Ciento Uno (Or, Reunite These Nuts) Feb 15, 2015 11:05:19 GMT -5 Steve Orbit, Alex Richards, and 2 more like this
Post by DVS on Feb 15, 2015 11:05:19 GMT -5
The Adventures of EL TAIMADO!
The Walmart Supercenter.
He leaps from behind a rack at the end of an aisle cluttered with various lamps and accessories. A young woman and her child stop the shopping cart on a dime as El Taimado, Dan Van Slade, slides against the waxed tile floor and centers himself before them. The woman slaps her hand against her chest. The young girl instantly screams and hides behind her mother's leg. El Taimado grins. The young woman, wearing a jean jacket, her hair in a bun, no makeup, slender, catches her breath and then glares at the masked man.
“That was very rude,” the young woman states as she pushes the cart toward El Taimado. Her little daughter hangs firmly onto her black sweatpants. The woman glares at El Taimado as she passes by.
Not long after – he's at it again.
A young couple, male and female, stare at a couch on display in a furniture aisle.
Dan stands from behind the couch. The couple take a few steps back.
“OH HELL NAW!” The young man shouts as he pulls his pants from mid-sag to hold onto an ironic belt, holds onto his stocking cap, and suddenly jolts down the aisle; leaving his female counterpart stranded, and hopelessly afraid. The masked man leaps over the couch and onto the floor.
“EL TAIMADO!” Dan shouts once more. He raises his hand and points to the sky. The young woman is in the beginning stages of a very good cry. She bends at the knees; and then begins to pee. Her pants are soaked. There's a puddle starting at the soles of her shoes. She's weeping as her tear-filled eyes stare at the goofy masked man. El Taimado titls his head and crinkles his lips. “El Taimado?” He questions and shrugs his shoulders. The urine marinated young lady shakes, weeps, and then side-steps quickly away from El Taimado.
Will he stop? No.
He leaps from behind a rack displaying numerous inventories of pills and vitamins. An elderly couple turns slowly to confront the nuisance, and take one step back as their eyes widen.
“What is it, Harold?” The woman tightly hugs her purse as she fights for the right words to say. She leans closer to her husband, a marriage of what looks to be somewhere between forty to fifty years.
“Looks like one of them hoodlums wearin' a spick mask!” The old man shouts, but only as loud as a man his age would care to shout. His voice is raspy, and soft. He displays his aged knuckles as if ready to go fisticuffs. El Taimado slowly nods. A smile begins to stretch from ear-to-ear. The masked Deviant leans forward.
“BOO!” El Taimado shouts as the elderly woman grows faint, and limp next to her husband.
“MAUDE!” Harold exclaims as he turns his attention to his fallen wife. She clutches his arms, but her limp body drags them down slow to the tiled floor.
Then, and not so long after that, a mask-less Dan Van Slade confronts David – his linen shopping Agent. David looks at a slightly sweaty Dan, but his clothes have been changed. He's no longer dressed as El Taimado. He's...just Dan Van Slade. He's wearing a black t-shirt that reads in bold white text: 'Tomato – Taimado'. This shirt drapes over a pair of blue jeans that roll over a pair of black and white Nike's.
“Where the Hell have you been?” David asks as he removes a sheet set from the shelf. Dan catches his breath and peers over his shoulder for a second. He looks at his agent.
“Any chance you've seen a hoard of police around these parts?” Dan curiously asks. David seems a bit distracted, but then the question catches up to him. He looks at Dan and is confused.
“What did you do?” David suspects Dan of doing something wrong.
“Well,” Dan smiles and seems to have gained composure, “let's just say that I may have changed a few lives,” and he slaps his knee. “Jesus! Fuck! I'm good!” Dan happily nods as David still seems confused.
“Changed some lives?” David asks. “What the Hell does that mean?” He seems to be growing anxious and weary of Dan's antics.
“I El Taimado'd a mom and her daughter,” Dan says, “and now the daughter knows not be a rude!” Dan smirks, but continues. “I El Taimado'd this young ghetto couple, and I'm pretty sure I scared the gangster right outta the guy,” then Dan's eyes widen and he purses his lips, “Imadethegirlpissherself” he says ridiculously fast.
“Wait, what?” David questions as he leans forward to make sure he didn't just hear what he thought he heard.
“PEED,” Dan continues, “shepissedherself” he says faster. David heard it this time, and he gets the gist. He turns around and throws a sheet set into a nearby shopping cart.
“You've gotta be fuckin' KIDDING me,” David says under his breath.
“I also may have ended the life a woman who could recall the Prohibition Era...” Dan states as he begins to follow his angered Agent through the aisle. “EL TAIMADO!” Dan shouts. The taunt echoes throughout Walmart. Suddenly – all Walmart patrons begin to jump and look over their shoulder. A line of Police Officers stop and begin to scan the area in search of the harassing masked culprit. The cop in charge of the brigade looks to his left, right, and then points down another aisle-way. They continue to snake the aisles.
MLW Radio with Konan; Featuring: 'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade
((BLUB BLUB BLUB BLUB are the sounds of a bong. Konan takes a few hits.))
Konan : “OK, so I was told just yesterday that I'd be getting this guy on the show, and I'm ecstatic to know he's here. If you're anybody who is anybody in the professional wrestling world – then you're talkin' about this guy. What more can there be said about Dan Van Slade? He's got a gift for the ring, and he's a fuckin' dog at tearing people up with the sword-like-tongue. Dan Van Slade, people...”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Fuck, it's a pleasure. You can just call me El Taimado.”
Konan: “Why not just call you the Deviant?”
((BLUB BLUB BLUB))
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Because I'm channeling my inner-Lucha spirit. SPIRIT. EL TAIMADO.”
Konan: “Yeah – I heard about this wild shit. What the fuck is that madness?”
((BLUB BLUB BLUB – Konan hands the bong to El Taimado.))
