Post by Logan on Dec 8, 2013 16:26:32 GMT -5
The cameras fade open, going from black to another dim black, only showing enough to make out a figure that resembles Logan - along with the voice.
Logan: A few days ago I didn't give two shits for this Hardcore title, for this company, or for myself. I tried to jump off the side of a cliff. That's how little I cared for... anything. I will not go into the specifics of my incident or what happened to me personally to make myself engage in a temporary fit of depression. But, however, it did make me realize something. I love myself. I LOVE holding this Hardcore championship. One can never have true hope without first despair, and though I do not typically have strong feelings for literally anything a tall - I did this time - and... it was good. I needed it.
The lighting increases, revealing Logan surrounded by white. He wears a black leather vest, his wrestling attire beneath the vest, and the Hardcore strap over his shoulder.
Logan: The truth of the matter is... sometimes we have to fall to remember how rough the climb is, and how grateful we should be just to be alive. I never thought I could ever become emotionally undone. Yeah, sure, there were a few times here and there where I believed I was someone else. This - this was different. Either way... whatever happened to me is no longer important. The only thing that matters now is this Hardcore title. I didn't battle Oblivion screaming and clawing just to drag this thing around for a couple of weeks. This belt is all I need right now, all I want. I still have this feeling rushing inside me that even after thirteen years, even after unmatched accomplishments, I still have something to prove. I want to prove to Jeff Purse and Oblivion that my championship win wasn't a fluke, that this wasn't some sneaky title reign that'll prematurely end on a first defense. I don't want to see another fuckin' soul holding this title. This belt is mine and mine forever.
He looks over the belt slung on his shoulder, almost petting it.
Logan: It will be beside me when I walk into the ring with Jeff Purse and Oblivion, and when I exit it. It will be there when I meet that joke and waste of my own time, FPV, when I walk into One and take his boudle ass to Connector City. This is the Hardcore title. This belt defines the current era of WCF. An era without rules, where men and women can be equally bloodied and battered, where an ambulance ride is just a brutal barb wired chair shot away. This title represents Sarah Twilight's WCF. Her vision of it, something I do support. My blood is on this title, along with a few others, and probably many more to come. Oblivion is just as nuts as the next WCF fucknut. I know how to deal with nuts. You deal with the same as you would with anyone else, beat the shit out of them. And Jeff Purse? I'll embarrass him. A trip or two to Connector City and that soft bitch will be back to selling popcorn in no time.
The scenery, his surroundings, turn from white to red. He must be in some kind of fancy 'green' room. An outside presence pushes a red chair into view, to which Logan sits upon, and another one is pushed beside him, and he props his feet up onto it. Sitting back, Logan pulls an electric cigarette from his vests pocket and rests it between his lips. It wasn't for appearance. He just needed the nicotine, just like he needed the Hardcore Championship. His body craved it.
He brought the Sponge Bob walkie talkie to his lips, and following a long pause... he spoke into it.
Boudlebot: Logan... do you copy?
Static. Nothing on the other end responded back to Boudlebot. He needed to say something to get Logan's attention.
Boudlebot: I heard a hotdog buffet is opening down the street from my hou -
The radio chirped in.
Roy: WHAT?!
Boudlebot: A hotdog buffet. Where's Logan? This sounds like Roy Speede.
Roy: That's because this is Roy Speede.
Boudlebot: Oh.
Roy: Come pick me up. I want hotdogs.
Boudlebot: I lied about the buffet.
Roy: You lied? Why?
Boudlebot: I was trying to get Logan's attention. I haven't heard from him in a few days.
Roy: Yeah... well... he's been away.
Boudlebot: Shacked up with Lilith?
Roy: No. I called her earlier. She hasn't seen him since that incident in the Arizona desert.
Boudlebot: Do you think he's okay?
Roy: I don't know. He seemed pretty out of it the other day, well, trying to jump off a cliff and all.
