Post by Travis Tusk on Jan 28, 2016 8:09:21 GMT -5
Yesterday afternoon
Kennett Square, Pennsylvania
Travis Tusk walked into the Half Moon Restaurant & Saloon, an establishment known for their dishes made from unusual meats such as ostrich and elk - which tastes a lot like lamb, F.Y.I. He is unfamiliar with the place, but the man he is meeting is not. He briefly talks to the hostess before finding and sitting at the table where his appointment is waiting. The man is wearing a baseball cap that hides his face. For the second time in the past six months, Travis finds himself sitting across from a man who is barely better than a stranger, but will change the course of his life. It's a secret this time, though, so don't tell anyone. Shh.
: You're late.
Travis: I'm sorry, but I couldn't make this a priority without knowing what this is all about.
: Gutsy choice. I've heard it said that you don't turn down an invitation from the President of the United States, even if you disagree with his policies.
Travis: Well, I didn't turn it down, I just didn't make it a priority. Maybe you're not aware, but I have a big match this week to prepare for.
: Oh, I'm aware.
Travis: Then let's get this over with. What's going on here?
A waiter comes by and places a glass of beer in front of the other man before asking Travis what he can get him.
Travis: Nothing for me, thanks.
: Are you sure? It's on me.
Travis shakes his head and the waiter leaves.
: To answer your question, I'm bringing it back.
Travis: Bringing what back?
: You know.
Travis blinks and stares blankly, until he realizes and his eyes go wide.
Travis: No way.
: Believe it. Are you interested?
Travis: What? No, I can't, I have a deal with WCF.
: It would be within WCF.
Travis: Huh? So...you're not really bringing it back.
: I'm bringing the name back. I think that counts for something. Are you in or out?
Travis: Well, like you said, you don't turn down an offer from the President...but why me? I haven't even won a match yet.
: I like your style.
Travis: That's it?
: Look here, “Reaganomics,” I'm offering you a chance to get in on the ground floor of this thing. I don't think I'm telling you anything you don't already know, deep down, when I say you're not going to get another opportunity like this anytime soon, from me or anybody else. And don't try giving me that, “But I have heart!” bullcrap. Heart only gets you so far. I mean, hell, look at me. You think I didn't have heart? And despite what you seem to think, this isn't the '80s, and steroids are no longer a viable option.
Travis: I'm not the kind to take shortcuts.
: It's not a shortcut, it's hard friggin' work. It's pain and doctor visits and exact doses and schedules. I never tried them, but I know guys who did. It wasn't about cheating their way to the top for them; it was about surviving. You're already a survivor, and that's why you're here today. So let me put it in words you can understand: when someone asks you if you're a god, you say “YES!”
The man looks like he has to hold himself back from banging his fist on the table.
Travis: Alright. I'm in.
The man picks a piece of paper off of the seat next to him and slides it over to Travis.
: Here's your application. You're the first, but you're not special otherwise. Everybody's going to get one of these.
The “application” is a single sentence and two giant checkboxes with “YES” and “NO” under them. Travis reads the sentence aloud.
Travis: “Do you like...mudkips?”
: Crap, sorry, wrong form.
The man snatches it up and crumples it, handing him a second paper from the same seat. This one is almost identical, except the word “mudkips” has been replaced by “cats.” Travis gives the man another blink and blank stare.
: You've seen what I can do for competitors like you. I know it seems ridiculous, but just answer the question.
Travis mumbles to himself as the man hands him a pen.
Travis (mumbling): Well, I'm really more of a dog person, but...sure, I like cats.
He checks the “YES” box and hands it back.
: Congratulations, you've been accepted. You'll hear from me soon.
Travis: That's it?
: You seem to have a really hard time taking good news. Yes, that's it.
Travis: What have I gotten myself into?
: Relax, it'll be fine. Everything's going to work out this time. And if it doesn't, well, it'll be a life experience.
Travis: Alright, well, I got to skedaddle, train for the match and all.
: No, come on, stay. It's on me.
Travis wanted to train for the match, but he had already been trained not to turn down a free meal. The waiter returned to take his order.