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Just a little somethin' I like to call a 'curveball'. Grind in the gears. A BIT OF A DILEMMA for ANYBODY that faces me. One-on-one. Toe-to-toe. Eye-to-eye. I'm the most hardcore motherfucker in all the land, Konan. ODELAY, motherfucker! EL TAIMADO!”
((BLUB BLUB BLUB BLUB BLUB – El Taimado takes a fuckin' Mil Mascaras sized rip.))
Konan: “So I take it you're diggin' the big time?”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Well, it's like diggin' a hole. If you love something enough – you take it to the grave. Don't mind me – just doin' a little gravediggin' over here.”
((BLUB BLUB BLUB – he returns the bong to Konan.))
Konan: “Yeah? Not sure what you're getting at, but let's just say that you're doing everything right. You're what – three months in now? I know I'm not shocked that you're wearing gold, and to know that it's about the second most prestigious title in the company has a lot to say.”
((BLUB BLUB BLUB))
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Sure, man. I can't complain. I'm takin' names. Whoopin' lots of ass. Plowin' through weak bitches on the weekly. One of the top dawgs in the company. I give this championship a great name, and I don't back down from a motherfucker if he's willing to put his life on the line to win it. Doin' everything right? That's the name of the game, son. Three months from now I'll be riding on that high horse and on my way to being the World Heavyweight Champion. Pass that.”
((BLUB BLUB BLUB – Konan passes the bong.))
Konan: “Wrestling brings out the passion in a lotta people. You gotta have the fortaleza testicular to do what someone like Dan Van Slade does. He's doing it in WCF, nonetheless, and that's where the big boys play.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Yeah, there's some big guys there, but most of them are semi-retarded or battle-fucked.”
((BLUB BLUB BLUB))
Konan: I think I know who you're talkin' about...
((BLUB – he hands a cashed bong back to Konan.)).
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Well, it's pretty obvious. I'm not going to name names. I won't throw anybody under the bus, but that's because they'll cover that for me; a voluntary roll. I've said it countless times – WCF is where it's at. We've got a farm system that brings us gold all the time. There's always something fresh, and something explicitly controversial. The promotion stomps on the line before it even thinks about crossing it. Nobody in this promotion deserves to live; no one. There's not a single soul in that locker room that could say they're cleansed of all sin. That's what I love about this place. We're all a bunch of maniacal senseless pricks. We're all on the road to nowhere; you know – like that Talkin' Heads song.”
Konan: “I don't think I've ever had a wrestler on the show who cited the Talking Heads.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Great band.”
Konan: “Good to know.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “You get my point, though?”
Konan: “I suppose. Sure. I can see where you're comin' from. So, we all sign on the dotted line and give ourselves into temptation. We entertain. We...”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Who's WE?”
Konan: “You and I.”
((New bong pack – BLUB BLUB BLUB BLUB. Konan hands the bong to El Taimado.))
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “OH, OK, continue...”
Konan: “OK, so, we've signed ourselves over to the control of a puppetmaster, right?”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “What? No. What are you talking about?”
((BLUB BLUB BLUB))
Konan: “Where's Cornette at? I need him here to start shootin' his load all over the industry.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “We don't need Jim for this. All we need is what we've got right here, and a good conversation to keep our sanity in check.”
((BLUB BLUB – he hands the bong back to Konan after taking two extra hits.))
Konan: “I think I was letting some of that darkness take over for a moment. That tends to happen from time to time. ODELAY. ODEH-FUCKIN-LAY!”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “ARRIBA LA RASA!”
Konan: “Don't do that.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Why not?”
Konan: “Just...don't do that, bro.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “TEQUILA SUNRISE REPAH-ZENT!”
Konan: “Please, just stop.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “You can't tell me that you don't miss those days. You were so SICK, bro!”
Konan: “Yes, yes, I miss that shit. All the time. Let's get back to you, though.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Right, right. ME! I like me.”
Konan: “What do you think about your latest revelation – you, Dune and 'Crow takin' on the reformed Pack; and now you've got Alex Richards to worry about as you scale the mountain.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “I aint got shit to worry about, Konan. Nada. Zilch. Nothin'. HMPH! The Pack. Pack of what? Aint no wolves in there. Pack of gum? Chewy like Alex Richard's brain? Pack of cigarettes? So I can blow some smoke up your ass like Jay Omega? Pack of thieves? Stealin' my time every moment they get, especially when Chelsea Armstrong is around. I'd rather spend my time watching the leaves change color during a beautiful fuckin' Autumn sunrise.”
Konan: “Oh man, as much as I loved what you said – it's hard for me to believe that will do any justice against three of the greatest wrestlers in WCF history. You've had your chance against the Poondocks, and the Vapor Kings. I think that you'll be able to take this since you've got 'Crow and Dune in your corner.”
((El Taimado takes a bong rip. BLUB BLUB BLUB. Cashed. He hands it to Konan.))
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “What's that supposed to mean? Are you saying that El Taimado can't do this on his own? I understand the concept of the match, and I know that I have to unfortunately accept the idea of being a part of a team. I've said it before – I'm NOT a team player. I don't like tag teams. I don't like factions. I don't feel the need to have others to turn to when things get ugly. I've always been on my own. A true lone wolf. I've seen what can happen when a pack of thuggish creatures meet their doom. It's a fuckin' brutal-bloody mess. Seriously. Brutal. Bloody. Decimation at it's ultimate finest. And, well, when that happens I'd prefer to be the guy standing back and scratching his chin. No, not because I'm pondering a new plan. Not because I'm fearful of my demise. Mainly because I'm waitin' to take my turn to take out the motherfucker(s) that defeated the pack. Keep climbin' that mountain. Graspin' at every little nook and cranny. Every level another deep and desperate attempt to end my success. Not gonna happen. Konan, you're starin' at the King of the MOTHERFUCKIN' Mountain top...EL TAIMADO! PACK SLAYER.”
