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DIRTY AMERICAN DREAM Till rears back, ready to take Bronwen for his own. She kicks and screams but she’s tied down to the point of bleeding wrists. She’s not much for the damsel in distress. That’s when she notices the age returning to Till’s face. “Fucking sick!” Bronwen spits. “Uhh?” Till wrinkles his brow and grabs at his growing jowels. “What?” Bronwen finally rips a hand free and belts Till right in the mouth with a stiff right hand. Surprisingly the punch staggers the beast of a man. He stumbles and shakes his head as gravity takes hold of his body. His muscles lose definition. “What… What is going on…” Till falls to a knee. The ceiling bursts open as DEATHMACHINE and Shane land hard on top of Till. All three men writhe on the floor, hurting from the impact. Shane breathes out, “Dare!” DEATHMACHINE looks up with a goof ball smirk on his face, “Check please.” He says before taking a header. Bronwen, already with both of her hands free shakes her head as she looks on at Shane, “I don’t want to know. I really don’t.” Shane’s head falls back against the cement floor, “Dare.” Bronwen gets a foot free and kicks Shane in the chops, “Do you know what I’ve been through? Where have you been? You had better have been getting high with your fat lucha friend over here.” “No.” Shane shakes his head, opening his eyes wide, “Till killed us. Then we were in purgatory, then hell, then heaven… Gust was God. Nirvana was the Devil.” “Wow.” Bronwen shrugs, “Must have been some really good pot.” “Till!” Shane sits up and sees Till just about knocked out beside him. “Well that was easy.” DEATHMACHINE looks up, “I think we should just tell people we went to France. Ate French fries. The Wii bowling, er, uh, hell thing won’t go over well at all.” “Good call.” Shane says, groggy. He frowns and punches Till in the ribs, “Fucker.” Jagger sneaks up on them from behind but DEATHMACHINE sees him coming and leaps to action! DEATHMACHINE grabs Jagger in a head lock and gives him a vicious dutch rub. Jagger screams out! DEATHMACHINE rushes him forward, ramming his head into the wall over and over again! DEATHMACHINE screams, “FARTMACHINE!” With that said, DEATHMACHINE unleashes a series of elbows into Jagger’s head, simultaneously making fart sounds by cupping his free hand beneath his armpit. “That mother fucker can throw.” Shane sighs. Till rises up and sucker punches Shane in the jaw, putting him out. Till rises up and glares at Bronwen. “This is not over!” Till shouts! DEATHMACHINE runs up behind Till but receives an elbow to the face for his trouble. Till closes his eyes and breathes out fog… Bronwen backs down all the way to a table in the back of the room. Till approaches her slowly. Bronwen reaches around on the table and finds Jagger’s magnum. She whips it out and takes aim. “Wait!” Till’s interrupted by gun shots. Four go into his chest. The last rips through his head. “Die you fuck.” Bronwen sneers. Till falls to his knees. “It does hurt.” He smiles crimson red teeth glare. “It really does hurt.” Bronwen approaches him, “Head wounds usually kill people.” She goes to push him over but he grabs her by the wrist. Suddenly she seizes up as white energy rushes through him into her. Bronwen falls to her knees. “The Dope Show… Is… Forever.” Till says, his Mohawk goes limp and suddenly his skin pales and he wilts before her. Bronwen falls to the ground and her body seizes before she finally goes limp. Shane rushes to her, pulling her up into his arms. “Bron.” Shane whispers kissing her forhead, “Wake up.” Shane shakes his head, “No.” Bronwen suddenly becomes aware and gazes into Shane’s eyes. “Fuck.” Shane laughs, wiping his eyes and playing it off, “Thought I’d lost you there.” “Who are you?” “Bronwen?” Shane asks in shock. “Who the fuck are you?” She asks. “Bronwen…” Shane sighs. “Just kidding. Doof.” Bronwen laughs.
