Post by Speede on Feb 10, 2019 23:58:46 GMT -5
6 February 2019
The scene opens in a somewhat dimly lit dining room, the bulbs of the chandelier dangling overhead switched off over a table set for eight. The primarly light source of what limited light is present is that of a bay window leading to a gloomy, downpour-drenched day. Each and every one of those eight place settings is unoccupied, though there are bottles of wine and shrimp cocktails to either end of the exquisite slab gone untouched and quickly drawing toward room temperature. The sounds of pots and pans clattering can be heard through a set of saloon-style 'doors' leading to another branch of the otherwise quiet home.
Suddenly, those doors swing open, and, being led by a large serving plate hosting a mouth-watering baked ham, in walks Roy Speede. A grin adorns his face as he circles the table and leans over toward the middle of the setup between two chairs, placing the entree in the center of the display, or nearly the center, perhaps slightly off-tilt. He turns and plods back through the squeaky wooden partial barrier into the kitchen, only to return some seconds later with a heaping bowl of mashed potatoes in the clutches of one arm and a wire basket, half-covered by a cloth napkin and exposing the halves of several oven-darkened rolls, in his other hand. The rolls are set to the far side of the meat, and the potatoes placed delicately onto the table to the near, and finally, Roy tosses his chef's apron overtop one of those wooden doors. He slides one of the chairs out from underneath the table on the narrow edge and takes a seat, before letting out a heavy sigh.
A few moments pass, and Roy's expression never changes from one of pleasantness until finally, he speaks, his features taking on a much more serious display.
"Good evening, and welcome to the Speede Family Reunion 2019. I'm glad everyone who was able to make it showed up this evening. As is customary, I feel it's appropriate that we say grace before we dig into our meal. Who would like to do the honors?"
Silence. A very prolonged silence, in fact, until Roy starts to chuckle, breaking out into a much more exaggerated and hearty laugh.
"Oh, that's right! Alright, well, I suppose a silent prayer is perfectly acceptable."
He bows his head for a moment, looks up, and reaches for the potatoes.
"You know, this has actually been one of the better reunions I've had since mom died. After all, it's not every day we get to gather and reminisce about the imporant people in our lives who have moved on. It's just, y'know, TOO BAD that people seem to think themselves too good for the people they're supposed to care about."
He motions over to his left, the row of three chairs all empty.
"I know you couldn't make it today, mom, but I still wanted you to know you're not forgotten. You always had a place for me at the table, and you'll always have a place at my table. I just wish Tommy could've made it. But damn, little bro's finally grown up a bit and he's off doing some big business thing, so I guess I can forgive him for not flying back out to ol' Virginnie to have a meal. At least he had the decency to call, y'know? I just..."
Roy pauses and looks over at the other side of the table, opposite the chair he'd designated as the one saved for his mother.
"I wish the other side of my family had the same decency. I haven't seen Logan-errr, 'Dad', in years. And who on the good side of the family has even met Uncle Jayson? I don't think he ever actually gave a damn about any of us. He might've not even known we existed in the first place, because he just didn't care. He was always too busy being the guy to stand in Logan's shadow, to serve as the underachiever of his own profession, and what's he got to show for it? Not much, if you ask me...
"Good ol' Jay Price, the guy who never amounted to much in the wrestling world until he was literally handed the World Championship by a pair of guys who orchestrated an entire scheme to make him look like he didn't suck. On one side of the bargain was a guy who won the right to host a show every so often based on how the calendar read, and on the other was a guy who had gotten to a point of growing bored of beating the same few people over and over again to prove his worth and decided it was time to toss it aside for a while. And right SMACK in the middle of it all was a woman who probably didn't belong in this little corner of hell in the first place, much less in the World Title picture.
"That was the only way to get out of Logan's shadow, wasn't it, Jay? The cards had to fall in your favor, and for that to happen everybody else had to fold. Waiting for everyone to step aside or hand you your opportunity, because God knows you couldn't make it back to the top on your own. Or maybe we should reference the time you beat the proverbial 'Godnilla' himself, the guy who got way too high and forgot to actually defend the belt. I know how that happens; I've seen it before myself. Because once you did something right, the rest of the wrestling world saw me fall into your shadow; I guess that apple really doesn't fall too far, now does it?
