Further Complications [DB 03]
Apr 19, 2024 15:11:10 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dave D-Flipz, and 2 more like this
Post by mosler on Apr 19, 2024 15:11:10 GMT -5
Entropy.
Sin City Championship Wrestling... one of three Network affiliates exclusively operating out of the west coast of the United States. These days if not for global events, the east coast would get no XHF love at all. Back when there were frequent interpromotional opportunities, with mercenary freelancers hopping between federations, other than their tag tournament, SCCW seemed to keep to themselves. What happens in Vegas. Even with direct Sin City competition in the casino based Tap Out, SCCW held the course - downplaying animosity or professional concerns, and taking care of business in an understated way that felt like actual mobsters. Let Tap Out put on hour matches before X*Crown main events with all the tact of a small child screaming "Look at me!" TOW could be the glitz, SCCW was about the numbers. A big fish in a small pond, biding it's time, looking for an opportunity to make a big splash. After years of holding the line, the outfit had finally made its move. Jackpot!
First Ozymandias had managed to accomplish what no other SCCW star was able to do, and win the X*Crown for the Vegas regional. Then in a second miracle, Esmur had inexplicable stolen the Junior championship from professional cosplayer, and amateur wrestler, Trekker - in an upset that was being made all the more distasteful by the fact that the loss was being attributed to great Dinosaur Bones. In short order, Sin City had a stranglehold on the global championship scene - and the big fish was exiting the safety of its pond for larger waters. The problem with this new arrangement, was that all that shiny gold was bound to attract attention... and after years of doing their own thing, out in deeper waters, they were going to attract bigger fish. Ozymandias tried to explain Eldrich horrors to the sinners, but his warnings fell on deaf ears, and they betrayed his holy mission - desecrating The Butcher of Reine's corpse to prop up a false idol. Sin City's chosen champion may not have taken up their cause at Supremacy, or even been one of their actual mainstay stars, but it was a face recognized across the Network. Name value SCCW had always coveted. So even if Ozymandias had put in the work, and brought them to the precipice of destruction, it would be Spike Kane on the poster of the sinners' demise.
Their first X*Crown champion might have preferred The Sunken God be his instrument of revenge, but the Elder God whose attention Sin City had suicidally flagged down, was decidedly more terrestrial.
"PAPRIKA."
Yes, everyone knows that paprika dulls teleportation skills. A well known fact. Isn't that how The Barefoot Contessa was able to make a risotto out of the X-man, Nightcrawler? Yes, caking Kane in the dark red spice will keep him from hell portalling the main ingredient out of the dish.
"PREVIOUS DAMNATIONS WILL MAKE COOKING DIFFICULT, AS THERE ISN'T A BODY TEMPERATURE HE CAN BE BAKED AT THAT HIS FLESH HASN'T PREVIOUSLY BEEN SUBJECTED TOO, AND EVEN HELLFIRE HASN'T DISSUADED HIS PARASITES YET. NO. HE CAN ONLY BE SERVED AS COLD CUTS. THINLY SLICED INTO... THIRTY FLAPS. HIS LESSER UNDEAD STATUS SUGGESTS HE'LL BE ABLE TO CARRY ON A CONVERSATION, EVEN WHEN HIS VOCAL CORDS LIE IN TWELVE LAYERS ON THE FIRST PIECE OF RYE. IT IS ADVISABLE TO ENGAGE THE SANDWICH FIXINGS IN POLITE CONVERSATION. IN PREPARATION FOR THIS TET-A-TET, RESEARCH SUBJECTS THAT ARE INTERESTING TO YOUR PREY. PERHAPS THE PUBLIC LIBRARY HAS A BOOK ON SUCKING?"
Or try to better your meal by explaining exercises that would better distribute fat deposits for optimal taste?
"SLICE OF RYE. SIX LAYERS OF SPIKE. TOMATO. MAYO. SLICE OF RYE. EIGHT LAYERS OF SPIKE. MAYO. SLICE OF RYE. MAYO. FRIED NELLY BITS. LETTUCE. SIXTEEN LAYERS OF SPIKE. MAYO. CRIPSY NELLY BITS. SLICE OF RYE. CUT DIAGONALLY INTO FOUR SQUARES. TURN PLATE SO THAT THE DIAGONAL CUTS RESEMBLE AN X TO MOCK HIS CHAMPIONSHIP. THEN REPEATEDLY SHOVE FRILLY TOOTHPICKS INTO EACH OF THE FOUR PARTS, TO WATCH THE INGREDIENTS SQUIRM."