Boudlebot: Yeah he was probably drunk. I've done worse. One time I drank a bunch of used motor oil and got pretty lit, stole someone's cat, and tried to pawn it for a few bucks. When they wouldn't take the cat, I took the cat to KFC and tried to trade it for a bucket of chicken. Long story short, I ended up with a new pet, and have the included expenses of kitty litter and food every week.
Roy: ... oh.
Boudlebot: The cat eventually died of old age a few years later. That's okay though, because I hooked up with that time traveling boudle, Johnny Reb, right before he disappeared, and he built me a new cat.
Roy: A new cat?
Boudlebot: Pretty much. We kept the skin and fur and whatever and just formed it over the catbot.
Roy: That's pretty gross.
Boudlebot: I thought so at first, but once you meet The Great Catsy you'll be honestly surprised how cute she is.
Roy: The Great Catsy?
Boudlebot: Yes. That's my cats name... duh.
Roy: Isn't that like The Great Ga -
Boudlebot: NO!
Roy: You sure?
Boudlebot: YES! And that's IF The Great Catsy even wants to meet you. She is very particular about her company.
Roy: Wait... this cat actually talks!?
Boudlebot: WELL.. it is a robot.
Roy: Eh.
Boudlebot: She might be able to help us find Logan.
Roy: Why do you think that?
Boudlebot: The Great Catsy can find anyone. She's throwing a kitty party tonight, maybe we should stop by her mansion and see if she's available.
Roy: This cat has a mansion?
Boudlebot: Yes, she's in realty or something... I'm not sure. I once heard she played the lottery and won it that way. Some people have said she coughs up hair balls, fronts it for crack balls, and sells them for money.
Roy: This is ridiculous.
Boudlebot: It'd be ridiculous if you didn't ask for her help. Your Father is in serious trouble. He NEEDS your help.
Roy: Guess you're right. I'll do it for my Dad. See you there.
Sometime later in the day Roy Speede arrives at the cat house, pulling up on a scooter. He takes off his helmet, sitting it down the floor board of the scooter, and gazing over the wonderful house that is Great Catsy's. Boudlebot pulls up beside Roy on a Harley Davidson, rumbling the loud fierce engine as he comes to a stop. He looks up and down Roy's yellow moped, while drumming his big Harley all the while.
Boudlebot: Pussy.
Roy: HEY!
Boudlebot: What Toys R Us did you steal that gem from?
Roy: This gets 75 miles a gallon!
Boudlebot kills the Harley, just before dramatically stepping off of it, and straightening out the collars on his black leather jacket.
Roy: Do you hear music coming from inside?
Boudlebot: Of course. I told you a party was happening tonight in the cat house. The Great Catsy throws the biggest ones, man.
Roy: Have you ever been to one of these parties before?
Boudlebot: Tons. I usually never remember leaving though. I also never remember meeting The Great Catsy.
Roy: I thought she used to be your cat.
Boudlebot: Well, yeah, but the last time I saw her I was helping Johnny Reb stretch the skin of my dead cat over the frame of a catbot. Once she proclaimed herself to be The Great Catsy, well, she became a mysterious little kitty and I never seen her again.
Roy: Maybe she isn't real.
Boudlebot: Someone is throwing these parties.
Roy: Let's go find out.
The Boudlebot and Roy Speede walked up the front steps of the mansion, standing amongst the heavy wooden entrance doors, they knock and they slowly creek open. The sound of jazz escapes from within the opening of the door.
Boudlebot: Sounds like they're really tearing things up in there.
Roy pushes the door completely open and steps inside. A gigantic fountain of milk resides in the middle of the ballroom tiled floor. Numerous stray cats gathering around it, drinking from it's infinite flow. Other cats sit around, some laying on steps of the staircase, eating from opened cans of tuna fish. A few eats have literally eaten themselves into unconsciousness, laying passed out on the edges of the milk fountain with their bellies fat and expanded for all to see.
Roy: What the hell?
Boudlebot: These cats are loaded man.
