Post by Logan on Apr 29, 2011 9:34:05 GMT -5
”Hi. My name is Curtis.
”And my name is Mike.”
Television sets light, an image is welcomed to the source of our speakers. Two fellows, judging by their looks an easy guess could effortlessly assume one to think they’re near an age of mid-twenties. They’re gathered casually at a booth coffee table, sitting opposite from one another. The personal camera set up next to the napkins and pepper and salt shakers reveals such. Each individually taking turns addressing the camera, conversation begins.
Mike: And, yes, we know.. it’s an odd name.
Curtis: A reason does exist for that, however.
Mike: However – indeed! We’re the Mighty Foot for two reasons and two reasons only.
Curtis: One; we don’t fuckin’ care!
Mike: In a nutshell, yes.
Curtis: And two; we’re old fans of Duke Dukem.
Mike: Adding a more specific explanation to the first reason; catchy names do not define us.
Curtis: The Mighty Foot isn’t catchy?
Mike: Ehh – yeah, yeah, okay it is – continuing; our nature of this documentary of sorts has nothing to do with ‘mighty foots’. We’re trackers. People finders.
Curtis: You could actually manage to truthfully convey ‘mighty foots’ into hunting people.
Mike: P-p-erhaps? Okay, yes, point. I am starting to get off track – ma’am, more coffee, please?
Curtis: Too much irony becoming innocently triggered.
Ripping fingers through his hair, Mike strongly nods with agreement.
Mike: Agreed. Okay, take two?
Curtis: Please.
Mike: Straight to the point..
The waitress, Mary, returns with a pot of fresh coffee.
Mike: Thank you, Mary.
Mary: You’re welcome.
She displays her pearly whites.
Mike: Mary, we have a question for you.
Mary: Yes?
Mike: Do you… typically… enjoy your job?
Mary: Honestly?
Mike: Only.
Mary: I don’t really work here.
Curtis: No?
Mary: This name tag? This outfit? I killed the real Mary this morning. Yes, I committed murder to gain the job of a waitress and obtain the TONS and TONS of tips she was making.
Curtis: Heh, so, I take your answer as a ‘no’.
Mary: M’hm.
Curtis: Bad jokes like that aren’t going to earn you any extra.
Mary: Oh – c’mon – you know you’re fighting back a chuckle.
Mike: Ahem. Don’t take that personally, Mary. You see, Curtis, he’ll look for any excuse possible not to tip.
Mary: You don’t tip?
Curtis: Never.
Mary: Well – you better start getting used to calling me the mother fuckin’ coffee nazi.
Playfully, Curtis raises his voice.
Curtis: No coffee for me?!
Mike: Do not worry, Mary. I’ll make sure you get a nice extra.
She shrugs it off before speaking up, her attention on their camera.
Mary: Oh, please.. I’m just having some fun. Hey, what’s the camera for?
Mighty Foots: Camera?
Curtis: Wow.
Mike: Same here. I completely forgot that it was recording.
Mary: Sooo..?
Curtis: Oh, yes. We’re doing a documentary.
Mary: On restaurants?
Mike: Ha, no, no.
Curtis: On tracking and finding a certain individual.
Mike: A ‘man’, to be precise.
Mary: Why do a documentary on hunting someone? Is ‘he’ a missing person.
Curtis: It’s much easier to keep a better hold on things when filmed. Helps keeps little clues out in the open – keeps them from slipping. And, yes, ‘he’ is a missing person.
Mary: Rewarded if you find ‘him’?
Mike: Paid half in advance, actually.
Mary: Paid?
Curtis: We’re professionally discrete – we can not tell you who paid us, but, we can tell you whom we are seeking.
Mary: Who….?
Mary: Logan …?
Mike: A professional wrestler who was an employee of the Wrestling Championship Federation company.
Mary: How long have you been searching for him?
Curtis: January, when his last known whereabouts were checking out of a hospital.
She rests the coffee pot from her hand onto the table and sits next to Mike.