TO BE CONTINUED
Kennett Square, Pennsylvania
Travis Tusk walked into the Half Moon Restaurant & Saloon, an establishment known for their dishes made from unusual meats such as ostrich and elk - which tastes a lot like lamb, F.Y.I. He is unfamiliar with the place, but the man he is meeting is not. He briefly talks to the hostess before finding and sitting at the table where his appointment is waiting. The man is wearing a baseball cap that hides his face. For the second time in the past six months, Travis finds himself sitting across from a man who is barely better than a stranger, but will change the course of his life. It's a secret this time, though, so don't tell anyone. Shh.
: You're late.Travis: I'm sorry, but I couldn't make this a priority without knowing what this is all about.
: Gutsy choice. I've heard it said that you don't turn down an invitation from the President of the United States, even if you disagree with his policies.Travis: Well, I didn't turn it down, I just didn't make it a priority. Maybe you're not aware, but I have a big match this week to prepare for.
: Oh, I'm aware.Travis: Then let's get this over with. What's going on here?
A waiter comes by and places a glass of beer in front of the other man before asking Travis what he can get him.
Travis: Nothing for me, thanks.
: Are you sure? It's on me.Travis shakes his head and the waiter leaves.
: To answer your question, I'm bringing it back.Travis: Bringing what back?
: You know.Travis blinks and stares blankly, until he realizes and his eyes go wide.
Travis: No way.
: Believe it. Are you interested?Travis: What? No, I can't, I have a deal with WCF.
: It would be within WCF.Travis: Huh? So...you're not really bringing it back.
: I'm bringing the name back. I think that counts for something. Are you in or out?Travis: Well, like you said, you don't turn down an offer from the President...but why me? I haven't even won a match yet.
: I like your style.Travis: That's it?
: Look here, “Reaganomics,” I'm offering you a chance to get in on the ground floor of this thing. I don't think I'm telling you anything you don't already know, deep down, when I say you're not going to get another opportunity like this anytime soon, from me or anybody else. And don't try giving me that, “But I have heart!” bullcrap. Heart only gets you so far. I mean, hell, look at me. You think I didn't have heart? And despite what you seem to think, this isn't the '80s, and steroids are no longer a viable option.Travis: I'm not the kind to take shortcuts.
: It's not a shortcut, it's hard friggin' work. It's pain and doctor visits and exact doses and schedules. I never tried them, but I know guys who did. It wasn't about cheating their way to the top for them; it was about surviving. You're already a survivor, and that's why you're here today. So let me put it in words you can understand: when someone asks you if you're a god, you say “YES!”The man looks like he has to hold himself back from banging his fist on the table.
Travis: Alright. I'm in.
The man picks a piece of paper off of the seat next to him and slides it over to Travis.
: Here's your application. You're the first, but you're not special otherwise. Everybody's going to get one of these.The “application” is a single sentence and two giant checkboxes with “YES” and “NO” under them. Travis reads the sentence aloud.
Travis: “Do you like...mudkips?”
: Crap, sorry, wrong form.The man snatches it up and crumples it, handing him a second paper from the same seat. This one is almost identical, except the word “mudkips” has been replaced by “cats.” Travis gives the man another blink and blank stare.
: You've seen what I can do for competitors like you. I know it seems ridiculous, but just answer the question.Travis mumbles to himself as the man hands him a pen.
Travis (mumbling): Well, I'm really more of a dog person, but...sure, I like cats.
He checks the “YES” box and hands it back.
: Congratulations, you've been accepted. You'll hear from me soon.Travis: That's it?
: You seem to have a really hard time taking good news. Yes, that's it.Travis: What have I gotten myself into?
: Relax, it'll be fine. Everything's going to work out this time. And if it doesn't, well, it'll be a life experience.Travis: Alright, well, I got to skedaddle, train for the match and all.
: No, come on, stay. It's on me.Travis wanted to train for the match, but he had already been trained not to turn down a free meal. The waiter returned to take his order.
TO BE CONTINUED
