Post by Deleted on Dec 10, 2011 0:23:09 GMT -5
Filed Under: Mr. Jesus Meets Mr. Lerch (Or, "A Belfast Chess Match")
The sound of a hushed male voice meets your ear before your eyelids even have the chance to flutter to life: "American high school air ain't safe to breathe. Too many dumb kids in American high school. You hear that bell that's ringin'? Of course you don't. It's only ringin' in one young man's mind. It's clamorin' forth, positively screechin' in all of its crass, vomitous un-glory as that young man reports to the principal's office."
Our scene opens... a bright, white light beckons toward us before settling at an appeasing hue. We see before us Seth Lerch's immaculately(!?) decorated office at WCF corporate headquarters in A) Philadelphia, Pennsylvania B) A fjord in Norway or C) The basement of a relative's house. Seth is dressed casually in a black and green WCF T-shirt and blue jeans. He appears for all the world to be intently studying official WCF documents when a knock is heard at his door. Seth's eyes rise from the documents and focus on the door. His brow furrows a bit before his delicate, lilting voice calls out to the knocker of the door.
Seth Lerch: "Uhm... who is it?"
Seth sits in silence for several moments before a man's voice calls out from beyond the white, plywood door.
Voice: "It's Jam Willy. I'm here for our meetin', Mr. Lerch."
The expression on Seth's face becomes very serious. He straightens the collar of his T-shirt and massages his scalp before responding to Jam Willy. Seth even takes the dramatic step of clearing his throat.
Seth: "It's unlocked. Come on in."
Seth pauses for a moment and frowns, wondering if he was too soft in his pronouncement, you know, lacking in the authoritative tone that a boss is supposed to have. Nevertheless, it's too late to take back his words. The door to Seth's office promptly swings open. Jam Willy Jesus crosses the threshold, wearing a black denim jacket, beaded necklace, Black Keys T-shirt, black jeans and Dickies boots. Jam Willy's long black hair is unencumbered and flowing majestically behind him as he strides toward Seth's desk, and his bushy, black beard is also in fine form.
Seth rises from his chair to shake Jam Willy's hand. Jam Willy hesitates for a moment, making sure that this isn't some queer overture, before shaking Seth's hand. Seth gestures toward a cushioned chair in front of his desk and invites Jam Willy to sit down with his eyes and hand.
Seth: "Won't you sit, Mr. Jesus?"
Jam Willy smiles modestly.
Jam Willy Jesus: "It's Jam Willy, sir, and thank you. I will have a seat."
Jam Willy sits down, not removing his jacket or even teasing at doing so. Seth sits down in the cushy leather office chair behind his desk, the one that he had been seated in before Jam Willy arrived. Seth licks his lips like a man who's awaiting a plateful of breaded pork chops. He extends an index finger to his temple and rubs that spot a bit before speaking again.
Seth: "You, uh..."
Seth clears his throat. He appears nervous for some reason. This confuses Jam Willy, but J-Dub does not say a word. He just watches Seth, studies his body language... listens intently to his words.
Seth: "You can call me Seth, by the way. Sir is far too formal. My father is the sir of the Lerch family, haha."
Seth flashes a nervous little smile. Jam Willy nods politely.
Seth: "Do you know why I called you in here today, Jam Willy?"
Jam Willy raises an eyebrow. The North Dakotan is studious and expressive by nature, though he appears reserved in expressing his thoughts at the present time.
Jam Willy: "I got an inklin' that it's got somethin' to do with Slam."
Seth: "Yes, in fact--"
Seth scratches his nose with his index finger.
Seth: "I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge both your performance in the opener against Night Rider and Tek--"
Jam Willy smiles a bit and nods his head.
Seth: "And your ambush against Switches."
Jam Willy's exterior hints of a frown, but he doesn't overdo it, even though... even though he suspects that he's in deep doo-doo. Seth chuckles a bit.
Seth: "You, haha, you had yourself quite a night, didn't you?"
