(Zesty sits roughly halfway in to the middle of the street, say he’s a quarter into the street, comfortably sprawled across a car’s seat, presumably his own driver’s seat, downing a glass of beige liquid.)
Zesty: Damn, that’s some good swish. I know it looks like I’m just sitting on my fat ass here but you can’t always judge books on covers. I’ve been training my c*ck off. Really, even my third leg has lost some weight. But not just, look!
(He jumps out of his car’s seat and presents a side view, sucking in his gut. It looks as though he may well have lost a few pounds, something in the middle-single-digit range)
Zesty: And I’m just barely holding my breath here, boys.
(Corey arrives with a new glass, presenting it to Zesty)
Corey: Things have been really good since Zesty stopped drinking in the early morning. It’s only beer and wine now between 5 and 5:45 am and it’s really made a difference.
Zesty: That’s right, Corey, smokes, right now. And tell ‘em about my training.
(As he hands over two cigarettes)CT: Yeah, we lost the P90X tapes which sucks cos they were probably the only ones in existence. We got em from a guy at a yard sale who said they only make it on dvd but his uncle or maybe his cousin, was it his pastor?
Zesty: Jesus, Corey Trevor you’re dumber than a retarded sloth f*cking an anthill. I swear you’re gonna end up with ants, probably fire ants all over your c*ck one day and they’ll be biting it and setting it on fire and you won’t know what to do cos you’re so damn stupid. Look, Corey, you broke the godamn vcr but it’s ok because I preserve and adept.
CT: Yeah, Zesty got a thigh master now.
Zesty: f*ck pee-nineteen-x, whatever kinda 300-sh*t that is anyway, I’ve disguised my own system here.
Zesty: Shut your suckhole, Corey! I use the thigh master like an ellipses machine, I work my arms…
(He places the time-tested exercise product between his bicep and palm, doing two or three quick reps)
…I work my this part right here…
(He taps his thighs and uses his thigh master )
…I can even work my ass and my legs by sitting on it or doing something else, I don’t know but it works and I’m feeling pretty damn unstoppable, Corey.
CT: That’s bad news for Maeda.
CT: Yutaka Maeda, your opponent on Vulgar tonight.
Zesty: I’m wrestling f*cking Chewbacca?
CT: No, a sumo guy. A big oriental guy.
Zesty: That’s my favorite ramen flavor, Corey. By far. Damn. Get me more swish, I’d have liked to get my hands on that Chewbacca d*ck.
Camera Man: What’s swish?
Zesty: Corey, get the camera douche some swish too! It’s a big, brassy, rotten whore of a drink that’s just water and sugar and yeast or something in an old rum or whiskey barrel.
(CT returns with drinks)
Zesty: And what I’m gonna do is drink all this saucy sop up and then stuff Corey’s ass on in that barrel and ship the giraffe-hobbit looking crime against naturalities to Dogfarts. But not before I take care of business tonight.
(He jams the thigh master in the crook of his arm and lights up a cigarette.)
Zesty: Speaking of which, I’ve got some questions. Why’s the Chinese food different here than in Canada? I can’t find knuckles hardly anywhere and one place with a bunch of tic-tac-toe logos served fried dogsh*t or something. And what’s with the little loaf of bread? Who are they kidding? I know Chewbacca is supposed to be big or something but aren’t the Chinamins tribe mostly little wispy things? Like a yellow corn tortilla Corey Trevor instead of white corn. But good at math and violins I guess.
CT: I’m good at math and violence, Zesty.
Zesty: You’re not good at shutting up, now f*ck off and stir the swish.
(He throws the thigh master at Corey, it lands with a nice square thud in the middle of the back)
Zesty: Hey, Yubacca, the bread thing, I thought you boys liked rice? That’s a lot of carbolytes maybe that’s why the yellow. And! And why is it that the chinks who give you the bread are also the jewiest chinks of them all? First, it’s ‘here’s free bread!’ and then it’s ‘dollar fifty substitution!’ and sh*t. Doctor Jekyll Jewchinks drive me crazy! And I just know, call it gut instink, that you’re a doctor jekyll jewchink.
(Off camera, Corey can be heard yelling, “Doctor Jekyll Jewchink!” repeatedly)
Zesty: Hey Corey, I’m gonna slap him in my airplane spin and call it the Disorient Express! I’m going to beat him with haiku, Corey, I’ve been training. Keep swishing the swish, dammit, and get me a refill before I go back to my workouts here.
(He polishes off his glass and lights up another smoke with the dying butt of his last.)
Zesty: Ya know what it takes to win in this business? Moduleration. I modulerate my drinking and my exercising and I’m in perfect shape with just the right buzz to take on Chinamins, porn stars, dinosaurs, Jesus-you-its, tooth fairies, big guys, little guys, guys who cling on rocks or whatever. Fair warning to everybody around who wears tights -- and I’m talking to people I see on the street too – ya better look the f*ck out, cos Zesty Mordant ain’t going down on anyone. I don’t gotta count to three to win, and I don’t need to win at counting threes or anything. I just gotta get in that ring and watch a big fat tub of cornmeal drop like Toyota stock prices. Corey, get me a rope to jump and some Funions, it’s back to training!