Post by Steve Orbit on Mar 26, 2016 13:25:01 GMT -5
CLUB VIOLET - OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA
Fade in to Steve Orbit's gentlemen's club/illegal gambling establishment/brothel/front for drug operations/den of sin, the world-famous Club Violet. Unforunately, the Club was recently the target of a terrorist-style bombing, perpetrated by Orbit's long-time nemesis, dick-breathed asshole Logan.
Upon entering the ground floor of the Club, we notice that the right half of the room is basically gone. The roof is heavily damaged but still there. There's a crater in the floor and there's almost nothing left of the wall. By the wall is where we find "The Mack" Steve Orbit. He's shirtless, in black Nike shorts, kneeling by the wall. There's a bucket of cement and some masonry tools nearby as well as a stack of bricks. Orbit is currently rebuilding the wall, brick by brick with a scowl on his face.
There are a few girls hanging around-- we can safely assume that they have nowhere else to go. This Club is all they have and Steve Orbit is all they know in life. One of them approaches Orbit. She's tan skinned, nearly six feet tall and thick as hell with wide hips and a healthy rack. Her bleach blonde hair is divided into two pigtails. She speaks in between drags from a cigarette.
Stripper: Baby... you want some help? We just sittin' around, ain't doin' shit. We wanna help you with all this.
Orbit doesn't answer, mumbling under his breath.
Stripper: Can I fix you a drink? Roll you a joint?
Still nothing from Orbit, who seems totally fixated on the project at hand. The girl sadfaces and walks away. At this point, a sharp-dressed man walks through the front door. His name is Jonny Fly and he is Steve Orbit's brother. He speaks to the same blonde-haired girl, who points in Orbit's direction. Fly walks towards Orbit, stepping around the gigantic hole in the floor. He stops a few feet back from Orbit.
Jonny Fly: What are you doing?
No response. Fly approaches and puts his hand on Orbit's shoulder--
Steve Orbit: The fuck off me!
Orbit shoves Fly away, he stumbles back. Orbit turns his back to Fly once again. Fly dusts himself off and takes a seat on the floor, watching Orbit stack the bricks.
Jonny Fly: Sooo. You want some help with that?
No response.
Jonny Fly: You gonna rebuild this place by yourself?
Orbit mutters under his breath.
Steve Orbit: Fuckin' right I am.
After a moment of silence, Orbit shakes his head in frustration and stands up. He turns around to face Fly, who also stands.
Steve Orbit: I got nothin' better to do, do I?
Fly smirks.
Jonny Fly: Don't you? You have a pretty big fucking match this weekend.
Steve Orbit: Fuck the match!
Orbit turns around, looking out at the city through what used to be a wall. He looks distant, distraught.
Steve Orbit: It's ironic, really. You know what I'm sayin'? I come back to WCF... ready to get into the mix, been watchin' from the sidelines for too long. Shit, I thought I'd be in some kinda feud with BeachKrew or somethin' by now. Thought I'd be fightin' for a title. Instead, Logan's had his foot on my mother fuckin' neck since I walked back in the door. He's got me on the ropes and this Sunday, this Three Stages of Hell match, that's it. It's a wrap. I'm done. Fuckin' done, bro.
Jonny Fly: Ok... Where's the irony?
Fly says, humoring his brother.
Steve Orbit: Well, he blew up my fuckin' return, and now he blew up my mother fuckin' Club. The last mother fucker I expected, the one I never saw comin'. LOGAN. I dunno, man-- maybe I just won't even show up at Explosion--
THUMP.
A while later, we're back inside the Club, at what remains of the bar. It's mostly intact as the bomb destroyed the opposite side of the building. Orbit sits on one of the stools with a frosty bottle of vodka pressed over his left eye. Fly sits next to him.
Jonny Fly: I couldn't take it anymore. You were talking like a fuckin' bitch.
Fly mocks him.
Jonny Fly: "Oh, Logan keeps beating me. I'm up against the ropes! I'm not going to Explosion. Wah, wah." Come on, Steve. You didn't fall apart like this when we were at war, and I had you looking at a life sentence.
Orbit shrugs, taking the bottle off his eye and twisting off the cap. He takes a swig, puts the cap back on, and returns it to his eye.
Steve Orbit: I just feel like I can't get my fuckin' feet on the ground. And now this...
Orbit points to the wreckage on the other side of the room.