Jam Willy appears stoic. He's not yielding an inch to the boss man seated before him.
Jam Willy: "I did."
Seth: "Yes, well, you looked great in your match, but I really brought you here because I wanted to talk about what you did to Switches."
Seth taps his fingers on the edge of his desk. The nervous tension in the air is palpable. Jam Willy was already sitting upright in his chair, but now he straightens up and makes himself appear even taller while seated directly across from the WCF owner. Every inch counts under these tense circumstances.
Seth: "I'm not sure exactly what to say, to be honest. I watched it on the monitor in my office and... I, uh--"
Seth's train of thought is interrupted by the hoodlum seated across from him.
Jam Willy: "I'm just gonna cut right to the chase here, Seth: Are you gonna rat me out to the punk, mufuckin' po-lease?"
Seth's eyes grow wide. Is he offended that Jam Willy interrupted him? Shocked by Jam Willy's line of questioning? Perhaps those burritos from lunch hit Seth's colon? Jam Willy's hand moves down toward the shiv that is hidden discreetly in his boot, while his eyes are locked on Seth's widened eyes, as if in a trance.
Seth: "No, no!"
Seth feigns a laugh, as if trying to lighten the mood.
Seth: "This is professional wrestling. We don't call the police."
Jam Willy: "Well... are you gonna fire me for fuckin' that clown dude up?"
Seth really does appear to be taken aback by Jam Willy's line of questioning now.
Seth: "Fire you? I called you in here to thank you! That was fucking awesome TV, man!"
Jam Willy: "Oh?"
Jam Willy's demeanor perks up considerably. His hand abandons its quest toward the shiv and moves innocuously toward his lap.
Seth: "Granted, I don't like to see my superstars get unnecessarily injured, BUT what you did had people talking at the water cooler the next day. I've had people walking up to me who hadn't watched WCF programming in years saying, 'Wow! Who was that crazy fuck who stabbed the clown with a fork and then curb-stomped him through a urinal!? I can relate to that guy! I'd pay to see him wrestle!' That, Jam Willy, is precisely the type of mainstream impact that one cannot put a price on."
Jam Willy: "So you're givin' me a raise then?"
Seth snickers derisively.
Seth: "Of course not, BUT I am going to reward you for your actions. After all, you had yourself a record-tying performance on Slam."
Jam Willy: "I done did?"
Seth: "Two curb-stomps in one night, Jam Willy. One on Switches and one on Tek. That ties Anastasia Petrova's record!"
A smile spreads across Jam Willy's face. He and Seth even exchange a bro-fist bump. It's a beautiful moment where employer and employee set aside social statuses and embrace each other as equals.
Jam Willy: "That's funny, I don't remember her as bein' the ultra-violent type."
Seth: "Between you and me, Anastasia was part of the Russian Mafia, or Bratva as it's known over there. In fact the KGB ended up nabbing her. That's why she hasn't appeared on WCF TV in the last year or so."
Jam Willy frowns while nodding his head in bittersweet understanding.
Jam Willy: "Aww that's a bitch. I done did time myself."
Seth: "Oh, believe me, I know. When I first read your application I was like 'This dude did WHAT? And he wants a job with WCF!?' I was a bit mind-fucked to say the least but, hell, we've had full-fledged serial killers such as Greenfever and Oblivion on our payroll before. We even sanctioned a match where one man killed another... now that was at XIII, which gets kind of crazy, but still."
Jam Willy: "Yeah that was wild stuff. One man stickin' a syringe filled with bleach through another man's eyeball and into his brain? Hard to imagine nobody went up on charges for that."
Seth: "That's why we do those XIII shows in Iowa. It's pretty much lawless there, like Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome or, uh, that Soylent Green movie."
Jam Willy: "Soylent Green is people!"