Konan: “I feel that. I really do, but I think this goes a lot deeper than that, Dan. I've seen a lot of action in my time. I've had some really fantastic matches in my career. I've done quite a bit, and that's disregarding the shit I could have done if I would have did things differently. But, if I had your ability in the ring...well...let's just say that I should be runnin' the top company right now. The best part is – I wouldn't have your personality – which means that I wouldn't hang myself.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Whoa. What? There'll be no hangin' here. That's pretty fuckin' deep, Konan – I do want you to know this.”
Konan: “Dude, it's cool. It's just a radio show.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “You did say I have amazing ability. I am, by the way, a collegiate wrestling champion.”
Konan: “Do you want to know who Konan would like to see fight...El Taimado?”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Does La Parka shit in the woods?”
Konan: “…? OK, so, I'd like to see you go one-on-one with Bobby Cairo. Dude cuts deep. I think you might cut deeper. But, dude cuts deep.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “I know. He's a fuck-ass.”
Konan: “That's why I think the two of you should grapple and fuck each other up.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “One of these days, Konan. One of these days. I've gotta keep my eyes on a few people. There's a lot of people vying for a shot at Dune and his Internet Championship. This guy may be the most wanted fuckin' piece of shit in the company. That's cool with me. Some of those eyes had their sights set on my destruction. I fuckin' love it when another lamb jumps in for the slaughter! This dude comes out of nowhere and digs his shitty-fingers into my dream? Motherfucker. I don't really care too much for the attention he's receiving.”
Konan: “Dune is by far one of the most feared rookies in the industry.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “It's sad that I don't really care. Something tells me that I should, but I don't. He's such a nauseating character. So much bullshit to say. So, um, he beat who...Kaz Mazy and Jackson White? So, what'd he do? Fight himself?”
Konan: “That match was fuckin' super stellar, actually. PWI's top matches of the month, and probably of the year.”
((New bong pack. BLUB BLUB BLUB BLUB – he hands the bong to El Taimado. BLUB BLUB BLUB...))
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Well...holy shit, Konan....I....think that's absolute bullshit. Who the fuck watches this shit, anyway? Who in their right mind would pair Jackson White, Dune, and Kazy Mazy, and expect ANYTHING FUCKIN' GOOD to come of it? POONglorious, right? Jackson White BLAH BLAH BLAH and some sentence lost in translation because I'm green as Shrek's bare ass. Dune. Don't talk about trust. You already know that there's no such thing as trust. I wait for you to try and be a smart ass around me in that ring. Take advantage. Steal the win. Well, I won't say that I'll wait for it. But, I'm prepared for anything. I'm not too fond of you, and I'm not sure if I ever will. Do I want to join the inglorious bastards that try to besiege your Internet Title reign? Nah. Not really. It's fucking stupid. OH MY GOD, DUNE SAYS REALLY IMPRESSIVE SHIT! He's SO fuckin' COOL! UGHHHHHH HIS MASK IS SO FUCKIN' SWEEEEEEEET! GOD DAMNIT, SOMEBODY, PLEASE HAVE TOM HARDY PLAY DUNE IN A WCF MOVIE!”
Konan: “OK, I think you may need to give that back to me...”
((El Taimado returns the bong to Konan.))
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “EL TAIMADO!”
Konan: “OK, Dan, tell us a little bit about the El Taimado character. I'm, we, are really intrigued.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Two words – MOST HARDCORE MOTHERFUCKER IN ALL THE LAND.”
Konan: “That's more than two words, but go on.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Why don't you translate 'El Taimado' for all those loyal listeners out there...”
Konan: “Well, it has a few meanings. But, it's 'the cunning'.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “YES! Hidalgo, my Spanish teacher, said that it can mean 'the deviance', too. But, let's not really go any further into that. Let me tell you about my inner-Lucha spirit. SPIRIT. This is something that you're not going to see much in the professional wrestling industry. Konan, I'm what you might call – someone of Godly virtues. I represent a higher quality of wrestler. I'm...so well conditioned and my methods unmatched that when I step into the ring – I've already won. So, being a Super Hero felt like overkill. I'm such a fuckin' mammoth monster in the ring that I had to feel what it was like to win...in a new style. That's when I began to channel my inner-Lucha. El Taimado. The true nature and wisdom of the Deviant. El Taimado, my inner-Lucha, this motherfucker tells it how it is. Isn't that usually what it's like to be Spanish? You're pretty much one honest motherfucker, or extremely bull-headed and ignorant. Some are nice, but let's face it – you guys are pretty fuckin' intense from time-to-time.”
Konan: “Yo, I mean...we don't have to get into that shit, man.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Don't worry, I'm not tryin' to be an asshole. Alls'I'm sayin' is that El Taimado is exactly what Dan Van Slade needs to be – the most hardcore motherfucker in all the land.”
Konan: “The epitome of the hardcore championship.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Much to the dismay of Apocalypse, and his tweet from the other night – yes, I am the epitome of hardcore magnificence. I'd offer you a chance to dive into the mix for the Hardcore Championship, but I'd prefer a challenge before I practice again. So, it'll have to wait. Don't worry, play time will come. Ha – Apocalypse. The world would just HAVE to end if that piece of shit were to go ANYWHERE.”
Konan: “I was actually going to ask you about that tweet, and the Trilogy Cup.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Hm. Trilogy Cup. Alex Richards. This means a few things. One – I could simply ask Johnny Reb to slingshot me into the future using some sort of time-warping vessel and not waste my time watching US fail at ending the Pack; two – maybe I end Jay Omega and Chelsea Armstrong? OH WAIT – they're in the tournament too! Three – perhaps I should just...you know...give'em the ole' MAELSTROM?”
