Post by Press1269 on Jan 29, 2016 21:59:39 GMT
Youth strolled down the lane that took him past Knuxy’s Castle, The Black Cage, and Unreal’s House of Fun. He was bundled up in a heather grey hoodie, black jeans, and his Converse P1 Flyers that he had special ordered back in Vegas. His hands were stuffed into the front pockets of his hoodie as he made his way to the end of the lane and hung a right, following the signs that pointed in the direction of the ‘Haunted Plantation’.
Press had decided to check out the Xayarena, and hunt down a cameraman for a promo for his bout with Luke Knux, so Youth had decided to check out the other areas of the park while his partner geared up for his match. He knew that he should probably be doing the same thing, but the truth was, he was having a hard time figuring out how to come up with material for his opponent.
Sure, he could come out and call the guy an asshat, but that seemed a little stale considering it was a first round match in the PAW Championship Tournament. He could claim to be the greatest, to be the best, and jibber jaw his way around like everyone else seemed to do, but that just wasn’t his style. He was the funny guy in The BombTrax. Press came out and told everyone exactly like it was, straight forward like, while he came in at the end with snide remarks and college humor hijinks.
This wasn’t one of those types of matches. This was serious business. If he and Press could somehow get past their opponents, that would put them in the quarter finals, and one step closer to the PAW Championship. Even better, as far as he was concerned, is if they could somehow corner the market on the tourney, and end the thing with a match against one another. After all, it didn’t really matter who won or lost. The real prize was in showing everyone that they were both on top of the mountain, and that one of them would be champion.
A loud buzzing noise came from the left, bringing Youth out of his reverie, and giving him just enough time to sidestep the throng of people escaping Destination Annihilation. The park certainly had its own feel to it, and he was interested to see what others had done in order to ascertain their ideas, and if there were any ideas left for the two of them to possibly set up some sort of shop. He had already swung by The Skate Park and checked out some of the gear, secretly hoping to get a chance to hang with Jamie Wheeler, but he was informed that the Wheelman had went back to New Jersey for the weekend.
Out of luck, he decided he’d check out the plantation, which supposedly was the real deal. The land that the amusement park was settled on was once the many acres of fields that came along with the plantation. The townspeople of Purity had made a bid for the old homestead to be reserved as a historical site, but when hard times fell on the town, the influx of cash that could be brought in by an amusement park won out over preservation.
According to the park tour brochure, stuffed in his back pocket, Munin had taken great strides to ensure that the house itself wouldn’t be altered, but would serve as offices and storage. The Haunted Mansion was a replica house, built on the far end of the park, with most of the ‘haunted’ element coming from the typical creepiness of any old abandoned structure. The house had been outfitted with the appropriate lighting, a few thriller style pop outs, but for the most part, it stood much as the other had for the past two centuries.
The pathway leading towards the plantation turned from pavement into cobblestone, and the rest of the park began to fade away into an open field that completed the ambience of the experience. Youth wasn’t really paying attention to where he was going, just staring down at the road in front of him, so when he happened to look up and saw a woman, in full on colonial garb, standing out in the open field, it struck him as a surprise. He broke from the path, and started making his way towards her, who he could now see was staring up at the house.
The hard frozen ground crunched beneath his feet, alerting her of his presence before he could actually make it up to her, and she turned in his direction, lifting her hand to shade her eyes from the winter sun. He made with a friendly wave, and she regarded him with an awkward expression, lifting her hand but seeming uncertain as to what to do with it.
He covered the rest of the distance quickly so that he was now standing in front of her, and smiled warmly. “Hi! If you don’t mind me saying, your costume looks great!”
The woman regarded him for a moment with lovely hazel eyes, smooth caramel colored skin, and curly raven hair that was tucked into a bonnet that was traditional for that time period. Her eyes flitted away from his, and returned to the house, which she stared at intently.
“I don’ know why you’re talkin’ to me, sir, but I’m not aiming to be in no trouble.”
Youth chuckled softly, and he tucked his hands back into the front of his hoodie. “Trouble? I wouldn’t worry too much about that. See, I know the boss lady.”
She turned her gaze back to him, and raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You know the Lady of the house?”