Steve Orbit: This has gone beyond the ring. This mother fucker wants to take me out the game, for real. And I don't know if I got it in me to stop him. I'm not hittin' as hard as I used to, not movin' as fast. It's like I'm missing somethin'.
Fly nods.
Jonny Fly: I'll tell you what you're missing. Inspiration.
Steve Orbit: What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Inspiration. I'm a fuckin' wrestler, I don't need inspiration. I need a gameplan.
Jonny Fly: Why? You've never needed one before. You just go in and fuckin' dominate.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, but--
Fly puts his hand up, cutting off Orbit.
Jonny Fly: Let me tell you exactly what's happening. An outside point of view, if you will. This whole thing with Logan has thrown you for a loop, mentally. This is the same Logan who just a few years ago was dressing in drag, doing comedy jerk off tag teams, and jobbing himself out to anybody low enough on the card to get in the ring with him. What he's accomplished is basically a long con. Logan has put so much into ruining his reputation, he's thrown away so many opportunities, he's no-showed so many times... that he had the entire world convinced that he had fell off completely. He dicked around for so many years that we had no choice but to write him off-- enter Final Destination. Logan shows up, he TRIES for the first time in forever, and he fuckin' wins. Sure, he had help from Seth, but Seth's bias hadn't been enough to win him matches until recently. Now, he's operating on all cylinders. He's giving it all he's got. And it's confusing the shit out of everybody.
Orbit takes a few moments to let that soak in, nodding slowly.
Steve Orbit: ... No doubt.
Jonny Fly: What if, say... somebody like Tyler Walker, who NOBODY expects to ever win, all of a sudden started performing at a higher level. He would catch everybody off guard. People would show up expecting to steamroll him-- and he would wreck them because they would never see him coming.
Orbit opens the vodka bottle and takes a swig. He places it on the bar, exposing the welt forming above his eye.
Steve Orbit: So what do I do?
Fly chuckles.
Jonny Fly: You know what to do. This man has made a fuckin' fool out of you, Steve. Just being honest. Tough love right here. You know he's bringing his best-- have you brought yours? Or have you been slacking, expecting it to be enough?
Steve Orbit: I been slackin'. I been thinkin'... every week, this is fuckin' LOGAN. He's a walking joke. I never thought I'd have to bring my A game to a match against Logan.
Jonny Fly: I think it's time to bring your A game. At your BEST... Logan can't touch you, man. Everybody knows that. The whole company, the fans, they're all as shocked as you that you've been tossed around by Logan this much. And Logan... he's probably shocked, too. Why do you think he's going to such extreme measures? Setting off bombs like a fuckin' towel head? He's nervous, Steve. He knows he can't keep this shit up forever. He wants you here, stacking bricks like a fuckin' wetback.
Steve Orbit: Bro... easy on the racial shit, man.
Jonny Fly: I'm making a point, get off me. He wants you here, putting this place back together. Don't let him inside your head. You're feeding right into him. He thinks he's got you exactly where he wants you. Don't let this shit phase you. This Club can be rebuilt better than ever.
Steve Orbit: ... So can I.
Orbit stands up, smashing the vodka bottle on the ground.
Steve Orbit: I CAN REBUILD.
Cue dramatic music!
Steve Orbit: I'm tired of sitting here, feeling sorry for myself. Looking at my reflection and searching for answers. I'm tired of drinkin' and fuckin' away the pain out here. It's time for me to FUCK.THIS.NIGGA.UP.
Fly stands up.
Jonny Fly: Right!
Orbit looks directly into the camera.
Steve Orbit: Logan, you can steal a briefcase, this ain't about Final Destination no more. No. You can knock me down off that ladder, you know what I'm sayin', but I WILL GET BACK UP. Logan, you can blow up my mother fuckin' place of business, BUT I WILL REBUILD. You can embarass me in the ring once, twice... THAT'S IT. You have my attention, mother fucker. I'm right here. At Explosion, I swear on my momma, I'ma beat your mother fuckin' ass all over the arena, I'ma throw yo' ass all around in the electric cage, and after that, if we make it to that third fall, I'ma wrap my mother fuckin' hands up in glass and I'ma stick 'n move on yo' ass until you can't even answer the ten count. I'm done playin' around with you. You want to fuck with Steve Orbit like that? You gonna find out what happens when shit gets personal.
Fly pats Orbit on the back as his nostrils flare.