Roy: Is that a milk fountain?
Boudlebot: You're damn right it is. I wish I would've brought cookies...
Roy: Eh.. I don't know if I would drink from that. I literally see a cat laying in the fountain on his side, lapping at milk. Do you see The Great Catsy?
Boudlebot: No. I don't. Maybe we should ask around and see if anyone knows where he is.
Roy: Ask around?
Roy sees nothing but fat cats hanging around the room. He stares at Boudlebot, who proceeds to truck himself over to a cat and begin speaking to it.
Boudlebot: Have you seen Catsy?
Cat #4: ... meow.
Boudlebot: I'm sorry. The GREAT Catsy, have you seen her?
Roy continues to stare. Boudlebot turns to Roy.
Boudlebot: I don't think they know where she is.
Roy: You don't say.
A voice echoes from above on the second floor.
Catsy: Why good evening, good shits.
Boudlebot and Roy look up to the balcony overhanging the second floor. A small strange looking cat wearing a tuxedo with her back to them, holding a champagne glass of milk, addresses them.
Catsy: What can I help you two gentlemen with?
Roy: Did she just call me a good shit?
Boudlebot: Yes.
Roy: I'll be damned.
Boudlebot: Are you The Great Catsy?
Catsy: I have had many names, and yes...
The Great Catsy dramatically turns on her paws to face Boudlebot and Roy from the balcony.
Catsy: That is one of them. Picked that little doo-wicker up during my time in Iraq when I scaled a mountain with two men on my back, carrying a M16 between my legs, aiming it with my thighs -
The Great Catsy continued to speak as she descended down the staircase.
Catsy: And fighting my way out of the madness. It was then that I met her... my... beloved... Katie..
Catsy pauses for a moment, zoning out into nothing. Boudlebot and Roy stare at each other.
Catsy: Never mind that, good shits. What brings you here? The milk? I get my milk from the finest tits.
Roy: You mean... teats?
Catsy: No, tits. I've paid a small fortune to pregnant women.
Roy vomits a little.
Boudlebot: Why did you get legs? All I have is these three little damn tires Reb plucked off broken down wheel barrels.
The Great Catsy looks down at her paws and then up to Boudlebot.
Catsy: Pardon me, good shit?
Roy: Nevermind him. Do you know where we can find Logan?
Catsy: Logan? Can't say I know a Logan.
Boudlebot: Damn...
The Great Catsy takes a sip from her champagne class of breast milk, stopping a little bit afterwards, and twirling her whiskers.
Catsy: Describe him.
Roy: Kind of tall, looks like he's drunk.
Catsy: You mean... Robbie's girlfriend?
Roy: Huh?
Catsy: Robbie. He was once one of my guests. He showed up to one of my parties and never left. Neither did the party some say. Anyway, now he just hangs around my house and paws around empty tuna cans together. It's a beautiful noise. Nice entertainment. He's a good shit.
Boudlebot: You're saying that Logan, our Logan, is a cat's girlfriend?
Catsy: I'm not only saying it, good shit, but I am showing you it as well. Ever since your Logan appeared, Robbie has been in a much more fantastic mood. His tuna can playing has improved. I have been meaning to thank your friend for that. Follow me.
The Great Catsy leads Roy and Boudlebot into another room. Sure enough, an unshaven Logan is sitting against a wall, a glass of breast milk by his side, eating a can of tuna with a cat (Robbie) on his lap. Once Boudlebot and Roy near Logan, the cat hisses and claws into their direction.
Catsy: Robbie is a jealous man. He gets very overprotective of his women.
Roy: Could you ask Robbie to give us some privacy with Logan?
Catsy: More than happy.
The Great Catsy paws over to Robbie and Logan.
Catsy: Move along, good shit.
The Great Catsy kicks the cat. It makes a blood curdling scream and runs.
Catsy: He's all yours.
Boudlebot: Thank you so much, Catsy.