"Ask yourself this, Price: once you accomplished it, who was the best wrestler in WCF history to never hold the WCF World Championship? Is it possible that you might've been 'related' to him, that your brother's so-called 'bastard son' has been WCF's biggest underachiever now? This place has been holding me back like it did to you for the longest time, but the main difference is that, when it comes to the two of us, it's entirely evident who is the more talented in that ring; I hope you understand that it is most definitely not you.
"When it came to making it big in this company, the reason it took you so long to win the big one was because you were just never good enough, always getting involved at times when other wrestlers were just that much better. When I look at that World Title and ask myself 'why?' the answer is that this company has had to put its all into holding me back. Remember 2012? The Year of the Fly? I had that belt in my grasp, and this company ripped it from my hands because the story of a Pantheon triumph in the biggest match of the year not named WAR was a better story than the second generation Boudle King claiming what you know, I know, and this whole company knows was rightfully mine. Look at that final four: Pantheon and Genesis, and then Orbit goes and screws it up, and I'm looking at a two-on-one that I was about to overcome when Seth's idiot referee simply couldn't count to three when it mattered most.
"That's the closest this company has ever allowed me to get. Looking back over this place's history, I've never even had a one-on-one World Title match, despite pinning holders of the belt during their reign. I have never even fought in a proper contendership match, unless you count WAR, and heaven only knows that such a match isn't applicable in this situation. And here you were thinking you were the only one who knew what thaf elt like, didn't you, Price? Aside from Logan, this 'family' has always been held back and kept from achieving its potential. The only thing that differs is the reasoning: for you, it was the lack of potential. For me, it was the lack of opportunity.
"But looking to more recent events, let's take a look at where we've both been, shall we? First, there's 'The Silver Lining' himself, going off and becoming the legitimate gold standard in the biggest threat the WCF has ever had to its reign atop the wrestling world, a company that many believe to have since surpassed this place in terms of overall talent and quality. The first World Champ. The first two-time World Champ. The top seed in a Wrestler of the Year competition that I didn't even want to be involved with, but couldn't seem to avoid because they couldn't pass up on including me in, simply because I'm just that damned good.
"On the other hand, there's Jayson Price, who decided to elongate his name for whatever reason, fell in love with some psychopathic prostiute or whatever the hell she was, and lost all his money to her. Now, Price, let me ask you exactly which of us is succeeding in life from this scenario? Doesn't sound like going broke because of some dumb puppy-love is exactly that far out of your range of abilities, as determined by the first several years of your tenure here, does it? And let's even replay the last few weeks, shall we?
"The start of this tournament rolls around, and in the first match of the tournament, I capitalized on the failures of team consisting of a recent former World Champion and a pipsqueak by targeting the obvious weakest link. Then, because our team is incredible enough to earn the first bye-week of the tournament, we get to sit and watch as you do the EXACT same thing. You stalked your prey until the quality member of the team was incapacitated, took out the weak link, and let your teammate secure the win so you didn't wind up with a broken pin.
"What happens when you're both the weak link? The team of the long-believed 'underachiever' of WCF history and the overrated addition to the roster who probably fits better in a competition for the Alpha Championship, the title that guys win when they're not capable of fighting for anything else. Who's going to save either of you when neither of you has the talent to save yourselves?"
Roy looks out across the table and motions to the kitchen door. In walks Alex Haden. Haden takes a seat at the table.
"Price, the big thing you have to learn is that in order to succeed in the wrestling world, you have to surround yourself with people who will make you capable of succeeding."
In walks Nolan Walker, who sits beside Alex.
"You need a support team who knows how to build you up, to push you until you achieve what you're capable of."
In walks John Rabid, who also takes a seat.
"You need to align yourself with people who will make you better, and who will pick up the slack when you're struggling. And sadly, you just haven't done that."
Across the table, Alex speaks up.
"Hey Roy, don't you want to say something about his tag partner?"
"What's there to say? We're going up against a couple of guys who have been just lucky enough to get this far. Rabid and I have this one on lockdown."
Nolan chimes in.
"Roy, don't get too over-confident, now. You and I both know what happens when you do that."
"Fine, you want me to say something about Vincent Augustus? I'll say something about Vincent Augustus."
"Augustine."