Steve Orbit: Nah, this ain't happening. I am not allowing this shit to continue any more. All this sucker shit, it's over and done with. I am STEVE ORBIT. In the course of my career, I've been beaten plenty. I've had mother fuckers run over me, but if you do your research, you will see that I ALWAYS come back and I ALWAYS get revenge, I ALWAYS come out on top. Ask Odin Balfore. Ask Waylon Cash. Shit, ask my BROTHER.
Fly nods, not wanting to cut off Orbit's momentum.
Steve Orbit: Those are just a few examples of mother fuckers who got the best of me at one point, but at the end of the day, they got Pimp Slapped and put on they back. Logan, I've underestimated you. You know I think you're a fuckin' joke, and you done took advantage of that. Not anymore. I'm bringing everything I got to mother fuckin' Explosion. I'm fightin' like my career is on the line, because, shit-- if I allow you to beat me again, I might as well hang this shit up. But I ain't ready to do that, and I damn sure ain't gonna let a cock thirstin' mother fucker like Logan be the one to take me out the game. Nah, that ain't the way I'm goin' out. When that fuckin' bell rings, I'm comin' for your head, mother fucker.
Orbit is clearly angry, with saliva flying everywhere as he speaks.
Steve Orbit: Call your Family. Call your friends, tell 'em it's gonna be a God damn funeral on Easter Sunday. This is the ressurection of Steve Orbit. All this shit, past couple months, I hope you enjoyed yourself. I hope you had fun, homie. I hope all this was worth it for you. You should have just moved the fuck on after Timebomb. You got your little win and your Torture autograph that you always wanted. I know you cuttin' holes in his ass usin' it as a pocket pussy. That's besides the point-- the point is, you took it too far. You coulda had a couple nice wins over Steve Orbit and left it at that. Instead, I'ma make you pay for all this. This Sunday I won't stop comin' at you 'til you ain't movin' no more, mother fucker. I'll cry over my Club later-- AFTER I laugh, after I get revenge. And revenge I WILL GET.
Orbit points his finger at the camera, mean mugging the camera. Fade out.
Hours later, we return to the same scene at the bar. Empty booze bottles all around. Fly is passed out on the floor. Orbit throws a Black & Mild in his mouth, wrong end. Lights it and the plastic mouth peice flames up and begins to char. Unphased, Orbit turns it around and puts the burnt end in his mouth, lighting the other end and taking a puff. He sways from side to side, slurring his speech.
Steve Orbit: LOGAN. Logan. This what you want? You wanna FUCK ME? FUCK WITH ME, rather? Do you know who the fuck I am?
Orbit stumbles over to the camera and puts his face right up to the screen.
Steve Orbit: I am THE MACK. You wanna put glass on these hands?!
Orbit puts his hands up to the camera.
Steve Orbit: Man, when you was... fuckin' around in WCF, ten years ago, I was in SAN QUENTIN. You was playin' grab ass with Seth Lerch, I was shankin' niggas over a carton of Newports. You really wanna take it there with me? You wanna see me get FUCKIN CRAZY?!
Orbit backs up from the camera, still swaying and clearly drunk.
Steve Orbit: You just had to push me, huh. You couldn't leave it alone. You had your lil' ladder matches, you tried to... confuse my mind, and fuckin' all that bullshit. You fuckin' with the wrong one, home BOY. You fuckin' with the wrong one.
Orbit does his Tona Montana impression.
Steve Orbit: I KILL FOR FUN. You think you big time, fuckin' with STEVEN MONTANA? YOU GONNA DIE BIG TIME. OK... I RELOADED!
Orbit pulls his notorious two-tone gold and silver plated pistol out of his drawers and busts a few shots in the ceiling before aiming it at the camera. The shots wake up Fly, who looks up, shrugs, and passes the fuck out again.
Steve Orbit: WHAT... NO GUNS? HUH?
Orbit throws the pistol over his shoulder. It busts off upon landing and a shot whizzes by Orbit's ear. Orbit starts opening his belt.
Steve Orbit: I'M TAKIN IT OUT. You want a sword fight LOOOOGAN? I'm HAN SOLO WITH THIS SHIT
Orbit pulls his shit out and does the helicopter dick, with the camera just above his waist so we can't see. Sorry homos. All we hear is the "fap fap fap" of his cock banging against his leg as it spins around.
Steve Orbit: And if all that fails--
Orbit laughs. And then he gets into the Crane stance.
Steve Orbit: I'M A BIRD NIGGA
As soon as he lifts one leg, he loses balance and drops to the ground. That's it, he's out. Snoring within a matter of seconds. Fade out.
