Complications [DB 02]
Apr 19, 2024 7:56:37 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dave D-Flipz, and 2 more like this
Post by mosler on Apr 19, 2024 7:56:37 GMT -5
Night. A motion detector triggers a flood light, illuminating a filthy alleyway. The source of the movement - just behind the frame - sets off another light source which casts a long shadow across the oil stained asphalt. At first the shadow is an insignificant blob, but then it begins lurching forward - taking form. The shadow grows longer, wider, more intimidating with every step. Tottering in an aggressive manner, the dark mass shifts violently, as if fighting against its simple shape for a more complex image. Breaking free from its unassuming blur like a hatchling, the shadow grows a massive tail, sharp fangs, and tiny arms. No sooner does it resemble a tyrannosaurs rex than the spasms intensify, like the dark shape was struggling to breathe. Staggering to the left, then right, the creature grows larger while wasting away. Light shines through its ribcage, with the beast looking more like a skeleton - its gruesome from still in the throes of horrific convulsions, even as its mass now covers the dead end of the lane.
Just when it looks like the apparition is going to shiver apart, like a Dry Bones in a Mario game - there is a final hideous shudder-
Just when it looks like the apparition is going to shiver apart, like a Dry Bones in a Mario game - there is a final hideous shudder-
"BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"
As the shadows head turns into a circle. Evolution?
"B-l-l-l-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah-"
The noise becomes muffled, the agonized cries of a throat being scraped apart, joined by the high pitched squeal of air escaping. With the noise, however, the circle grows bigger.
"bla- bla- blaaaaaaaaaa-"
The circle grows larger still, almost snuffing out the pained gurgle that accompanies it.
"aaa-"
Spinning around, the camera SMASH PANS from the shadow to its host - The Dread Lord - just as he vomits up a massive balloon.
Dinosaur Bones:
BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
This final push sees Bones eject a huge object out of his maw. It is covered in pink slime, and has been deflated, but beneath the sticky substance is a hot air balloon.
Dinosaur Bones:
haweh.
A final wretch detaches the rest of the cables, letting the remnants of a once fifty by eighty foot dirigible splash out against the side of a dumpster like so much shawarma at the end of a tequila bender. It takes a few minutes for the dracolich to catch his breathe. Standing next to the monster is a man so ancient you'd think he was Methuselah, except the style of the cowboy outfit dates him closer to a hundred.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
Jumpin' Jehoshaphat, Bonsey - you alright?
Dinosaur Bones (another deep breathe):
...fine.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
I ain't ever seen you do that before.
Dinosaur Bones:
IT APPEARS I ATE SOMETHING THAT DIDN'T AGREE WITH ME.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes (cocking an eyebrow at the pink mess):
You can say that again... (furrows brow) but I didn't think that was possible.
Dinosaur Bones:
THERE IS A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
Reckon you ought to see a doc?
Dinosaur Bones:
WHAT SNAKE OIL COULD YOUR APE QUACK POSSIBLE OFFER? I AM THE HIGHEST EVOLUTIONARY POINT IN THIS PITIFUL WORLD - NO, I MUST REPLENISH THE PRECIOUS CALORIES THAT WERE JUST EVACUATED. QUICK - TO APPLEBEES!
The elderly cowboy looks at the slime encrusted hot air balloon hairball, trying to hide his disgust from his friend, but really not feeling fine dining.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
If its all the same to you, Bonsey - I'm not all that peckish at the mo-
Dinosaur Bones:
APPLEBEES - POSTHASTE!
Tumbleweed kicks the air - not unlike his namesake. Still, Stokes knows better than most - when the dracolich gets in one of his feeding frenzies, there is no reasoning with him. The two fossils slowly exit the back alley - motion sensors eventually go back to standby, leaving the disgusting mess in darkness.
Applebees.
The Extinction Connection have been seated in a far corner, so as not to scare, or eat, the other patrons.
A waitress finishes putting down a few hundred Prime Rib Dippers for Bones, and a glass of water for Tumbleweed. Ignoring the serving staff, because Bones doesn't like to think of apes preparing his meals, the dracolich busies himself with a piece of paper. Using a red crayon, Bones quickly draws a line through a maze provided on a placemat. Slapping the crayon down, Bones holds up the scroll.
Dinosaur Bones:
BAM! (He watches a lot of Emeril Lagasse) SEE HOW EASILY MY SUPERIOR REPTILIAN INTELLECT TRAVERSES THE GREATEST CHALLENGE YOUR FLESHLING MINDS COULD DEVELOP? I MAKE IT LOOK NOT UNLIKE HATCHLING'S WORK!