"Exactly. You want me to talk about a guy whose name I've barely heard, much less someone who I actually know about. I can't sit here and go off on this guy because, quite frankly, I don't even know who he is. Yeah, yeah, he's been here a bit now, but what has he even really done? Last I checked, he might be the 2019 Jay Price with even less actual skill and whole boatload more in the luck category. He drew someone with just enough to carry him far enough to get a win over a team that was on their way out the door and barely squeeze by a team that Rabid and I made short work of. What do you want me to say?"
"Never underestimate an opponent like that, Roy. You know that better than everyone. How many people underestimated you for so long?"
"I'm not underestimating him, really. I'm just stating the facts. I can't say much about a guy whose name I couldn't type into google correctly."
"Big talk coming from someone whose name triggers auto-correct on every device ever made."
"Rabid, please don't start, dude. We've already had this conversation before. I don't even know what to say about him. He's basically the 2017 Atlanta Falcons, decent on the surface, but then flounders in the fourth corner. Look at his win-loss record and it'll spell exactly that for you. Mediocrity. I think I feel bad for Price, really- this guy's probably the entire company's punchline. What has he even done? Nothing. And he won't do anything, because the only way he's ever going to make his shot is by getting past you and I, and that's not going to happen. It's the mockery of the last decade and the mockery of the last year against one of the best this company has ever seen, and one of the most underrated talents this company has ever seen. I think I've proven my point with regard to that, haven't I?"
"Jesus, Roy, you're like a goddamn broken record!"
"What more is there to it? How many ways can you freakin' skin a cat? 'Mister Every Title' has had shorter combined reigns with all the title belts than I have so far in the WCF, and I've put in maybe a third of the actual matches and thrice as many successful defenses. And Vincent Augustine is so far away from sniffing a championship in this company that he might as well call himself Jared Goff. What more do you want me to say?"
"Not say- do! Do some research. Watch more of Augustine's matches than just the one where he was in Price's corner. I mean, he did have the Alpha Championship at one point, didn't he?"
"For a week, Alex. A. Week. Makes Price's success look like the kind of dynasty you only find wearing pinstripes and swinging a club at a ball. The level of desperation just to add someone to the tournament who wasn't itching to jump ship at the drop of a hat must've had Corey Black touching himself when Augustine signed up for this thing. Especially when this so-called 'random' partnership could be formed just to make Price look good again by giving him a partner who wouldn't outshine him at every turn. Next you're going to say I need to watch out for Covfefe and Hamberders, the surprise fourth entrants to Bracket B."
"Hey, anything could happen!"
"Yeah, you could get thrown out that freakin' window! Relax."
"Whatever you say, Roy. Hey, these potatoes are cold!"
"I can't imagine why!"
With that blast of sarcasm, Roy takes the bowl of potatoes, stands up, and storms into the kitchen, almost literally throwing the glass bowl of mashed spuds into the microwave. As he hits a few buttons, he sighs.
"Some friends, they undervalue my abilities, just as everyone in this god-forsaken company has done. Always telling me to watch my back. Always telling me to keep an eye out for this and that and making sure I've done my homework. But it's always done, trust me. I sit and watch more than my fair share, and I can tell you with utmost certainty that Jayson Price's idiocy is far from the least of my concerns; in fact, I'm damned well prepared to blast him right in the face as a reminder that whether he believes it or not, he is the one who won't make it to fast money during this 'family feud'. This tournament is over, and Jayson Price is the one on the outside looking in.
"Jayson, and Vince. Poor Vincent Augustine has never been given proper opportunity in this place, not for lack of trying to get there. I feel for him, I honestly kinda do, because I know exactly what he's going through. But at the same time, I can say that he doesn't have the chops to be in the main event in the WCF, or anywhere. There's a reason that Rabid and Speede are competing in the opening match on the card, and it's not because we're the ones unworthy of the main event. Congratulations on making it this far in the tournament. You bested a couple teams who have had no business even being involved in this thing, and now you're going to realize it's the two of you who really shouldn't be here.
"I have hope that one day you'll realize how poorly the hand you've been dealt really is, and that it's time to stop bluffing. Price, I'm sorry you lost everything you had on some pathetic gamble at love with some dumb broad. Augustine, get out now, before it's too late. You're both seemingly going all in on this tournament, and sometimes things just don't play out. I hope you'll have the sense to keep a few chips in your back pocket to build your fortunes back up, because what's on the table is for Rabid and I to take, and that's exactly how this Monday is going to play out. See you out there, if you still feel the need to play out this pitiful hand.
"Signed, the real Wild Card in this tournament, Roy Speede."