Konan: “What's a Maelstrom?”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “When you work a tag match. Fuck it up on purpose. I did it to Maelstrom, and then that fuck did it to me. Thankfully I put an end to that fuckin' douchebag. What a bastard. Seriously. I'm so happy he's gone. That piece of shit used to envy me so much it was starting to get real scary. THANK GOD I'M GOOD. OK, so, Konan, getting back to this Trilogy Cup. I suppose I...just...don't know what to say? I look at this tournament and realize just how fuckin' good I REALLY AM. Jesus, just look at the names! So many chances for me to wrap these paws around someones neck and continue my dominance over this company. Alex Richards. Number one. Wait – is there really any reason to be worried?”
Konan: “Dudes a beast.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “So was Maelstrom. And, um, Steve Orbit.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Can you legitimately give me five solid reasons why I should fear Alex Richards?”
Konan: “Yeah, actually, One -”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “I didn't think so. You see, Konan, El Taimado doesn't fear Alex Richards. I see that fuckin' 'tard as just another stepping stone. Yes, the proverbial ascension. The mountain. This Trilogy Cup places me in the best position possible to inch my way into the Main Event and concur whoever wears that World Heavyweight Championship. Alex Richards knows what I've done to get this far. He doesn't deny it. He's atleast smart enough to comprehend the fact that El Taimado aint no joke. Aint nothin' to fuck with. I'll enzugri your brain right out of your ear. Hit you with a rhyno-like tope that crushes your skull. Alex Richards aint SHIT.”
Konan: “It's gonna be a great match, nonetheless. I'm really lookin' forward to it.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “I'm happy with it. I've wanted to shove my thumbs through Alex Richards' eyes for a while. Rip out his tongue. Bite his ear off. He seems like the type of fight that'd enjoy it if I gnawed a chunk of ear cartilage, or broke some of its fingers. I'm cool with that. When I'm done – I'll staple a WANTED poster on Alex Richards' forehead that asks ALL READERS to help find El Taimado's lost competition. Reward, you ask? Let's just say I've got some dirt on Chelsea Armstrong that anybody worth a salt would be very enthused to know. Especially ICE. I think this alone could stir the pot a bit – make things really interesting. If Alex Richards can beat me...I'll tell you what it is. Well, let's just say – if anybody beats me – I'll tell'em what it is.”
Konan: “What type of beef would you have with Chelsea Armstrong?”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “That's an interesting question – and sentence, I might add. First, no beef. Just dirt. God made dirt, and dirt don't hurt, but really – what's there in this world that'd hurt such a sweet young woman like herself? Sometimes so innocent, often charming. Plus, she's female. Fuckin' bitches, Konan. I don't mind a good lady from time-to-time, but bitches get stitches, bro.”
Konan: “I think I couldn't have said it better myself, actually.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “That's exactly what I'm sayin', dude! WOW! Since when? Get the FUCK out of my ring, Chelsea. ICE – back that bitch up, that's all I'm sayin'. It's either that – or, I'm not going to be fully responsible if she can no longer...you know...go down THERE....anymore...”
Konan: “OK, tone that shit down a notch.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “You bet. Sometimes I get so serious that I get this PTSD-like bullshit that happens and I can feel bones snapping on my skin. It's kind of fucked up, Konan.”
Konan: “You think?”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Seriously, my friend, if Chelsea Armstrong wants to stand face-to-face with the most hardcore motherfucker in all the land then I suppose I'll let that happen. I won't turn down a fight from anybody. Not even the Pope.”
Konan: “That's blasphemous, dude. My families Catholic. That shit's blasphemous. Don't do that. Not here. Back it up a bit.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “Fact of the matter is this – put'er in the ring and watch her get stampeded back in time about 60 years. You want to be treated like a man? You got it. Would you like to see what it's like when a man gets angry at another man? Wonderful. How about I shove my elbow down your throat and pin you quickly? Check. Done. Chelsea – I don't usually make dinner on the first date, but I made you a baked knee to the face. Parmesan crusted. Fuck you.”
'El Taimado' Dan Van Slade: “I'll say the same for Jay Omega. Fuck him, and everything about him. He can go clubbin' with his guy buddies all night long. Talk to ladies. Act suave. He and Steven can share jokes. Talk about how Jay's gonna lose, and perhaps share some stories about how Jay lost. Jay can hop into a small plastic vessel filled with video game controllers and shoot fazer beams at Aliens. Somewhere within the deep abyss, the far-reaches of space, a netherworld unfamiliar, whether it be within the loins of the Pack, one of the curves within Alex Richard's testicles, Jay Omega's going to realize that the only way to pull this victory off come Sunday - is if Dune, Scarecrow and I just...didn't show up. It's almost as if the Gods of wrestling would prefer it that way. Thankfully, and only sometimes, I don't believe in Gods. I believe in ME, and I don't necessarily need Dune or Scarecrow to help me take out some of the trash. I don't need Chelsea Armstrong's friend in my corner, someone I've defeated twice – mind you. I don't need the hefty Internet Champion tooting his own horn and saying something fancy just to help me apply the lateral press to Alex Richards. Alls'I'need are my two iron fists, my Stephen Hawking-like brain, EL TAIMADO, and come Monday realizing – I'm the MOST HARDCORE MOTHERFUCKER IN ALL THE LAND. EL TAIMADO!”
Konan: “Alright! El Taimado, ladies and gentlemen. Thanks for bein' with us, and good luck on Sunday Night. We're gonna take a small break, but when we return – I'm gonna have Cort Bauer on the line to do a little STRAIGHT SHOOTIN' from the Indy circuit...”
Client: The Super Deviant, Dan Van Slade | 101 Ways to Say that El Taimado Wins | From the office of Dr. Perciful Lee
Client: The Super Deviant, Dan Van Slade | 101 Ways to Say that El Taimado Wins | From the office of Dr. Perciful Lee
Editor's Note: This attachment was created not long after my client's most recent transition, and something he calls 'channeling his inner-Lucha spirit'. It's a character known as 'El Taimado'; translation: 'The Deviant'. We'll talk more about this at a later time.