Fade in to Steve Orbit's gentlemen's club/illegal gambling establishment/brothel/front for drug operations/den of sin, the world-famous Club Violet. Unforunately, the Club was recently the target of a terrorist-style bombing, perpetrated by Orbit's long-time nemesis, dick-breathed asshole Logan.
Upon entering the ground floor of the Club, we notice that the right half of the room is basically gone. The roof is heavily damaged but still there. There's a crater in the floor and there's almost nothing left of the wall. By the wall is where we find "The Mack" Steve Orbit. He's shirtless, in black Nike shorts, kneeling by the wall. There's a bucket of cement and some masonry tools nearby as well as a stack of bricks. Orbit is currently rebuilding the wall, brick by brick with a scowl on his face.
There are a few girls hanging around-- we can safely assume that they have nowhere else to go. This Club is all they have and Steve Orbit is all they know in life. One of them approaches Orbit. She's tan skinned, nearly six feet tall and thick as hell with wide hips and a healthy rack. Her bleach blonde hair is divided into two pigtails. She speaks in between drags from a cigarette.
Stripper: Baby... you want some help? We just sittin' around, ain't doin' shit. We wanna help you with all this.
Orbit doesn't answer, mumbling under his breath.
Stripper: Can I fix you a drink? Roll you a joint?
Still nothing from Orbit, who seems totally fixated on the project at hand. The girl sadfaces and walks away. At this point, a sharp-dressed man walks through the front door. His name is Jonny Fly and he is Steve Orbit's brother. He speaks to the same blonde-haired girl, who points in Orbit's direction. Fly walks towards Orbit, stepping around the gigantic hole in the floor. He stops a few feet back from Orbit.
Jonny Fly: What are you doing?
No response. Fly approaches and puts his hand on Orbit's shoulder--
Steve Orbit: The fuck off me!
Orbit shoves Fly away, he stumbles back. Orbit turns his back to Fly once again. Fly dusts himself off and takes a seat on the floor, watching Orbit stack the bricks.
Jonny Fly: Sooo. You want some help with that?
No response.
Jonny Fly: You gonna rebuild this place by yourself?
Orbit mutters under his breath.
Steve Orbit: Fuckin' right I am.
After a moment of silence, Orbit shakes his head in frustration and stands up. He turns around to face Fly, who also stands.
Steve Orbit: I got nothin' better to do, do I?
Fly smirks.
Jonny Fly: Don't you? You have a pretty big fucking match this weekend.
Steve Orbit: Fuck the match!
Orbit turns around, looking out at the city through what used to be a wall. He looks distant, distraught.
Steve Orbit: It's ironic, really. You know what I'm sayin'? I come back to WCF... ready to get into the mix, been watchin' from the sidelines for too long. Shit, I thought I'd be in some kinda feud with BeachKrew or somethin' by now. Thought I'd be fightin' for a title. Instead, Logan's had his foot on my mother fuckin' neck since I walked back in the door. He's got me on the ropes and this Sunday, this Three Stages of Hell match, that's it. It's a wrap. I'm done. Fuckin' done, bro.
Jonny Fly: Ok... Where's the irony?
Fly says, humoring his brother.
Steve Orbit: Well, he blew up my fuckin' return, and now he blew up my mother fuckin' Club. The last mother fucker I expected, the one I never saw comin'. LOGAN. I dunno, man-- maybe I just won't even show up at Explosion--
THUMP.
A while later, we're back inside the Club, at what remains of the bar. It's mostly intact as the bomb destroyed the opposite side of the building. Orbit sits on one of the stools with a frosty bottle of vodka pressed over his left eye. Fly sits next to him.
Jonny Fly: I couldn't take it anymore. You were talking like a fuckin' bitch.
Fly mocks him.
Jonny Fly: "Oh, Logan keeps beating me. I'm up against the ropes! I'm not going to Explosion. Wah, wah." Come on, Steve. You didn't fall apart like this when we were at war, and I had you looking at a life sentence.
Orbit shrugs, taking the bottle off his eye and twisting off the cap. He takes a swig, puts the cap back on, and returns it to his eye.
Steve Orbit: I just feel like I can't get my fuckin' feet on the ground. And now this...
Orbit points to the wreckage on the other side of the room.
Steve Orbit: This has gone beyond the ring. This mother fucker wants to take me out the game, for real. And I don't know if I got it in me to stop him. I'm not hittin' as hard as I used to, not movin' as fast. It's like I'm missing somethin'.
