(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!
::Yataka Maeda is sitting at his bar in Osaka, he puts a bullet in the chamber of his revolver...::
BOB: What are you doing?
::Yataka downs a shot of vodka and he puts the gun into his mouth...::
BOB: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON'T DO...
::Yataka pulls the trigger, but the gun clicks::
BOB: Why the HELL did you pull the trigger?
MAEDA: If Zesty Mordant promos are what this sport has been reduced to, I don't want to live.
BOB: I really need this job. The economy is horrible right now. Try to stay alive.
MAEDA: This is bull****. At the GP, I proved that I was true King of All Monsters and while they may have screwed me out of my title shot at the PPV, we all know who the biggest monster was on that night so from this day forward, whenever I come to ringside, that god damn ring announcer better bill me as the “King of All Monsters” or I'll raise this gun at him and this time, there won't be any empty chambers.
BOB: Magnus Destructo will pay in good time, but right now there is another....
MAEDA: Zesty ****ing Mordant.... With the Toyota and Orient Express jokes, he is like a brain damaged Jay Leno....
BOB: Considering how unfunny Jay Leno is without any brain damage....
MAEDA: You don't seem me making jokes every time I face an American about their love for artery clogging Double Downs and this nationwide tea bagging movement lead by a chick with a double digit IQ who thinks she can see Russia from her house... hell, if she is impressed by the size of Russia, she can stop by my dressing room anytime and I'll show her...
BOB: Calm down, we don't want another South Park situation and besides, she could be my future President.
::Maeda does another shot of zodka::
MAEDA: I came this close to beating Magnus Destructo, and while he may have gotten me the first time, I know, I KNOW THAT I BEAT HIM IN THE GP, BUT.... they choose to screw me over... fine, I'm going take it out on Mordant's ass, MAKE AN EXAMPLE OF HIM and EVERYONE they THROW in FRONT OF ME until they don't have a choice but to give me a title shot...
::Maeda grabs the bottle of vodka and he throws it against the wall, the bottle shatters::
(Zesty sits at the end of a desolate, dirty dive bar. He's currently sharing the space with only a dozing Corey Trevor, the camera operator and the barman. He stares into a mirror as off color as his beliefs regarding the Asian population. Looking back and forth between his reflection and the cameraman's, his mood is more somber than before.)
Zesty: What in the f*ck, man? I'm beginning to think I'm not being taken seriously in the states. F*cking Yoshi Jumanji over here playing with pistols and crying aboot kinging monsters and acting like he doesn't have some dents headed his ass' way. Why can't you answer my questions, Chewcaca Jewchink? I'm bringing my own gadamn loaf of bread and shoving it right down your mouth faster than a speeding bullet.
(He pauses to allow a nine-second belch, allowing also a minor spray of vomit. Nothing to get upset about, just enough to have to eventually clean up.)
(at the same time)Zesty: And I'll be higher than tally-high building when I do it, bud.
(at the same time)Barman: Jesus Christ! All right, buddy, that's it - it's time for you to get outta here!
Zesty: It's time for you to f*ck off!
(In a surprisingly fluid motion, Zesty leaps off the barstool, grabs and hurls a still-dozing Corey Trevor over the bar and into the bartendar, who falls beaten faster than our sport's referees)
Zesty: It's time for me to f*ck this drink off and then f*ck this chainjink off, ya wanna talk wordy fights aboot things well that's just fine. I may not know what southern Russian park has digital queues or whatever but I do know that what I know is real. You say you know you won something that ya lost and that Jay Leno has brain damage, well, I don't think that he does. He looks kinda disfigured like maybe he's related to one of your Nippon bomb relatives though and he probably eats sh*t like raw shark penis. Now I aint sayin I know that for sure but I said it here and I probably heard it somewhere so that's at least two of us and there's only one of you so it's pretty obvious to me that you're a d*ck who loses to magnum d*cks who eats shark d*cks who likes to say he knows things. You say you know aboot makin examples, but it's gonna be the Mordant man here serving warnings and exampling people, you for one. I'll throw everybody I get my hands on at ya, starting with Corey and ending with that gingerhead with the big cans. You got the dishonor of being the first victim of my scientific training ridge-a-mint, disorient-bud.
(Hlights up a butt and reaches over the bar to pour himself a brew.)
::Maeda is sitting outside on the curb outside of his bar, drinking in the moonlight. Bob comes out of the bar after cleaning up with a list::
BOB: Mister Maeda, I hate to bother you but Zesty is demanding answers to his ridiculous questions.
MAEDA: Is he now?
BOB: I thought we might go through his list one by one.
MAEDA: What the hell, fire away...
BOB: Are you Chewbacca?
MAEDA: No, he is confusing me for his mother, she had so much hair on her back, I used to be hold it while I sodomized her right up the ass.
BOB: Question number two! Why is Chinese food different in Canada?
MAEDA: Because it isn't rice, it is teeth from all those ***** Canadian hockey players who can't compete in a sport with real men like football or mixed martial arts.
BOB: Question number three, what is with the little loafs of bread at Chinese restaurants?
MAEDA: Those are called Char Siu Bao. They are pork buns. They have a special ingredient.
BOB: Question number four, aren’t the “Chinamins” tribe mostly little wispy things?
MAEDA: Lactose deficiency. Milk. It does a body good.
BOB: Question number five, “And why is it that the chinks who give you the bread are also the jewiest chinks of them all?”
MAEDA: We use the money we make off stupid American and Canadians to buy up real estate then plan on killing everyone off. We plan on leaving those who we choose not to grind up into pork buns in New Jersey.
BOB: Awww. And now the last and final question, “Why can't you answer my questions, Chewcaca Jewchink?”
MAEDA: Let me think of a polite and respectful response.... you have the brain of a simian. I plan on ripping off your body parts one by one, as the blood gushes out all over the place, as you beg for mercy, which I will politely decline to do.... THEN I WILL DEFICATE ALL OVER YOUR BODY AND STICK YOUR HEAD ON THE RING POST AS MY GOD DAMN TROPHY YOU RACIST BASTARD! Ahem... Are we done?
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