Mary: Interesting. I mean, not the guy himself.. I-I have never heard of him, but, the idea of trying to track someone. Actually – what’s his deal? Is he wanted for murder or something?
Mike: No, no. Nothing like that. Someone simply wanted to know where he is.
Curtis: That’s where we come in. Whomever was curious enough to find out where this certain fellow was wasn’t able to find him themselves. Which means – this guy does not want to be found. So, when they failed in trying to find him for whatever reasons they had, they contacted us.
Mary: H’m..
Now engulfed with interest, she curiously looks on, chin rested in her palms.
Mary: Did tracking him lead you to this restaurant?
Curtis: No. We just wanted some coffee.
Mike: And to catch up with our notes. This is our first recorded feed.
Mary: What do you have so far?
Mike: Aren’t you working right now?
Mary: Take a look around, man, this place is dead.
Mike: Okay. We believe that he is currently living in Iowa.
Curtis: That’s not a fact, however, just a gut feeling.
Mike: It’s a pretty good educated guess actually.
Mary: Erm..
Mike: It’s just a good guess. And, again, it’s not like this guy is a fugitive or anything. You shouldn’t feel uneasy.
Mary: I-I have to go.
Without hesitation, she quickly excuses herself from the table and calmly races off into the restaurants kitchen doors. Curtis sends a smile to Mike.
Curtis: We got him.
Mike: You think she knows him?
Curtis: I know she knows him. How did you not recognize Mary to begin with?
Mike: …huh?
Curtis: I didn’t see it at first. That’s a pretty good disguises she’s wearing.. or should I say ‘he’. But, I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s been known to dress as a woman.
Mike: You don’t mean…
Curtis: Yes, that guy we investigated a month ago that released the filthy sexual tape with himself and a hotdog bun.
Mike: That’s him?!
Curtis: Yes. I wasn’t sure at first that ‘he’ knew Logan personally, but, it’s always been heavily rumored that they were secretly good friends. His reaction just now proved it.
Mike: You’re right! Oh my God. We’ve been sitting here the whole time talking to that freak, the ‘Scot.
Curtis: Also known as… the Hotdog Mascot.
Mike: And she, errr, he, must know where Logan is.
The two both stand sinuously, marching towards the kitchen doors that the ‘Scot disappeared behind. They stop short, however, ease dropping on a telephone call that the ‘Scots currently having.
the ‘Scot: They must’ve tracked me down from that widespread video I sent over the net. I know! That’s the only reason I sent it randomly, so nobody would discover that it was originally sent directly to you and track your IP address and- - okay, okay, I’ll calm down. No, no, I don’t think they know where you are, but, they must be trying to use me to get to you! Oh, dear. You don’t believe that Price hired them do you? M’m. I have to go, darling. Yes, I’m leaving now. I’ll see you soon. I love you.
Curtis holds the handheld camera down to his side, whispering to Mike.
Curtis: Sounds like he was talking to Logan.
Mike: Ugh.. you don’t think they’re lovers.. do you?
Curtis: I think he’s leaving to meet Logan. We need to stay out of sight and follow him.
Doing just that, Mike and Curtis slink back to the front entrance, trying to remain as casual as possible.
Mike: Grab the car and meet me at the front. I’ll take care of the bill.
Curtis hurries outside. Mike forks his hand into his back pocket, meeting the restaurants hostess and cashier.
Cashier: Enjoy your coffee?
No time for small talk, Mike stamps a five dollar bill onto the cashiers station, and turns for the exit.
Mike: Keep the change!
The red dodge sits waiting for Mike once outside the restaurant. He enters, passenger side, and Curtis takes control of the vehicle, wheeling them near the back of the restaurant where the ‘Scot is found getting into his own car.
Mike: Don’t get to close.
Curtis: I know what I’m doing. This isn’t my first time following someone.
Mike: I know. I am sorry, Mike. Just getting a little excited.