The blandness of Nelly will downplay how common the zombie taste has become. Spike's meat really isn't fit for anything other than a sandwich. Still Spike has managed to coast by as the weakest link in a number of private groups, be it BANG, Pillars, or fair weather SCCW champion... he thrives in such elitist environments, so turning him into a CLUBHOUSE sandwich feels... right.
"SERVED ON A BED OF BRAD KANE."
For plating purposes, a flattened Brad Kane is a must. Spike Kane never looks better than when he was in the company of his relatives. To the point where beating that dead horse has been Spike's only REAL accomplishment in years.
"I WILL EAT YOU."
Footage of Thursday Night Ignition is obscured by the reflection of giant tyrannosaurus skull.
Dinosaur Bones:
YOU WILL BE DELICIOUS... AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT, FOOD!
The Dread Lord stands so close to the glass that the SCCW footage can barely be seen. Yes, in beating Trekker for Bones' Junior championship, Esmur has brought the full wrath of the dracolich down on the Vegas organization. Only instead of the Nihilist paying for the grievous indiscretion of winning a match, it will be Spike Kane that gets the receipt. Like Ozymandias before him, Spike Kane will be little more than a sacrifice to The Hungry God. It may ensure a good crop, though in Sin City's case, the boon they ask the heavens for is more likely to keep roulette wheels spinning. Diabolical. The dracolich could learn to respect the crazed ruthlessness of the Vegas federation, if he hadn't decided to raze the company to the ground. Principles.
Dinosaur Bones:
YES, SCCW, COME THE RUMBLE, I WILL SAD WANK ON YOUR GRAVES.
The way that Takeru Kobayashi's Aphrodite birthed offspring used the term, Bones can tell it is a sign of deep respect in primate culture. This promise does cause a few disgusted gasps from his captive audience, which reminds the camera to zoom out into a long shot. A hospital reception area. Dinosaur Bones is glued to a television on the far right of a crowded waiting area. As Bones salivates over thoughts of dismembering Spike Kane like he was Esmur, there are dozens of extremely sick patients that are being forced to listen to his perverse diatribe while waiting for potentially catastrophic personal news. At the very least, they are all in pain. Even more pain, since Bones started devising his Spike Kane X clubhouse recipe.
Dinosaur Bones:
PERHAPS AN EXTRA LAYER OF NELLY AT THE BOTTOM?
Inspired! What a stroke of luck that all apes look the same to Bones, so Spike Kane might as well be Esmur. This sandwich is shaping up! There is something about being surrounded by all that physical trauma, mental cruelty, filth, disease, psychic agony that the dracolich thrives on. ...The Dread Lord imagines that the Rumble will be very similar to this doctor's office, for all the mangled bodies that wish they were anywhere else. The sea of hopeless expressions is like a river of Mountain Dew and gore to his tastebuds.
Dinosaur Bones:
MY SPIKE KANE MELT WILL FINALLY FORCE THE ZAGAT GUIDE TO GIVE ME FIVE STARS! NO LONGER WILL I HAVE TO SUFFER LIKE JEAN VALJEAN UNDER THE MISCARRAGE OF JUSTICE THAT IS MY TWO MICHELIN STARS! ...THIS WILL BE A MEATY MASSACRE FOR THE AGES!
"Bonsey!"
The other half of the Extinction Connection, an impossibly old cowboy, saunters in from outside. The other patients look at Stokes like the sound of his cowboy spurs on the linoleum floor is more irritating than Bones' soliloquies. Tough crowd. They sure know how to hurt a guy. Perhaps they only extend the kind, polite, indifferent courtesy to the nine-foot lizard?
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
Just got off the telegram with Zagats...
Dinosaur Bones:
ARE THEY EXCITED? HOW COULD THEY NOT BE? WERE THEIR CRIES OF JOY SHRILL, LIKE A FEMALE APE HATCHLING?
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
They said, and I quote "As much as we appreciate the chef's enthusiasm, we wouldn't be caught dead in Little Caesar's Arena."
Dinosaur Bones:
CORPSES CAN BE MOVED!
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes (raising hands in defence):
Don't shoot this here, pony express, I'm just passing along the message, partner!
What to do? If Zagat won't come to Little Caesar's Arena for the culinary masterpiece that is a Spike Kane X slider, then they'll just have to bring the mouth watering marvel to them. Time to adjust the size of those frilly toothpicks.
Dinosaur Bones:
WILLIAM, GET ME FOUR BEACH UMBRELLAS...
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
On it, Bonsey - those snooty Zagat hombres won't know what hit 'em.
They are in for a little taste of heaven. Hopefully the Zagats don't develop a crippling addiction to Spike Kane sandwiches though, as supplies are limited to how often he respawns. Moving like a hundred-year-old man, with nine artificial joints, who just happens to be rocking cowboy boots that are three sizes too small, Stokes heads for the beach.