Eagel eyed viewers may notice that the arrogant dracolich has drawn through some of the walls. Not necessarily cheating, as that is how Bones would make his way out of a maze in real life, but for all his bragging, Bones solution is not in the spirit of the Applebee's placemat. The victorious Dread Lord is quick to inhale a few of his dippers.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes (raising a hand):
Now you were quite sick back there, Bonsey. Take it slow-
Dinosaur Bones (shovelling dippers in his gullet):
SLOW? (point at himself like RVD, with tiny arms) TOP OF THE FOOD CHAIN-
Dramatic irony soon has Bones' stomach growling and shaking like the federation inside him was holding a fireworks festival.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
That don't sound too hot, partner.
Dinosaur Bones:
IT'S NOTHING. (speaking down at his stomach) LOOK BELLY, YOU HAVE BEEN A FAITHFUL COMPANION, AND I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO CONSUME YOU, (cold lights in eye sockets narrow) SO STOP ACTING UP.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes (holding out glass):
Water?
Dinosaur Bones (attention shifting back up from vibrating gut):
DO I LOOK LIKE A FISH?
All the vibrations are making Bones' tiny arms sway like fins, but the old cowboy decides it was a rhetorical question.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
Not to sound like a broken record, but we haven't had you checked out since you got outta that awful pit. Might be worth ponying up for a doc-
Dinosaur Bones (changing subject):
...THAT PLACE IS NOT UNFAMILIAR TO ME.
Following what would be the T-Rex's eye line - if he had eyes - Tumbleweed turns his attention to the television mounted to the walls behind him.
The La Brea Tar Pits. A stage, and podium, have been set up near one of the higher elevations for a press conference that is already in progress. A number of familiar faces address the reporters that have been assembled.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes (getting nervous):
This ain't the Dallas Stars-
Before the old man can get staff to change the channel to... hockey, and spare his partner a rude awakening, Bones has turned the volume up over the rumble of his stomach.
Dinosaur Bones:
AH, IT MY NEMESIS' TAKERU KOBAYASHI'S OFFSPRING. THAT STRAPPING YOUNG MAMMAL LOOKS GOOD ENOUGH TO EAT.
The Furminator is indeed up on the television screen, standing at the podium.
ARM815H1 MK.69:
"IT WAS LIKE A PRISON, AND NOT A SEXY FUN PRISON. MORE GREY."
Lochlyn Laughton (reporter):
"So you're saying-"
ARM815H1 MK.69:
"I'M ALL ABOUT THE BONE, BUT DINOSAUR BONES IS MORE OF A SAD WANK."
Harold Thomas (reporter):
"And how do you spell your name?"
As ARM815H1 MK.69 painstakingly spells out his serial number, Tumbleweed desperately tries to change the channel.
Dinosaur Bones:
DOES SAD WANK MEAN SUPREME LEADER?
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes (trying to find a manual channel button along the television rim):
I'm sure there's a Stars game on tonight-
Dinosaur Bones (dead lights of his eyes flickering):
Leave it.
The low voice is never a good sign. Cringing, Stokes slowly returns to his seat, fully familiar with these protests, which started while Bones was under tar.
Replacing ARM815H1 MK.69 at the podium is a candle vigil by those fabulous Crinkly Bottom Boys. Noel holds a framed picture of Al Jabroni - full frontal - while Blobby tries to lick the wax off his candle like it was a lollipop.
Noel Edmonds:
"We always knew that Al was going to die in some hilarious autoerotic accident."
Mr. Blobby:
"BLOBBY."
Noel Edmunds:
"Yes, his final moments were spent gasping, and probably aroused, but was he prepped to perform? I put it to you that there was nothing erotic about his affixation, his death scene is winning no Woody awards."
Mr. Blobby:
"BLOBBY!"
Noel Edmunds:
"You just have one vote, Blobby - that isn't enough to get Al's snuff video an AVN semi. (back to conference) No, Al didn't have to die. That was a result of Dinosaur Bones negligence, so I hope you'll all support our Kickstarter to "bribe the state athletic commission to ban Bones, and get me a hot tub," giving generously."
Mr. Blobby:
"BLOB."
Noel Edmonds:
"TWO Hot tubs."
Not having any flesh or muscles on his person makes it difficult for Dinosaur Bones to express emotions through facial gestures. For his part, Stokes seems to shrink back into his booth.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
There were a few protests while you were gone. Crazy nonsense.
Dinosaur Bones:
I SEE.