Catsy: Of course. If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have other engagements.
Roy: Don't let us keep you.
The Great Catsy paws off, mumbling something about Katie in his exit. Roy and Boudlebot look down at Logan whom is idly spooning tuna fish into his mouth and staring at the empty floor.
Boudlebot: Logan. I know this is an awesome place and all, but what the hell are you doing?
Logan looks up to Boudlebot... a little confused.
Logan: I don't remember buying a sex bot. What's your name, babygurl? Did Robbie send you? I knew he was trying to spice things up... naughty kitty.
Logan laughs a little.
Roy: I thought you snapped out of this back in the desert.
Logan: What are you doing here, Hellz?
Roy: Hellz?
Logan: Don't play stupid with me. Did you get the Bloody }{awks back together? You here for revenge? Take your shot.
Boudlebot: What the hell is he talking about?
Roy: I don't have a clue.
Logan: Let me uh... finish this milk first.
Roy: That's breast milk.
Logan: I know.
Roy: From some random pregnant chick.
Logan: I know.
Boudlebot: You need to shape up, Logan. Get your shit together. You have a title match coming up very soon.
Logan: Title match?
Logan looks down, the Hardcore title by his side. He grabs it and clings it to his chest.
Logan: That is tonight isn't it?
Roy: Yes.
Logan: This time I'm not giving up my World title. Not making anymore mistakes. Hellz Angel will never take this title off me again!
Boudlebot: He thinks that's the World title?
Roy: He thinks this is 2001?
Boudlebot: Uh, that's the Hardcore title...
Logan: What? Ridiculous. That's a title for boudles.
Roy: Oh.
Boudlebot slaps Logan.
Logan: AJ JAM! You're back! I knew I should have snapped your legs and put you on the shelf.
Roy slaps Logan.
Logan: STEVE CARR!
Boudlebot slaps Logan.
Logan: PC CRADLE!
Roy slaps Logan.
Logan: OBLIVION.
Roy: There we go.
Boudlebot: My hand was starting to hurt... hey... this is my jerking hand.
Roy: Jerking WHAT exactly - nevermind. Logan...
Logan stares at the floor.
Roy: Logan...
Logan: ...
Roy: LOGAN!
Logan: ROY?!
Roy: Yes, it's me, your Son.
Logan: Right. How you doing?
Boudlebot: Do you know me?
Logan: Unfortunately.
Roy: Do you know what you're doing tonight?
Logan slowly stands up to his feet, brushing cat hair and pieces of tuna off his pants.
Logan: I'm going to go get a hotdog, maybe two, and then I'm going to wash that down with a root beer.
Boudlebot: I like how this is starting off.
Logan: And then I'm going to take this title, put it over my shoulder, keep it there... nice and tight, and then I'm going to walk into Slam -
Boudlebot: Hey! How bout a shower first?
Boudlebot fans his metal nose, which is a beer cap glued to his face.
Logan: I'll grab Jeff Purse by the neck, keeping the belt on my shoulder all the while, because I don't have to move a lot to take these boudles out. It's an effortless offense. Jeff Purse will feel my forearm tighten into his neck, and then, just when he sees stars and feels like taking a nap I'll be flipping over his shoulder, and snapping his spine violently forward. That's what I'll be doing.
Roy: Now that's more like it!
Logan: And Oblivion...
Boudlebot: Yeah, what about that little boudle?
Logan: I'll kick him in the fuckin' face.
Roy: ...
Boudlebot: ...
Logan: Yup.
Roy: That's it, just kick him in the face?
Logan: That's all he needs. All it takes.
Roy: I guess so.
Boudlebot: Logan.
Logan: Yes?
Boudlebot: Let's go get them hotdogs.
Logan, Roy, and the Boudlebot step over the cats and exit the cat house. The cameras pan up the stair case and into a back room to see The Great Catsy hunched over a lighten desk, obsessing over the picture of a cat inside a "How To Take Care of Your Cat" book.