Dinosaur Bones:
IT SEEMS MY X*CROWN PROSPECTS HAVE BEEN WRAPPED UP IN A NEAT LITTLE DOGGY BAG.
Pleased with this speedy resolution, Bones realizes for the first time in hours, that he is in a doctor's office. What is he doing here? Yes, the meat has a hard time escaping - but their flavour is invertible acrid. Not worth spoiling his perfect palette with substandard chimp, especially with the promised feast of rumble on the horizon. How many Network stars will dot the skies of his belly before Bones makes the final chomp? 38? 39? A record number of fast food on his way to humiliating Sin City, restoring the honour of DB the fed - whatever that is, avenging lesser religious zealot Ozymandias, capturing the X*Crown, hurting Esmur who isn't really in the match but all apes lookalike so we can pretend, AND using Spike Kane to get in good with Zagats after the body is moved to a more reputable eatery. Putting it like that? Not a bad day's work.
Dinosaur Bones (looking into camera to finish his thought):
SO RISKING A FLU FOR A QUICK SNACK? THE DESTROYER OF WORLDS IS BETTER THAN THAT.
Almost knocking over a small child with his tail, Dinosaur Bones starts to lurch towards the exit... only to stop himself.
Dinosaur Bones:
...ONE FOR THE ROAD COULDN'T HURT-
Tiny arms reaching out for a short orderly, Bones' attack is immediately crippled by a rumbling in his stomach. The violent tremor completely grounds the wild beast.
Dinosaur Bones:
AH, GUT, FEAR NOT, WE WILL SOON ALLEVIATE YOUR STOMACH HEARTACHE BY REUNITING YOU WITH ESMUR, THE LUNCH THAT GOT AWAY.
That is honestly why Bones thinks his stomach is shaking like the end result of the Manhattan Project.
"Mister ...Bones?"
A nurse steps out of the back with a chart in her hand.
Nurse:
Is there a Mister D. Bones?
That sounds like a prank. She rolls her eyes, and starts to go to the next chart, when the dinosaur stumbles forward.
Dinosaur Bones:
PRESENT.
A private room.
Bizarre X-rays that look like the colour out of space are fixed to a light board. Using a pointer, the physician on hand gestures to what is supposed to be internal organs but looks suspiciously like psychedelic prints made out of photographs of war crimes. Nothing is quite in focus enough to be actionable, but even as a blur, there is an intense feeling that these images represent some unspeakable acts of horror.
Seated opposite the doctor, in a chair that's inanimate screams mirror the cosmic terror that is his netherworld on display, Dinosaur Bones politely nods to pretend some understanding of his inner workings. If the doctor could follow the cold ghost lights of Bones ocular cavities, the ape shaman would discover that Bones was actually looking at a poster depicting the stages of fatty liver, and getting hungrier by the second. A drop of saliva drips from the side of his open maw, down to the rumbling ribs where his belly would be. The wet sensation brings the Dread Lord back into the moment.
Doctor:
Do you understand, Mister Bones?
Oh no. A test.
Dinosaur Bones:
YES. IF I MAY-
A tiny skeletal T-rex claw takes the pointer from the doctor, and starts stabbing at the X-rays like a child that can't tell the difference between conducting a symphony orchestra.... and fencing.
Dinosaur Bones:
MY STOMACH HAD ITS HEART SET ON AN ESMUR GOULASH. WHEN THAT COWARD FAKED AN INJURY TO PREVENT BEING A KEY INGREDIENT, HE GAVE MY TUMMY CRIPPLING TRUST ISSUES, WHICH HAVE BECOME EXACERBATED BY HIS FURTHER HUMILIATING ME THROUGH TREKKER. THE EARTHQUAKES ARE THE OTHER ELDER GODS BEING ANGRY AT THE MEAT'S COWARDLY BETRAYAL, AND THE QUICKEST WAY TO APPEASE THEM IS TO CONSUME HIM... OR A SACRIFICIAL ALTERNATE LIKE SPIKE KANE, WHO WILL ACT AS A SEDIMENT, FILLING THE GAPPING HOLE WHERE ESMUR SHOULD BE BEING DIGESTED.
Long beat.
Doctor:
...not in the slightest.
Triple take. Jesus. The shocked ape shaman takes his magic wand back.
Doctor:
I don't know what you've been eating-
Dinosaur Bones:
WHOEVER I WANT.
Doctor:
Well that, uh, is abundantly clear. But your diet habits have essentially turned your gut into a no man's land.
Dinosaur Bones:
THANK YOU.
Doctor:
I don't know how you're able to move around right now...
Dinosaur Bones:
I AM ONE OF GOD'S SPECIAL CREATURES.
