Post by Jakob on Aug 14, 2011 17:32:44 GMT -5
SQUEAK SQUEAK
His name was Adam, and he could have been more than 18 or 19 years old. He looked the popular type, but not because he was a sports star, or a white kid pretending to be black. He looked popular because people liked him. All types of people, from the high school drama department to police officers with small egos and even smaller . . . well, you know.
This was also Adam's first time in Los Angeles, and his two week adventure on the town had been splendid fantastic. Adam was becoming a man, and he was enjoying all the new opportunities and freedoms available to him. He had partied with the LA crowd, he had hit up every possible tourist destination from Disneyland to the beach, and he had done it all– without parental supervision.
Life was good.
Today Adam and his friends had decided to go get a milkshake It was a sweltering day in West Hollywood, and nothing sounded better than a delicious frozen drink. Their two week adventure was coming to a close, and Adam, Brandon and Justin were all trying to make the most out of their last full day. The line had been killer however, and after a fifteen minute wait they stood not even halfway to the front.
"Why doesn't this place open up another fucking cash register?" Brandon said frustrated. Brandon was the hot tempered one of the group.
"I know. . . I'd say we just bag it, but we've been in line too long. We gotta stick it out," Adam responded.
The three friends became distracted as people near the back of the line crowded around a black stretch limousine pulling up to the front door. The limo was ridiculously enormous, and crowded four parking spaces including two disabled spots.
Everyone was trying to get a front row spot to see what famous celebrity or athlete was getting a milkshake today. The back door opened and a tall black man in a sharp five thousand dollar suit stepped out of the limo, confirming that it was some famous LA ball player. Adam craned his neck to see who he was, but then he noticed a smaller figure stepped out behind him, dressed in jeans and a black t shirt.
"Excuse me everyone!" the black man boomed with authority. "My employer would like to get a milkshake. Could you please step aside and make room for him?"
Two more large security figures followed the "employer" out of the stretch, and the four men walked briskly into the air-conditioned building. As he brushed past, Adam caught just a glimpse of the small, average looking blonde man that was making the commotion before one of his massive security details blocked him from sight.
The tall black man was now speaking with the manager of the milkshake shop, and after just a quick second of explaining the situation, the manager's voice came over a speaker system.
"Pardon me, everybody. ‘Scuse me. Mr. Jakob, the United Wrestling Alliance Intercontinental Champion is here!" the manager paused as several of the grungier looking people cheered unenthusiastically. "I've been informed it will take Mr. Jakob approximately fifteen minutes to order. Sorry for the delay, and we thank you for your continued service."
The speaker cut out, and the manager's voice was replaced with the unhappy rumblings of all the ice cream goers. Adam was beyond frustrated.
"What the hell? Fifteen minutes to order a goddamned milkshake? What the fuck is this?" he asked Justin quietly.
The three friends waited a good twenty five minutes, complaining to themselves. A woman with a small baby had already fainted under the Southern California sun, and all three were sweating profusely.
"I've had enough of this!" Adam said, the heat fraying his last nerve.
Justin and Brandon watched him storm past the line into the store. The entire store watched as he walked up to the huge men in suits.
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Adam yelled through the men at the man sipping on a milkshake talking to one of the store's employees. "We've been waiting half an hour for goddamned milkshakes! Who do you think you are?"
The security had already begun to haul Adam away when the man spoke up. He spoke accented British English and delivered his speech with unquestioned authority.
"I am Jakob," the man said simply, "and if you ever talk to me again, I swear you will never taste anything ever again."
Adam was unperturbed. His anger had overbalanced his rationality.
"Well Jakob, you can go suck a stick of dynamite you deluded fuck."
All sounds in the busy store died, and everyone watched as Jakob walked up to the confident kid. It was now that Adam realized he might have overstepped his boundaries.
"What's your name kid?" Jakob asked quietly, "Ah, never mind. It doesn't matter. Kid, I would usually let my security here take care of you. . ."