Seth: "Haha, indeed. So, as I said, I do want to reward you for your actions on Slam, and frankly everything that you've done in your time with us thus far. Not to get sidetracked, but I have to say I've been impressed with what I've seen from you, Jam Willy. You showed tremendous courage and fortitude by not tapping out when Switches had you locked in that Smileyo’matic at Aftermath. We haven't had the chance to speak since then, but I just wanted you to know that I've noticed your efforts and I appreciate them."
Seth flashes a cutesy little smile at Jam Willy, but Willy appears perplexed by Seth's words.
Jam Willy: "I'm sorry? What do you mean when you say not tappin' out? What is tappin' out 'zactly?"
Now it's Seth's turn to appear perplexed.
Seth: "You know..."
Seth gestures with his hands to facilitate his words.
Seth: "When your opponent has you locked in a submission and you tap to let the ref know that you want to quit?"
Jam Willy: "You can do that durin' a match?"
Seth: "Uh, yes."
Jam Willy: "Shit, I wish somebody had told me that. That Smileyo’matic hurt like a motherfucker. Damn clown almost ripped my face off."
Seth: "Well the ref should have explained that to you... anyway, your reward."
Jam Willy: "Yes, my reward."
Both men clear their throats.
Seth: "On Sunday Night Slam, you, Jam Willy Jesus, will be participating in your first-ever main event match!"
Jam Willy nods his head, not too excited like, but he's paying attention to what Seth is saying.
Seth: "I am placing you into a seven-man hardcore battle royal on Slam -- The winner of which will receive a title match against the Hardcore Champion at One! And guess what? I'm putting your buddy Switches in the battle royal too, so you guys will be able to continue your little, uh, you know... blood feud."
Jam Willy: "Hmm... interestin'."
Jam Willy's eyes drift. He looks as if he's intently focused on something, but what? Seth, for his part, appears nonplussed by Jam Willy's relative lack of enthusiasm toward his announcement.
Seth: "Wha--what's the matter? I thought that you would be excited about this. After all, it's your first chance to compete for a title shot, and the hardcore division is right up your alley. You can stab your opponents with forks and shivs until your heart's content!"
Seth smiles cheesily. Jam Willy doesn't necessarily appear opposed to the idea, but he doesn't look like he's whole-heartedly buying into it either.
Jam Willy: "Don't get me wrong, I'm 'preciative of the opportunity. I, uh, I know that winnin' a championship of any kind would raise my stature around here, and this is a great chance to get my foot in the door, so to speak, but... ain't the Hardcore Champion that masked feller?"
Seth: "That's right, although I've received word that he will by unmasking at Slam, after your battle royal!"
Jam Willy: "So, uh... who is the masked man?"
Seth's eyes diverge from Jam Willy's piercing glare. Seth nervously replies.
Seth: "How could I know that, Willy? He's a masked man."
Jam Willy: "Huh... that's funny. You seemed pretty chummy with the masked man, both masked men in fact, at Aftermath. After they attacked Black and Balfore, you know, the two men that you've been feudin' with. It almost seemed like the three of you was in cahoots."
Seth: "Uh, well..."
Seth desperately tries to choke through his nervousness, toward a chuckle, but he can't quite manage it. He ends up gasping instead.
Seth: "Blargh!"
Seth wipes his mouth on his T-shirt sleeve before continuing.
Seth: "Jam Willy, that's just... that's preposterous! Sure I may have been relieved that someone finally put those jackasses Balfore and Black in their place, but that hardly proves that I'm in cahoots with anybody!"
Jam Willy: "I suppose that's true, but there's somethin' else, Seth. I find it awfully, awfully hard to believe that you would let some masked fella wander in off the streets, attack the Hardcore Champion and steal the belt without havin' to face any repercussions. It's your cump'knee, Seth. You could'a had him thrown out of the building if you wanted-- but you did'na. Hell, you must have hired this 'masked man' in the first place, right? How else could he have gotten past security?"
Seth abruptly clears his throat and makes like he's busy all of a sudden.
Seth: "I want to thank you for stopping by my office, Willy, but I really do have to finish up this paperwork, so if you'll excuse me--"
Jam Willy: "That paperwork that you're holdin' in your hands?"