In a most recent session, one that is logged in the upcoming passages, I proposed a challenge my client seemed to have grasped via the route around the outside of a box. I asked that Dan write atleast 101 ways that states he's the greatest superstar in professional wrestling, today. It was of no surprise that, within thirty minutes, not only was Dan capable of putting this piece together, but he did so with such ease and pleasure, that it became quite clear what we were dealing with here. A true genius. An artist. A damned savant of the wrestling world.
Most of this is certainly ambiguous hogwash, and surreal idiocy, but that's what makes Dan Van Slade so special. This project was meant to emphasize the man's most narcissistic qualities. There was no curveball, and I'm most certain he understood that I left the door open for any possibility. He ran with it, and it should be of no surprise to you that this will be undoubtedly close minded. Once again, Dan Van Slade at his best. Or, should I say – El Taimado...at his best?
Ladies and gentlemen...
101 Ways to Say that El Taimado WINS:
1. Dan Van Slade wins the Torneo Cibernetico.
2. Dan Van Slade new Hardcore Championship Number One Contender.
3. Dan Van Slade's ancestors own a collection of mounted heads.
4. Dan Van Slade's grandparents hired Fred Rogers to narrate their family tree on cassette.
5. Dan Van Slade taught Maelstrom how to 'dap'.
6. Dan Van Slade taught Maelstrom how to 'tap'.
7. Dan Van Slade bought a six pack of Super Toreyu Energy and pissed on it.
8. Dan Van Slade pays for nothing (never has his wallet, and always uses the Agency credit card).
9. Dan Van Slade is never injured.
10. Dan Van Slade levels up and earns super powers from his beloved Gods.
11. Dan Van Slade is a super hero with absolutely no weakness (aside from Hummus).
12. Dan Van Slade illustrates better comic strips than ICE Beckman.
13. Dan Van Slade draws pictures of Odin Balfore's head on the body of a bullfrog.
14. Dan Van Slade snuck into Buddy Roman's dressing room and collected samples of his tears.
15. Dan Van Slade's side hobby is chemistry.
16. Dan Van Slade used Buddy Roman's tears in a chemical reaction.
17. Dan Van Slade used the chemical reaction to create a new form of win.
18. Dan Van Slade's new form of win is El Taimado, and it's better than VAPOR KINGS.
19. Dan Van Slade wants BioWalker to win the tag team championships.
20. Dan Van Slade can plow through the thickness.
21. Dan Van Slade has never gave a hunky-chunky shit for the Vapor Kings.
22. Dan Van Slade will never give a bulbous-obese fuck for the Poondock Saints.
23. Dan Van Slade can never, will never, ever, deliver kind shits for the Pantheon.
24. Dan Van Slade could give a fat-pink-rat's ass about the Pack.
25. Dan Van Slade was an extra in the movie 'Neighbors'.
26. Dan Van Slade once punched Justin Bieber in the throat (he has no Adam's apple).
27. Dan Van Slade dated a woman who looked like Kim Kardashian.
28. Dan Van Slade dated Kim Kardashian (for seven minutes and three seconds).
29. Dan Van Slade stole all 21 Grammy awards from Kanye West.
30. Dan Van Slade introduced Kanye to Kim.
31. Dan Van Slade put himself down as a reference on his application to WCF. Three times.
32. Dan Van Slade left this one blank, because he's a fuckin' BOSS.
33. Dan Van Slade loves racism and hate.
34. Dan Van Slade allows racism and hate to happen.
35. Dan Van Slade says that he's not a racist and doesn't hate.
36. Dan Van Slade is the best hypocrite, ever.
37. Dan Van Slade enjoys a brisk walk on your face.
38. Dan Van Slade pins Sin Rostro, Jr.
39. Dan Van Slade pins Corey Scarecrow.
40. Dan Van Slade pins Louis Bartkowski.
41. Dan Van Slade pins Hardcore Alex
42. Dan Van Slade pins Maelstrom
43. Dan Van Slade pins Maelstrom, again, because he's a bitch. HUAHH.
44. Dan Van Slade pins the Scarecrow, the People's Champion, again, because he's a bitch, too. HUAHH.
45. Dan Van Slade will defeat Alex Richards.
46. Dan Van Slade will defeat Chelsea Armstrong.
47. Dan Van Slade will embarrass Jay Omega.
48. Dan Van Slade will slap every taste out of Jay Omega's mouth.
49. Dan Van Slade will therefore defeat Jay Omega.
50. Dan Van Slade is a collegiate wrestling champion.
51. Dan Van Slade is a professional wrestling genius, by the way.
52. Dan Van Slade once rode a horse through New England around Midnight and warned everybody that the Hardcore Champion was coming.
53. Dan Van Slade, that's it.
54. Dan Van Slade will scalp Alex Richards.
55. Dan Van Slade will break Chelsea Armstrong's teeth.
56. Dan Van Slade will mount the Pack's head on a huge plague and place it above his fireplace.
57. Dan Van Slade doesn't have a fireplace, yet, but he just bought one off the internet.
58. Dan Van Slade now owns a grandiose marble fireplace. EL TAIMADO!
59. ¡Dan Van Slade victorias!
60. ¡Dan Van Slade más hijo de puta duro en toda la tierra!
61. Dan Van Slade connects with any finishing manuever (ya'done).
62. Dan Van Slade says that Seth Lerch is a jerk.
63. Dan Van Slade says that Buddy Roman's tears smell like potpouri. Word.
64. Dan Van Slade can shoot laser beams from his eyes.
65. Dan Van Slade once wrestled an Alligator.
66. Dan Van Slade now owns Alligator Skin boots.
67. Dan Van Slade plus enculé Hardcore dans tout le pays!
68. Dan Van Slade Hardcore Motherfucker in das ganze Land!
69. Dan Van Slade ?? ? ? ?? ? ??!
70. Dan Van Slade Zài su?y?u de t?dì zuì ti?g?n de húndàn!
71. Dan Van Slade Subete no tochi de mottomo h?dokoa yar?!
72. Dan Van Slade modeun ttang-eseo gajang hadeu ko-eo saekki!
73. Dan Van Slade mees hardcore motherfucker in die hele land!
74. Dan Van Slade, that's right, he speaks Afrikaans. Suck it.
75. Dan Van Slade is sometimes George Clooney's stunt double. Sometimes.
76. Dan Van Slade makes scrap books of all his matches.
77. Dan Van Slade once bumped into Geraldo Rivera at a Cleveland Cavaliers game.
78. Dan Van Slade did that after the Cavs won game four of the 2006 Eastern Conference Finals against the Detroit Pistons. HUAHH! EL TAIMADO!
