DeMarcus and Ira get a burger
Jan 3, 2016 13:29:59 GMT -5
Lilith, Howard Black, and 2 more like this
Post by DeMarcus Jordan on Jan 3, 2016 13:29:59 GMT -5
John Smith: Thank you for...bringing me here...say why is it that you wanted to do this here?
DeMarcus Jordan: This place has the best burgers my man.
John Smith: ...Really? Its a...its a Citgo gas station.
DeMarcus Jordan: Yeah. Do I look ignorant to you? I know where the fuck we are I am the reason we are here. You better watch yourself Ira.
John furrows his brow a bit in confusion, but lets the fact that DeMarcus called him 'Ira' go, maybe it was a mistake.
DeMarcus Jordan: HEY! WHITEY I NEED TWO CHEESEBURGERS!!
A very large man comes around the corner of the small grill station they are standing by. He has a gray tee shirt on, which he has clearly sweated through. He wears over the shirt a white apron that he clearly hasn't washed since he started making burgers at this gas station, and a small paper hat. His hair is long, curly, and gray, and he has a white five o'clock shadow. He scratches his double chin as he surveys the two men standing before him. One of them a slender black man dressed in bright colors. The other a nerd, wearing a shirt and tie, with thick, black rimmed glasses. He snorts and turns to the black man who had called for this man moments ago.
Whitey: What?
DeMarcus Jordan: You going deaf in your old age there, Whitey? Get that hair out yo' ears.
Whitey: Look here, Blackey, don't get smart.
John Smith: WHOA! No need for that kind of language.
DeMarcus Jordan: What language?
Whitey: Thats his name.
John Smith: Isn't that...I mean thats racist right?
DeMarcus Jordan: But it wasn't racist when I called him 'Whitey'?
John Smith: I...I guess so.
Whitey: Why? Thats my name. Whitey Nieman.
John Smith: Oh, uh...
DeMarcus Jordan: And I have known this greasy fuck since I was 15 years old. I told this mother fucker to call me Blackey.
John Smith: Well...I...
DeMarcus Jordan: You need to check yourself, there, Ira.
John Smith: Well, actually my name is John. John Smith.
DeMarcus Jordan: Psh, bitch ain't nobody named John Smith. Your name is Ira Liberman.
John lets out a heavy sigh. He had never been mistaken for a Jewish man before. He could see that this interview was going to be a lot more difficult that he had originally hoped.
John Smith: I am not Jewish.
DeMarcus Jordan: Yes you are. Whitey we need to cheese burgers.
Whitey: There are some under the bulb.
DeMarcus Jordan: We want some fresh burgers bitch.
Whitey: Yeah, whatever. Just sit over there, on them boxes of vitamin water.
He gestures to some boxes stacked about chair high, DeMarcus walks over, followed by John Smith. They both sit down as John pulls out a tape recorder and begins talking in it.
John Smith: John Smith and DeMarcus Jordan, World O' Wrestling expose. Check...test...ok. I am here with DeMarcus Jordan, one of the newest editions to the WCF roster and proclaims that he will be standing 'atop the hill' in 6 months or less. DeMarcus that is quite a statement, what makes you think you can back that up?
DeMarcus stares at John for a second, unable to understand where such a dumb question could come from.
DeMarcus Jordan: Because, Ira, my name is DeMarcus Jordan, which is synonymous with number one. I don't have any other choice but to rise to the top of the hill, I talk all this shit and then go in and get my ass whooped? Nah. Thats not how that works Ira. When DeMarcus Jordan says he is going to kick ass, fuck bitches, and be number fucking one, he is going to kick ass, fuck bitches, and be number one.
John Smith: Um, ok, but my name-
DeMarcus Jordan: Get off of it Ira.
John Smith: Um, ok, well tell us a little bit about where you come from?
DeMarcus shifts uncomfortably a little before clearing his throat.
DeMarcus Jordan: I come from the A-T-L Ira.
John Smith: So, you come from Atlanta. What was your fathers name?