Youth grinned, and nodded. “Sure, doesn’t everybody around here? She and I are pretty tight. Maybe I could talk to her about moving you to a more appropriate place rather than out here in the cold.”
Her eyes went suddenly wide and fearful, and she shook her head vehemently. In a voice laced with anxiety she said, “No, no! Don’t do that! I don’ want her knowin’ nothin’ bout me! If she hears tell of me out here fraternizing with her guests, she put me up for sure.”
Youth regarded the anxious woman with a surprised expression, and held his palms out in front of him in a calming gesture. “Alright, alright. No need to get worked up. I won’t tell anybody. Jeez, you guys really embrace your characters.”
“I don’ know what you goin’ on about, but I’s ain’t no character.” She blurted out, irritation obvious in her voice. “I just trying to make it to the end of the season.”
Youth nodded in understanding, and looked down at his feet, kicking a pebble with his shoe. “Hey, I get it. You’re here for the job just like everyone else, and don’t want to be bothered. I’ll just mosey on then.” His head still down, he started away from her, back to the cobble stone trail that led toward the house.
He felt a small hand grip him around the arm at the elbow, and he turned back to see her standing there, staring at him. Her eyes seemed to tell a story. The kind of story that was uncertain and afraid, a combination that shielded her from ever having to reveal too much or take any chances. He got the sudden notion, somewhere deep in his gut, that this woman wasn’t used to carrying on conversations with anyone. That she was a loner, and that there was good reason for that because of a lifetime of pain and sorrow that she had lived. He knew someone else like that, and immediately felt drawn to it. After all, he had a bit of a savior complex.
His returned attention, the warm smile he sent in her direction, the interest he appeared to show, seemed to bring the woman back to her senses, and her hand retreated from his arm. She sheepishly turned her head, hiding the lower half of her face in the collar of her dress, and the smile that now creeped into the corners of her mouth.
“I’m sorry, kind sir. If my mama had heard me talk to you that way she’d have busted my rump.”
Youth grinned, and shrugged in response. “That’s alright. No apology needed. Though, if I could get a name, I’d say we’re square.”
She moved her mouth away from her collar to reveal a smile that reminded Youth of what heaven must look like, and extended her hand in friendship. “My name’s Abigail,” she said sweetly.
He took her hand in his and bowed, brushing his lips across her soft skin. “My name’s Jason, but you can call me Youth, if you like. Everyone else does.”
A rosy color flushed into her cheeks from the kiss he placed on her hand, and she made sure that her eyes were not focused on his when she took in a deep breath to steady herself. He watched as her neck muscles constricted at her fluster, and it caused a warmth to spread over his whole body.
When she appeared to be back in control of herself, she regarded him with a genuine smile. “That’s an odd name. Why do people call you that?”
Youth chuckled, and then struck a pose. “Why, because of my boyish good looks and unmistakable charm.”
She laughed with good humor, and it sounded like the tinkling of bells in a spring breeze. “My, you’re mighty sure of yourself. You must be a rogue!” She exclaimed teasingly, a girlish grin adorning her face.
He nodded, holding his hands out at his sides. “Guilty as charged. Being a rogue and all, this shouldn’t come as any surprise. What would you say to a bite to eat and a stroll around the park?”
Her laughter faded, some of her previous anxiousness returning, and she slowly shook her head ‘no’. “You really are a nice man, but I can’t be leaving here. I’ve got duties to attend to.” She looked up at the sky, and her eyes went wide. “Lord-A-Mercy, it must be midafternoon, and me just out her jabbering away like a little girl with no care in the world. I have to get going, or the misses gon’ skin me alive!”
She turned abruptly and started towards the house, and Youth watched her go in surprise, and a little reluctance. “Hey, Abigail! When can I see you again?”
She slowed only for a moment, just long enough to answer him over her shoulder. “I’m out here every day at noon.”
He grinned a little at the fact that he might get the chance to see her again, and waved before she took back to full flight. “Alright, I’ll see you soon!” He called after her.
He looked back towards the rest of the park, who’s lights were starting to flicker on even though there was at least another hour of daylight ahead of them, and then turned back to catch one more fleeting glance of Abigail, but she was nowhere to be seen. Perplexed, he raised his eyebrow in surprise, and then searched the outline of the house. ‘Girl is fast’, he thought, before turning away from the house, and heading back towards the park.