Catsy: My beloved... Katie...
Scene fades.
Logan: A few days ago I didn't give two shits for this Hardcore title, for this company, or for myself. I tried to jump off the side of a cliff. That's how little I cared for... anything. I will not go into the specifics of my incident or what happened to me personally to make myself engage in a temporary fit of depression. But, however, it did make me realize something. I love myself. I LOVE holding this Hardcore championship. One can never have true hope without first despair, and though I do not typically have strong feelings for literally anything a tall - I did this time - and... it was good. I needed it.
The lighting increases, revealing Logan surrounded by white. He wears a black leather vest, his wrestling attire beneath the vest, and the Hardcore strap over his shoulder.
Logan: The truth of the matter is... sometimes we have to fall to remember how rough the climb is, and how grateful we should be just to be alive. I never thought I could ever become emotionally undone. Yeah, sure, there were a few times here and there where I believed I was someone else. This - this was different. Either way... whatever happened to me is no longer important. The only thing that matters now is this Hardcore title. I didn't battle Oblivion screaming and clawing just to drag this thing around for a couple of weeks. This belt is all I need right now, all I want. I still have this feeling rushing inside me that even after thirteen years, even after unmatched accomplishments, I still have something to prove. I want to prove to Jeff Purse and Oblivion that my championship win wasn't a fluke, that this wasn't some sneaky title reign that'll prematurely end on a first defense. I don't want to see another fuckin' soul holding this title. This belt is mine and mine forever.
He looks over the belt slung on his shoulder, almost petting it.
Logan: It will be beside me when I walk into the ring with Jeff Purse and Oblivion, and when I exit it. It will be there when I meet that joke and waste of my own time, FPV, when I walk into One and take his boudle ass to Connector City. This is the Hardcore title. This belt defines the current era of WCF. An era without rules, where men and women can be equally bloodied and battered, where an ambulance ride is just a brutal barb wired chair shot away. This title represents Sarah Twilight's WCF. Her vision of it, something I do support. My blood is on this title, along with a few others, and probably many more to come. Oblivion is just as nuts as the next WCF fucknut. I know how to deal with nuts. You deal with the same as you would with anyone else, beat the shit out of them. And Jeff Purse? I'll embarrass him. A trip or two to Connector City and that soft bitch will be back to selling popcorn in no time.
The scenery, his surroundings, turn from white to red. He must be in some kind of fancy 'green' room. An outside presence pushes a red chair into view, to which Logan sits upon, and another one is pushed beside him, and he props his feet up onto it. Sitting back, Logan pulls an electric cigarette from his vests pocket and rests it between his lips. It wasn't for appearance. He just needed the nicotine, just like he needed the Hardcore Championship. His body craved it.
THE GREAT CATSY IN THE CASE OF THE MISSING WILL
He brought the Sponge Bob walkie talkie to his lips, and following a long pause... he spoke into it.
Boudlebot: Logan... do you copy?
Static. Nothing on the other end responded back to Boudlebot. He needed to say something to get Logan's attention.
Boudlebot: I heard a hotdog buffet is opening down the street from my hou -
The radio chirped in.
Roy: WHAT?!
Boudlebot: A hotdog buffet. Where's Logan? This sounds like Roy Speede.
Roy: That's because this is Roy Speede.
Boudlebot: Oh.
Roy: Come pick me up. I want hotdogs.
Boudlebot: I lied about the buffet.
Roy: You lied? Why?
Boudlebot: I was trying to get Logan's attention. I haven't heard from him in a few days.
Roy: Yeah... well... he's been away.
Boudlebot: Shacked up with Lilith?
Roy: No. I called her earlier. She hasn't seen him since that incident in the Arizona desert.
Boudlebot: Do you think he's okay?
Roy: I don't know. He seemed pretty out of it the other day, well, trying to jump off a cliff and all.