DeMarcus Jordan: My fathers name was Jerome Jordan. My mothers name was Kimberly Lanni. My father met my mother when he was a Senior in high school, my mother was a Junior. They instantly fell in love, and while my father was away at college, he remained faithful, sending her a dollar every day that they were apart. My mother, staying faithful as well, wrote my father a letter every day they were apart.
When my mother graduated high school, they married, and went to the same college. They had me shortly after they both graduated. I grew up watching wrestling every day with my father, my mother tolerated it but she was never a big fan of it. I wrestled in school, made quite a name for myself in my teenage years, making the all state teams and getting a college scholarship for it.
DeMarcus flashes John a look of pride.
John Smith: Wow, thats incredible...what college did you attend?
DeMarcus leans in closer to John...his face and his attitude seemingly dropping.
DeMarcus Jordan: Well, I was all set to go to the University of Georgia, but that is when my mother got sick. She was diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after I got my acceptance. It was hard to leave, but I went for one semester until my father called me and said my mom was in the hospital.
He stops and puts his hand to his mouth, little out a small sob. He puts his other hand up, to apologize, and looks back up at John. His bottom lip quivers and his voice drops to almost a whisper.
DeMarcus Jordan: I drove back home as fast as I could and walked in to my mothers room at the hospital, and there she lay on her death bed. My father and her were holding hands...he was crying. She just smiled up at him...and wiped his tears away. He kissed her hand...
He reaches out and grabs Johns hand, to demonstrate how it went down. He doesn't kiss it, but he does hold it.
DeMarcus Jordan: And my mother said 'I will love you always' before drifting on into that sleep that you never wake up from
John Smith: Wow...that...that is quite a story.
DeMarcus slowly smiles until his smile becomes so wide he can't contain it, John Smith not noticing as he is too busy wiping tears from his eyes. DeMarcus bursts out laughing.
John Smith: What...what is so funny?
DeMarcus Jordan: Got ya bitch! That ain't a true story, I don't know who the fuck my mom and dad are. I was found in a fucking abandoned apartment on Pryor street. Hah. You should have seen your fucking face man. Hilarious.
The big man who was once behind the counter now comes from around the counter with two cheeseburgers on paper plates. He hands one to DeMarcus and one to John.
DeMarcus Jordan: Hey yo, Whitey, I just made this fool think I had a daddy.
Whitey: Heh, yeah, you gotta watch out for Blackey here, he is a dick.
DeMarcus Jordan: (with a mouth full of cheeseburger) Fuck you man.
John lets out a small but unsure smile and looks back up at Whitey.
John Smith: Um...excuse me...Mr...Whitey. May I get some ketchup?
DeMarcus Jordan: You don't need any ketchup. These burgers have a natural...delicious juice man.
John looks the burger up and down, its natural juice looks an awful lot like a lot of grease to him. But, eventually, he brings the burger to his mouth and takes a bite....and surprisingly enough, he seems to enjoy it.
DeMarcus Jordan: What do you think?
John Smith: Its actually pretty good.
Whitey: Don't seem so surprised, Ira.
Whitey chuckles as he meanders back to his hole in the back of the gas station. John rolls his eyes and wipes his mouth the back side of his hand. Putting his plate down, he grabs his tape recorder to make sure its still taping.
John Smith: So, DeMarcus, how did you get into wrestling?
DeMarcus has now grabbed John's plate, having finishing his own burger, and decides to eat his companions.
John Smith: Uh, I was gonna-
DeMarcus Jordan: (through a mouthful of food) I ain't see your name on it.
John Smith: Look, DeMarcus, I am just trying to help people get to know you better.
DeMarcus Jordan: No. I don't want to do that. People don't need to fucking know who I am or where I come from, all they need to know is that I will fuck bitches up in the middle of the ring no questions asked. Does that compute with you Ira?
John Smith: Compute?
DeMarcus Jordan: Yeah, cause you a fucking NERD! Haha. Those Nerd Smashers crack me up.