79. Dan Van Slade told a story about Taylor Swift murdering the Scarecrow.
80. Dan Van Slade told that story to a group of elementary school children. Win.
81. Dan Van Slade has decapitated Maelstrom 87 times in 35 separate dreams, and across 66 different planes of existence.
82. Dan Van Slade owns 104 pairs of Nike shoes that he didn't pay for (see: no. 8, fuckers).
83. Dan Van Slade has beat every Mortal Kombat video game with every character using no cheat codes, and he doesn't button-crunch. Fuck you.
84. Dan Van Slade's favorite video game is PaRappa the Rappa.
85. Dan Van Slade understands the philosophy behind 'Kick-Punch-It's all in the mind.'
86. Dan Van Slade pinned...STEVE ORBIT. That's right. Fuckers.
87. Dan Van Slade is a trained professional wrestler in multiple variations of mat wrestling.
88. Dan Van Slade is an American Traditional performer. He's classic.
89. Dan Van Slade is a brawler, and that's especially when things get outta hand.
90. Dan Van Slade is wreckless, because he can't give a fuck about you at that point.
91. Dan Van Slade is a mothefuckin' powerhouse. Winnin' matches like they're goin' outta style. What?
92. Dan Van Slade is well trained in Lucha Libre. HUAHH! EL TAIMADO!
93. Dan Van Slade is also versed in Tai Kwan Do, Muay Thai, and Poke fighting.
94. Dan Van Slade can injure a man with one simple poke. Done-ZO!
95. Dan Van Slade is the Trilogy Cup CHAMPEEN!
96. Dan Van Slade will be at Ultimate Showdown.
97. Dan Van Slade will be the World Heavyweight Champion.
98. Dan Van Slade will destroy the Pack.
99. Dan Van Slade is the motherfuckin' MAN.
100. Dan Van Slade wrote 101 ways to say...
101. ...EL TAIMADO WINS!
The Adventures of EL TAIMADO!
The Deviant's Dungeon. An addition to the magnificent Oregon homestead of Dan Van Slade's agent extraordinaire. What David has devised is a football field sized gymnasium capable of housing any professional sports practice. In this case – it's professional wrestling. One half has been organized into a muscle-bulging physical playground. Every centimeter of the building is another test and challenge for the WCF Hardcore Champion. Every meticulous machine designated to build Dan Van Slade into the next man who topples the king. The other half of the gymnasium seems to have bee re-zoned; a battle field of destruction. Items are burned, and charred. Kendo sticks litter the battle field as if soldiers thwacked each other to death with bamboo. Scaffolding stands erect, and some lie on the ground in pieces. Shards of glass spray the field and glimmer in the fluorescent lighting. Chairs dented. Tables broken in half. Ladders bent. One of David's cleaners is spraying a small flame with an extinguisher.
“Well, I'd say that Dan is just about ready for anything,” David turns to El Taimado's career counselor, Perciful Lee, as the two men stare at the decimated half of the Deviant's Dungeon. David, dressed in a blood red polo tucked into black slacks, presses his hands on hips and slowly nods his head. Dr. Lee, looking mighty Danny Devito-esque, tugs at a cold chain that drapes a black Dan Van Slade t-shirt that reads in bold white – EL TAIMADO! The men continue to stare into the vast landscape of destruction.
“I wouldn't say that it's not repairable,” Percy continues as the men turn to watch Dan's sparring partner, Lester Hicks, stumble into the gymnasium. Lester is wrapped tightly in bandages. His forehead covered in gauze. Both eyes blackened to almost jet hue. His left arm rests in a sling. His right leg wrapped taught and drags behind him. His shirt is torn to bits. His jeans shredded. Band-Aids of various sizes cover multiple wounds. He stops in front of David and Percy. He spits a tooth onto the floor within a puddle of blood.
“I got paid...” Lester says in a slur, his mouth filled with blood, “...$5,000 to get my ass handed to me all over this place within two hours. $2,500 an hour,” Lester continues, “and for what?”
“Don't worry, Mr. Hicks,” Percy responds. “Not only are you paid, but David's Agency is covering any medical discrepancies,” Percy continues as the Agent turns to the career counselor.
“Oh, they are?” David asks as Lester chimes in.
“That's fine,” Hicks slurs. “That's perfectly acceptable. However, I'm pretty much done for a while,” and Lester begins to analyze some of his wounds, “my arm is fucked. My leg is about as crooked as a politician. I won't be able to ride my hog for a long time, boys. I'm fucked,” and if Lester's eyes could well up then they would, but they can't considering they're swollen and beat to a pulp. “That masked freak not only threw me off scaffolding through a table engulfed in fire, but he powerbombed me off another set of scaffolding through a pit of barbed wire! That's not even counting the other fuckin' wild things this mother fucker was doing!” Lester is attempting to shout, but he just can't muster enough strength.
“That sounds about right,” David turns away to look at the war zone his client has developed. He scratches his chin.
“Look, Lester,” Percy continues, “why don't you go rest up. I'm sure you're in pain,” and Percy places his hand on Lester's shoulder, but the sparring partner jolts back. Either he's still jumpy after getting his ass kicked by El Taimado, or it doesn't matter what you touch on Lester's body – the man's in some serious pain.