Abigail’s dedication to her duties reminded him of his own, and with some new inspiration, he had an idea of exactly what he could say about Ian Wright. With a newfound exuberance, he all but galloped towards the Xayarena.
*****AN HOUR LATER*****
Brandy Irving’s hills clipped through the Xayarena indicating that she was a woman on a mission. She was going to find Sam Xayachack, slap him in the face, and then demand that he get his talent to come to her when they needed to promo. Her last interview had went alright up until the end, when the behemoth took control of the entire thing, cutting her out of frame completely with his bulk. She was getting sick and tired of constantly being put on the back burner in favor of these wrestlers, and she was damn well going to let Sam know exactly how she felt.
Just as she was about to round the corner into the main offices, she caught sight of one of those wrestlers, sneaking off down the hall with her cameraman, Frank, in tow. She couldn’t believe her eyes, because the wrestler in question was none other than Flaming Youth, partner of the asshole who had commandeered her last interview.
With an emblazoned stroke of determination, she angled away from the main offices, and stalked boldly for the two men. Neither of them had seen her yet, but the strike of her heels gave her away, and Youth came to a stop to allow her to catch up.
She buzzed by frank, giving him a disgusted look for his betrayal, and then turned her full attention on Youth. “What do you think you’re doing with ‘MY’ cameraman?”
“I’m about to cut a promo for my match, and I needed him.” Youth shrugged, and looked over at Frank for confirmation. The cameraman just shook his head, and rolled his eyes at Brandy.
“Let me tell you something, mister,” She barked, throwing her pointer finger in Youth’s face. “Your partner has already made an ass out of me today, and YOU, you’re going to make it right!”
Youth held his hands out at his side at the same time he shook his head ‘no’. “Listen lady, I don’t have time for interviews. I’m on a mission to find the one guy in this whole joint who can help me prepare for my match, and he isn’t you.”
Brandy’s face turned to panic, and she grabbed him by the shoulders. “How do you know that I’m not the one to help you?!?” she pleaded.
“Don’t take it personal, alright.” Youth said, slipping out of her grasp, and then zooming around her with Frank not far behind. “I need a professional!” he remarked as he disappeared around the corner.
Brandy’s eyes narrowed with rage, and her hands balled up at her side. She could feel anger boiling up from within her, and she banged her fists together in front of her as she screamed, “BUT I AM A PROFESSIONAL!! Sam! WHERE THE FUCK IS SAM!?!?!”
She whirled back towards the main offices and stormed through the door like a buffalo, curse words and stacks of paper whirling in her wake.
Meanwhile, Youth and Frank strolled into a poorly lit hallway that led to a door that would take them to the main janitor’s closet. Youth stepped right up to the door, planted his feet, and wrapped three times upon the portal. Fumbling could be heard somewhere behind the door, and after a few seconds, the latch swung open. Standing there was a wild eyed older man, probably in his sixties, wearing a custodial uniform, whose name patch read ‘Bud’.
Youth grinned, and slapped the custodian on the shoulder, and thumbed backwards up the hall with the other. “Janitor Bud! Good to see you. I’m going to need to see you in the bathroom down the hall with some cleaning supplies and a mop.”
Bud’s eyes grew wide, and he pointed accusingly at Youth. “Did those god damn kids shit in the urinal again?”
The look that Youth flashed Bud was a mixture of shock and disgust, both in equal parts. He held up a hand in front of him to keep anymore knowledge he didn’t want to think about from spilling out, and shook his head ‘no’. “No, dude. Nothing like that. I need your help with my opponent.”
Bud rolled his eyes, and threw down the mop he had just reached for. “I ain’t no wrassler, kid. Get outta here with that shit!”
“Exactly!” Youth exclaimed, hopping up and down. “That’s what I need your help with. I want you to show me the best way to clean up the shit around here! Come on, Bud. I need you to help train me, and I’ll even make it worth your while.”
Youth reached into his pocket and produced a fifty dollar bill, and stuffed it into the front bib on Bud’s uniform. Bud shrugged, grabbed his mop, and stepped out into the hallway. “What the hell, I gotta minute.”
