons are in place, and he takes a deep breath. His eyes snap open. “Did you just call El Taimado a fuckin' childhood backyard wrestling gimmick?” Dan does his best impression of DeNiro in...any movie. “I know you aint talkin' to me,” and he flicks his hand under his chin, “YOU AINT TALKIN' TO ME, PAL!”
“Whatever...” David responds. “If you want to act like a luchadore...then be a fuckin' luchadore.” and then he turns around and walks toward the door, “I've had enough of this bullshit. But, you do what you gotta do to survive,” and he pauses by the door, “I'm gonna go drink an entire bottle of Jagermeister,” but Dan interrupts David's mission.
“No,” Dan states, “you can't go!” He exclaims as David raises an eyebrow. “I must show you what I've been working on...” and Dan retrieves a piece of graph paper from the desk. He hands the paper to David as the Agent slowly confronts his client with intrigue. The figure drawn on the graph paper is a wrestling ring. Surrounding the ring is three stories of scaffolding. There's one store of scaffolding inside the ring, and just beyond the ropes. Every level of scaffolding outside of the ring has labels: 'Muay Thai Level', 'Chair', 'Barbed Wire', 'Tack Hell', 'Light Tube Death', etc. There's a note that reads: 'In-ring scaffolding has a ready-to-be assembled table on top.' David smirks and smiles.
“What the Hell is it?” David asks. He continues to study it.
“It's the El Taimado Deathmatch,” Dan responds. “Scaffolding fuckin' Hell, my friend. Levels and levels of ultimate destruction. Could two men pull it off? I'm certain of it. I plan on it. It's something that I'd eventually invest my savings in. I'll bury my opponent, and not like I don't already, but it'll be the defying leap in the oppositions fall from grace that eventually continues my ascension to the very tippy-top of this God forsaken promotion,” and Dan retrieves the graph paper from David's grasp with enough finesse that it doesn't tear. The Agent is curious.
“So, tell me,” David says, “are you sayin' that you're not going to take any sort of beatin' in a match like this?” But the agent's question is instantly met with Dan's laughter.
“Are you serious?” Dan chuckles to himself. “I plan to get my fuckin' ass kicked ALL OVER THIS MATCH!” He shouts. “EL TAIMADO!” He points his finger to the sky and then looks back at a shocked Agent. “I'm not the hardcore champion because I beat the fuck out of people with weapons...I'm the hardcore champion because people beat the fuck out of ME with weapons,” and he slams his fist against his chest three times. “The most hardcore mother fucker in the land!” He shouts.
“You're out of your God damned mind,” David says.
“WOOOOOOOOO!” Dan screams. He leans forward and smiles in David's face. “YOU BETTER GOD DAMN BELIEVE IT!” And then he steps back. “But, on a serious note,” Dan's demeanor changes and his Agent is dumbfounded, “I don't care who steps in that Hell with me. Any man worthy enough to have the balls to step into that ring with me, surrounded by scaffolding, with the possibility of this being their last match, is destined to takes my knuckles. They taste like fuckin' victory, by the way. They'll be seein' my knuckles on every menu, and sign. It'll haunt them. I challenge anybody. Scarecrow, after I beat you – you're more than welcome to take the challenge. I know you'll pussy out, but that's because you're a pussy. Farce. False champion. The people? Ha. Fuck you. Miles of cornfields. Go find yourself one and get shit on by some crows. WOOOOOOO!” Dan shouts once again.
“He's one of the top performers in the WCF,” David states. “I'd suggest you spend your time in the gym, and not doodling fantasy hardcore matches...”
“Fantasy...?” Dan repeats some of David's words to himself. “...Doodling...” he looks angry with his Agent, “C'mon, David, wake the fuck up! I AM training! Every single day I'm training. What do you think this is?” Dan retrieves a copy of the Rosetta Stone dedicated to learning Spanish.
“I know what that is,” David says with irritation.
“That's right,” Dan continues, “this is some hardcore fuckin' dedication to the game, son!” He tosses the case onto the bed. “I'm teachin' myself SPANISH, man! I'm creating matches that'll SHOOT me to the TOP! I don't need the gym to help me succeed against the Scarecrow, you fuck-nugget. All I need is a little boost from El Taimado...and WHAMMO!” He slaps his hands together as David takes a step back. “I'll be watchin' the People's Champion burn in the ring come Slamday...”
A young Hispanic man walks into the room holding a vase of wonderfully arranged flowers. He's also carrying a brown paper bag. David's face lights up as if he's smelled something wretched.
“Oh my GOD!” David yells as he covers his nose. “What the Hell is that smell?”
“No, that's not Hidalgo that you smell,” Dan says as the young Hispanic man stops in front of the Deviant. “David, this is Hidalgo,” Dan introduces his Agent to the man. “Hidalgo is my Spanish Teacher, and...your new assistant!” Dan smiles and then looks at what Hidalgo has brought him.