Watching from a safe distance, the ‘Scot is observed – backing out from the drive, turning out onto the street. They pursue. The tag along goes on for several minutes. Little innocent bickers between Curtis and Mike on which radio station to enjoy during their hunt engulfs the dodges interior. Then, finally, a light shines for the end of the tunnels journey – the ‘Scot turns onto a rural road surrounded by woods. More and more they each realize how much closer they’re becoming to finding him. The ‘Scot reaches the end of the gravel road, stopping short in front of a small cabin. Destination reached. Curtis and Mike keep distance, killing the dodge, and quietly watching. The ‘Scot fumbles from his car, slowly approaching the cabins door.
the ‘Scot: I’m so sorry I came over like this.. I know you didn’t want me to, but, I just couldn’t take it anymore. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. I must see you! Now!
The cabin door opens and ‘he’ appears. This presence makes the ‘Scot desperately drop to his hands and knees.
the ‘Scot: Oh.. it’s so good to see you.
The presence steps from the shaded porch, revealing himself, calmly greeting the ‘Scot.
Logan: Miss me?
”And my name is Mike.”
”We are the Mighty Foot!”
[/size][/color]Television sets light, an image is welcomed to the source of our speakers. Two fellows, judging by their looks an easy guess could effortlessly assume one to think they’re near an age of mid-twenties. They’re gathered casually at a booth coffee table, sitting opposite from one another. The personal camera set up next to the napkins and pepper and salt shakers reveals such. Each individually taking turns addressing the camera, conversation begins.
Mike: And, yes, we know.. it’s an odd name.
Curtis: A reason does exist for that, however.
Mike: However – indeed! We’re the Mighty Foot for two reasons and two reasons only.
Curtis: One; we don’t fuckin’ care!
Mike: In a nutshell, yes.
Curtis: And two; we’re old fans of Duke Dukem.
Mike: Adding a more specific explanation to the first reason; catchy names do not define us.
Curtis: The Mighty Foot isn’t catchy?
Mike: Ehh – yeah, yeah, okay it is – continuing; our nature of this documentary of sorts has nothing to do with ‘mighty foots’. We’re trackers. People finders.
Curtis: You could actually manage to truthfully convey ‘mighty foots’ into hunting people.
Mike: P-p-erhaps? Okay, yes, point. I am starting to get off track – ma’am, more coffee, please?
Curtis: Too much irony becoming innocently triggered.
Ripping fingers through his hair, Mike strongly nods with agreement.
Mike: Agreed. Okay, take two?
Curtis: Please.
Mike: Straight to the point..
The waitress, Mary, returns with a pot of fresh coffee.
Mike: Thank you, Mary.
Mary: You’re welcome.
She displays her pearly whites.
Mike: Mary, we have a question for you.
Mary: Yes?
Mike: Do you… typically… enjoy your job?
Mary: Honestly?
Mike: Only.
Mary: I don’t really work here.
Curtis: No?
Mary: This name tag? This outfit? I killed the real Mary this morning. Yes, I committed murder to gain the job of a waitress and obtain the TONS and TONS of tips she was making.
Curtis: Heh, so, I take your answer as a ‘no’.
Mary: M’hm.
Curtis: Bad jokes like that aren’t going to earn you any extra.
Mary: Oh – c’mon – you know you’re fighting back a chuckle.
Mike: Ahem. Don’t take that personally, Mary. You see, Curtis, he’ll look for any excuse possible not to tip.
Mary: You don’t tip?
Curtis: Never.
Mary: Well – you better start getting used to calling me the mother fuckin’ coffee nazi.
Playfully, Curtis raises his voice.
Curtis: No coffee for me?!
”Mighty Foot – meet Mary, the mother fuckin’ waitress.
[/size]Mike: Do not worry, Mary. I’ll make sure you get a nice extra.
She shrugs it off before speaking up, her attention on their camera.
Mary: Oh, please.. I’m just having some fun. Hey, what’s the camera for?
Mighty Foots: Camera?
Curtis: Wow.
Mike: Same here. I completely forgot that it was recording.
Mary: Sooo..?
Curtis: Oh, yes. We’re doing a documentary.
Mary: On restaurants?
Mike: Ha, no, no.