Boudlebot: Yeah he was probably drunk. I've done worse. One time I drank a bunch of used motor oil and got pretty lit, stole someone's cat, and tried to pawn it for a few bucks. When they wouldn't take the cat, I took the cat to KFC and tried to trade it for a bucket of chicken. Long story short, I ended up with a new pet, and have the included expenses of kitty litter and food every week.
Roy: ... oh.
Boudlebot: The cat eventually died of old age a few years later. That's okay though, because I hooked up with that time traveling boudle, Johnny Reb, right before he disappeared, and he built me a new cat.
Roy: A new cat?
Boudlebot: Pretty much. We kept the skin and fur and whatever and just formed it over the catbot.
Roy: That's pretty gross.
Boudlebot: I thought so at first, but once you meet The Great Catsy you'll be honestly surprised how cute she is.
Roy: The Great Catsy?
Boudlebot: Yes. That's my cats name... duh.
Roy: Isn't that like The Great Ga -
Boudlebot: NO!
Roy: You sure?
Boudlebot: YES! And that's IF The Great Catsy even wants to meet you. She is very particular about her company.
Roy: Wait... this cat actually talks!?
Boudlebot: WELL.. it is a robot.
Roy: Eh.
Boudlebot: She might be able to help us find Logan.
Roy: Why do you think that?
Boudlebot: The Great Catsy can find anyone. She's throwing a kitty party tonight, maybe we should stop by her mansion and see if she's available.
Roy: This cat has a mansion?
Boudlebot: Yes, she's in realty or something... I'm not sure. I once heard she played the lottery and won it that way. Some people have said she coughs up hair balls, fronts it for crack balls, and sells them for money.
Roy: This is ridiculous.
Boudlebot: It'd be ridiculous if you didn't ask for her help. Your Father is in serious trouble. He NEEDS your help.
Roy: Guess you're right. I'll do it for my Dad. See you there.
Sometime later in the day Roy Speede arrives at the cat house, pulling up on a scooter. He takes off his helmet, sitting it down the floor board of the scooter, and gazing over the wonderful house that is Great Catsy's. Boudlebot pulls up beside Roy on a Harley Davidson, rumbling the loud fierce engine as he comes to a stop. He looks up and down Roy's yellow moped, while drumming his big Harley all the while.
Boudlebot: Pussy.
Roy: HEY!
Boudlebot: What Toys R Us did you steal that gem from?
Roy: This gets 75 miles a gallon!
Boudlebot kills the Harley, just before dramatically stepping off of it, and straightening out the collars on his black leather jacket.
Roy: Do you hear music coming from inside?
Boudlebot: Of course. I told you a party was happening tonight in the cat house. The Great Catsy throws the biggest ones, man.
Roy: Have you ever been to one of these parties before?
Boudlebot: Tons. I usually never remember leaving though. I also never remember meeting The Great Catsy.
Roy: I thought she used to be your cat.
Boudlebot: Well, yeah, but the last time I saw her I was helping Johnny Reb stretch the skin of my dead cat over the frame of a catbot. Once she proclaimed herself to be The Great Catsy, well, she became a mysterious little kitty and I never seen her again.
Roy: Maybe she isn't real.
Boudlebot: Someone is throwing these parties.
Roy: Let's go find out.
The Boudlebot and Roy Speede walked up the front steps of the mansion, standing amongst the heavy wooden entrance doors, they knock and they slowly creek open. The sound of jazz escapes from within the opening of the door.
Boudlebot: Sounds like they're really tearing things up in there.
Roy pushes the door completely open and steps inside. A gigantic fountain of milk resides in the middle of the ballroom tiled floor. Numerous stray cats gathering around it, drinking from it's infinite flow. Other cats sit around, some laying on steps of the staircase, eating from opened cans of tuna fish. A few eats have literally eaten themselves into unconsciousness, laying passed out on the edges of the milk fountain with their bellies fat and expanded for all to see.
Roy: What the hell?
Boudlebot: These cats are loaded man.
Roy: Is that a milk fountain?