“My...new assistant? But, I don't need an assistant...” David is confused, and flabbergasted.
“Hidalgo, I need you to send these flowers to Buddy Roman's dressing room on Sunday, OK?” Dan looks at Hidalgo and nods. “I also need you to take that brown paper bag to the Scarecrow's dressing room, place it on the floor in front of the door, light the bag of dog shit on fire, knock, and then run. Be sure that you hide somewhere close by so that you can watch that fuckin' idiot try to stamper on a flaming bag of dog shit!” Dan and Hidalgo share a laugh. Dan stops. “Hidalgo,” Dan says, “who's the most hardcore motherfucker in all the land?”
“Well, sir, that'd be you,” Hidalgo wisely answers without hesitation.
“Muchas gracias, Hidalgo,” Dan responds.
“De nada, sir,” Hidalgo says as he turns around and walks passed David to exit the room.
“He's a fuckin' God send,” Dan says as Hidalgo leaves.
“I don't need an assistant,” David continues.
“Get real,” Dan retorts, “we don't need anything, really. All we need is for me to continue winning, and that doesn't stop Sunday night against the Scarecrow. I'm ready to tear that asshole limb-from-limb and show the world that's the point has been proven and ground has been laid. Not a single motherfucker in this business is going to handle me. Nobody,” and then Dan and David are interrupted by the cawing of a crow as it lands on the window sill nearby.
“Um, holy shit,” David says. He watches Dan slowly confront the crow as it hops back and forth. The crow caws loudly, but Dan doesn't hesitate and continues toward it. Dan reaches forward and snatches the crow as it begins to fly away. The wings flap, and flutter. Dan holds the crow in his hands as it continues to caw. Then – Percy runs from around around the corner and into the room.
“I thought I heard a – holy shit,” Percy says as he watches Dan with a crow in his grasp. The bird continues to caw, and attempts to fight his way from Dan's vice grip.
“Motherfucker,” Dan says, “do you see this shit?” Dan questions as the bird continues to fight him. “This is a motherfuckin' crow, guys...” and Dan looks at the bird as it continues to squirm, and wiggle. “Wanna see what I'm gonna do to the Scarecrow on Sunday?” He smiles wide and then instantly grabs the crow by the head. He twists, tugs, and tears the head from the body.
“WHAT THE FUCK!” David shouts as he and Percy watch their client walk to the window and lean outside. Dan tosses the crow's headless body to the grass below.
“DO YOU THINK YOU CAN SCARE ME, BITCH!” Dan shouts out the window as he waves the crow's head in his hand. “YOU AINT GOT NOTHIN' ON ME, MOTHERFUCKER!” He continues. “THE MOST HARDCORE MOTHERFUCKER IN THE LAND! DAN VAN SLADE! EL TAIMADO!”
The Adventures of...
A far away plane. Stars. Stars everywhere. Blackness. A few flickers in the distance. Dan Van Slade finds himself aimlessly walking the plane to nowhere. Or, is it somewhere? It's the greatest torture of all. The Deviant continues to walk toward the WCF Hardcore Championship, and although it takes a few slides toward the Deviant, it seems to get further the closer he gets to it. He stops. The title is gone.
A man in a black suit walks toward him. His hands are tucked into the pants pockets. The sounds of his black loafers tap against the invisible plane. Dan tilts his head as the gentlemen confronts him. It's Rod Sterling, with his black hair combed to the side.
“Hello, Dan,” Sterling says. The Deviant takes a deep breath and blinks twice. Yes, Rod Sterling stands before him. “I'm certain you're not a bit unfamiliar with this,” Sterling continues, “you see...this is what you call a dream,” and he examines the surroundings. “You're being guided through nothingness – a vast landscape filled with voids. Somehow,” and he looks back at Dan, “somehow our paths cross, and that's because the Universe allowed it...”
“Rod,” Dan looks at the former narrator of the hit television series 'The Twilight Zone', “how come you betrayed me?” The Deviant's brow slowly lowers. “The Universe wanted our paths to cross, yes. But, that's because it wanted to see me DESTROY YOU...” and the Deviant raises his fists. Rod Sterling takes a few steps back and unbuttons his sports coat with sophistication.
Suddenly, gongs chime.
“Test your might,” says a deep, dark voice. The Mortal Kombat theme begins.
The plane transitions into the Kombat Tomb from the hit video game Mortal Kombat II. Rod Sterling removes his sports jacket as Dan Van Slade takes a deep breathe. Then – Rod begins to rip the tie from around his neck, and tears open his white button-up. The Deviant looks mesmerized as he watches Rod transform! Rod's face morphs, the nose extends, and his teeth shatter as large fangs begin to grow from his gums. His fingernails form deadly sharp talons. Hair growing uncanny. Rod Sterling is becoming...THE WOLFMAN. The Deviant snarls, and puts up his fists. He glares.