John Smith: Yeah, but-
DeMarcus puts his hand up to stop John from talking.
DeMarcus Jordan: Look, Ira, let me tell you this ok. I don't give a fuck about this stupid ass interview, it was a good way for me to make some cash.
John Smith: Look DeMa-
DeMarcus Jordan: Stop talking. You're starting to piss me off. Thats not a very nice thing to do, Ira. I am very stressed right now and you are pissing me off. Why would you do that?
John Smith: I-
DeMarcus Jordan: No, I gotta face three guys on Sunday and all you are doing is thinking about yourself. That is very fucking selfish Ira.
DeMarcus pops the last bit of burger in his mouth, effectively finishing his and John's burgers. John lets out a loud, deep sigh.
John Smith: Alright, DeMarcus, what about your opponents on Sunday? What can you tell me about them?
DeMarcus flashes a cheeky grin toward John. He rubs his hands together and chuckles a bit to himself. His eyes wander up as he bites the tip of his tongue, taking a moment to think about what he wants to say.
DeMarcus Jordan: Well, Ira, what is there for me to say about my so called 'competition' this Sunday? All of them are quiet mother fuckers. None of them have said anything. What is it for me to know about them other than it really, really sucks to be them come Sunday. A lot of people think that, you know, I have been talking shit and I haven't done anything to back it up, which, you know, fuck them. They can say whatever they want about me I suppose. But I don't just say shit, ya know what I mean Ira? I never say something without absolutely knowing that I can mother fucking back it up. Ya know?
John Smith: Sure, DeMarcus, sure. But what about the three guys you are supposed to face this Sunday?
DeMarcus Jordan: Well, Ira, I don't know who the fuck I am even going up against on Sunday, because it doesn't fucking matter. So why don't you stop acting so damn high and mother fucking mighty over there and tell me who my opponents are before I smack you upside your fucking head.
John shifts uncomfortably on his boxes. He clears his throat a bit and stares down at a piece of plastic he has been twisting in his fingers for the past few minutes, since DeMarcus stole his burger. DeMarcus continues rubbing his hands together, staring down John. Clearing his throat again, John finally speaks.
John Smith: Well, you are in the opening match of the night...a four way...its you and uh...Nagasaki, Incredible Minx, and um...White Cloud.
He finally looks up at DeMarcus,who has been staring a hole through John the entire time this had started, and lets out a small smirk. DeMarcus sits back.
DeMarcus Jordan: See, was that so hard, there, Ira? If you just sit back and use some common sense, you don't get your fucking head busted open. Got it?
John smirks and nods, avoiding eye contact with DeMarcus.
DeMarcus Jordan: First of all, the name that sticks out to me the most is a mother fucker named The Incredible Minx. What kind of a fucking name is that? He sounds like some fucking coat that a ninety year old woman would wear. (Imitating the scenario of a 90 year old woman wearing a fur coat) 'Oh darling, look at this new coat I have, its a fabulous, incredible mink.' (imitation over) What a dumb fucking name. What else about him?
John Smith: Uh, um let me look here...
He pulls out his phone, googling DeMarcus's opponent for Sunday.
John Smith: It says that he is a cross-dresser from Redcar, England.
DeMarcus Jordan: So...really? I mean is this mother fucker even going to show up? Or is this just a fucking joke by the management to weed out anyone who shouldn't even have a contract? I mean a cross-dressing guy from England? Thats fucking stupid. I am not going to waste my fucking time talking about this fucking clown anymore.
John Smith: Hey, I mean, he is a real competitor. Do you have anything to say about him or to him?
DeMarcus sits there in silence. John waits....and waits....and waits. Finally...he takes out his phone and googles the next name.
John Smith: Next opponent is Akane "Nagasaki" Katsu. He is a 422 pound sumo wrestler from Japan. How does that effect your strategy?