Fade to black.
The scene opens in a somewhat dimly lit dining room, the bulbs of the chandelier dangling overhead switched off over a table set for eight. The primarly light source of what limited light is present is that of a bay window leading to a gloomy, downpour-drenched day. Each and every one of those eight place settings is unoccupied, though there are bottles of wine and shrimp cocktails to either end of the exquisite slab gone untouched and quickly drawing toward room temperature. The sounds of pots and pans clattering can be heard through a set of saloon-style 'doors' leading to another branch of the otherwise quiet home.
Suddenly, those doors swing open, and, being led by a large serving plate hosting a mouth-watering baked ham, in walks Roy Speede. A grin adorns his face as he circles the table and leans over toward the middle of the setup between two chairs, placing the entree in the center of the display, or nearly the center, perhaps slightly off-tilt. He turns and plods back through the squeaky wooden partial barrier into the kitchen, only to return some seconds later with a heaping bowl of mashed potatoes in the clutches of one arm and a wire basket, half-covered by a cloth napkin and exposing the halves of several oven-darkened rolls, in his other hand. The rolls are set to the far side of the meat, and the potatoes placed delicately onto the table to the near, and finally, Roy tosses his chef's apron overtop one of those wooden doors. He slides one of the chairs out from underneath the table on the narrow edge and takes a seat, before letting out a heavy sigh.
A few moments pass, and Roy's expression never changes from one of pleasantness until finally, he speaks, his features taking on a much more serious display.
"Good evening, and welcome to the Speede Family Reunion 2019. I'm glad everyone who was able to make it showed up this evening. As is customary, I feel it's appropriate that we say grace before we dig into our meal. Who would like to do the honors?"
Silence. A very prolonged silence, in fact, until Roy starts to chuckle, breaking out into a much more exaggerated and hearty laugh.
"Oh, that's right! Alright, well, I suppose a silent prayer is perfectly acceptable."
He bows his head for a moment, looks up, and reaches for the potatoes.
"You know, this has actually been one of the better reunions I've had since mom died. After all, it's not every day we get to gather and reminisce about the imporant people in our lives who have moved on. It's just, y'know, TOO BAD that people seem to think themselves too good for the people they're supposed to care about."
He motions over to his left, the row of three chairs all empty.
"I know you couldn't make it today, mom, but I still wanted you to know you're not forgotten. You always had a place for me at the table, and you'll always have a place at my table. I just wish Tommy could've made it. But damn, little bro's finally grown up a bit and he's off doing some big business thing, so I guess I can forgive him for not flying back out to ol' Virginnie to have a meal. At least he had the decency to call, y'know? I just..."
Roy pauses and looks over at the other side of the table, opposite the chair he'd designated as the one saved for his mother.
"I wish the other side of my family had the same decency. I haven't seen Logan-errr, 'Dad', in years. And who on the good side of the family has even met Uncle Jayson? I don't think he ever actually gave a damn about any of us. He might've not even known we existed in the first place, because he just didn't care. He was always too busy being the guy to stand in Logan's shadow, to serve as the underachiever of his own profession, and what's he got to show for it? Not much, if you ask me...
"Good ol' Jay Price, the guy who never amounted to much in the wrestling world until he was literally handed the World Championship by a pair of guys who orchestrated an entire scheme to make him look like he didn't suck. On one side of the bargain was a guy who won the right to host a show every so often based on how the calendar read, and on the other was a guy who had gotten to a point of growing bored of beating the same few people over and over again to prove his worth and decided it was time to toss it aside for a while. And right SMACK in the middle of it all was a woman who probably didn't belong in this little corner of hell in the first place, much less in the World Title picture.
"That was the only way to get out of Logan's shadow, wasn't it, Jay? The cards had to fall in your favor, and for that to happen everybody else had to fold. Waiting for everyone to step aside or hand you your opportunity, because God knows you couldn't make it back to the top on your own. Or maybe we should reference the time you beat the proverbial 'Godnilla' himself, the guy who got way too high and forgot to actually defend the belt. I know how that happens; I've seen it before myself. Because once you did something right, the rest of the wrestling world saw me fall into your shadow; I guess that apple really doesn't fall too far, now does it?