“This can't be,” his says, albeit nonchalantly, “why...you're just a bitch-ass Twilight Zone narrator...”
Wolfman Rod Sterling takes a step forward, now fully transformed into a blood thirsty, flesh craving, monster of the night. He let's out an deafening roar and leaves the white button up a tattered garment wrapping it's hairy exterior. His black pants destroyed by his enlarged, immensely muscular legs. Dan takes a step back and looks sour. He wafts something away from his face.
“Pee-YOU!” Dan shouts. “This motherfucker needs a tick-tack...”
Charge. The Rod Sterling Wolf Creature tramples toward the Deviant. But, the creature of the night slides on a dime as he begins to witness the Deviant's reciprocated transformation.
“What?” The Deviant says as his voice grows deep, and his chest begins to bulge out. “I can't play this game too?” The Deviant's shoulder's explode. His biceps enormous. Veins bulging from every angle. “Listen, motherfucker – you betrayed me for some punk-ass wannabe,” his voice is now dark, deep, and he stands taller, stronger, than the Wolfman, “and I aint cool with that.” His hands all of a sudden begin to shimmer, as silver begins to overtake his epidermis. “Wanna know what fucks up a Wolfman?” And he begins to hold up his right arm as it wraps in silver. “STERLING silver, BITCH!”
The Wolfman weeps for a moment as it begins to slowly walk away from the Deviant. The Uber Deviant removes a mask from his trousers.
“Have you met El Taimado?” Uber Dan asks as the Wolfman stops, and then peers over his shoulder. “That's right, El Taimado. The myth. The legend. DAN THE FUCKIN' MAN,” and he holds the mask up for the Wolf to view. It's nothing grandiose, it's a luchadore wrestling mask with the top cut off and a hole for the mouth. It's black and white with a red tipped nose. “I'm going to put this mask on in a moment,” Dan continues to speak as his sterling silver hands grip the mask, “and then I'm going to uppercut you into the spiked ceiling and watch you hang like a fuckin' victory chandelier. But, before that,” and the Wolfman turns around to listen to the Uber Deviant, “before I decide your fate – I feel it's justifiably necessary that I tell you why you're on trial here, within the Kombat Tomb. First – I will get you, and if it's not in real life – you'll die in a dream. Your nightmare. I will find you in the present, and after life. I won't let it go. Third - You played with the Scarecrow, and I don't like that. So, I've summoned El Taimado, and with that being said...I want you to try to narrate your death, you MOTHERFUCKER!”
The Uber Deviant puts on the Luchadore mask. He clenches his muscles, and veins portrude through his metallic epidermis. He lets out an enraged roar as he then slams his fists against the ground and heavily tramples toward the Wolfman. He lunges forward and grabs the animal by the face and immediately launches it toward the spiked ceiling with ease. The Wolfman yelps as it's body is impaled through several pikes above. The animal weeps for a moment, until it slowly begins to reform into Rod Sterling. Doing this causes the animal to become smaller, and therefore his limbs are torn apart as his body retracts. The Uber Deviant watches from below, and then snickers.
“That's what happens when you fuck with me,” The Uber Deviant states as blood trickles down. “Go ahead and envy me. See what happens. ENVY GETS YOU NOWHERE, SCARECROW. No...where. I've got you, bitch. Show me the passion. SHOW ME WHAT YOU'VE GOT! LEMME JUST PIN YOU NOW AND GET THIS OVER WITH...”
A drop of Rod Sterling's blood taps against the floor. David, Dan Van Slade's agent, suddenly begins to grow like a plant from the tiny spatter. The Uber Deviant looks down and sees his Agent growing from the blood.
“Dan,” David says.
“Yes?” The Uber Deviant looks confused as David stands before him in the Kombat Tomb.
“Dan,” David says again.
“What?” The Uber Deviant responds.
“Wake the fuck up, Dan,” David says.
The Adventures Of...
Editor's Note: I'm quite certain that my client's disposition in the following transcript was enhanced due to his drug addiction. There's a slight possibility that he was also drinking. I don't advocate any of this with anybody, and considering I'm a career counselor – I don't condone it as a drive for your career choice. No person should, beyond their right mind, use this as a source of inspiration.
P.L.
2/2/15
Transcript
Session #0300 | Client: The Deviant, Dan Van Slade | 023 | February 2, 2015
From the office of Dr. Perciful Lee
Session #0300 | Client: The Deviant, Dan Van Slade | 023 | February 2, 2015
From the office of Dr. Perciful Lee
Perciful Lee: “So, you're no longer a super hero?”
