Post by Press1269 on Jun 1, 2016 2:08:31 GMT
*****THREE WEEKS AGO*****
Youth sat in an old wicker rocking chair on the front steps of the original plantation house, located on the south east edge of the property. The old house had been converted into offices and storage space for the amusement park, and several of the accountants and supervisors that ensured the parks day to day operations had passed by him with a nod. Julie, the receptionist, had even offered him a cup of coffee.
It wasn’t that wrestlers hanging about was not common place, but usually they were there to see Munin’s assistant, Ji, or the Lady herself. When they had inquired about his visit, he had simply stated that he was meeting someone here so that they could go off into the park. That in and of itself wasn’t all that curious, as even though no one was permitted inside the house, many of the guests of the park enjoyed taking pictures of the Victorian style home. It had the ambience of the ‘Old South’ mingled with the French impressions from when New Orleans was just a colony.
After a while the employees went on about their business, and he continued his rocking, anticipating seeing the reason for his visit. He had other things, however, working in the background noise of his mind, and sitting on that porch in the warm weather with the occasional breeze only drew that noise to the front.
He hadn’t seen a lot of action lately, and it didn’t sit well with him. Press was obviously the champion, so he deserved the center stage, but that didn’t mean that Youth wanted to put out to pasture. Ever since he took that Irish Knowledge nearly three months ago, things had been on the down turn. He was out for nearly a month and a half due to concussion, which along with other things, led to a short bout with depression, and him questioning his status on the team.
Then there was Stevie Harris and Lola, always nipping at Press’ heels, trying to get him to slip up so that Stevie could become champion. He was called the ‘Madman’ for a reason, as he had no problem inflicting serious injury in order to achieve his goals. Hell, he even seemed to get some perverse pleasure from it. Brass Knuckles, Hangings, a sycophantic fan base turned guard rail warriors. During his tenure with PAW, especially after Press won the championship, Youth felt like it was more important to watch his friends back rather than focus on his own career. Ultimately that culminated in getting directly involved, and a tag match which saw The BombTrax come out on top once again. Thankfully, Johnny Raike put the final nail in the coffin, and sent the enigmatic cult leader packing.
After that things had sort of gone quiet for him, and the spotlight was firmly placed back on Press, and his upcoming contest against CJ O’Donnell, a man he felt he had just as much right to face as anyone, considering what had happened. Yet, since CJ was the #1 Contender, his vengeance would have to be put on the back burner, which was a place he was becoming way too familiar with in the wake of his pal’s championship reign. Just three months ago that probably would have added to his depression, but currently, all it did was piss him off.
Now he was scheduled to be in a sixteen-man battle royal at Heat Stroke for the #1 Contendership to the Titans of the Midway Championship. That would have been enough to stoke his ego if he didn’t have the sincere feeling that he was expected to be just a warm body to fill a slot. He had voiced some of his concerns to Press, who in turn tried to reassure him, and then told him he’d speak with Munin about it. There was nothing worse than being reassured by your tag partner, who was worried you might be relapsing back into depression rather than having legitimate career concerns. Even worse, when he was one of the reasons, albeit inadvertent, that he was being pushed out in the first place.
A particularly cool breeze came flooding across the porch, dancing across his flesh, and giving him an abnormal chill. He looked up for the first time since his musings, and noticed Abigail standing on the bottom step, a sweet smile on her face. All worries fled him in that smile, and he returned it, before hopping up from his seat, and bounding down the steps to meet her.
“How long have you been standing here?” He asked.
“Long enough to see there’s a lot on your mind.” She answered, her smile growing even warmer when his hand met hers. “Are you sure you want to do this today. We don’t have to.” She stated, with deeper concern.
He shook his head ‘no’ with a mischievous smile, pulling her towards the pathway that would lead them back down into the park. “Oh, no! You aren’t getting out of this after making me wait two weeks for an explanation.”
She resisted his tugging, and her face went somber. “Jason, we don’t need to go towards the park. We need to go the other way.”
Youth looked over his shoulder in confusion, and then looked around him for another path, but there wasn’t one. “What other way, what are you talking about?”
“Back through the woods, over there.” She pointed a slender finger to indicate the direction, and he noticed for the first time that her hand was trembling.
He squeezed her fingers, and moved in closer, taking his free hand and using it to stroke her cheek. “What’s wrong Abigail? What is it that you are so afraid to tell me?”