Boudlebot: You're damn right it is. I wish I would've brought cookies...
Roy: Eh.. I don't know if I would drink from that. I literally see a cat laying in the fountain on his side, lapping at milk. Do you see The Great Catsy?
Boudlebot: No. I don't. Maybe we should ask around and see if anyone knows where he is.
Roy: Ask around?
Roy sees nothing but fat cats hanging around the room. He stares at Boudlebot, who proceeds to truck himself over to a cat and begin speaking to it.
Boudlebot: Have you seen Catsy?
Cat #4: ... meow.
Boudlebot: I'm sorry. The GREAT Catsy, have you seen her?
Roy continues to stare. Boudlebot turns to Roy.
Boudlebot: I don't think they know where she is.
Roy: You don't say.
A voice echoes from above on the second floor.
Catsy: Why good evening, good shits.
Boudlebot and Roy look up to the balcony overhanging the second floor. A small strange looking cat wearing a tuxedo with her back to them, holding a champagne glass of milk, addresses them.
Catsy: What can I help you two gentlemen with?
Roy: Did she just call me a good shit?
Boudlebot: Yes.
Roy: I'll be damned.
Boudlebot: Are you The Great Catsy?
Catsy: I have had many names, and yes...
The Great Catsy dramatically turns on her paws to face Boudlebot and Roy from the balcony.
Catsy: That is one of them. Picked that little doo-wicker up during my time in Iraq when I scaled a mountain with two men on my back, carrying a M16 between my legs, aiming it with my thighs -
The Great Catsy continued to speak as she descended down the staircase.
Catsy: And fighting my way out of the madness. It was then that I met her... my... beloved... Katie..
Catsy pauses for a moment, zoning out into nothing. Boudlebot and Roy stare at each other.
Catsy: Never mind that, good shits. What brings you here? The milk? I get my milk from the finest tits.
Roy: You mean... teats?
Catsy: No, tits. I've paid a small fortune to pregnant women.
Roy vomits a little.
Boudlebot: Why did you get legs? All I have is these three little damn tires Reb plucked off broken down wheel barrels.
The Great Catsy looks down at her paws and then up to Boudlebot.
Catsy: Pardon me, good shit?
Roy: Nevermind him. Do you know where we can find Logan?
Catsy: Logan? Can't say I know a Logan.
Boudlebot: Damn...
The Great Catsy takes a sip from her champagne class of breast milk, stopping a little bit afterwards, and twirling her whiskers.
Catsy: Describe him.
Roy: Kind of tall, looks like he's drunk.
Catsy: You mean... Robbie's girlfriend?
Roy: Huh?
Catsy: Robbie. He was once one of my guests. He showed up to one of my parties and never left. Neither did the party some say. Anyway, now he just hangs around my house and paws around empty tuna cans together. It's a beautiful noise. Nice entertainment. He's a good shit.
Boudlebot: You're saying that Logan, our Logan, is a cat's girlfriend?
Catsy: I'm not only saying it, good shit, but I am showing you it as well. Ever since your Logan appeared, Robbie has been in a much more fantastic mood. His tuna can playing has improved. I have been meaning to thank your friend for that. Follow me.
The Great Catsy leads Roy and Boudlebot into another room. Sure enough, an unshaven Logan is sitting against a wall, a glass of breast milk by his side, eating a can of tuna with a cat (Robbie) on his lap. Once Boudlebot and Roy near Logan, the cat hisses and claws into their direction.
Catsy: Robbie is a jealous man. He gets very overprotective of his women.
Roy: Could you ask Robbie to give us some privacy with Logan?
Catsy: More than happy.
The Great Catsy paws over to Robbie and Logan.
Catsy: Move along, good shit.
The Great Catsy kicks the cat. It makes a blood curdling scream and runs.
Catsy: He's all yours.
Boudlebot: Thank you so much, Catsy.
Catsy: Of course. If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I have other engagements.
Roy: Don't let us keep you.