"Ask yourself this, Price: once you accomplished it, who was the best wrestler in WCF history to never hold the WCF World Championship? Is it possible that you might've been 'related' to him, that your brother's so-called 'bastard son' has been WCF's biggest underachiever now? This place has been holding me back like it did to you for the longest time, but the main difference is that, when it comes to the two of us, it's entirely evident who is the more talented in that ring; I hope you understand that it is most definitely not you.
"When it came to making it big in this company, the reason it took you so long to win the big one was because you were just never good enough, always getting involved at times when other wrestlers were just that much better. When I look at that World Title and ask myself 'why?' the answer is that this company has had to put its all into holding me back. Remember 2012? The Year of the Fly? I had that belt in my grasp, and this company ripped it from my hands because the story of a Pantheon triumph in the biggest match of the year not named WAR was a better story than the second generation Boudle King claiming what you know, I know, and this whole company knows was rightfully mine. Look at that final four: Pantheon and Genesis, and then Orbit goes and screws it up, and I'm looking at a two-on-one that I was about to overcome when Seth's idiot referee simply couldn't count to three when it mattered most.
"That's the closest this company has ever allowed me to get. Looking back over this place's history, I've never even had a one-on-one World Title match, despite pinning holders of the belt during their reign. I have never even fought in a proper contendership match, unless you count WAR, and heaven only knows that such a match isn't applicable in this situation. And here you were thinking you were the only one who knew what thaf elt like, didn't you, Price? Aside from Logan, this 'family' has always been held back and kept from achieving its potential. The only thing that differs is the reasoning: for you, it was the lack of potential. For me, it was the lack of opportunity.
"But looking to more recent events, let's take a look at where we've both been, shall we? First, there's 'The Silver Lining' himself, going off and becoming the legitimate gold standard in the biggest threat the WCF has ever had to its reign atop the wrestling world, a company that many believe to have since surpassed this place in terms of overall talent and quality. The first World Champ. The first two-time World Champ. The top seed in a Wrestler of the Year competition that I didn't even want to be involved with, but couldn't seem to avoid because they couldn't pass up on including me in, simply because I'm just that damned good.
"On the other hand, there's Jayson Price, who decided to elongate his name for whatever reason, fell in love with some psychopathic prostiute or whatever the hell she was, and lost all his money to her. Now, Price, let me ask you exactly which of us is succeeding in life from this scenario? Doesn't sound like going broke because of some dumb puppy-love is exactly that far out of your range of abilities, as determined by the first several years of your tenure here, does it? And let's even replay the last few weeks, shall we?
"The start of this tournament rolls around, and in the first match of the tournament, I capitalized on the failures of team consisting of a recent former World Champion and a pipsqueak by targeting the obvious weakest link. Then, because our team is incredible enough to earn the first bye-week of the tournament, we get to sit and watch as you do the EXACT same thing. You stalked your prey until the quality member of the team was incapacitated, took out the weak link, and let your teammate secure the win so you didn't wind up with a broken pin.
"What happens when you're both the weak link? The team of the long-believed 'underachiever' of WCF history and the overrated addition to the roster who probably fits better in a competition for the Alpha Championship, the title that guys win when they're not capable of fighting for anything else. Who's going to save either of you when neither of you has the talent to save yourselves?"
Roy looks out across the table and motions to the kitchen door. In walks Alex Haden. Haden takes a seat at the table.
"Price, the big thing you have to learn is that in order to succeed in the wrestling world, you have to surround yourself with people who will make you capable of succeeding."
In walks Nolan Walker, who sits beside Alex.
"You need a support team who knows how to build you up, to push you until you achieve what you're capable of."
In walks John Rabid, who also takes a seat.
"You need to align yourself with people who will make you better, and who will pick up the slack when you're struggling. And sadly, you just haven't done that."
Across the table, Alex speaks up.
"Hey Roy, don't you want to say something about his tag partner?"
"What's there to say? We're going up against a couple of guys who have been just lucky enough to get this far. Rabid and I have this one on lockdown."
Nolan chimes in.
"Roy, don't get too over-confident, now. You and I both know what happens when you do that."
"Fine, you want me to say something about Vincent Augustus? I'll say something about Vincent Augustus."
"Augustine."
"Exactly. You want me to talk about a guy whose name I've barely heard, much less someone who I actually know about. I can't sit here and go off on this guy because, quite frankly, I don't even know who he is. Yeah, yeah, he's been here a bit now, but what has he even really done? Last I checked, he might be the 2019 Jay Price with even less actual skill and whole boatload more in the luck category. He drew someone with just enough to carry him far enough to get a win over a team that was on their way out the door and barely squeeze by a team that Rabid and I made short work of. What do you want me to say?"