Dan Van Slade: “Oh, I'll always be a hero, Percy. There's no denying it. I'm heroic in all aspects of the game. There's so many people that envy me. They want to be me. They want to be that guy. That fuckin' dude that took Steve Orbit to the promise land. They want to be that guy that says to himself-he says: 'I'm gonna end Maelstrom's career'; and do just that. So, basically, they want to be me. They're gonna come after me from all angles. They want what I got. I'm just gonna be the same motherfucker that I've always been – and I'm gonna skull-fuck'em. I'm a God damned hero, man, but I'll always be the Deviant. I don't need that foolish bullshit to get me to the Icey-cold peak so that I can spear my fuckin' flag into it. I'm comin' at these bitches with the heart of a million professional wrestlers and the wit of a motherfuckin' genius. I'm just gonna sit back and watch those assholes fight over who gets to lose next. Like butter, baby. On a roll.”
Perciful Lee: “I don't really see why you need me anymore. You seem to have come to peace with your career choice. My job is done.”
Dan Van Slade: “But, I like talking to you. I like that your this little fat fuck who gets paid to give the future World Heavyweight Champion a little boost in the tush every now and then. Plus, you're like...my biggest fan, and we don't come by those much these days...”
Perciful Lee: “Yes, I think you're an amazing wrestler. However, I don't necessarily believe in what you stand for. You're a horrible person. You only think about yourself. You have no morals, or ethics. You live in a world where only Dan Van Slade exists. You don't care about anything. You don't believe in anything. You have no goals but to be the next WCF World Heavyweight Champion. You're a fucking Apocalypse. The true end of the human being. You've got nothing good to say, ever. But, you're excellent in the ring. What can I say? You're definitely it in the wrestling world.”
Dan Van Slade: “Honestly – I feel like everywhere I go people just see this badass motherfucker standing around stroking his big ass dick like he's got nothing to lose. Not that I don't often do that, but I don't want that to be that guy who talks-alotta-talk but can't give-in to a performance. I'm all about priming my ability to break your fuckin' jaw with a single strike, and break your vertebrae with one brutal thrust of my iron knee. I'm not just gonna stand here with my dick in my hand all day. I got a lot of dream shatterin' to do. I just don't give a fuck, Percy. So, yes. End of fuckin' days, guy. End of days, and there I am with my fuckin' pecker in my hand...”
Perciful Lee: “Well, alright.”
Dan Van Slade: “Yeah. What were we talkin' about again?”
Perciful Lee: “Well, most of that had to do with you not being a super hero anymore.”
Dan Van Slade: “But, I am a super hero.”
Perciful Lee: “Well, OK.”
Dan Van Slade: “I just don't have to act like one anymore. Now, now – I'm the most righteous motherfucker in the hardcore scene. I'm the Hardcore Deviant. El Taimado.”
Perciful Lee: “What about a tomato?”
Dan Van Slade: “El Taimado. Spanish. The Deviant. It's my Lucha Libre wrestler. I plan to eventually reside in Mexico and train with Luchadors, but I'm holding out until I win the WCF World Heavyweight Championship. I've summoned El Taimado, my Lucha Libre spirit, to reside in me for the upcoming months.”
Perciful Lee: “That's interesting.”
Dan Van Slade: “Isn't it? And, see, to think – you thought your job was done here.”
Perciful Lee: “Well, considering your taking your career into a whole new level of weird is something that intrigues me.”
Dan Van Slade: “Weird? There's nothing weird about channeling your inner-Lucha Libre. Would you like to see the mask that El Taimado wears?”
Perciful Lee: “Wait. Mask?”
Dan Van Slade: “Yes, I've had a mask created for El Taimado.”
Perciful Lee: “El Taimado exists?”
Dan Van Slade: “I'm El Taimado. Or, SOY El Taimado.”
Perciful Lee: “What.”
Dan Van Slade: “The Lucha Spirit of Deviance. El Taimado. Number one wrestling superstar in all the land. The motherfuckin' legend. Here, let me put on the mask...”
Perciful Lee: “It's...”
Dan Van Slade: “Fuckin' sweet, right?”
Perciful Lee: “It's definitely...something...”
Dan Van Slade: “Let me put it to you this way – I've been training these last few days. I'm clearly disregarding that I'm so fresh from an ass-kicking that I should be in the hospital, but who gives a shit – am I right? During my training I've been focusing on the art of the Lucha. I'm doin' a lot of flips'n'shit, and I've got this bad-ass Mexico City mat-technician teaching me the fundamentals of the freelance wrestler. There will be monkey flips, and you better damn well believe that I'm not going stop until I land a Sunset Flip on your face. El motherfuckin' TAIMADO!”
Perciful Lee: “I'll be honest, Dan, but it sounds like you're saying El Tomato.”
Dan Van Slade: “Fucketh be unto you, yee silly fuckin' bastard! 'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade, THE WCF Hardcore Champion. THE best thing that's happened to this company since it started servin' Natty ICE. Don't judge a book by it's awesome fuckin' cover, brother. I'm telling you right now, and I'm telling the entire world – El Taimado is the bee's God damn knees. EL TAIMADO!”