Doctor:
...alright. But you are FULL UP. You remember the tagline for Dawn of the Dead? When there is no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth? That is basically where you're internal organs are at. If you make serious life style changes, you may be able to put it off for a few months, but if you consume any more of the meat you're so partial too... this will be the end.
Dinosaur Bones:
.................COME AGAIN?
Doctor:
If you eat another animal, it might as well be declared suicide.
Dinosaur Bones:
I APOLOGIZE, CLERIC. APE IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE-
Doctor:
IF YOU EAT ONE MORE PERSON, YOU ARE GOING TO DIE.
Oh.
Longer beat.
Dinosaur Bones:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Bursting into laughter, pieces of squirrel hit the wall, as Bones enjoys a deep phantom belly chuckle. There is no tissue in his eyes to produce water, having given up on tear ducts billions of years ago, but still Bones uses his small arms to wipe the tears away.
Doctor:
I wish I had better news-
Dinosaur Bones:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Doctor:
I know this is a shock, but there is no need for hysterics.
Dinosaur Bones:
HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaa- YOU APE SHAMANS ARE ALRIGHT. YOU REALLY HAD ME GOING.
Doctor:
I don't think you understand the gravity of your condition, Mister Bones, this is quite serious.
Bones extends a skeletal wrist to the physician.
Dinosaur Bones:
YOU FEEL ANY PULSE, CHIMP? DEATH DOESN'T WORRY ME. YOU MIGHT SAY WE'RE OLD FRIENDS-
The dracolich rises to leave. Should have listened to his gut and eaten Esmur by now.
Doctor:
Perhaps I phrased it wrong. This would be more like an explosion- ever see Creosote in Monty Python's Meaning of Life?
Dinosaur Bones:
AN EXPLOSION? WILLIAM WILL HAVE BEEN BACK TOGETHER LIKE YOUR HUMPTY DUMPTY IN NO TIME-
Doctor:
No, Mister Bones. Not that kind of explosion. For someone such as yourself, it represents more of a singularity event, which there is no walking away from...
Dinosaur Bones:
I CAN WALK AWAY FROM ANYT-
Doctor:
Nonexistence. Not death. Not even a very long sleep in a dark place. I'm saying, one more person, and you might as well will yourself out of existence. Nothing. Am I getting through to you, Mister Bones?
Dinosaur Bones:
No more apes... but what about other meats?
Doctor (slapping X-rays):
From what I'm seeing here. I wouldn't even chance an egg.
Avian embryos or the void? The thought causes Bones to almost faint, the shaking of his phantom belly now moving to his legs.
Dinosaur Bones:
WHAT ABOUT APE INFANTS?
Doctor:
Mister Bones, from what I've seen of your insides, and self-control, I would strongly encourage you to stick to salads, and get your affairs in order.
The room spins.
In a state of deep shock, The Dread Lord seems to almost float out of the office, through reception, and exiting into the cold night. He doesn't remember feeling his legs. More of a zombie than Kane, Bones stumbles down some steps, and almost wanders out into traffic.
"Bonsey!"
An ancient cowboy carrying four beach umbrellas under his arms, moves faster to the hospital entrance than should be physically possible.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
You alright, Bonsey... looks like you seen a ghost.
Dinosaur Bones:
NOT EVEN MY OWN. ...WILLIAM... IT'S OVER... THEY SAY I CAN NEVER EAT ANOTHER APE!
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
Why I never! That's preposterous. Those quacks - I'm gonna give 'em a piece of my mind!
Dinosaur Bones:
DON'T BOTHER-
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
We should get a second opinion. That seems like a real heavy load to lay on a guy, telling him he can't eat people. I'd want another doc to confirm at least.
Dinosaur Bones:
I... CAN FEEL IT IN MY BONES.
Exhausted, the Extinction Connection take a seat on the hospital steps.
Dinosaur Bones:
I SHALL HAVE TO LIVE OUT MY DAYS A HERBIVORE.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes:
If anyone can pull it off, Bonsey, it's you.
Dinosaur Bones:
I JUST HAVE TO AVOID SITUATIONS THAT REQUIRE EATING MY ENEMIES.
Long beat.
Dinosaur Bones:
BEST TO AVOID THE RUMBLE.
"Tumbleweed" Bill Stokes (slapping forehead):
Dagnabbit, I already signed you up.
Dinosaur Bones:
Oh.
The two fossils share concerned looks, as they slip into a deep depression.
Dinosaur Bones:
PERHAPS I CAN WIN THE RUMBLE WITHOUT EATING ANYONE?
Another pained look. The silence speaks volumes. The two old friends turn their unspoken grief to the stars...
This is the end.
Entropy.