Her face nuzzled into the palm of his hand, warm and soft, and she cast her dark doe like eyes up into his. “I want to show you where I live, Jason. I’ll tell you more after you see, is that alright.”
Youth stared back, searching for some further answer in her eyes, but finding none, he nodded his head in acquiesce. “Sure, babe. You lead the way.”
Abigail maintained her hold on his hand, and turned, leading him past the plantation house and off the main path. They trudged right through the open field surrounding the house on all sides, freshly cut sometime this week, and vividly green despite the recent heat. Every once in a while, Abigail would look over her shoulder at Youth, a smile framing the corner of her lips. He would wink at her, bringing forth the tinkling sound of her laughter.
Once they reached the tree line, Youth furrowed his brow a bit, and slowly came to a stop before entering. Abigail paused too, and turned to face him with a questioning glance.
“Abby, how are we going to get to your house from here?” he asked, looking past her into the dark woods.
“My house is just through these woods a ways. Trust me, it’s faster this way than trying to go all the way around.”
“I thought there was a fence up around the park? How do you get in and out of here?”
She nodded in confirmation, her face growing pert. "Yes, there’s a fence, but there’s a hole in it where we can slip through. It’s the way I’ve been coming and going for quite some time.”
Something about her mannerisms and voice change told him that last part was a lie, but he chose to ignore it in favor of getting some answers, so he simply nodded, and prodded her on. They plunged into the forest, which was dense, but not so much that you couldn’t navigate it rather easily. Every once in a while they would come to a gully, or a decent sized hill, which would require them to hand crawl their way up to the other side.
They passed by decent sized clearing where tire tracks could easily be seen, though it didn’t appear that anyone had been out here in some time. This was where Sam Xayachack’s Winnebago was parked, and after a brief search, Youth found the makeshift trail he had used to drive it out here. The thought of the former general manager, and the crazy bitch he had unleashed on PAW, caused him to shake his head. The company was just now recovering after all of their fiascoes, and was finally back on a competitive edge with the other indy resurgences. There was even talk of television coming soon, then PPV options, or possibly even a live streaming service.
After their break in Xayachack’s clearing, they continued further into the woods until coming to the fence line. It was about twelve-foot-tall chain link, with barbed wire looped through the top, but just where she said it would be, was a hole that had been cut through the links to the other side. He held the opening pulled back so that she could enter first, and then followed her through, letting the chain links clank off of one another on his way through.
They trudged on for a little while longer, and he was forced to reach up with the front of his shirt, and wipe sweat from his forehead. When he looked over at Abigail, however, she didn’t seem to be phased in the slightest.
“Man, all of this time out of the ring has got me out of shape. You’re doing a lot better than me, Wonder Woman.” He mused, chuckling a bit.
She looked over her shoulder, and her face grew concerned. “I’m so sorry. Do we need to stop for a rest?”
“That depends. How much farther now? By my estimation we’ve gone about two miles from the park, which means we’re heading into the state park section of these woods.”
She closed her eyes for a moment in concentration, and then looked over at him with a smile. “It’s not much farther now.”
Youth nodded, filing the question of what that was all about in the bank of many questions he had about Abigail. The two trudged forward for another half hour, until finally Abigail came to a halt, causing Youth to almost plow into her. Once he got his bearings, he looked past her shoulder at a creepy old shack, smack dab in the middle of the woods.
Tree’s grew all around the structure, and the wooden slates that the shack was made of were crumpling under the weight of a roof that had already partially given way. Birds fluttered around inside the place, and deep shadows moved along the walls eerily because of it. The stairs had long since rotted away, which left only an open archway that didn’t seem very inviting. He assumed that the floorboards were probably rotten as well, so anyone trying to go inside was walking into a death trap. The entire thing was built like a perfect rectangle, almost like a trailer, and was held off the ground by stone support structures at various stress points underneath. A few of these had fallen over as well, making the floors even more unstable.
Abigail let loose of his hands and made her way towards the open doorway, and he quickly rushed out to take her by the arm, halting her advance.
She turned to look at him in confusion as he stared at her dumbfounded. “You can’t go in there! That place is about to fall apart.”
“That place is my home, and I know where to step. If you want answers, now is the time to receive them.” She said matter of factly, shaking her arm loose, and proceeding to climb up through the entrance only to disappear in the darkness.