Perciful Lee: “I'm just enthralled with the mask. Why does it make you look like a clown? I originally thought it was a clown mask, but no – this isn't just a clown mask.”
Dan Van Slade: “You callin' El Taimado a clown?”
Perciful Lee: “No?”
Dan Van Slade: “You callin' Dan Van Slade a clown?”
Perciful Lee: “Not at all...”
Dan Van Slade: “There no clowns here, brother. I'd say I'm 100% unadulterated athleticism, but now that I'm the most hardcore motherfucker in all the land – I'm not as pure as I once was. However, I'm the greatest Son of a Bitch you'll ever see stand in the ring. You won't be let down when I go face-to-face with giants and tear them limb-from-limb with ease. The legend is here. EL TAIMADO!”
Perciful Lee: “So, El Taimado is your new character in the WCF? I thought you were doing fine with the Super Hero character?”
Dan Van Slade: “Don't fuck with me right now. I have no idea what you're talking about. Right now – the only thing I've got on my mind is defeating the next rotten pile of pig turds they put in the ring against me; defending this hardcore championship and making a statement; and gleefully demolishing the Vapor King stronghold. I'd love to see Buddy Roman choke on one of ZMAC's nuts. I'd pay to see that. EL TAIMADO!”
Perciful Lee: “OK, I think I get it.”
Dan Van Slade: “Get? What is there to get? It's cut-and-fuckin'-dry. Check-it: I'm training in the art of Lucha Libre. I'm going to channel my inner-fuckin' Spanish Deviant – THE SPIRIT – and, I'm going to rock the motherfuckin' world with yet another astonishing character straight from the guide written by yours truly – Dan Van MOTHERFUCKIN' Slade. EL TAIMADO!”
Perciful Lee: “OK. So, do you know who your next opponent is?”
Dan Van Slade: “Right. Yes. I do. As a matter of fact – I planned on getting to him next, but right now my mind keeps falling back on another subject. Am I losing sleep over this? No, but should I finally say something? Yes. Maelstrom. Oh, you fuckin' asshole. Let me put this to you in a language you'll clearly understand – never, ever, will you be capable of defeating Dan Van Slade. Not then, not now, and not ever. I'll give you the opportunity to have AS MANY re-matches as possible. Granted – I'm more than willing to beat the fuckin' shit out of you any day of the week. However, whenever you're ready to prove you're better than you were – please, do knock. I'll be more than happy to whip the door open and knee you in the fuckin' eye. EL TAIMADO!”
Perciful Lee: “Tell me more about El Taimado. What's his story?”
Dan Van Slade: “The most hardcore motherfucker of all the land. El Taimado, Dan Van Slade, that's all there is to know. It's time to get real serious, and I'm about to come at you with a Greg Maddux-esque breaking ball that sends you to the bench with that cute little K and few tears. I'm about to blow all you fuckers away with this shit. I've got this. Don't you worry. Pop, lock and drop that shit. EL TAIMADO!”
Perciful Lee: “Alright. I can dig that.”
Dan Van Slade: “Good, because I was about to smack you in the head with one of your books by Albert Camus.”
Perciful Lee: “It's pronounced KAY-MOO...”
Dan Van Slade: “It's pronounced 'WHOGIVESAFUCK'...”
Perciful Lee: “Right.”
Dan Van Slade: “So, what's your take on the Rebel?”
Perciful Lee: “I'm not much a fan of Camus, really. So, my analysis isn't anything special.”
Dan Van Slade: “Why'd you read it?”
Perciful Lee: “Another client left it here by mistake. It's not my copy. I've read it, though. I'm much more into Kierkegaard, and Hegel. I'm really starting to enjoy Sartre, too. Interesting stuff. You should read them.”
Dan Van Slade: “What client do you have that's reading 'The Rebel' by Albert Camus?”
Perciful Lee: “That's confidential.”
Dan Van Slade: “Well then fuck you too, Jeez...I can see that we're still just patient-doctor and shit. I hate calling myself a patient. Really? Am I sick? I'm just looking for some career advice. That shit shouldn't be a hazard...”
Perciful Lee: “You're not a patient. You're a client.”
Dan Van Slade: “You're damn right I am. The most bad ass hardcore client in the land! EL TAIMADO!”
Perciful Lee: “El Taimado!”
Dan Van Slade: “That's some fuckin' weak sauce, Doc. Get your doctorate from Suck Alotta U? C'mon, pansy. SAY IT WITH SOME FUCKIN' MEANIN'! SAY IT LIKE YOU FUCKIN' KNOW THAT I'M THE GOD DAMNED MAN!”
Perciful Lee: “ELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL TAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAII-MOTHERFUCKING-MAAAAAAAAADOOOOOOOOOO!”