Fly nods.
Jonny Fly: I'll tell you what you're missing. Inspiration.
Steve Orbit: What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Inspiration. I'm a fuckin' wrestler, I don't need inspiration. I need a gameplan.
Jonny Fly: Why? You've never needed one before. You just go in and fuckin' dominate.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, but--
Fly puts his hand up, cutting off Orbit.
Jonny Fly: Let me tell you exactly what's happening. An outside point of view, if you will. This whole thing with Logan has thrown you for a loop, mentally. This is the same Logan who just a few years ago was dressing in drag, doing comedy jerk off tag teams, and jobbing himself out to anybody low enough on the card to get in the ring with him. What he's accomplished is basically a long con. Logan has put so much into ruining his reputation, he's thrown away so many opportunities, he's no-showed so many times... that he had the entire world convinced that he had fell off completely. He dicked around for so many years that we had no choice but to write him off-- enter Final Destination. Logan shows up, he TRIES for the first time in forever, and he fuckin' wins. Sure, he had help from Seth, but Seth's bias hadn't been enough to win him matches until recently. Now, he's operating on all cylinders. He's giving it all he's got. And it's confusing the shit out of everybody.
Orbit takes a few moments to let that soak in, nodding slowly.
Steve Orbit: ... No doubt.
Jonny Fly: What if, say... somebody like Tyler Walker, who NOBODY expects to ever win, all of a sudden started performing at a higher level. He would catch everybody off guard. People would show up expecting to steamroll him-- and he would wreck them because they would never see him coming.
Orbit opens the vodka bottle and takes a swig. He places it on the bar, exposing the welt forming above his eye.
Steve Orbit: So what do I do?
Fly chuckles.
Jonny Fly: You know what to do. This man has made a fuckin' fool out of you, Steve. Just being honest. Tough love right here. You know he's bringing his best-- have you brought yours? Or have you been slacking, expecting it to be enough?
Steve Orbit: I been slackin'. I been thinkin'... every week, this is fuckin' LOGAN. He's a walking joke. I never thought I'd have to bring my A game to a match against Logan.
Jonny Fly: I think it's time to bring your A game. At your BEST... Logan can't touch you, man. Everybody knows that. The whole company, the fans, they're all as shocked as you that you've been tossed around by Logan this much. And Logan... he's probably shocked, too. Why do you think he's going to such extreme measures? Setting off bombs like a fuckin' towel head? He's nervous, Steve. He knows he can't keep this shit up forever. He wants you here, stacking bricks like a fuckin' wetback.
Steve Orbit: Bro... easy on the racial shit, man.
Jonny Fly: I'm making a point, get off me. He wants you here, putting this place back together. Don't let him inside your head. You're feeding right into him. He thinks he's got you exactly where he wants you. Don't let this shit phase you. This Club can be rebuilt better than ever.
Steve Orbit: ... So can I.
Orbit stands up, smashing the vodka bottle on the ground.
Steve Orbit: I CAN REBUILD.
Cue dramatic music!
Steve Orbit: I'm tired of sitting here, feeling sorry for myself. Looking at my reflection and searching for answers. I'm tired of drinkin' and fuckin' away the pain out here. It's time for me to FUCK.THIS.NIGGA.UP.
Fly stands up.
Jonny Fly: Right!
Orbit looks directly into the camera.
Steve Orbit: Logan, you can steal a briefcase, this ain't about Final Destination no more. No. You can knock me down off that ladder, you know what I'm sayin', but I WILL GET BACK UP. Logan, you can blow up my mother fuckin' place of business, BUT I WILL REBUILD. You can embarass me in the ring once, twice... THAT'S IT. You have my attention, mother fucker. I'm right here. At Explosion, I swear on my momma, I'ma beat your mother fuckin' ass all over the arena, I'ma throw yo' ass all around in the electric cage, and after that, if we make it to that third fall, I'ma wrap my mother fuckin' hands up in glass and I'ma stick 'n move on yo' ass until you can't even answer the ten count. I'm done playin' around with you. You want to fuck with Steve Orbit like that? You gonna find out what happens when shit gets personal.
Fly pats Orbit on the back as his nostrils flare.