“That’s the spirit!” Youth retorted giddily, clapping his hands together.
The three men made their way down to the bathroom, which was pretty clean, considering this part of the Xayarena wasn’t open to the public when events weren’t scheduled. Youth instructed Bud to just wait in the corner till he was called on, and then got Frank into position where he wanted him for his opening shot. This is what happened next, much to the chagrin of all involved, except Youth, who thought it was a great idea. Enjoy.
*****************
The Scene opens up on Youth’s face, whose sporting a huge grin from ear to ear. As the camera pulls back, it’s obvious that he is in a public restroom somewhere, the angle stopping at around his midsection so as not to catch any unintended shots. Youth continues grinning as he reaches for the toilet paper dispenser, but the grin melts into a frown as he realizes that there isn’t any toilet paper.
He looks past the cameraman at something off screen, and yells, “What the fuck, Janitor Bud?! Can I get a little TP up in this bitch?”
Some toilet paper is tossed to Youth from off camera, and he sighs heavily as he spins a few tickets off the spool. “This promo is already turning into a big load of shit.”
The grin is back in an instant, as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You see, folks, in our line of work, you never know when it’s going to happen. That moment when all eyes are on you, and you are the one to beat. Well that moment happened to me here at the Xayarena, checking my phone whilst taking a deuce, when I saw that not only was I thrown into the mix of the PAW Championship Tourney, but I was going to be facing a guy of the caliber of Ian Wright! I mean…here’s a guy who’s claiming that he wants to clean up Purity, Louisiana and send us disgusting, depraved, lunatics straight back to the nut house where we belong. What’s worse, he said it himself, this is his hometown. He’s a fucking Puritan!”
“If you’re having sex, he’ll be there to make sure it’s only in the marital position. If you’re doing drugs, he’ll be there to make sure they are of the Flintstone variety. If you’re having a beer, he’ll be there to make sure that its non-alcoholic. If you’re eating a fast food cheeseburger, he’ll be there to inform you of the nutritional facts. If you’re in the act of cursing out your neighbor, he’ll be right there with the cursing jar. Hell, if you’re blowing a guy at the rest stop on Route 190, he’ll be there to make sure you have a barrier between the guy’s balls and your chin.”
Youth pauses for a wink, and then trudges along.
“I mean, this guy sounds like a real hero. The real deal. Like one of those guys you hear about on the evening news, or on Oprah.” Youth stops for a minute, and shakes his head. “Terrifying how those two separate media’s now have so much in common.” He shudders, but moves on. “Dude, Ian, You’re like a regular old Johnny Do-right, and the fact that your name is actually pronounced ‘right’ means that you are always right! Fuck me, imagine the odds here. How am I supposed to combat someone who’s this far on the side of the angels? How, I ask you? HOW?!?”
Youth reaches back with the hand covered in toilet paper, and he gives a few wipes before reaching back and flushing. He motions to Frank, who shifts the camera away from the stall, just long enough for Youth to get his pants pulled up. He steps over to the sink, and begins to wash his hands, all the while shaking his head.
“Never fear, the answer has been right here all along. To face off against a cleanser, what better wealth of information am I gonna find if not from another cleanser?! Janitor Bud, get over here.”
Youth motions with a wave of his hand, and suddenly an older gentleman appears wearing a custodian’s uniform, mop in hand. Youth grins, and slaps the janitor on the shoulder, pointing at the camera.
“Say, hi, Janitor Bud.”
“Kid, you ain’t paying me enough for this.” Bud replied, shaking his head in disdain.
“Oh, come on, Bud. Cheer up. I’ve got some real technical questions for you, and I think the PAW universe could benefit from them as well.”
Youth flashed Bud a grin, and he just shrugged indignantly. “Alright, alright. What do you wanna know?”
“Well, you spend most of your day picking up after other people, taking care of this place. Cleaning up shit, if you will. Now I’m not downplaying that at all, man. That’s an important job, and somebodies got to do it. If not you, then who? Apparently Ian fucking Wright, that’s who. I think the little bastards after your job, Bud. At least that’s what he said last week. But he’s not just looking to clean up the Xayarena, no, he’s got his eyes set on cleaning up the whole town. Seems to think we’re a bad influence in these parts, and we need to be scuttled right on out of here so that this place can go back to being Pure.”