Youth watched on in utter disbelief, but he found himself moving towards the opening himself, and when he grabbed the arch for support in pulling himself up, Abigail’s coffee colored hand shot out of the darkness, and helped him the rest of the way. If it hadn’t been her, he would have thought he was in the middle of a horror movie.
Once inside he looked around, realizing for the first time that the interior was one enormous space. There was a fire pit in the center of the room, and stone lay all about, some having fallen through the floor, which must have been the remnants of a chimney. It also appeared that was the main culprit in why the roof had caved in on the opposite side of the room, which was now inaccessible. He scanned what looked like it may have been a table, shattered pottery and the worn out impressions of what would have been wooden utensils.
As his eyes drifted back to the floor, where something protruded from the main floor joist that caught his attention. He moved gingerly over to the object, making certain to check each board before committing to a step. When he finally reached it, he hunkered down into a squat, and examined the object with the flashlight on his phone. Much to his surprise, it was an iron ring that had been anchored directly into the joist. When he let his light flash across the rest of the floor, he saw that there were other such rings, all arranged in a neat, straight, row.
He stared at the configuration of iron rings in conjuncture with the rest of the cabin, and when it finally dawned on him what this building actually was, it was like a punch straight to his gut. He slowly stood up to his feet, and turned to find Abigail staring at him sadly.
“Why did you bring me here?” he croaked, still uncertain of what exactly was going on. An uneasiness had worked its way up his spine, the kind of feeling you get right before the ball drops.
“Jason, if you really think about it, you already know why.” She answered, grief gripping at her voice. “This is my home. I watched my mama cut up pig guts right over there, and my daddy whittle little toys for me and my brothers to play with.” She pointed over to the far corner, at one of the rings in the floor. “Right there is where I watched my papa whipped to death cause he bucked the foreman when he told him that I was ripe for the plucking.” She hung her head, and swung her dark curls in front of her face.
Youth shook his head, tears welling up into his eyes as the truth began to simplify in front of him as if it were a tangible thing. “This can’t be happening.”
She looked up meekly through her curls, and in a quiet voice continued. “I didn’t know at first, myself, if that makes you feel any better. The haunted plantation attracted my attention cause it was so close to the original, and I would perform my duties as a house servant. I’m sure many of the attendants were freaked out in the mornings when they would come to open up the attraction only to find everything tidied up and put away. But it was a haunted house, after all, so who would report such a thing?”
She paused, brushing the hair out of her face before continuing. “Then I met you. The first few times we talked, I had no idea. I thought you were just a strangely dressed visitor from one of the neighboring towns. I even thought that perhaps you were from one of the northern colonies, and they just dressed differently. But then you were the one who pointed the park out to me for the first time. I can’t tell you why, but for some reason, up to that point, I couldn’t see it. But when you told me the date it was if the entire universe began to unravel and be made new. I fled, if you remember. Scared out of my mind, I was, but then after I calmed down, I explored this new world. I found out that I was confined to the plantation grounds, which is why I could never go anywhere with you. Well, that isn’t exactly true, seeing as we’ve met before…..”
Youth crossed the room, not caring if he fell through the floor or not, and came to a stop right in front of Abigail, forcing her to look him in the eye. “What the hell do you mean by that? Who are you?” he said heatedly, feeling like a complete fool.
“I think you know…” she replied.
Youth fell back as if struck. He had heard that same reply nearly six months ago while staring into the mirror, just after he and Press had moved back to New Orleans. She was right. He did know.
In 2006 Press and Youth had been living in New Orleans for almost a year, and were doing odd jobs here and there to pay their rent. Some of those jobs included working for Samedi, who they had met early on in their stay, and had befriended them due to their mutual knowledge of the other side. He and Press had been on one of those jobs, hunting down some supernatural nasties out in the bayou, when Youth had been struck a fatal blow. Press rushed the dying boy to Samedi, and demanded the voodoo priests help. Eventually Sam agreed, enlisting the aide of his teacher, Minerva. The two of them warned Press that there would be a price for what they were about to do, but the big man didn’t care so long as Youth was revived. They used a spell of conjuring, bringing forth a restless spirit still tethered to the earth to go and retrieve Youth’s soul, and bring it back to his body. The spell was a success. Youth was restored, and soon after he and Press left New Orleans for good. Or at least, until about six months ago.