DeMarcus Jordan: Man, everyone always thinks that these fat mother fuckers are hard to beat, that they can just destroy you in one punch. Fuck that man. I have fought enough fat fucks in my life to know that they are just as big of bitches as any other guy. They come with a double edge sword, cause see they take longer to make fall over cause they have so much fucking weight keeping them up, but at the same time its fun to keep hitting and keep hitting them. I have fought a lot of guys in the my day, Ira, whether they be big or small, skinny or fat, twenty/twenty vision or one eye, and I have knocked all their asses out. I ain't afraid of no sumo bitch.
John Smith: It says here that his manager, Mr. Nobunaga is a part of the Yakuza family.
DeMarcus Jordan: The only thing I know about the Yakuza family is what I learned from Grand Theft Auto Three mother fucker, and there was no Mr. Cowabunga in that game. But of course he is, right? Isn't that the gimmick of guys like this, that they have to be in some sort of organized crime? Everyone has to be the cool guy who has gang connections? Man, let me tell you, growing up in Atlanta, orphaned, I could have joined a number of gangs. But I didn't. You know why Ira?
John Smith: Why?
DeMarcus Jordan: Because gang bangers either get killed or end up in jail. That wasn't the life for me, Ira, that wasn't the way DeMarc of Pryor street was gonna fucking end up. No, I did my talking with my fists, not with a gun, and the gangs around knew that and mother fucking respected that. I would kick ass and get my ass kicked, but I always lived.
But still Ira, I could say I was in a gang just like Mr. Nobuttga, but I much prefer to be me, and let my fist be the thing that makes people afraid of me, not my so called connections. So Mr. Katsoup, let me just say this. You may be a fat fuck who is trained to stay on your feet, but come Sunday, I am gonna really fuck you up. And tell the Ninja Turtle manager you have to keep his nose out of this business, because this is our business, not his, and if he tries to make it his, he will get a beating just like you get. Got it, bitch! Make sure you get that message to him.
John Smith puts his thumb up, internally rolling his eyes. He felt like DeMarcus should have known that this was being recorded by ways of television and he was stupid for telling him to make sure Nagasaki got the message, but he was also sure that DeMarcus meant what he said about 'busting him upside his head' and he would rather that not happen. Going through his phone again, he finds information for the next competitor, White Cloud.
John Smith: 'The Original' White Cloud. I don't know exactly what else there is to say here, the link says he is the savior.
DeMarcus rolls his eyes.
DeMarcus Jordan: Another one of these guys, huh? The prophet who has come to say the WCF, eh? Because the WCF is filled with scum like...those prophets who come and try to 'save' people. The only people who need saving are those people. I m taught the lord loves you no matter what, but here comes all these saviors and prophets to tell you exactly how you should behave and act. These guys act high and mighty but the reality of it is that he has no idea how to fight or do anything, all he knows how to do is be an egotistical asshole.
Also, his name is White Cloud. What exactly is he trying to say? No, no, his name is 'The Original' White Cloud. Is there more than one White Cloud? Who in their right mind would want to be a copycat White Cloud? That seems like the worst thin you can be. Maybe a little kid would what to be White Cloud for Halloween, does that mean that he is no longer the original? That the little kid is now a copycat, and that White Cloud could no longer be the only one so he had to say he is 'the original'?
Also White Coud? Thats is a racist if I have ever seen one. I am not one of those guy to bring race into anything unless someone else brings it in, but White Cloud brought it in by calling himself 'The Original' White Cloud. Nothing about that name says that he respects anyone of color. Caucasians for life is what he is trying to get across, that is his motto. He joined the wrong orginization, I think he was looking for the fucking Klan. Well sorry White Cloud, I am going to knock your racist ass out.
John Smith: Well, that is very in-
DeMarcus Jordan: Alright, we are done here Ira.
And without more words, DeMarcus gets up and walks directly out of the gas station. Leaving John Smith sitting there, stunned. After a minute, John gets up.
John Smith: Wait a minute, you drove!
He runs outside but see's DeMarcus pulling away in the Chrysler 300 that had gotten the two there. John sighs and looks at his recorder...not a very good interview. He throws the recorder in the trash and opens the doors to the gas station.