"Never underestimate an opponent like that, Roy. You know that better than everyone. How many people underestimated you for so long?"
"I'm not underestimating him, really. I'm just stating the facts. I can't say much about a guy whose name I couldn't type into google correctly."
"Big talk coming from someone whose name triggers auto-correct on every device ever made."
"Rabid, please don't start, dude. We've already had this conversation before. I don't even know what to say about him. He's basically the 2017 Atlanta Falcons, decent on the surface, but then flounders in the fourth corner. Look at his win-loss record and it'll spell exactly that for you. Mediocrity. I think I feel bad for Price, really- this guy's probably the entire company's punchline. What has he even done? Nothing. And he won't do anything, because the only way he's ever going to make his shot is by getting past you and I, and that's not going to happen. It's the mockery of the last decade and the mockery of the last year against one of the best this company has ever seen, and one of the most underrated talents this company has ever seen. I think I've proven my point with regard to that, haven't I?"
"Jesus, Roy, you're like a goddamn broken record!"
"What more is there to it? How many ways can you freakin' skin a cat? 'Mister Every Title' has had shorter combined reigns with all the title belts than I have so far in the WCF, and I've put in maybe a third of the actual matches and thrice as many successful defenses. And Vincent Augustine is so far away from sniffing a championship in this company that he might as well call himself Jared Goff. What more do you want me to say?"
"Not say- do! Do some research. Watch more of Augustine's matches than just the one where he was in Price's corner. I mean, he did have the Alpha Championship at one point, didn't he?"
"For a week, Alex. A. Week. Makes Price's success look like the kind of dynasty you only find wearing pinstripes and swinging a club at a ball. The level of desperation just to add someone to the tournament who wasn't itching to jump ship at the drop of a hat must've had Corey Black touching himself when Augustine signed up for this thing. Especially when this so-called 'random' partnership could be formed just to make Price look good again by giving him a partner who wouldn't outshine him at every turn. Next you're going to say I need to watch out for Covfefe and Hamberders, the surprise fourth entrants to Bracket B."
"Hey, anything could happen!"
"Yeah, you could get thrown out that freakin' window! Relax."
"Whatever you say, Roy. Hey, these potatoes are cold!"
"I can't imagine why!"
With that blast of sarcasm, Roy takes the bowl of potatoes, stands up, and storms into the kitchen, almost literally throwing the glass bowl of mashed spuds into the microwave. As he hits a few buttons, he sighs.
"Some friends, they undervalue my abilities, just as everyone in this god-forsaken company has done. Always telling me to watch my back. Always telling me to keep an eye out for this and that and making sure I've done my homework. But it's always done, trust me. I sit and watch more than my fair share, and I can tell you with utmost certainty that Jayson Price's idiocy is far from the least of my concerns; in fact, I'm damned well prepared to blast him right in the face as a reminder that whether he believes it or not, he is the one who won't make it to fast money during this 'family feud'. This tournament is over, and Jayson Price is the one on the outside looking in.
"Jayson, and Vince. Poor Vincent Augustine has never been given proper opportunity in this place, not for lack of trying to get there. I feel for him, I honestly kinda do, because I know exactly what he's going through. But at the same time, I can say that he doesn't have the chops to be in the main event in the WCF, or anywhere. There's a reason that Rabid and Speede are competing in the opening match on the card, and it's not because we're the ones unworthy of the main event. Congratulations on making it this far in the tournament. You bested a couple teams who have had no business even being involved in this thing, and now you're going to realize it's the two of you who really shouldn't be here.
"I have hope that one day you'll realize how poorly the hand you've been dealt really is, and that it's time to stop bluffing. Price, I'm sorry you lost everything you had on some pathetic gamble at love with some dumb broad. Augustine, get out now, before it's too late. You're both seemingly going all in on this tournament, and sometimes things just don't play out. I hope you'll have the sense to keep a few chips in your back pocket to build your fortunes back up, because what's on the table is for Rabid and I to take, and that's exactly how this Monday is going to play out. See you out there, if you still feel the need to play out this pitiful hand.
"Signed, the real Wild Card in this tournament, Roy Speede."
Fade to black.