He looked up at Abigail in surprise, and she surmised that he had worked out a good bit of the details on his own, so she proceeded to fill in the blanks. “Minerva had no way of knowing who it is she’d conjure up to help restore your soul, just like I was unaware that I was haunting this place. When she put your soul back into your body, it required something to help hold it in place while the portal between worlds was sealed shut. I was that something. When you left New Orleans, you were non-the-wiser to my presence, and I was at peace in yours.”
Abigail looked to the inside of the room with a wistful expression before continuing. “But something about being in such close proximity to home called out to me. I guess sometimes there are bonds that tie you to a place, a person, some things. As my bond with this place grew, the bond between us waned, and I was able to venture farther and farther away, until I found this place. Then, much like you’re looking at me now, I remembered everything.”
“But…You…I….We….,” Youth sputtered, trying to find the words.
“Made love? Yes, we did. I’m sorry, Jason. I was completely selfish. We were drawn to one another because of the connection we had from so long ago, but I should have been honest with you the minute I realized what was going on. I was honestly afraid that if I had been though, you would have banished me from the start.”
Youth sat there staring at her, unable to even think. He ran a hand through his long stringy hair, and let out a deep sigh. “Ok. Well what do we do from here?”
Abigail smiled sadly, and started towards the door. “C’mon” she said over her shoulder before hovering out of the room.
Youth hung his head in shame and disbelief at the sight of that, realizing just now that he wasn’t imagining this, and it wasn’t a dream. ‘Some hunter you are,’ he thought to himself before following her out the door.
She led him around the shack to a copse of trees behind it, and he could see the remnants of what were once tombstones. Slaves couldn’t afford marble or granite, but would often make do with whatever rock they could find, chipping the person’s name into the smoothest part, and then setting it into the ground. She stopped in front of one of the graves, and he came to stand beside her, looking down at its face.
It read ‘Abigail’.
She looked from the grave to him, and gave a pitiful stare before making her request. “It’s time that I move on, Jason. It’s not healthy for this to continue, but you don’t’ need me anymore, for life or otherwise, and I don’t want to be stuck here anymore. Help me as I once helped you. Where I helped you come back, help me to pass on.”
Youth continued to stare at the grave, but he could feel her eyes on him, her presence. He could also feel the lump in his throat, and the tears welling up in his eyes. In a choked voice he whispered, “This isn’t fair…”
She reached over and pulled him into her, and he buried his head into her shoulder, sobbing, as she soothed him with coo’s and petting. They stood there by the grave of a girl long since gone, who had provided him on two separate occasions for a reason to live. He didn’t want to let her go. He didn’t want to be without her at all. But he knew that was what was required, and the only thing that was fair. It didn’t change the fact that it sucked, and he was going to enjoy these last few moments together before it was over.
TO BE CONTINUED IN PRESS' RP!
*****NOW*****
The scene opens up with a shot of Janitor Bud, who is wheeling a trash cart around the side of the building over to the dumpsters that sit directly behind it. He pulls the cart up right beside the first dumpster, when a bag of trash comes flying out of the second one to crash upon the ground at Bud’s feet. Bud sputters in surprise as a second bag comes flying out, this time barely missing the elderly custodian.
Janitor bud growls, and steps over to the dumpster, banging his fist on it’s side. “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
A head pops into view over the edge of the dumpster, and it’s none other than Flaming Youth, who looks around confused for a minute, and then spots Bud, and gives the janitor a boyish grin. “Hi, Bud!”
“I said, what the hell are you doing?”
Youth looks around for a minute, confused once again, and then see’s the trash scattered at Bud’s feet, and lights up like a bulb just went off over his head. “Oh yeah, that. I’m training.”
“Training?” Bud asked incredulously, shaking his head in disgust. “Training for what?”
Youth rolls his eyes, and one could guess if there wasn’t a dumpster in the way, had his hands on his hips. “I’m in a battle royal, Bud! Everyone’s talking about it. The winner gets to be the #1 contender to the Titans of the Midway Championship.”
Bud bangs the side of the dumpster again with his fist, his elderly eyes going bitterly cold. “And what the hell does making this mess have to do with training for a battle royal?”
“But, BUD! Hehehehehe.” Youth chuckles, as bad stares at him exasperated, wanting answers. Youth twirls his fingers like a kid trying to explain a story that’s too much for him. “You see what I did there? Butt Bud! HAHAHAHAHAHA!”