John Smith: Hey, Whitey, can I use your phone?
END.
DeMarcus Jordan: This place has the best burgers my man.
John Smith: ...Really? Its a...its a Citgo gas station.
DeMarcus Jordan: Yeah. Do I look ignorant to you? I know where the fuck we are I am the reason we are here. You better watch yourself Ira.
John furrows his brow a bit in confusion, but lets the fact that DeMarcus called him 'Ira' go, maybe it was a mistake.
DeMarcus Jordan: HEY! WHITEY I NEED TWO CHEESEBURGERS!!
A very large man comes around the corner of the small grill station they are standing by. He has a gray tee shirt on, which he has clearly sweated through. He wears over the shirt a white apron that he clearly hasn't washed since he started making burgers at this gas station, and a small paper hat. His hair is long, curly, and gray, and he has a white five o'clock shadow. He scratches his double chin as he surveys the two men standing before him. One of them a slender black man dressed in bright colors. The other a nerd, wearing a shirt and tie, with thick, black rimmed glasses. He snorts and turns to the black man who had called for this man moments ago.
Whitey: What?
DeMarcus Jordan: You going deaf in your old age there, Whitey? Get that hair out yo' ears.
Whitey: Look here, Blackey, don't get smart.
John Smith: WHOA! No need for that kind of language.
DeMarcus Jordan: What language?
Whitey: Thats his name.
John Smith: Isn't that...I mean thats racist right?
DeMarcus Jordan: But it wasn't racist when I called him 'Whitey'?
John Smith: I...I guess so.
Whitey: Why? Thats my name. Whitey Nieman.
John Smith: Oh, uh...
DeMarcus Jordan: And I have known this greasy fuck since I was 15 years old. I told this mother fucker to call me Blackey.
John Smith: Well...I...
DeMarcus Jordan: You need to check yourself, there, Ira.
John Smith: Well, actually my name is John. John Smith.
DeMarcus Jordan: Psh, bitch ain't nobody named John Smith. Your name is Ira Liberman.
John lets out a heavy sigh. He had never been mistaken for a Jewish man before. He could see that this interview was going to be a lot more difficult that he had originally hoped.
John Smith: I am not Jewish.
DeMarcus Jordan: Yes you are. Whitey we need to cheese burgers.
Whitey: There are some under the bulb.
DeMarcus Jordan: We want some fresh burgers bitch.
Whitey: Yeah, whatever. Just sit over there, on them boxes of vitamin water.
He gestures to some boxes stacked about chair high, DeMarcus walks over, followed by John Smith. They both sit down as John pulls out a tape recorder and begins talking in it.
John Smith: John Smith and DeMarcus Jordan, World O' Wrestling expose. Check...test...ok. I am here with DeMarcus Jordan, one of the newest editions to the WCF roster and proclaims that he will be standing 'atop the hill' in 6 months or less. DeMarcus that is quite a statement, what makes you think you can back that up?
DeMarcus stares at John for a second, unable to understand where such a dumb question could come from.
DeMarcus Jordan: Because, Ira, my name is DeMarcus Jordan, which is synonymous with number one. I don't have any other choice but to rise to the top of the hill, I talk all this shit and then go in and get my ass whooped? Nah. Thats not how that works Ira. When DeMarcus Jordan says he is going to kick ass, fuck bitches, and be number fucking one, he is going to kick ass, fuck bitches, and be number one.
John Smith: Um, ok, but my name-
DeMarcus Jordan: Get off of it Ira.
John Smith: Um, ok, well tell us a little bit about where you come from?
DeMarcus shifts uncomfortably a little before clearing his throat.
DeMarcus Jordan: I come from the A-T-L Ira.
John Smith: So, you come from Atlanta. What was your fathers name?