Steve Orbit: Nah, this ain't happening. I am not allowing this shit to continue any more. All this sucker shit, it's over and done with. I am STEVE ORBIT. In the course of my career, I've been beaten plenty. I've had mother fuckers run over me, but if you do your research, you will see that I ALWAYS come back and I ALWAYS get revenge, I ALWAYS come out on top. Ask Odin Balfore. Ask Waylon Cash. Shit, ask my BROTHER.
Fly nods, not wanting to cut off Orbit's momentum.
Steve Orbit: Those are just a few examples of mother fuckers who got the best of me at one point, but at the end of the day, they got Pimp Slapped and put on they back. Logan, I've underestimated you. You know I think you're a fuckin' joke, and you done took advantage of that. Not anymore. I'm bringing everything I got to mother fuckin' Explosion. I'm fightin' like my career is on the line, because, shit-- if I allow you to beat me again, I might as well hang this shit up. But I ain't ready to do that, and I damn sure ain't gonna let a cock thirstin' mother fucker like Logan be the one to take me out the game. Nah, that ain't the way I'm goin' out. When that fuckin' bell rings, I'm comin' for your head, mother fucker.
Orbit is clearly angry, with saliva flying everywhere as he speaks.
Steve Orbit: Call your Family. Call your friends, tell 'em it's gonna be a God damn funeral on Easter Sunday. This is the ressurection of Steve Orbit. All this shit, past couple months, I hope you enjoyed yourself. I hope you had fun, homie. I hope all this was worth it for you. You should have just moved the fuck on after Timebomb. You got your little win and your Torture autograph that you always wanted. I know you cuttin' holes in his ass usin' it as a pocket pussy. That's besides the point-- the point is, you took it too far. You coulda had a couple nice wins over Steve Orbit and left it at that. Instead, I'ma make you pay for all this. This Sunday I won't stop comin' at you 'til you ain't movin' no more, mother fucker. I'll cry over my Club later-- AFTER I laugh, after I get revenge. And revenge I WILL GET.
Orbit points his finger at the camera, mean mugging the camera. Fade out.
Hours later, we return to the same scene at the bar. Empty booze bottles all around. Fly is passed out on the floor. Orbit throws a Black & Mild in his mouth, wrong end. Lights it and the plastic mouth peice flames up and begins to char. Unphased, Orbit turns it around and puts the burnt end in his mouth, lighting the other end and taking a puff. He sways from side to side, slurring his speech.
Steve Orbit: LOGAN. Logan. This what you want? You wanna FUCK ME? FUCK WITH ME, rather? Do you know who the fuck I am?
Orbit stumbles over to the camera and puts his face right up to the screen.
Steve Orbit: I am THE MACK. You wanna put glass on these hands?!
Orbit puts his hands up to the camera.
Steve Orbit: Man, when you was... fuckin' around in WCF, ten years ago, I was in SAN QUENTIN. You was playin' grab ass with Seth Lerch, I was shankin' niggas over a carton of Newports. You really wanna take it there with me? You wanna see me get FUCKIN CRAZY?!
Orbit backs up from the camera, still swaying and clearly drunk.
Steve Orbit: You just had to push me, huh. You couldn't leave it alone. You had your lil' ladder matches, you tried to... confuse my mind, and fuckin' all that bullshit. You fuckin' with the wrong one, home BOY. You fuckin' with the wrong one.
Orbit does his Tona Montana impression.
Steve Orbit: I KILL FOR FUN. You think you big time, fuckin' with STEVEN MONTANA? YOU GONNA DIE BIG TIME. OK... I RELOADED!
Orbit pulls his notorious two-tone gold and silver plated pistol out of his drawers and busts a few shots in the ceiling before aiming it at the camera. The shots wake up Fly, who looks up, shrugs, and passes the fuck out again.
Steve Orbit: WHAT... NO GUNS? HUH?
Orbit throws the pistol over his shoulder. It busts off upon landing and a shot whizzes by Orbit's ear. Orbit starts opening his belt.
Steve Orbit: I'M TAKIN IT OUT. You want a sword fight LOOOOGAN? I'm HAN SOLO WITH THIS SHIT
Orbit pulls his shit out and does the helicopter dick, with the camera just above his waist so we can't see. Sorry homos. All we hear is the "fap fap fap" of his cock banging against his leg as it spins around.
Steve Orbit: And if all that fails--
Orbit laughs. And then he gets into the Crane stance.
Steve Orbit: I'M A BIRD NIGGA
As soon as he lifts one leg, he loses balance and drops to the ground. That's it, he's out. Snoring within a matter of seconds. Fade out.