As Youth falls back into the dumpster laughing, Bud grabs up one of the bags of trash out of his cart, and chunks it into the bin. The laughter comes to a complete stop, and Youth suddenly springs out of the dumpster to land on the concrete in front of him.
“What…The..Fuck..Bud?” Covered head to toe in slime, half eaten hot dogs, and coffee grounds, Youth’s expression reads of someone who might be capable of murder.
Bud, on the other hand, is the one laughing now, fighting back tears with a fist positioned over his mouth to hide his smile. “Serves you right, hooligan! Now go harass someone else.”
Youth shakes like a dog, slinging the larger bits of garbage off his person, before looking Bud directly in the eyes. “Listen, pal. I have to train for this battle royal, and you are not going to get in the way of that.”
“You still haven’t explained how dumping garbage out of a dumpster is helping you train?” Frank, the camera guy, adds helpfully.
Youth’s jaw goes tight, as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, FRANK…BUD….If you must know, that bag of garbage right there, that’s Alexandra Kelly, and that over there by Bud’s feet, that’s Johnny Sykes. I figured this battle royal would be a lot like taking out the trash, so I wanted to get some firsthand experience.”
Bud shakes his head. “You do realize that taking out the trash is me collecting the trash from the cans out in the park, and bringing them here to put in the dumpster. Not taking the trash that’s already in the dumpster, and tossing it back out into the park!”
“Well, of course I do, Bud! But that’s not going to help me, cause the trash cans are located all over the place, and my opponents are all going to start in the same place, so I figured by jumping the dumpster and tossing the garbage out, it would give me a little perspective on what the real battle royal’s going to be like.”
“You’re ‘special’, aren’t you kid?” Bud asks compassionately.
“You know what, Bud! I thought we were friends. I thought we were pals. But all you ever want to do is think about your trash, and your toilets, and all that other stuff. You don’t care about me, or what I’m going through. God damn it, Bud, I’m in another match with enhancement talent. Don’t you understand what that means? The more you end up facing those guys, the easier it is to become one. I’m a superstar, God damn it! I can’t be enhanced!”
Youth stalks past the janitor, but not before cutting the camera man a menacing look, and beckoning him to follow with a nod of his head. Youth stalks back around the building before coming to a service door, in which he produces a key, and lets himself in. They continue on until reaching The BombTrax locker rooms, where Press is unlacing one of his boots after a sparring session. He looks up to see the camera, then over to his trash covered partner, then just shakes his head like everyone else does.
“Training again, eh?” Press asks, while Youth proceeds to get naked in front of God and everyone, including the viewers at home. Frank is quick to bring the lens up to waist level so as not to have to put an x-rating on the video.
“You know, you can poke fun all you want, but my methods are proven to work. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with thinking outside the box, just like there isn’t anything wrong with taking things quite literally. When I look on a hot show like Heat Stroke, I expect to see myself somewhere in lights on the marquis, but instead, I’m surrounded by fifteen other pieces of garbage, so yeah, the dumpster looked pretty fucking familiar.”
Press waves off the camera, which turns to follow Youth into the bathroom, and then stands outside of his shower as he pulls the curtain closed and rambles on.
“I mean, this is ridiculous. This entire match can be broken down into five categories. Firstly, the debuts. Nova Wonder, Bryan Williams, and The French Mime Assassins all make their first showings in this match. So what, now I’m bumped all the way back down to testing out the new talent. That’s the reason we have enhancement talent…which…of course, make up the second fucking category. So the first two groups basically make up over half the fucking match, meaning all that’s left is the retards, the whores, and the superstars.”
A few suds feed out from under the bottom of the shower, and the camera man is forced to back up.
“Wait, can I say retards? Oh well, too late now. You got folks like Johnny Sykes, Roy Baker, and Ava. Well, maybe that’s a little unfair. Ava’s probably not full blown retard, just slightly. Like the monkeys who eat their own poo. Johnny Sykes, though, yeah…he’s as big as they come. I figure all the women will team up on him and throw him over the top cause he won’t hit a girl. What kind of guy has gone through his entire life without ever wanting to slap the taste out of some bitch’s mouth, and when given the legal opportunity doesn’t take it? Well I’ve got news for you pretties in this match, I don’t care whether you look like some mongoloid like Nirvana who’s face once caused mass hysteria in Mexico, or a pretty little thing like Nova Wonder, who I’d like to lather up with butter and put on my waffle……wait….where was I going with this?”