DIRTY MANIFESTO And so Shawn Walsh hits me with "when it's all said and done." He says: This Sunday I'm going to take you to the cage of doom and I'm going to BREAK you in HALF. He tells me this and then goes on to contend that the things I say cause a buzzing in his ears? What I don't say matters but your trite little wrestling clichés do Shawn? Furthermore it's so awful that I end up sounding like the parents and teachers out of Peanuts? You're goddamn right I sound just like them, they were hard to understand because they were the authority figures to the little peanuts kids. I guess it's appropriate, I am an authority over you and yes, you do have a brain the size of a fucking Peanut. Congratulations fucktard, you're doing oh so well. Why don't you throw a few more of your cliches at me. Write 'em down on a brick and hit me in the fucking head with 'em. Then I'd know that you at least had a little pride left in you that meant something. Look at you though, you're as far as you're ever gonna go. You're the little Cro-Magnon that stopped evolving before everyone else. Sucks to be you, you little jerkoff. "Let's use words!" We could use words Walsh if it weren't for the fact that they're obviously too much for you. I realize you feel safe inside your monosyllabic world but you're in my world now punk. You're going to have to get use to some high brow entertainment if you ever expect to do battle with me on the mic. I'm not saying you can't, I'm sure you could read some, you know, get yourself an education other than what you see on the back of a cereal box. I'd like that man, I'd like it a lot if you had more going for you than a shottied girlfriend and a fucken leach of a wanna be stalker that we all know you forked over good money for. Nah man, we're folding this in now. I realize that this isn't the Main Event I had hoped for. You aren't "The Renegade" anymore. The only thing you'[re running from anymore is your own responsibility for your own life. You surround yourself with blurred cliche drama and make everyone who doesn't get down with Days of our Lives a good fucken reason to change the channel. So how about you come up with your best cliche--the more vapid the better. Come up with that, write it out with that little crayon you use to write your drivel with. Package it, put it in the mail, and address it to me sometime in the future. That way years down the road I can get a suprise mail call with a letter from Little Shawn Walsh from Soap Opera land reading: Your time is up, my time is now, you can't see me... Need I go on? Do you really want to go down in the history books as another wrestler that only twelve year old fat girls really liked because you're so obnoxious looking? Is that what you want? Do you really want to go down like that? I suggest you think about that long and hard bitch. I'll bring the Universal Title, you bring your sorry assed carcass and I'll show you just why in the hell they call me: YOUR FUCKING ROLE MODEL. Eat a dick.
DIRTY AMERICAN DREAM We're given a glimpse of Shane and Bronwen standing face to face. Between them is a shorter slighly bald man in an Elvis Presley style sequin bodysuit. Shane's in a crimson red tux with ruffles. Bronwen's in a black wedding dress. "C'mon babeh, tell me now, do you Shane Clemmens take this happenin' babe Bronwen O'Connor to be your lawfully wedded wife?" Asks the pseudo-Elvis. "I do." Shane smiles, his eyes are locked with Bronwen's. "And you darlin, do you Bronwen O'Connor take this dirty dog, Shane Clemmens as your lawfully wedded husband?" The Elvis impersonator shakes his hips as the drummer follows his hand movements with rim shots. "I most certainly do." Bronwen smiles. "And now the rings." Elvis winks. Bronwen and Shane exchange rings, Shane shakes as he laughs and smiles, sliding it up her finger. Bronwen looks on with wide eyes, feeling a bit ridiculous but she doesn't care. They want to kiss but they stop... "Thank ya babeh, thank ya very much..." He stops and tips down his Elvis shades, "Then by the power vested in me by the state of Nevada and the NEW Royal Blue Hotel and Casino, I pronounce you, Husband and wife!" He sneers, shaking his hips, "You uh, yeah babeh, kiss the bride." Shane and Bronwen kiss as wedding music begins to play. They hug... Bronwen turns to the Elvis impersonator with a big smile on her face, she snatches the sunglasses off his face and puts 'em on. Shane nods towards the Elvis impersonator. "Hail to the King babeh." Shane winks. Bronwen and Shane kiss again. "Well Mr. O'Connor, shall we?' She smirks. "I think we shall Mrs. Clemmens." Shane laughs. "Another last name..." Bronwen sighs, "Just what I needed." Shane picks Bronwen up over his shoulder and spanks her ass once real good. "Now I think it's about time we went and got our collective 'fuck' on." Shane growls mimicking Till, "I will make you mine now Lady Fifteen." As they head away, Bronwen's smile melts away. The glow returns to her eyes, she cringes and pushes the shades up to her face, covering her eyes.
THE END?!
To
be continued
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