L.A. Wombat:
"Please listen to Bud Lightbeer, everything he has been saying is true. I was separated from my family for most of 2023.
Harold Tomas:
"You look very well rested."
L.A. Wombat:
"I am."
Feeling a tension headache coming on, Stokes rubs his temple in pain. Grasping the red crayon in a tiny skeletal t-rex claw, Bones flips the placemat, and begins scratching what might be charitable called words. Looking back up for a crowd shot, to count heads, Bones is instead greeted by a close-up of Marty Donovan at the podium.
Lochlyn Laughton:
"Unlike the rest of the talent gathered, you've been critical of the dracolich in the past, Mister Donovan?"
Marty Donovan:
"It's so incredibly dumb. Is he a guy in a suit, or a real dragon eating people?"
Lochlyn Laughton:
"Dracolich."
Marty Donovan:
"Whatever! All I know is that the other people here seem to think he's committed murder, and my suspension of disbelief can only go so far. Did you know there are something like six wrestlers in the upcoming rumble that claim to have come back from the dead? Tell me you're different without telling me you're different! Didn't they catch the Cross X run? Some thing don't comeback. It's all too much! We have a zombie that teleports around like Jason in the fifth worst Friday the 13th, a dog that is apparently a world champion, and a bodybuilder who believes he lost the last rumble based on the tightness of his hat. All INSANELY stupid, but the dragon takes the cake. Even if you can't find the corpses, lock him up!"
Lochlyn Laughton:
"Puritanical obsession with the technical art of wrestling is a lil' corny - I thought your ward was supposed to be Cornette-"
Marty Donovan:
"No comment! AND the Wizarding World of Harry Potter sucks!"
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
The usual malcontents, anything for a little television time. Nothing worth getting worked up about-
Dinosaur Bones (still writing in crayon):
NATURALLY.
On the flatscreen, there is a spattering of applause for the host of the event.
Bud Lightbeer:
"I am glad our tag title run has brought so much attention to this issue, but the core problem remains unchanged."
Lochlyn Laughton:
"That there are dinosaurs in the La Brea Tar Pits that we have to rescue?"
Bud Lightbeer:
"No, that he's eating people-"
Lochlyn Laughton:
"So now that the Dinosaur you were interested in has escaped the pit, we should leave the others to their horrible fates?"
Bud Lightbeer:
"The people HE ATE are still alive in there, THAT is the rescue mission."
Lochlyn Laughton:
"Seems awful self-serving. What about the triceratops?"
Bud Lightbeer:
"Are they eating people?"
Harold Thomas:
"Plants mostly."
Bud Lightbeer:
"So they aren't....... wait - did you say he was out?"
Lochlyn Laughton:
"He was at A Night to Remember."
Bud Lightbeer:
"Uh...... I have to go."
The global tag champion turned second tier rumble entrant makes a hasty retreat from his "Mine Bones" press conference. Not all the stars rethink their heroic stance against the dracolich with the revelation that there might be consequences for their bravery, but Bud isn't alone in his hasty exit.
Tinto:
"I hear he smells of butts!"
Marty Donovan (trying to pull the child away from the podium):
"Damn it, Tinto, we're on the meter!"
Before the child can enter a legally binding contract for his death by chewing, the local feed switches back to the Stars game, while Bones finishes up with his Applebees placemat.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
What's that you're writing, partner? An enemies list?
Dinosaur Bones:
...A GROCERY LIST.
The names remain the same.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
One thing bothers me... didn't you eat that beer guy? I was sure he was on our roster.
Dinosaur Bones (writing seasonings next to each wrestler):
I DID.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
So how did he get out?
Dinosaur Bones:
ELEMENTARY MY DEAR WILLIAM.
A long beat. The Dread Lord thinks long and hard about how food might escape his stomach, flipping over his grocery list to again observe the maze. The ghost lights that resemble pupils against the dark recesses of his ocular cavities, once again flicker.
Dinosaur Bones:
.......WE SHOULD SEE ONE OF YOUR FLESHLING SHAMANS.
The camera moves into the maze, red crayon breaking through walls, before dissolving to...
A doctor's office.
Having spent the last few hours being poked and prodded by a half dozen technicians - that he didn't eat - Dinosaur Bones is now seated in a busy hospital waiting room. To avoid it being stepped on, which would force him to eat someone, Bones has his tail laid out across the three chairs next to him. If anyone finds this seat hog practice to be asinine, they have yet to voice their opinion to the dracolich. Tumbleweed crosses the office, returning from the nurses station.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
Sounds like the Doc is going over your X-rays now.