Dan Van Slade: “Well, fuck, I didn't necessarily expect that.”
Perciful Lee: “Left field. Sorry about that.”
Dan Van Slade: “No – no – that was perfectly OK. Sub par in the ring announcer category, but that was OK. I'm down with that. Down like syndrome. That was...retarded awesome. I have the best career counselor EVER.
Perciful Lee: “Ok, ok – the book is David's.”
Dan Van Slade: “Wait, David comes to you for career advice?”
Perciful Lee: “Yes.”
Dan Van Slade: “No fuckin' way, brother. That's AWESOME.”
Perciful Lee: “Dan – who do you think advised you to come see me?”
Dan Van Slade: “David.”
Perciful Lee: “....”
Dan Van Slade: “OH...yes...OK, I get it now.”
Perciful Lee: “David's been seeing me for almost a decade.”
Dan Van Slade: “Wait...does that mean...”
Perciful Lee: “...”
Dan Van Slade: “...Ohhhhh...that sly little motherfucker. You've been pretty much telling him how to spend his money...you're the motherfuckin' mastermind behind ME! Percy...DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?”
Perciful Lee: “What can I say?”
Dan Van Slade: “SAAAAYYYYYY IIIIITTTTTTT....”
Perciful Lee: “EL TAIMADO!”
Dan Van Slade: “EL TAIMADO!”
Perciful Lee: “NUMBER ONE HARDCORE MOTHERFUCKER IN ALL THE LAND!”
Dan Van Slade: “Oh, you wanted to keep going...”
The Adventures of ...EL TAIMADO!
“OK, KIDS! YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS!?” Shouts 'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade, as he's masked to fit his persona. His black curly locks flow from the opening atop the El Taimado wrestling mask. His fresh beard puffs out of the opening for his mouth. A red dab of paint covers the nose. He's proudly wearing a large gold chain necklace with brass knuckles hanging from it. His WCF Hardcore Championship is wrapped around his waist.
Several children sit Indian style in a small circle. Many of them yell, and shout. There are many 'YAYS!' throughout. Suddenly, in unison, they shout with El Taimado.
“IT'S TORNILLO PERRA TIME!” Everybody shouts inside the Dungeon, the fitness complex on David's luxurious and cliché Oregon homestead.
“That's right,” El Taimado responds as he walks back-and-forth with his hands behind his back. “It's time to do a little verbal ass-kickin' in the form of a story; and – children – WHAT DO WE LOVE?” El Taimado shouts, and he extends his arms to embrace their responses.
“STORY TIME!” The children shout as El Taimado begins to laugh to himself. The champ pats his belly.
“OH! HO! HO!” El Taimado's bubbly laughter reverberates in the children as they all become tickled by the host's glee. Everyone begins to laugh themselves into a shock for a brief moment until El Taimado calms them down. He composes himself. Everybody's calm. A young boy raises his hand.
“I pee'd,” the young boy bashfully shouts as some of the children suddenly turn to him and begin to laugh hysterically. El Taimado begins to laugh. Everybody is once again laughing. The entire crowd is sucked in by the contagious laughter and it becomes uncontrollable.
“ALRIGHT!” El Taimado shouts as he stops, takes a deep breath to catch up, and watches the crowd calm down. More children begin to raise their hands. “What?” El Taimado seems angry. “Did you all pee yourselves too?” He asks as the children answer simultaneously.
“I pooped.”
“Pee'd.”
“Dookied.”
“I farted.”
The responses come from several directions as El Taimado attempts to figure out where. He stops his search and slowly shakes his head.
“It's OK,” El Taimado says. “We all poop and pee,” he continues, “take it like a man, deal with it, because aint not a single one of you little bastards leavin' this story until it's over,” El Taimado displays a sadistic grin. David enters the picture. He taps El Taimado on the shoulder and the masked deviant spins to face his Agent. “What?”
“You can't let little kids sit in their urine and feces, Dan,” David continues. “That's fucked up and really terrible P.R.,” he continues.
“Really?” El Taimado says. “Fuck, well, OK,” and he turns to the kids. “Under certain circumstances this masked asshole did not forsee – those of you who have soiled themselves are dismissed from story time to retrieve new articles of clothing. It has been relayed to me,” El Taimado turns to David and winks underneath the mask, “that you will all be given the new El Taimado T-Shirts thanks to my unbelievable Agent and his Agency...” he extends his arm to David. “Thank you, David, these kids need us more than you know...” and David angrily shakes his head and stammers away. El Taimado looks back at the children. Some of them are departing to obtain their new El Taimado gear thanks to a little poo and pee incident. Some in the crowd are clapping for El Taimado's integrity to the children. “OK,” El Taimado states as he slaps his hands together and rubs them. Much of the clapping stops. “Now that we've separated the men from the boys,” El Taimado begins to remove his WCF Hardcore Championship from his waist. He quickly unbuttons it and holds it for the group of children to see.