DeMarcus Jordan: My fathers name was Jerome Jordan. My mothers name was Kimberly Lanni. My father met my mother when he was a Senior in high school, my mother was a Junior. They instantly fell in love, and while my father was away at college, he remained faithful, sending her a dollar every day that they were apart. My mother, staying faithful as well, wrote my father a letter every day they were apart.
When my mother graduated high school, they married, and went to the same college. They had me shortly after they both graduated. I grew up watching wrestling every day with my father, my mother tolerated it but she was never a big fan of it. I wrestled in school, made quite a name for myself in my teenage years, making the all state teams and getting a college scholarship for it.
DeMarcus flashes John a look of pride.
John Smith: Wow, thats incredible...what college did you attend?
DeMarcus leans in closer to John...his face and his attitude seemingly dropping.
DeMarcus Jordan: Well, I was all set to go to the University of Georgia, but that is when my mother got sick. She was diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after I got my acceptance. It was hard to leave, but I went for one semester until my father called me and said my mom was in the hospital.
He stops and puts his hand to his mouth, little out a small sob. He puts his other hand up, to apologize, and looks back up at John. His bottom lip quivers and his voice drops to almost a whisper.
DeMarcus Jordan: I drove back home as fast as I could and walked in to my mothers room at the hospital, and there she lay on her death bed. My father and her were holding hands...he was crying. She just smiled up at him...and wiped his tears away. He kissed her hand...
He reaches out and grabs Johns hand, to demonstrate how it went down. He doesn't kiss it, but he does hold it.
DeMarcus Jordan: And my mother said 'I will love you always' before drifting on into that sleep that you never wake up from
John Smith: Wow...that...that is quite a story.
DeMarcus slowly smiles until his smile becomes so wide he can't contain it, John Smith not noticing as he is too busy wiping tears from his eyes. DeMarcus bursts out laughing.
John Smith: What...what is so funny?
DeMarcus Jordan: Got ya bitch! That ain't a true story, I don't know who the fuck my mom and dad are. I was found in a fucking abandoned apartment on Pryor street. Hah. You should have seen your fucking face man. Hilarious.
The big man who was once behind the counter now comes from around the counter with two cheeseburgers on paper plates. He hands one to DeMarcus and one to John.
DeMarcus Jordan: Hey yo, Whitey, I just made this fool think I had a daddy.
Whitey: Heh, yeah, you gotta watch out for Blackey here, he is a dick.
DeMarcus Jordan: (with a mouth full of cheeseburger) Fuck you man.
John lets out a small but unsure smile and looks back up at Whitey.
John Smith: Um...excuse me...Mr...Whitey. May I get some ketchup?
DeMarcus Jordan: You don't need any ketchup. These burgers have a natural...delicious juice man.
John looks the burger up and down, its natural juice looks an awful lot like a lot of grease to him. But, eventually, he brings the burger to his mouth and takes a bite....and surprisingly enough, he seems to enjoy it.
DeMarcus Jordan: What do you think?
John Smith: Its actually pretty good.
Whitey: Don't seem so surprised, Ira.
Whitey chuckles as he meanders back to his hole in the back of the gas station. John rolls his eyes and wipes his mouth the back side of his hand. Putting his plate down, he grabs his tape recorder to make sure its still taping.
John Smith: So, DeMarcus, how did you get into wrestling?
DeMarcus has now grabbed John's plate, having finishing his own burger, and decides to eat his companions.
John Smith: Uh, I was gonna-
DeMarcus Jordan: (through a mouthful of food) I ain't see your name on it.
John Smith: Look, DeMarcus, I am just trying to help people get to know you better.
DeMarcus Jordan: No. I don't want to do that. People don't need to fucking know who I am or where I come from, all they need to know is that I will fuck bitches up in the middle of the ring no questions asked. Does that compute with you Ira?
John Smith: Compute?
DeMarcus Jordan: Yeah, cause you a fucking NERD! Haha. Those Nerd Smashers crack me up.
John Smith: Yeah, but-
DeMarcus puts his hand up to stop John from talking.