Seth: "Uh, yes."
Jam Willy: "Yoink!"
Jam Willy yoinks the papers from Seth's hands. Seth protests, even going so far as to climb over his desk to retrieve them, but Jam Willy easily holds Seth at bay with one hand, while holding the documents with his other hand. Willy's forehead crinkles and his eyes squint as he studies the paperwork.
Jam Willy: "What the hell is this?"
Seth: "Hey those are official WCF documents, for the owner's eyes only!"
Jam Willy recites the words upon the page.
Jam Willy: "Renewal of subscription notice for Big Booty Babes magazine?"
Willy lowers his hand and looks Seth in the eye, an incredulous look upon his face as he does so.
Jam Willy: "Is this what you do with your time, when you're not plottin' sneak attacks with your masked buddies?"
Jam Willy shakes his head in disgust and dismissively plops the papers onto Seth's desk.
Jam Willy: "You sick, little man."
Seth slumps into his chair, humiliated by the revelations that have come to light. He does not say a word. Jam Willy turns and starts to walk away, but then he stops and turns back toward Seth.
Jam Willy: "Hey, Seth, I'm just kiddin', man. I got a thing for big booty babes myself. Don't worry. This'll be our little secret."
Jam Willy winks at Seth. Seth's Caucasian anger rises inside of him and he unleashes a yell and a finger point.
Seth: "Out! Get out this instant!"
Jam Willy: "Alright, geez... I'm goin', ya grouch."
Willy turns and walks toward the door.
Jam Willy: "Guess my booty ain't big enough for him."
Jam Willy steps into the hallway and shuts the door behind him, leaving Seth alone in his office. Seth takes a deep breath. He actually appears to be relieved.
Seth: "Oh well... at least he didn't see the Chicks With Dicks subscription form."
Jam Willy saw it alright, he just didn't want the kinky little bastard to die from embarrassment if he mentioned it. After all, if Seth dies then who will sign Jam Willy's paychecks?
Seth returns to filling out his subscription forms, trying to put the hideous embarrassment that he just incurred behind him.
The sound of a hushed male voice meets your ear before your eyelids even have the chance to flutter to life: "American high school air ain't safe to breathe. Too many dumb kids in American high school. You hear that bell that's ringin'? Of course you don't. It's only ringin' in one young man's mind. It's clamorin' forth, positively screechin' in all of its crass, vomitous un-glory as that young man reports to the principal's office."
Our scene opens... a bright, white light beckons toward us before settling at an appeasing hue. We see before us Seth Lerch's immaculately(!?) decorated office at WCF corporate headquarters in A) Philadelphia, Pennsylvania B) A fjord in Norway or C) The basement of a relative's house. Seth is dressed casually in a black and green WCF T-shirt and blue jeans. He appears for all the world to be intently studying official WCF documents when a knock is heard at his door. Seth's eyes rise from the documents and focus on the door. His brow furrows a bit before his delicate, lilting voice calls out to the knocker of the door.
Seth Lerch: "Uhm... who is it?"
Seth sits in silence for several moments before a man's voice calls out from beyond the white, plywood door.
Voice: "It's Jam Willy. I'm here for our meetin', Mr. Lerch."
The expression on Seth's face becomes very serious. He straightens the collar of his T-shirt and massages his scalp before responding to Jam Willy. Seth even takes the dramatic step of clearing his throat.
Seth: "It's unlocked. Come on in."
Seth pauses for a moment and frowns, wondering if he was too soft in his pronouncement, you know, lacking in the authoritative tone that a boss is supposed to have. Nevertheless, it's too late to take back his words. The door to Seth's office promptly swings open. Jam Willy Jesus crosses the threshold, wearing a black denim jacket, beaded necklace, Black Keys T-shirt, black jeans and Dickies boots. Jam Willy's long black hair is unencumbered and flowing majestically behind him as he strides toward Seth's desk, and his bushy, black beard is also in fine form.