“OHHHHH...” the children are in sync, “AHHHHHH...” as they eye El Taimado's achievement in all of it's beauty.
“Who here can tell me what this is?” El Taimado asks as the title is displayed hanging from his grasp. A young boy raises his hand and flaps it in the air. A few hands raise thereafter. El Taimado chooses the first boy. He points. The boy smiles wide and drops his arm.
“Duh-duh-dats duh WCF hawdcoh tam-tam-tampeenchip,” the young boy says with difficulty as he stutters his words with excitement. El Taimado smiles and raises his finger.
“That's absolutely correct, you stuttering little fool,” and El Taimado whips the title over his shoulder. “This is the WCF Hardcore Championship, and who here can tell me what El Taimado had to endure to obtain this championship?” El Taimado scans the crowd as another child, an African American boy of about seven years old, waves his hand in the air. El Taimado immediately selects him. “Yes – you – my magnificent minority friend,” and then suddenly David throws a wadded piece of paper at the champ. El Taimado spins around and stares at his Agent.
“DON'T SAY THAT...” David hastily whispers toward his client. El Taimado shrugs his shoulders as the young boy answers his inquiry. He turns to the child.
“You won dat shit after you spanked Steve Orbit and Malstern at the last pay per view...” the boy nonchalantly says as some of the children snicker at his response. El Taimado smiles and scratches his chin.
“Well, that's true,” El Taimado tells the crowd, “although his name isn't Mal...” and then he smirks, “...who gives a shit – I beat them and now...THEY GONE! EL TAIMADO!” He raises a finger to the sky as he shouts his name. Then, in unison, they all shout.
“EL TAIMADO!” Everybody shouts. El Taimado slaps his hand against the faceplate of his championship.
“OK, let's tell a story,” El Taimado says as he begins to pace back and forth. He scratches his head. He stops. “First – how many of you know what 'The Wizard of Oz' is?” He looks to the crowd of children and see that no hands are raised. He seems somewhat surprised. “Really? None of you have ever heard of 'The Wizard of Oz'? What do your parents speak to you about?” The questions raise an alarm with one female child in the crowd.
“Not getting married or having sex,” the young girl shouts as some of the children turn to her and snicker. El Taimado looks slightly stunned, his brows raise, and he slowly shakes his head. Another boy shouts.
“My daddy's porn addiction!” The boy shouts. El Taimado claps his hands and points at the young boy several feet away from him. El Taimado smiles.
“HA!” El Taimado shouts as he continues to point at the boy. “I'm so happy that our children are being raised to be so conscious,” he continues, and he paces back and forth, “but, let's get back to the story. So, what's 'The Wizard of Oz' you ask?” He stops and snaps his fingers. “That's a FANTASTIC question!” He continues pacing. “It's a book. It's a film. It's a timeless tale of the imagination. The story of a young woman seeking a brain, a heart, and courage; as well as looking for a big ass fat head,” He stops to wink and smile at the crowd, “it's as if women have never changed!” Then he looks at the silent crowd. “OK, next – who knows who Taylor Swift is?” The entire crowd of children raises their hands. “Really?” El Taimado questions. “You ALL know who Taylor Swift is? This is preposterous. When I was your age – I was listening to Cannibal Corpse, Deicide, and the ramblings of G.G. Allin,” and he shakes his head, “where'd all the fuckin' men go?” He questions. El Taimado seems to be weeping, but you'd never know with the mask on. He takes a deep breath. “OK, now, who wants to hear the story of when Taylor Swift murdered The Scarecrow?”
Children raise their hands, and majority of them seem anxious to hear El Taimado tell the tale of when Taylor Swift murdered The Scarecrow; from 'The Wizard of Oz', not the WCF superstar that will probably get beat at Slam this Sunday. A lot of children shout 'ME-ME-ME' and flap their hands in the air.
“OK, so the story goes as so...” El Taimado begins. “Not so long ago – in the distant state of Kansas...
...there was a scarecrow named Scarecrow who had long searched for a brain. He came across a young hoe named Dorothy, with a basket filled with methamphetamine and copious amounts of herbal remedies such as Afghan Kush and White Rhyno, and a dog named after the band Toto; who fuckin' sucks by the way. The young hoe was on her way to see the Wizard of El Taimado, so she asked the Scarecrow to tag along, and since he doesn't have a brain – he didn't give a shit! She shared some of her basket with him and then their journey began; a wonderfully complex journey through fields of psilocybin mushrooms, a variety of colors, and chocolate covered acid. They heard music by Jimi Hendrix, The Who, Led Zepplin, and other rad musicians. They met a lion, and a tin man, and flying monkeys, and witches, but that's not the part of this story that's bad ass. The best part of this tale is the end, when those idiots confront the real Wizard of El Taimado just when he's about to depart in his gigantic WCF Hardcore Champion hot-air balloon which is shaped like a Godly behemoth set of testicles.”