DeMarcus Jordan: Look, Ira, let me tell you this ok. I don't give a fuck about this stupid ass interview, it was a good way for me to make some cash.
John Smith: Look DeMa-
DeMarcus Jordan: Stop talking. You're starting to piss me off. Thats not a very nice thing to do, Ira. I am very stressed right now and you are pissing me off. Why would you do that?
John Smith: I-
DeMarcus Jordan: No, I gotta face three guys on Sunday and all you are doing is thinking about yourself. That is very fucking selfish Ira.
DeMarcus pops the last bit of burger in his mouth, effectively finishing his and John's burgers. John lets out a loud, deep sigh.
John Smith: Alright, DeMarcus, what about your opponents on Sunday? What can you tell me about them?
DeMarcus flashes a cheeky grin toward John. He rubs his hands together and chuckles a bit to himself. His eyes wander up as he bites the tip of his tongue, taking a moment to think about what he wants to say.
DeMarcus Jordan: Well, Ira, what is there for me to say about my so called 'competition' this Sunday? All of them are quiet mother fuckers. None of them have said anything. What is it for me to know about them other than it really, really sucks to be them come Sunday. A lot of people think that, you know, I have been talking shit and I haven't done anything to back it up, which, you know, fuck them. They can say whatever they want about me I suppose. But I don't just say shit, ya know what I mean Ira? I never say something without absolutely knowing that I can mother fucking back it up. Ya know?
John Smith: Sure, DeMarcus, sure. But what about the three guys you are supposed to face this Sunday?
DeMarcus Jordan: Well, Ira, I don't know who the fuck I am even going up against on Sunday, because it doesn't fucking matter. So why don't you stop acting so damn high and mother fucking mighty over there and tell me who my opponents are before I smack you upside your fucking head.
John shifts uncomfortably on his boxes. He clears his throat a bit and stares down at a piece of plastic he has been twisting in his fingers for the past few minutes, since DeMarcus stole his burger. DeMarcus continues rubbing his hands together, staring down John. Clearing his throat again, John finally speaks.
John Smith: Well, you are in the opening match of the night...a four way...its you and uh...Nagasaki, Incredible Minx, and um...White Cloud.
He finally looks up at DeMarcus,who has been staring a hole through John the entire time this had started, and lets out a small smirk. DeMarcus sits back.
DeMarcus Jordan: See, was that so hard, there, Ira? If you just sit back and use some common sense, you don't get your fucking head busted open. Got it?
John smirks and nods, avoiding eye contact with DeMarcus.
DeMarcus Jordan: First of all, the name that sticks out to me the most is a mother fucker named The Incredible Minx. What kind of a fucking name is that? He sounds like some fucking coat that a ninety year old woman would wear. (Imitating the scenario of a 90 year old woman wearing a fur coat) 'Oh darling, look at this new coat I have, its a fabulous, incredible mink.' (imitation over) What a dumb fucking name. What else about him?
John Smith: Uh, um let me look here...
He pulls out his phone, googling DeMarcus's opponent for Sunday.
John Smith: It says that he is a cross-dresser from Redcar, England.
DeMarcus Jordan: So...really? I mean is this mother fucker even going to show up? Or is this just a fucking joke by the management to weed out anyone who shouldn't even have a contract? I mean a cross-dressing guy from England? Thats fucking stupid. I am not going to waste my fucking time talking about this fucking clown anymore.
John Smith: Hey, I mean, he is a real competitor. Do you have anything to say about him or to him?
DeMarcus sits there in silence. John waits....and waits....and waits. Finally...he takes out his phone and googles the next name.
John Smith: Next opponent is Akane "Nagasaki" Katsu. He is a 422 pound sumo wrestler from Japan. How does that effect your strategy?
DeMarcus Jordan: Man, everyone always thinks that these fat mother fuckers are hard to beat, that they can just destroy you in one punch. Fuck that man. I have fought enough fat fucks in my life to know that they are just as big of bitches as any other guy. They come with a double edge sword, cause see they take longer to make fall over cause they have so much fucking weight keeping them up, but at the same time its fun to keep hitting and keep hitting them. I have fought a lot of guys in the my day, Ira, whether they be big or small, skinny or fat, twenty/twenty vision or one eye, and I have knocked all their asses out. I ain't afraid of no sumo bitch.