The door suddenly swings open, and walking into the gymnasium is El Taimado, and he's dressed like the champion he's become. His phsycial appearance pales in comparison to the mummified Lester Hicks. At six feet, and three inches – El Taimado sores above average men. His chest bulges through the black tank-top with a Super-T logo direct center. A large gold chain with brass knuckles hanging from them tap against El Taimado's muscular breast. His vein-filled biceps explode at his sides. The El Taimado mask is tight on Dan's visage. The WCF Hardcore Championship worn with pride around his waist. Behind him is Hidalgo, El Taimado's Spanish Teacher and David's new assistant. Hidalgo is dressed exactly like David, all except for his black hair gelled back, and his olive tone complexion. Lester Hicks catches eye of the men entering the complex, and it's as if all those injuries no longer matter. Hicks musters the strength to near jump out of all the wrapping. His right leg numbingly bends, and his slinged arm flaps up and down as the sparring partner jogs away and in fear of his life.
“EL TAIMADO!” El Taimado shouts as he pauses before his Agent and career counselor. Hidalgo hands papers to David, and the Agent begins to scan and flip through them.
“What the Hell is this shit?” David asks. He looks confused and stares at Hidalgo and El Taimado. Percy leans in and scans the papers. He's at the right height, a towering five feet-one inch, to take a gander.
“That is Mr. El Taimado's Manifesto,” Hidalgo states in a slightly feminine tone as he clicks his heels and stands at attention. El Taimado takes one step forward and places his hand on his chest.
“Yo soy El Taimado,” El Taimado begins in Spanish, “El hijo de puta más duro en toda la tierra. Hay muchos que dudan entre los hombres y los de WCF comprenderá - no coges con El Taimado,” and the masked superstar pauses for Hidalgo to translate.
“OK,” Hidalgo is still at attention. He is slightly shouting. “OK, so, although not very good Spanish, what Mr. El Taimado has said is this – His name is El Taimado. He's the most hardcore motherfucker in all the land, um...” he pauses to recall what was said, “oh – and – there are many confused men in the WCF and they'll find out that you don't EFF with Mr. El Taimado!”
“¡EL TAIMADO!” El Taimado pumps his fist and then points to the sky. “¡ESPIRITU!” He shouts.
“SPIRIT!” Hidalgo shouts.
“David,” El Taimado continues as he turns his attention to his agent. “Your money grubbing hands are holding the manifesto that will re-shape the WCF entirely,” and Dan places his right hand on his chest and across the Super-T logo. “I won't go into detail, but Hidalgo and I have typed up some pretty deep shit, my friends, and we're not going to let this opportunity slip through our greedy bitch-ass fingers...” El Taimado grins, as his mask flexes with a smile. The Lucha-clown mask now don's a T woven into the leather and fabric just above the eyes and central forehead. David and Percy continue to scale the manifesto.
“Dan,” David says as his eyes float from page to page, “you have shit in here like – a strip poker hardcore match, a hotdog eating contest judged by Marc Mayhem and Logan, and allowing the fans to wrestle Jayson Price in an all-out arena gauntlet?” David looks at his client. El Taimado continues to grin, and slowly nods.
“Well, that last one would be fun to see,” Percy continues. David blankly stares at the career counselor. Percy shrugs his shoulders. “What?” Percy continues, “I fuckin' can't stand Jayson Price. He's a douchebag,” and then David chimes in.
“This isn't a manifesto,” the Agent says as he taps his finger against the pages. “This is a fuckin' demand from some idiot who has absolutely NO CLOUT in the company!” David shouts as he pushes the papers against El Taimado's chest. The client grabs the pages and then instantly transfers them to Hidalgo. David takes a few steps back. Percy's eyes are wide, face blank.
“David,” El Taimado says, and the agent regretted what he's done, “David – I appreciate you finally showing me that you do own a set of testicles, but you don't have to be rude about it. ¡Jesucristo!” El Taimado shouts and points to the sky.
“JESUS CHRIST!” Hidalgo translates in response. He too points to the sky.
“¡ESPIRITU!” El Taimado shouts with his eyes and finger directed at the Heavens.
“SPIRIT!” Hidalgo translates.
“David,” El Taimado continues, and looks at his Agent, “after defeating the Scarecrow last week, for a second time, I came to the realization that there's really absolutely no stopping me. I speak ad nauseum about how unbelievable I am, and somehow – every time that I say it – I get better. It's like watering a flower bed on a beautiful early Spring morning. Eventually – all these positive nutrients get sucked up and I BLOOM! BAM! POW! FUCK YOU! The most hardcore motherfucker in all the land just continues to dial in and succeed. That manifesto that you shoved into my unbelievable chiseled pecks – that manifesto outlines in full detail the strategy behind becoming the next KING, and WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION, of WCF,” El Taimado slaps his fist against his chest, “EL TAIMADO!” He shouts, and points to the sky. “SPIRIT!”
“So,” Percy responds, “you wrote a manifesto about yourself?”
“Si,” El Taimado responds.
“YES!” Hidalgo shouts. El Taimado turns to him and glares. Hidalgo cowers for a moment, but only until El Taimado looks back at his Agent and Career Counselor.
“It's about WCF, too,” El Taimado continues. “This manifesto involves every superstar. Every performer. Every individual that calls this company their job, and has Seth Lerch's name scribbled in ink across their paychecks. It involves Seth Lerch, and the Vapor Kings. Pantheon. The Pack. The Poon. The Jobbers. Adam Young and the Snoretel. Everybody. Every last motherfucker in this company. Alex Richards. Jay Omega. Dune. The fuckin' Scarecrow. All of you. Not a single person left out. Gaffers. Lighting. Pyrotechnics. Everything changes. The coming of a new era at the fate of yours truly. Besides – it is when I arrived that everything began to take shape. Occulo. Joey Flash. Dune. Fenix. Dampshaw. Mikey Extreme. A flood. A landslide. Mountains of talent. New blood. Yet, much like most of you would do – you all sat back and let that shit happen. That's when I knew I've struck oil – when I was told I'm in the best company in the industry and then I watch 'legends' get fucked by the next generation of bad ass motherfuckers,” he slams his fist against his chest, “EL TAIMADO!” He points his finger to the sky. “SPIRIT!” Then he looks back at David and Dr. Lee. “David, I don't understand why you're so upset?” El Taimado questions.