“Sounds like an asshole to me.” Bud chided, nodding for the camera as Youth brought his hands up to his face in surprise, ‘Home Alone’ style. He quickly returned to his normal expression, which was somewhere between a Hannah Barbara cartoon and one of the New Kid’s On The Block.
“Right, you are bud. I mean, you’re an expert at spotting an asshole….or at least what comes out of one, and pardon my French, but that guy spews a lot of shit.”
“That wasn’t French.” Bud replied, looking at Youth with a sidelong glance.
Youth nodded, and patted Bud on the shoulder. “Tomato, Tomata. Anyways, Bud, if I could direct you over here to the porcelain throne, I’d like to try and get into the mind of my opponent by getting your expert opinion on the best way to go about making this things shine. Oh, wait…Oh, dear.”
Youth paused, and brought his hand up to cradle his chin as if in deep thought, allowing a ‘tut, tut, tut’ to escape his lips. The camera came over to inspect the object of Youth’s deep reservation, and there, still swirling in the murky waters of the toilet, was a tiny nugget of shit.
“Bud, I’m afraid we’ve got a floater. God, this promo is sounding more and more like Ian Wright propaganda by the minute.” Youth held his hands out at his sides exasperated, and then turned his focus back to the toilet. “So, Bud, how does an expert handle this type of thing when it happens? Let’s call this little nugget….not to be confused with nougat….Ian. How do we get rid of it?”
Bud looked at the toilet, over to Youth, to the camera, and then back to the toilet, before saying, “You flush it.”
Youth’s expression looked like a light bulb had just went off over his head, and he shook his head in disbelief. “Are you saying it’s that simple? You just flush it, and it goes away. Just like that?”
“Yep.” Bud expertly replied.
Youth lit up like a Christmas tree, a wide grin beaming from his face. “Dude, you gotta let me do it, Bud. You just gotta. I mean, how am I gonna ever learn if I don’t get some hands on experience?”
Bud slipped out of the way indicating with his hand that Youth could be his guest, and the younger member of The BombTrax slid into the stall, and looked excitedly towards the camera. “Here we go, Ian. One short trip down the rabbit hole, and you’re going bye, bye.”
He pushed the lever, and the toilet flushed, the nugget swirling round and round until finally disappearing down the pipe. Youth was ecstatic as he moved out of the stall and back over to the sink.
“Did you see that? Ian go down the holllleeeee! I mean, Bud, I can’t thank you enough, sir. Without your guidance and brilliant match strategy, I don’t think I would have had a chance against a guy like Ian Wright, but now, that little nuggets dealing with a real contender.”
Youth grinned, and took Bud by the hand, shaking violently until finally the older man jerked his hand free, looked Youth up and down, and then turned and exited the bathroom. When the camera came back to rest on Youth, his demeanor had changed. No longer was he grinning, no longer was he coming apart at the seams with joy. Nothing remained but a serious expression that didn’t suit the man’s usual insincerity.
“Ian Wright, you had a lot to say at Wicked #2, but haven’t quite found your tongue so far in this little endeavor. The one thing that really sticks out in my mind is when you made your little comment about The BombTrax.” Youth half smiled, but it wasn’t pleasant. “You see, what people are going to find out really soon, is that bad things happen to those who invoke our name so freely. Doesn’t matter whether you have some bullshit contract worked out with the powers that be that says we aren’t supposed to jump you. Doesn’t matter if your name matches up with the head bitch on ‘Boy Meets World’. It doesn’t even matter if we’ve had business dealings before. You see, Ian, we’re kind of like 'Beetlejuice', except you don’t have to say it three times, it only takes the once.”
Youth allowed a grin, which looked far more familiar on him than the dark and threatening demeanor.
“But wouldn’t you know it, Ian. It’s our lucky day. We don’t have to go hunting you down….they put you right in front of us. And trust me when I say, at Wicked #3, there’s going to be whole lot of shit to clean up. The part you’re not clued in on, is that it’s not going to be Purity that gets the makeover……but it’s going to be you.”
Youth shrugged, and shot a wink at the camera, before darting out the exit and disappearing out of sight. Fade to black.