There’s a pause, and just running water.
“Oh, Yeah! I’ll smack a bitch in a heartbeat. Just saying. As for the whores, well, I think you know who you are. Amanda Reynolds comes out here with her own personal douche bag, Joshua Samson, spouts off at the mouth with a little oral diarrhea, and then floats onto the back to never be heard from again. And you and Sammy were out there to “Observe”…
Air quotations above the shower curtain.
“Ava, in all her glory, which is more than a little creepy. I mean, that’s like van by the preschool creepy. Besides, it’s one thing to call her a retard, it’s totally another to try and bone a retard. You guys are sick!”
If the camera could see it, there’s probably a wink.
“Oh, and I apologize for the visiuals in this promo, or the lack there of. If you didn’t know, I just winked.”
Told you.
“Anywho, so then you got Alexandra Kelly, and I mean, that’s one nasty whore. Not on account of the fact that she’s ugly or anything, but mostly because she’s vicious in the ring. I mean, did you see the way she put away Roy Baker and Kelsey Spencer in that Heat Stroke Preview Match? Like Slurpee’s in a trash can, and let me tell you…..no one can trust a bitch who can take down a Slurpee that fast!”
This time he pulls the curtain back just enough to stick his face through, and his hair is spiked up into a unicorn horn with shampoo. He flashes the boyish grin, and then another wink before disappearing back behind the curtain.
“And of course, there’s one more whore to contend with in this match, and that’s The Midnight King, Nirvana. Now a lot of people would probably wonder why he fell into this category, but it makes a whole lot of sense if you think about it. Here’s a guy who already owns his own wrestling company, Strike Towers, yet he’s moonlighting over here at PAW. A guy who’s already been a success in nearly three generations of wrestling, who won’t just get the fuck out of the way for the newer and younger talent, well…that’s a whore. It might not be the kind of whore who hits her knee’s for a dollar, or will take teacup behind a Jack In The Box at four in the afternoon, but it’s still a whore. The kind of prostitution, that quite frankly, makes this fellah right here sick.”
At the bottom of the camera, you can see that Youth’s feet have turned, to where he’s now facing the camera full on…..but behind a shower curtain.
“Nirvana, maybe you just want to try your hand at new competition. Maybe you still crave the taste of gold that all in this business eventually become gluttonous for. Hell, maybe you’re just fucking bored. But don’t sit there and tell me and the universe about all the shit you’ve done, and how everyone else can’t measure up because of your experience. PAW isn’t your grand pappy’s wrestling show, and we’re not the Viagra for your brittle old career. I would tell you to put that in your pipe and smoke it, but I’d avoid open flame at your age, as that paper like skin of yours might just go up in a blaze.”
The water is turned off, and a hand darts out to grab for a towel. A few seconds later the curtain peels back, and out steps Youth, the towel wrapped around his waist.
“And that leaves only one category left; SUPERSTAR!”
Jazz hands.
“But wait…there’s only one name left out of the sixteen. Whoever could it be? Oh…that’s right.”
Fonzie thumbs.
“It’s Me!”
Boyish grin, followed by a wink.
“And you know what makes up a superstar. Being fresh and new every damn time you come out to that ring. Stepping up to the plate and enhancing your performance week in and week out. Hell, sometimes you have to get a little retarded, and others you need to know when to be a whore. Superstar is all about pimping yourself to the masses as the baddest mother fucker on the planet, and if they are willing to believe it, then shit…why can’t you?”
A slight smile pulls at the corner of his lips as he looks sidelong at the camera.
“Come on, guys, can’t you feel it? I just took what was probably going to be a cluster fuck, a washed up piece of time out of your career, and turned it into pure gold. And that was just with my words. Come June 9th, at Heat Stroke, you’re going to find out just how much I’ve upped the ante on our little meeting. God damn, you’re going to find out what being a superstar is all about!”
With that, he whips the towel off and tosses it at the camera before the lens can pick up any nudity. The towel covered camera man is then forcibly shuffled out the door, and it can be heard slamming in his face. Frank yanks the wet towel from off his head, and turns the camera to where it’s facing him.
In a harrowed voice, he shakes his head, and says. “I need a new fucking career!” before the camera feed cuts to black.