Dinosaur Bones:
ABOUT TIME - IT FEELS LIKE WE'VE BEEN HERE FOR A MILLENNIUM. ...AND I SHOULD KNOW!
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
It ain't so bad. Why, this is the first medical office I been at that streams the XHF Network on its monitors.
The ancient cowboy waves a hand at a television mounted on the far wall. While most hospitals go for local news channels, this one does indeed have professional wrestling of the Xtreme variety.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
That ought to pass the t-
The current show being broadcast is Thursday Night Ignition Episode 139... the cowboy turns pale.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
On second thought... why don't I teach you tic tac toe?
Dinosaur Bones:
THAT WOULD JUST REMIND ME OF FINGER FOOD. NO, THE APE BLOOD SPORT WILL SUFFICE.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes (trying to block the screen):
Are you sure?
Dinosaur Bones:
GET OUT OF THE WA-
The ghost lights flicker with rage.
Episode 139. At this point in the Ignition broadcast, Esmur pins Trekker.
Dinosaur Bones:
WHAT SORCERY IS THIS...
The face may have changed, but there is no mistaking the malnourished morsel. The hated ESMUR. The bane of Dinosaur Bones existence in Fireside. A rivalry that was at least leading to a warm meal, only for someone else to burn the precious meat beyond the point of consumption. Those horrible burns delivered Esmur from Bones waiting mouth. Oh how The Dread Lord looked forward to that bite. ...Only he was sure Esmur had packed up his boots and quit the business. What is the lunch that got away doing inside the gladiatorial arena? No wonder Bones stomach is growling, it needs to be reunited with this missing meal!
Dinosaur Bones:
I'VE SOLVED THE MYSTERY WITHOUT YOUR MODERN APE WITCHCRAFT!
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
Bones... its not what it looks like.
Dinosaur Bones:
WHAT DO YOU-?
The commentary on the television cuts through their conversation.
Aleister Mayfield:
"He did it! Move over Dinosaur Bones, because its now SCCW's time to dominate the global title scene! Talk about a GOLD RUSH, Esmur is OUR NEW XHF JUNIOR CHAMPION!"
Time stops.
Perhaps he still has tar in the holes where his ears would be? It sounded liked the ape on the television was claiming mastery over The Dread Lord.
Dinosaur Bones:
No!
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
Bones - I'm sorry.
Aleister Mayfield:
"Just to reiterate, thanks to SCCW's own Esmur, Dinosaur Bones has LOST the Junior title!"
The dead lights retract, focusing on the screen... on footage of Trekker being defeated by the hated Esmur. Shaking with rage, Bones rises, knocking over six chairs with the flick of his tail.
Dinosaur Bones:
I TAKE A SHORT HALF ROTATION SABBATICAL, AND THIS SIN CITY WAGES WAR ON MY KINGDOM?
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
Trekker did real swell for us - everyone was singing your praises, thanks to her.
Dinosaur Bones:
THEN WHY ARE THEY SAYING THAT ESMUR BEAT ME FOR THE WORTHLESS TIN-?
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
They aren't saying that-
Small Child (in background):
WOW! Dinosaur Bones lost the Junior title! Way to go, Esmur!
Dinosaur Bones (waving tiny t-rex arm):
SEE!
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
They don't mean he beat YOU, they mean Dinosaur Bones the wrestling federation.
Dinosaur Bones:
DINOSAUR BONES IS A WRESLING FEDERATION?
That makes no sense. When did this happen?
Dinosaur Bones:
...SCCW TOOK MY GOLD. AN ACT OF WAR. SO IT IS ONLY FAIR THAT WE RETURN THE FAVOUR. I WILL HAVE ONE OF THEIR BELTS-
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
Spike Kane has the X*Crown with SCCW... and is due to defend it in the rumble.
Dinosaur Bones:
VERY WELL. I WILL SWALLOW KANE'S SOUL! NO AMOUNT OF HELL PORTALS WILL LET THAT APE ESCAPE FROM MY BOTTOMLESS PIT! .......SIGN ME UP FOR THE RUMBLE!
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
On it.
Dinosaur Bones:
AS FEDERATION OR FIEND, THESE BONES WILL HAVE THEIR REVENGE!
The elderly cowboy stumbles off to enter the monster into the rumble, while Bones crosses over to the screen. Focused on the SCCW footage, and their appetizing champions, a hatred is ignited in the monster that he has not known in his Network years.
Promises of a truly ugly blood bath take us to black.
Promises of a truly ugly blood bath take us to black.