The Great Catsy paws off, mumbling something about Katie in his exit. Roy and Boudlebot look down at Logan whom is idly spooning tuna fish into his mouth and staring at the empty floor.
Boudlebot: Logan. I know this is an awesome place and all, but what the hell are you doing?
Logan looks up to Boudlebot... a little confused.
Logan: I don't remember buying a sex bot. What's your name, babygurl? Did Robbie send you? I knew he was trying to spice things up... naughty kitty.
Logan laughs a little.
Roy: I thought you snapped out of this back in the desert.
Logan: What are you doing here, Hellz?
Roy: Hellz?
Logan: Don't play stupid with me. Did you get the Bloody }{awks back together? You here for revenge? Take your shot.
Boudlebot: What the hell is he talking about?
Roy: I don't have a clue.
Logan: Let me uh... finish this milk first.
Roy: That's breast milk.
Logan: I know.
Roy: From some random pregnant chick.
Logan: I know.
Boudlebot: You need to shape up, Logan. Get your shit together. You have a title match coming up very soon.
Logan: Title match?
Logan looks down, the Hardcore title by his side. He grabs it and clings it to his chest.
Logan: That is tonight isn't it?
Roy: Yes.
Logan: This time I'm not giving up my World title. Not making anymore mistakes. Hellz Angel will never take this title off me again!
Boudlebot: He thinks that's the World title?
Roy: He thinks this is 2001?
Boudlebot: Uh, that's the Hardcore title...
Logan: What? Ridiculous. That's a title for boudles.
Roy: Oh.
Boudlebot slaps Logan.
Logan: AJ JAM! You're back! I knew I should have snapped your legs and put you on the shelf.
Roy slaps Logan.
Logan: STEVE CARR!
Boudlebot slaps Logan.
Logan: PC CRADLE!
Roy slaps Logan.
Logan: OBLIVION.
Roy: There we go.
Boudlebot: My hand was starting to hurt... hey... this is my jerking hand.
Roy: Jerking WHAT exactly - nevermind. Logan...
Logan stares at the floor.
Roy: Logan...
Logan: ...
Roy: LOGAN!
Logan: ROY?!
Roy: Yes, it's me, your Son.
Logan: Right. How you doing?
Boudlebot: Do you know me?
Logan: Unfortunately.
Roy: Do you know what you're doing tonight?
Logan slowly stands up to his feet, brushing cat hair and pieces of tuna off his pants.
Logan: I'm going to go get a hotdog, maybe two, and then I'm going to wash that down with a root beer.
Boudlebot: I like how this is starting off.
Logan: And then I'm going to take this title, put it over my shoulder, keep it there... nice and tight, and then I'm going to walk into Slam -
Boudlebot: Hey! How bout a shower first?
Boudlebot fans his metal nose, which is a beer cap glued to his face.
Logan: I'll grab Jeff Purse by the neck, keeping the belt on my shoulder all the while, because I don't have to move a lot to take these boudles out. It's an effortless offense. Jeff Purse will feel my forearm tighten into his neck, and then, just when he sees stars and feels like taking a nap I'll be flipping over his shoulder, and snapping his spine violently forward. That's what I'll be doing.
Roy: Now that's more like it!
Logan: And Oblivion...
Boudlebot: Yeah, what about that little boudle?
Logan: I'll kick him in the fuckin' face.
Roy: ...
Boudlebot: ...
Logan: Yup.
Roy: That's it, just kick him in the face?
Logan: That's all he needs. All it takes.
Roy: I guess so.
Boudlebot: Logan.
Logan: Yes?
Boudlebot: Let's go get them hotdogs.
Logan, Roy, and the Boudlebot step over the cats and exit the cat house. The cameras pan up the stair case and into a back room to see The Great Catsy hunched over a lighten desk, obsessing over the picture of a cat inside a "How To Take Care of Your Cat" book.
Catsy: My beloved... Katie...
Scene fades.