Curtis: On tracking and finding a certain individual.
Mike: A ‘man’, to be precise.
Mary: Why do a documentary on hunting someone? Is ‘he’ a missing person.
Curtis: It’s much easier to keep a better hold on things when filmed. Helps keeps little clues out in the open – keeps them from slipping. And, yes, ‘he’ is a missing person.
Mary: Rewarded if you find ‘him’?
Mike: Paid half in advance, actually.
Mary: Paid?
Curtis: We’re professionally discrete – we can not tell you who paid us, but, we can tell you whom we are seeking.
Mary: Who….?
… Logan …
[/size][/center]Viewers televisions screens abruptly cut and flicker to an entirely different location. A series of events begin to go on display in a particular order. . . Beginning first is a recalling of the backstage attack on Logan. However, new footage unseen before breathes a new perspective to viewer’s; hidden camera conveniently placed inside the trunk Logan’s trapped within, just inches from his surprisingly joyful face. The engine outside roars to the command of Jay’s foot. Logan, almost happily relieved, shoves the tips of his fingers into his smiling mouth – biting down on them in pleasure as impact strikes the trunk, pushing the mutated steel into Logan and destroying the inside camera in the process. Viewers televisions return to normal and the Mighty Foot’s coffee table chat goes on unharmed… and unaware.[/color]
Mary: Logan …?
Mike: A professional wrestler who was an employee of the Wrestling Championship Federation company.
Mary: How long have you been searching for him?
Curtis: January, when his last known whereabouts were checking out of a hospital.
She rests the coffee pot from her hand onto the table and sits next to Mike.
Mary: Interesting. I mean, not the guy himself.. I-I have never heard of him, but, the idea of trying to track someone. Actually – what’s his deal? Is he wanted for murder or something?
Mike: No, no. Nothing like that. Someone simply wanted to know where he is.
Curtis: That’s where we come in. Whomever was curious enough to find out where this certain fellow was wasn’t able to find him themselves. Which means – this guy does not want to be found. So, when they failed in trying to find him for whatever reasons they had, they contacted us.
Mary: H’m..
Now engulfed with interest, she curiously looks on, chin rested in her palms.
Mary: Did tracking him lead you to this restaurant?
Curtis: No. We just wanted some coffee.
Mike: And to catch up with our notes. This is our first recorded feed.
Mary: What do you have so far?
Mike: Aren’t you working right now?
Mary: Take a look around, man, this place is dead.
Mike: Okay. We believe that he is currently living in Iowa.
Curtis: That’s not a fact, however, just a gut feeling.
Mike: It’s a pretty good educated guess actually.
Mary: Erm..
Mike: It’s just a good guess. And, again, it’s not like this guy is a fugitive or anything. You shouldn’t feel uneasy.
Mary: I-I have to go.
Without hesitation, she quickly excuses herself from the table and calmly races off into the restaurants kitchen doors. Curtis sends a smile to Mike.
Curtis: We got him.
The television repeats the bizarre ritual, transforming it’s image into the next order of Logan’s never before seen haunted footage. Shortly after the incident, firefighters drive crowbars and diamond bladed saws into the deformed steel woven trunk that seals Logan’s body.
Firefighter: I think he’s still breathing!
The trunk springs and a bloodied Logan appears like a jack out of a box. A sick delighted rage sparkling his blood shot eyes.
Mike: You think she knows him?
Curtis: I know she knows him. How did you not recognize Mary to begin with?
Mike: …huh?
Curtis: I didn’t see it at first. That’s a pretty good disguises she’s wearing.. or should I say ‘he’. But, I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s been known to dress as a woman.
Mike: You don’t mean…
Curtis: Yes, that guy we investigated a month ago that released the filthy sexual tape with himself and a hotdog bun.
Mike: That’s him?!
Curtis: Yes. I wasn’t sure at first that ‘he’ knew Logan personally, but, it’s always been heavily rumored that they were secretly good friends. His reaction just now proved it.