David is covering his face with his hand. Perciful Lee has been standing next to him the entire time. The Doctor's eyes are wide, and he's clenching his teeth. David slowly shakes his head with his hand covering his face like an Octopus. All the children sit with their jaws dropped. El Taimado continues.
“OK, so the Wizard was just about to begin a grand journey across the globe when his takeoff was suddenly stalled by some bitch with a basket and the Scarecrow. Who? That's exactly what the Wizard was thinking when these two shmuck's arrived. The Wizard's Legion of Guards stop the duo in their tracks, but not before the canine sidekick, Toto, decided to retrieve a grenade from a satchel the Scarecrow carried on his person. Toto leaped into the Wizard's Guard as the Scarecrow and Dorothy dive for cover. Yes, the Guard fuckin' exploded. All over. It popped the balloon. Blood and guts stuck to the Wizard's chin. Dorothy and the Scarecrow slowly stand in awe. The Wizard stands from behind the wicker basket as the balloon floats to the surface in a heap. The Wizard asks the couple somethin' like – 'what the fuck did you do that for!?' For which they respond casually – 'we didn't do that, the dog did it!' Of course the Wizard wasn't having this, and do to their infraction, and before they could even muster the idea of getting back to reality, he decided it was time to call in the heavy artillery.”
El Taimado quickly jogs over to David and Dr. Lee. The nearby table has an Ipod plugged into speakers. The masked Hardcore champion scrolls through a laundry lists of songs and artists until he finally comes to a halt. That's when Taylor Swift's hit 'Shake it Off' begins to play.
“That's right. The Wizard of El Taimado tells that Scarehoe and the other hoe – 'I'm a God damned Wizard! I can summon the most awful creature in the world to destroy you!' And, well, he does. So, the Wizard summons pop megastar Taylor Swift to play 'Shake it Off'. However, much to the Wizard's dismay – the Scarecrow and Dorothy jump in on the action and begin to dance with the Grammy Award Winning superstar. 'What in the Sam Hell is THIS!' The Wizard yells and then he notices Taylor wielding a very large blade behind her back. Just as she's about to sing the lyric 'Players gonna play' she sneaks behind Dorothy and instantly ends her life with a fatal swoop. 'Haters gonna hate' and that bitch takes a lighter to the Scarecrow as he happily sings with the music. He's suddenly set-ablaze, and the brainless creation of a farmer falls to the floor, but Taylor aint havin' that. She douses that piece of crap with a whole'lotta gasoline! BOOM! Fuckin' ashes. Haters gonna HATE today! UH!”
Everybody in the room is silent as Percy stops the music. El Taimado is grinning, and bobbing up and down with excitement. Some of the adults present cannot believe what they've heard. Why nobody stopped him is beyond thought. Fact of the matter is – there are children beginning to cry. Weeping. Even David seems to be tearing up. No, not because it's a sad story. The Children are frightened. David seems to have lost his client all together. The Hardcore Champion smacks the face plate of his belt.
“Now, children,” El Taimado continues, “we all know that come Sunday – I'm going to be the true People's Champion. The straw man – a sham – set up to be defeated. Burned down. Burned out. He'll try his best, but it won't work. The moral of the story? Well, Scarecrows and Hoes can't beat a fuckin' Wizard; that's one. However – you can only get so far envying your opponent. That's what he does. Envy. Envious. Or, is that a true representation of the people? The People's Champion. Are we, as people, ENVIOUS of each other? Well, I wouldn't say I was necessarily envious of Steve Orbit, or that I envy ICE Beckman; but I suppose that in some degree...I do!” He looks at the silent majority and smirks. “That's neither here-nor-there. The point? There's no stopping me. None. Nada. ZILCH, motherfucker. I expect that you'll bring your A-game, but I must warn you – I stopped bringing letters to a fight a long time ago. Bring your fuckin' best fight, bro. I'm not lookin' for a shit fest here. I'm lookin' for a God damned clash of the titans. No shit. None. If I wanted to fight with a turd then I'd eat a lot of cheese. This aint about no CHEESE,” and then David bursts in and grabs El Taimado.
“OK, Dan, it's time to go...” and David tugs on his client to pull him away.
“Bring it on Sunday, buddy,” El Taimado says as David pulls him away, “kids...I want you to tell that asshat that I'm not lookin' for no SHITFEST!” He screams as David continues to drag him toward the exit. “EL TAIMADO!” He screams as they exit the gymnasium. “EL TAIMADO!” He continues down the hall. Percy steps in front of the weeping children. He begins to hand them business cards.
“Call me,” he says as he continues to distribute cards.
The Legend of El Taimado