Jakob nodded up toward the towering black man holding Adam.
"But you have disrespected me. All I wanted was to come into one of my favorite businesses, get a treat, and be on my way. But you've ruined my fun for me. It's not often I get to have fun."
Jakob cut off quickly and bitch slapped the fuck out of Adam, sending him sprawling across the store before he smashed into a table and lay motionless folded in half.
"Does anyone else want to ruin my fun today?" Jakob asked at the store's waiting customers. Everyone was stunned, including Brandon and Justin, who could only watch as Jakob strolled by, spat on Adam's motionless body, and brushed out of the store, trailed by his security.
"That's what I thought," he mumbled to himself as he stepped into his limo, sipping on a milkshake.
()()()
Forgive me for taking anything in this business seriously for a moment. I would like to congratulate myself on a fantastic win this past Sunday, and I would like to commemorate the losers as well. You three put up a wonderful fight, trust me. I almost broke a sweat.
But MidSummer Madness is past, and as we begin to slip into LateSummer Ludicrous, I must address a few things. First of all, I'm your new Intercontinental Champion, deal with it and fuck off. Secondly, I WILL have sex with Hope Dudley whether she is lesbian or not, count on it. And finally, anybody who thinks they can step in the ring with me and win, let alone take my belt from me, is a fucking fool.
Trust the Russian.
I can't believe I'm saying this, but I've actually found a place that is right for me. Despite the fact that this place hosts lobsters, lesbians, crack addicted champions (not me- ahem) and apparently mute dragons who need a public broadcaster to get their deluded message across- this place can officially be dubbed my new stomping grounds.
In my first week of action I destroy three hopeless causes in a death defying ladder match and win championship gold. My second week, I go head to head with a fucking lobster. Thank god we live in these times.
Ebirah, trust me, you aren't the only one sick to your stomach. True, you might be sick to your stomach because of your latest loss and I am because I had a little bit too much champagne after my championship victory, but I feel your pain.
Gassy, right?
Don't feel too bad, lobsterman, you lost to my soon-to-be girlfriend, and she has more talent in her- well you know- than you do in your entire shell! Miss Dudley is about to have more talent inside of her soon, if you know what I mean, but for now she can compete with the Roy Speedes of this company.
Bring home the gold hun, just don't get too attached to it.
But Ebirah, you are fast changing from simple sea-life into a Citizen of the World. Look at you, dropping the world economic crises and global warming in your cute little promo. We're all proud you know those are bad, Crabs, but we also know the only reason you do care is because you bored enough to try and find a cause.
Let me let you in on a little secret: being a sexual deviant is awesome. If you weren't a single celled organism I might suggest you try it out.
Despite how much you make me laugh, Crabs, you also hurt my feelings a little bit. You called my a stereotypical Russian scumbag. That's not very nice now is it? If you could see me, you could see the tears running down my face right now.
You also compared me to a character from the Jason Bourne movies. That stings, Crabs. If I was as immature as you, and all I could do was compare you to an obscure movie to make me feel better, I might say you reminded me of Sebastian from the Little Mermaid.
But alas, I'm not that immature.
You don't wanna play games this week. I can respect that. I don't like to play games, but guess what, I am going to toy with you before I beat you this week. Normally I don't like playing with my food, but in this game of cat and mouse, I'm the kitty cat, and you're squeaking like a little mouse. Squeak squeak Sebastian.
You also say you need this win, and I don't. I can also respect that line of thinking. I'm a champion, and you're a nothing. Bossman Blake is probably looking right at your name if his investors tells him he's got to make some cuts. He would never fire a champion, but boiling a lobster? That's not so out of the question is it?
You're right, Ebirah. You NEED this win, and I don't. But guess what mate? I'm still going to win, and you're still going to lose. It has nothing to do with needs, wants or necessity.
It's just because I'm Jakob, and you're Ebirah. We have to play the cards we were dealt.
Squeak squeak, fuckface.