Seth rises from his chair to shake Jam Willy's hand. Jam Willy hesitates for a moment, making sure that this isn't some queer overture, before shaking Seth's hand. Seth gestures toward a cushioned chair in front of his desk and invites Jam Willy to sit down with his eyes and hand.
Seth: "Won't you sit, Mr. Jesus?"
Jam Willy smiles modestly.
Jam Willy Jesus: "It's Jam Willy, sir, and thank you. I will have a seat."
Jam Willy sits down, not removing his jacket or even teasing at doing so. Seth sits down in the cushy leather office chair behind his desk, the one that he had been seated in before Jam Willy arrived. Seth licks his lips like a man who's awaiting a plateful of breaded pork chops. He extends an index finger to his temple and rubs that spot a bit before speaking again.
Seth: "You, uh..."
Seth clears his throat. He appears nervous for some reason. This confuses Jam Willy, but J-Dub does not say a word. He just watches Seth, studies his body language... listens intently to his words.
Seth: "You can call me Seth, by the way. Sir is far too formal. My father is the sir of the Lerch family, haha."
Seth flashes a nervous little smile. Jam Willy nods politely.
Seth: "Do you know why I called you in here today, Jam Willy?"
Jam Willy raises an eyebrow. The North Dakotan is studious and expressive by nature, though he appears reserved in expressing his thoughts at the present time.
Jam Willy: "I got an inklin' that it's got somethin' to do with Slam."
Seth: "Yes, in fact--"
Seth scratches his nose with his index finger.
Seth: "I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge both your performance in the opener against Night Rider and Tek--"
Jam Willy smiles a bit and nods his head.
Seth: "And your ambush against Switches."
Jam Willy's exterior hints of a frown, but he doesn't overdo it, even though... even though he suspects that he's in deep doo-doo. Seth chuckles a bit.
Seth: "You, haha, you had yourself quite a night, didn't you?"
Jam Willy appears stoic. He's not yielding an inch to the boss man seated before him.
Jam Willy: "I did."
Seth: "Yes, well, you looked great in your match, but I really brought you here because I wanted to talk about what you did to Switches."
Seth taps his fingers on the edge of his desk. The nervous tension in the air is palpable. Jam Willy was already sitting upright in his chair, but now he straightens up and makes himself appear even taller while seated directly across from the WCF owner. Every inch counts under these tense circumstances.
Seth: "I'm not sure exactly what to say, to be honest. I watched it on the monitor in my office and... I, uh--"
Seth's train of thought is interrupted by the hoodlum seated across from him.
Jam Willy: "I'm just gonna cut right to the chase here, Seth: Are you gonna rat me out to the punk, mufuckin' po-lease?"
Seth's eyes grow wide. Is he offended that Jam Willy interrupted him? Shocked by Jam Willy's line of questioning? Perhaps those burritos from lunch hit Seth's colon? Jam Willy's hand moves down toward the shiv that is hidden discreetly in his boot, while his eyes are locked on Seth's widened eyes, as if in a trance.
Seth: "No, no!"
Seth feigns a laugh, as if trying to lighten the mood.
Seth: "This is professional wrestling. We don't call the police."
Jam Willy: "Well... are you gonna fire me for fuckin' that clown dude up?"
Seth really does appear to be taken aback by Jam Willy's line of questioning now.
Seth: "Fire you? I called you in here to thank you! That was fucking awesome TV, man!"
Jam Willy: "Oh?"
Jam Willy's demeanor perks up considerably. His hand abandons its quest toward the shiv and moves innocuously toward his lap.
Seth: "Granted, I don't like to see my superstars get unnecessarily injured, BUT what you did had people talking at the water cooler the next day. I've had people walking up to me who hadn't watched WCF programming in years saying, 'Wow! Who was that crazy fuck who stabbed the clown with a fork and then curb-stomped him through a urinal!? I can relate to that guy! I'd pay to see him wrestle!' That, Jam Willy, is precisely the type of mainstream impact that one cannot put a price on."