Mike: You’re right! Oh my God. We’ve been sitting here the whole time talking to that freak, the ‘Scot.
Curtis: Also known as… the Hotdog Mascot.
Mike: And she, errr, he, must know where Logan is.
The two both stand sinuously, marching towards the kitchen doors that the ‘Scot disappeared behind. They stop short, however, ease dropping on a telephone call that the ‘Scots currently having.
the ‘Scot: They must’ve tracked me down from that widespread video I sent over the net. I know! That’s the only reason I sent it randomly, so nobody would discover that it was originally sent directly to you and track your IP address and- - okay, okay, I’ll calm down. No, no, I don’t think they know where you are, but, they must be trying to use me to get to you! Oh, dear. You don’t believe that Price hired them do you? M’m. I have to go, darling. Yes, I’m leaving now. I’ll see you soon. I love you.
Curtis holds the handheld camera down to his side, whispering to Mike.
Curtis: Sounds like he was talking to Logan.
Mike: Ugh.. you don’t think they’re lovers.. do you?
The viewers televisions transcend into darkness once more, returning back to it’s state of a different day, a different life.
Firefighter: Please, calm down!
Logan limply struggles in the mans arms like a drugged beast fighting to stay awake. An EMT rushes over.
EMT: We have to get him to the hospital! He’s seizing!
Time quickly fast forwards as only as a previous recording can. Logan is glued to a hospital bed, the morning after the incident, a man stands at his side; fully clothed in women’s clothing, wearing makeup, and sporting a blonde wig.. the ‘Scot. He eases his lips into Logan’s unconscious body, planting a kiss onto his battered forehead.
the ‘Scot: I know you’d want me to remain in the shadows. To pretend to be unaffected by this all, and to not make my rage for Jay Price public… I’d know you’d want that. Jay Price is your toy, and only yours to play with. I’ll keep that promise, Logan. B-b-but.. I don’t know how I’m going to go on without you. I’ll try. I’ll try for you. You’d want me to wouldn’t you? You’d want me to find someone else.. and be happy.. oh, God, please, Logan.. you’ll make it through this. You better.
Curtis: I think he’s leaving to meet Logan. We need to stay out of sight and follow him.
Doing just that, Mike and Curtis slink back to the front entrance, trying to remain as casual as possible.
Mike: Grab the car and meet me at the front. I’ll take care of the bill.
Curtis hurries outside. Mike forks his hand into his back pocket, meeting the restaurants hostess and cashier.
Cashier: Enjoy your coffee?
No time for small talk, Mike stamps a five dollar bill onto the cashiers station, and turns for the exit.
Mike: Keep the change!
The red dodge sits waiting for Mike once outside the restaurant. He enters, passenger side, and Curtis takes control of the vehicle, wheeling them near the back of the restaurant where the ‘Scot is found getting into his own car.
Mike: Don’t get to close.
Curtis: I know what I’m doing. This isn’t my first time following someone.
Mike: I know. I am sorry, Mike. Just getting a little excited.
Watching from a safe distance, the ‘Scot is observed – backing out from the drive, turning out onto the street. They pursue. The tag along goes on for several minutes. Little innocent bickers between Curtis and Mike on which radio station to enjoy during their hunt engulfs the dodges interior. Then, finally, a light shines for the end of the tunnels journey – the ‘Scot turns onto a rural road surrounded by woods. More and more they each realize how much closer they’re becoming to finding him. The ‘Scot reaches the end of the gravel road, stopping short in front of a small cabin. Destination reached. Curtis and Mike keep distance, killing the dodge, and quietly watching. The ‘Scot fumbles from his car, slowly approaching the cabins door.
the ‘Scot: I’m so sorry I came over like this.. I know you didn’t want me to, but, I just couldn’t take it anymore. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. I must see you! Now!
The cabin door opens and ‘he’ appears. This presence makes the ‘Scot desperately drop to his hands and knees.
the ‘Scot: Oh.. it’s so good to see you.
The presence steps from the shaded porch, revealing himself, calmly greeting the ‘Scot.
Logan: Miss me?