“UPSET?” David attempts to act fine, but turns and looks at his destroyed gymnasium. “UPSET YOU SAY?” He pleasantly shouts.
“I think our man is finally in this for the long haul,” Percy states as he slowly nods while staring at El Taimado.
“Oh, the long haul indeed,” El Taimado says with a grin, “and of course – I'm taking so many men down as I blaze my path. Last week – I put an end to that idiot the Scarecrow and made him think long-and-hard about his time with this company. Let's just say – I have faith the old feller will be changing his habits, soon. I don't find it offensive that he dabbles with the Pack from time-to-time. I'm sure he's just tryin' to get his dick wet. He seems like he's the type of guy who'd need a little help from people who are better than he is. I'm sure that's why he's reached out to me before. He's stuck. He's just another schmuck amateur lost in the sea of fucking LEGENDS. Dune's got his balls tucked passed his taint and keeps acting paranoid that the Scarecrow's gonna abandon the team so that he can play fart tag with his Pack buddies. Fuck'em. Bring it. That's probably not gonna happen, but if say the theory rang true – I'd love to see the Scarecrow try a third attempt at El Taimado. I like it when the opposition keeps trying. It's wonderful, and encouraging,” he pauses for a moment to remove the WCF Hardcore Championship from his waist. He displays it for David and Percy to see. Hidalgo stands at attention beside El Taimado. The champ continues.
“This belt,” El Taimado says, “this will define Dan Van Slade. Everything that I do while I wear this championship is going to catapult me to the top of the mountain. There's enough conclusive evidence that makes the manifesto I've prepared a well-documented source of badassdom. Truth on so many levels,” El Taimado shakes his head. “Alex, I want this to be a fresh start for you. Taking into consideration any intentions you have upon your return – I want what we have to be cherished. If you'd like – I'll go to Build-A-Bear and make you an El Taimado Teddy so that you can sleep with me every night. Hug me. Hold me. Cherish every moment now that you've got me. Remind yourself the reason you came back was because I continue to run my mouth and now you've been caught in the crossfire. That fast. The end of your tiny sabbatical because you ran out of steam. Your confusion ended. You couldn't hack it any longer. Too busy trying to mend lobes of your deep fried brain. Stuttering. Tongue biting. Everytime I'd look at you, or see you, I'd count the days until it'd be time I remove your trachea with my finger tips,” El Taimado clenches his fist before his face.
“David, and Percy,” El Taimado states, “I want you gentlemen to understand the passion that I have, and own, for the battle that is about to ensue. This is just the beginning. The result of a Payback. For some – karma's bidding. For me? The chance of a lifetime,” and he slowly raises the Hardcore Championship. “Bring your pack. Bring your army. Bring Jay Omega's death rays. Bring Steven Osbourne's male lover, so bring Chelsea Armstrong. Bring ICE, and the rest of the family. BRING STEVE ORBIT AND FLY!” He shouts. “BRING THE ENTIRE INTERNET TITLE SCENE,” he continues in a rage, “BECAUSE EL TAIMADO ISN'T STOPPING THIS TRAIN FOR NO ONE, YA GOT THAT?” He yells, and it echoes throughout the gym wasteland. He slowly lowers the title. “Bring Buddy Roman. The ghost of Maelstrom, Sin Rostro, Jr., Warpath, Caleb Collins. Bring an Oblivion stool sample. Bring anything that may cause pain, and suffering. I've offered NUMEROUS times the opportunity to END ME. DEFEAT ME. FINALLY END MY REIGN OF TERROR. Yet – not a single one of you bullshit jobbers have big enough balls to suffice. None. It's no wonder some of you get beat by women. How can you LIVE WITH YOURSELF?” His voice escalates, but he gains composure.
“David, Percy,” El Taimado seems to be coming to a close, “I'll do this. I'll team with Dune and the Scarecrow. Sure. No problem. I'll win this match for us. I don't need to worry about disappointments like Dune, or...the People's Champion,” and suddenly El Taimado begins to dry heave. He stops and looks at his Agent, “We've got this. We own this. The pleasure of stomping my boot into Armstrong's mouth; shove Alex Richard's fist up the Omega Man's sphincter; and – well – give Alex the old introductory lesson on how to lose in the Trilogy Cup tournament via the EL TAIMADO CONDUCTOR!”
“DEVIANT DRIVER!” Hidalgo shouts. El Taimado looks at his translator, and then back at David and Percy.
“I confess,” El Taimado says, “that I'd love to watch Chelsea Armstrong suffer a bit more than Alex Richards. Don't ask me why, but seeing her miserable seems – so pleasantly comforting to me. Call it my intentions for any relationship I own, I don't care. I love misery and I embrace it. I can only imagine how happy and soothed I'd be to know that Shelley could hope around and be all cutesy with mommy dearest. I'd put a chairy on top of that and say – ending her could simply end the pack. So, I'm gonna start with that. Remove Chelsea from the picture in the same fashion as Jayson Price, and then continue on to Alex,” he slams his fist onto his chest, “Adam Young stated recently that he's the most hated man in WCF, but I beg to differ, now...REUNITE YOUR FACES WITH MY FIST, YOU FUCKS...” and then he shouts, “EL TAIMADO!” and points to the sky. “SPIRIT!”
“MOST HARDCORE MOTHERFUCKER IN ALL THE LAND!” Hidalgo shouts, as the three men blankly stare at him.
Reunite These Nuts: Ciento Uno