Jam Willy: "So you're givin' me a raise then?"
Seth snickers derisively.
Seth: "Of course not, BUT I am going to reward you for your actions. After all, you had yourself a record-tying performance on Slam."
Jam Willy: "I done did?"
Seth: "Two curb-stomps in one night, Jam Willy. One on Switches and one on Tek. That ties Anastasia Petrova's record!"
A smile spreads across Jam Willy's face. He and Seth even exchange a bro-fist bump. It's a beautiful moment where employer and employee set aside social statuses and embrace each other as equals.
Jam Willy: "That's funny, I don't remember her as bein' the ultra-violent type."
Seth: "Between you and me, Anastasia was part of the Russian Mafia, or Bratva as it's known over there. In fact the KGB ended up nabbing her. That's why she hasn't appeared on WCF TV in the last year or so."
Jam Willy frowns while nodding his head in bittersweet understanding.
Jam Willy: "Aww that's a bitch. I done did time myself."
Seth: "Oh, believe me, I know. When I first read your application I was like 'This dude did WHAT? And he wants a job with WCF!?' I was a bit mind-fucked to say the least but, hell, we've had full-fledged serial killers such as Greenfever and Oblivion on our payroll before. We even sanctioned a match where one man killed another... now that was at XIII, which gets kind of crazy, but still."
Jam Willy: "Yeah that was wild stuff. One man stickin' a syringe filled with bleach through another man's eyeball and into his brain? Hard to imagine nobody went up on charges for that."
Seth: "That's why we do those XIII shows in Iowa. It's pretty much lawless there, like Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome or, uh, that Soylent Green movie."
Jam Willy: "Soylent Green is people!"
Seth: "Haha, indeed. So, as I said, I do want to reward you for your actions on Slam, and frankly everything that you've done in your time with us thus far. Not to get sidetracked, but I have to say I've been impressed with what I've seen from you, Jam Willy. You showed tremendous courage and fortitude by not tapping out when Switches had you locked in that Smileyo’matic at Aftermath. We haven't had the chance to speak since then, but I just wanted you to know that I've noticed your efforts and I appreciate them."
Seth flashes a cutesy little smile at Jam Willy, but Willy appears perplexed by Seth's words.
Jam Willy: "I'm sorry? What do you mean when you say not tappin' out? What is tappin' out 'zactly?"
Now it's Seth's turn to appear perplexed.
Seth: "You know..."
Seth gestures with his hands to facilitate his words.
Seth: "When your opponent has you locked in a submission and you tap to let the ref know that you want to quit?"
Jam Willy: "You can do that durin' a match?"
Seth: "Uh, yes."
Jam Willy: "Shit, I wish somebody had told me that. That Smileyo’matic hurt like a motherfucker. Damn clown almost ripped my face off."
Seth: "Well the ref should have explained that to you... anyway, your reward."
Jam Willy: "Yes, my reward."
Both men clear their throats.
Seth: "On Sunday Night Slam, you, Jam Willy Jesus, will be participating in your first-ever main event match!"
Jam Willy nods his head, not too excited like, but he's paying attention to what Seth is saying.
Seth: "I am placing you into a seven-man hardcore battle royal on Slam -- The winner of which will receive a title match against the Hardcore Champion at One! And guess what? I'm putting your buddy Switches in the battle royal too, so you guys will be able to continue your little, uh, you know... blood feud."
Jam Willy: "Hmm... interestin'."
Jam Willy's eyes drift. He looks as if he's intently focused on something, but what? Seth, for his part, appears nonplussed by Jam Willy's relative lack of enthusiasm toward his announcement.
Seth: "Wha--what's the matter? I thought that you would be excited about this. After all, it's your first chance to compete for a title shot, and the hardcore division is right up your alley. You can stab your opponents with forks and shivs until your heart's content!"
Seth smiles cheesily. Jam Willy doesn't necessarily appear opposed to the idea, but he doesn't look like he's whole-heartedly buying into it either.