John Smith: It says here that his manager, Mr. Nobunaga is a part of the Yakuza family.
DeMarcus Jordan: The only thing I know about the Yakuza family is what I learned from Grand Theft Auto Three mother fucker, and there was no Mr. Cowabunga in that game. But of course he is, right? Isn't that the gimmick of guys like this, that they have to be in some sort of organized crime? Everyone has to be the cool guy who has gang connections? Man, let me tell you, growing up in Atlanta, orphaned, I could have joined a number of gangs. But I didn't. You know why Ira?
John Smith: Why?
DeMarcus Jordan: Because gang bangers either get killed or end up in jail. That wasn't the life for me, Ira, that wasn't the way DeMarc of Pryor street was gonna fucking end up. No, I did my talking with my fists, not with a gun, and the gangs around knew that and mother fucking respected that. I would kick ass and get my ass kicked, but I always lived.
But still Ira, I could say I was in a gang just like Mr. Nobuttga, but I much prefer to be me, and let my fist be the thing that makes people afraid of me, not my so called connections. So Mr. Katsoup, let me just say this. You may be a fat fuck who is trained to stay on your feet, but come Sunday, I am gonna really fuck you up. And tell the Ninja Turtle manager you have to keep his nose out of this business, because this is our business, not his, and if he tries to make it his, he will get a beating just like you get. Got it, bitch! Make sure you get that message to him.
John Smith puts his thumb up, internally rolling his eyes. He felt like DeMarcus should have known that this was being recorded by ways of television and he was stupid for telling him to make sure Nagasaki got the message, but he was also sure that DeMarcus meant what he said about 'busting him upside his head' and he would rather that not happen. Going through his phone again, he finds information for the next competitor, White Cloud.
John Smith: 'The Original' White Cloud. I don't know exactly what else there is to say here, the link says he is the savior.
DeMarcus rolls his eyes.
DeMarcus Jordan: Another one of these guys, huh? The prophet who has come to say the WCF, eh? Because the WCF is filled with scum like...those prophets who come and try to 'save' people. The only people who need saving are those people. I m taught the lord loves you no matter what, but here comes all these saviors and prophets to tell you exactly how you should behave and act. These guys act high and mighty but the reality of it is that he has no idea how to fight or do anything, all he knows how to do is be an egotistical asshole.
Also, his name is White Cloud. What exactly is he trying to say? No, no, his name is 'The Original' White Cloud. Is there more than one White Cloud? Who in their right mind would want to be a copycat White Cloud? That seems like the worst thin you can be. Maybe a little kid would what to be White Cloud for Halloween, does that mean that he is no longer the original? That the little kid is now a copycat, and that White Cloud could no longer be the only one so he had to say he is 'the original'?
Also White Coud? Thats is a racist if I have ever seen one. I am not one of those guy to bring race into anything unless someone else brings it in, but White Cloud brought it in by calling himself 'The Original' White Cloud. Nothing about that name says that he respects anyone of color. Caucasians for life is what he is trying to get across, that is his motto. He joined the wrong orginization, I think he was looking for the fucking Klan. Well sorry White Cloud, I am going to knock your racist ass out.
John Smith: Well, that is very in-
DeMarcus Jordan: Alright, we are done here Ira.
And without more words, DeMarcus gets up and walks directly out of the gas station. Leaving John Smith sitting there, stunned. After a minute, John gets up.
John Smith: Wait a minute, you drove!
He runs outside but see's DeMarcus pulling away in the Chrysler 300 that had gotten the two there. John sighs and looks at his recorder...not a very good interview. He throws the recorder in the trash and opens the doors to the gas station.
John Smith: Hey, Whitey, can I use your phone?
END.