Jam Willy: "Don't get me wrong, I'm 'preciative of the opportunity. I, uh, I know that winnin' a championship of any kind would raise my stature around here, and this is a great chance to get my foot in the door, so to speak, but... ain't the Hardcore Champion that masked feller?"
Seth: "That's right, although I've received word that he will by unmasking at Slam, after your battle royal!"
Jam Willy: "So, uh... who is the masked man?"
Seth's eyes diverge from Jam Willy's piercing glare. Seth nervously replies.
Seth: "How could I know that, Willy? He's a masked man."
Jam Willy: "Huh... that's funny. You seemed pretty chummy with the masked man, both masked men in fact, at Aftermath. After they attacked Black and Balfore, you know, the two men that you've been feudin' with. It almost seemed like the three of you was in cahoots."
Seth: "Uh, well..."
Seth desperately tries to choke through his nervousness, toward a chuckle, but he can't quite manage it. He ends up gasping instead.
Seth: "Blargh!"
Seth wipes his mouth on his T-shirt sleeve before continuing.
Seth: "Jam Willy, that's just... that's preposterous! Sure I may have been relieved that someone finally put those jackasses Balfore and Black in their place, but that hardly proves that I'm in cahoots with anybody!"
Jam Willy: "I suppose that's true, but there's somethin' else, Seth. I find it awfully, awfully hard to believe that you would let some masked fella wander in off the streets, attack the Hardcore Champion and steal the belt without havin' to face any repercussions. It's your cump'knee, Seth. You could'a had him thrown out of the building if you wanted-- but you did'na. Hell, you must have hired this 'masked man' in the first place, right? How else could he have gotten past security?"
Seth abruptly clears his throat and makes like he's busy all of a sudden.
Seth: "I want to thank you for stopping by my office, Willy, but I really do have to finish up this paperwork, so if you'll excuse me--"
Jam Willy: "That paperwork that you're holdin' in your hands?"
Seth: "Uh, yes."
Jam Willy: "Yoink!"
Jam Willy yoinks the papers from Seth's hands. Seth protests, even going so far as to climb over his desk to retrieve them, but Jam Willy easily holds Seth at bay with one hand, while holding the documents with his other hand. Willy's forehead crinkles and his eyes squint as he studies the paperwork.
Jam Willy: "What the hell is this?"
Seth: "Hey those are official WCF documents, for the owner's eyes only!"
Jam Willy recites the words upon the page.
Jam Willy: "Renewal of subscription notice for Big Booty Babes magazine?"
Willy lowers his hand and looks Seth in the eye, an incredulous look upon his face as he does so.
Jam Willy: "Is this what you do with your time, when you're not plottin' sneak attacks with your masked buddies?"
Jam Willy shakes his head in disgust and dismissively plops the papers onto Seth's desk.
Jam Willy: "You sick, little man."
Seth slumps into his chair, humiliated by the revelations that have come to light. He does not say a word. Jam Willy turns and starts to walk away, but then he stops and turns back toward Seth.
Jam Willy: "Hey, Seth, I'm just kiddin', man. I got a thing for big booty babes myself. Don't worry. This'll be our little secret."
Jam Willy winks at Seth. Seth's Caucasian anger rises inside of him and he unleashes a yell and a finger point.
Seth: "Out! Get out this instant!"
Jam Willy: "Alright, geez... I'm goin', ya grouch."
Willy turns and walks toward the door.
Jam Willy: "Guess my booty ain't big enough for him."
Jam Willy steps into the hallway and shuts the door behind him, leaving Seth alone in his office. Seth takes a deep breath. He actually appears to be relieved.
Seth: "Oh well... at least he didn't see the Chicks With Dicks subscription form."
Jam Willy saw it alright, he just didn't want the kinky little bastard to die from embarrassment if he mentioned it. After all, if Seth dies then who will sign Jam Willy's paychecks?
Seth returns to filling out his subscription forms, trying to put the hideous embarrassment that he just incurred behind him.
