Post by hardcorehammer24 on Sept 12, 2022 17:56:23 GMT -5
Cameras pan into the back seat of what appears to be a taxi. Jakie Wentzel is seated in his formal wardrobe of a black blazer, white button down shirt and wide black boater hat. He directly addresses the camera.
WENTZEL: Herr Crane…Mister Hell Roller…whatever they call yer shit-hoistin’ arse. Yah say that ol’ Jakie is not worth yer time or yer energy, naw onst. It seems my name has been tha only thing on yer mind. Lookin’ into my old life, pryin’ in business yah haff no part in…I know you’ve been tryin’ tah get me shunned by my people, but it won’t do yah no good. Tha bishop off my community hass been dead fer years much like tha community itself. We rebuilt our livelihood from tha ashes, naw, and no silly English in a leather vest could possibly break our faith. Tha dear old Bishop Stoltzfus would be utterly horrified by my recklessness and methods of purifyin’ tha sinners off tha world. But he would haff gone with us all tha same…because I did everything in my power tah keep our people safe.
So then I ask myself, naw onst, why would someone who is so hell-bent that he can take a useless hick out tah pasture spending so much time tryin’ tah destroy his reputation? Fun perhaps, an impulsive urge tah do tha devil’s work?
I am a reasonable man, ye bist? I haff offered yah a chance tah avoid me kickin’ yer rear into tha 18th century with my farmboots. Ant what do yah do? Yah go off fornicating with prostitutes ant coersing yer friends tah sink into the sins off alcohol ant women. I think I was wrong about yah. I thought you would be like tha prodigal’s son ant see tha good light off tha Lort’s kindness. That you would take a real honest honest look into yer black soul, ant wash it clean. That you would sin no more like tha sheep returnin’ tah his flock. I assure yah, I would haff then shown yah mercy.
A look of disappointment crosses Wentzel’s face, expressing the most solemn of pity as he removes his hat.
WENTZEL: Naw, sorry tah say that yah ain’t no prodigal, Wesley Crane. You are a vile scourge upon tha righteous, onst. You are a viper on tha outside, but a scared little schnicklefritz in yer belly. Yah voll, you are scared that this “dumb farmboy” is gonna steal yer little show off attention you haff been flappin’ yer gums about fer tha last two weeks. You know, you ant ol’ Gibby boy aren’t much different really…a whole lot of talk ant backstabbin’ a man when he’s down, but when it comes tah clean-cut, fair sportin’...well I fear there iss not much there in tha long run. A hellbound heart iss only god fer one thing…being cast into tha fire. In truth, I feel sorry fer yah ant yer boy Herr Henderson that you are both such a waste off tha Lort’s creation.
A sly smile appears.
WENTZEL: In fact, Wesley Crane…I haff a surprise fer yah. Yah’ve been goin’ around sayin’ yah want tah see New Intercourse, naw onst. Naw I’m gonna show yah that my home is no pig-sty, Herr High ant Mighty. New Intercourse is tha future, ant when all tha discipline off the new order fall into line…yer gonna’ wish you had joined our cause.
The woods cast an ominous shadow over the path as the taxi driver enters into a familiar clearing where the compound of New Intercourse was founded.
Driver: Here’s the address you gave me…nothin’ here, boss.
Jakie exits the vehicle and makes an audible gasp. What once was a thriving new community…the second chance at a new life and the Amishman’s believed nirvana from the modern world…is gone without a trace, leaving nothing but a grassy clearing.
Cameras fade out.
WENTZEL: Herr Crane…Mister Hell Roller…whatever they call yer shit-hoistin’ arse. Yah say that ol’ Jakie is not worth yer time or yer energy, naw onst. It seems my name has been tha only thing on yer mind. Lookin’ into my old life, pryin’ in business yah haff no part in…I know you’ve been tryin’ tah get me shunned by my people, but it won’t do yah no good. Tha bishop off my community hass been dead fer years much like tha community itself. We rebuilt our livelihood from tha ashes, naw, and no silly English in a leather vest could possibly break our faith. Tha dear old Bishop Stoltzfus would be utterly horrified by my recklessness and methods of purifyin’ tha sinners off tha world. But he would haff gone with us all tha same…because I did everything in my power tah keep our people safe.
So then I ask myself, naw onst, why would someone who is so hell-bent that he can take a useless hick out tah pasture spending so much time tryin’ tah destroy his reputation? Fun perhaps, an impulsive urge tah do tha devil’s work?
I am a reasonable man, ye bist? I haff offered yah a chance tah avoid me kickin’ yer rear into tha 18th century with my farmboots. Ant what do yah do? Yah go off fornicating with prostitutes ant coersing yer friends tah sink into the sins off alcohol ant women. I think I was wrong about yah. I thought you would be like tha prodigal’s son ant see tha good light off tha Lort’s kindness. That you would take a real honest honest look into yer black soul, ant wash it clean. That you would sin no more like tha sheep returnin’ tah his flock. I assure yah, I would haff then shown yah mercy.
A look of disappointment crosses Wentzel’s face, expressing the most solemn of pity as he removes his hat.
WENTZEL: Naw, sorry tah say that yah ain’t no prodigal, Wesley Crane. You are a vile scourge upon tha righteous, onst. You are a viper on tha outside, but a scared little schnicklefritz in yer belly. Yah voll, you are scared that this “dumb farmboy” is gonna steal yer little show off attention you haff been flappin’ yer gums about fer tha last two weeks. You know, you ant ol’ Gibby boy aren’t much different really…a whole lot of talk ant backstabbin’ a man when he’s down, but when it comes tah clean-cut, fair sportin’...well I fear there iss not much there in tha long run. A hellbound heart iss only god fer one thing…being cast into tha fire. In truth, I feel sorry fer yah ant yer boy Herr Henderson that you are both such a waste off tha Lort’s creation.
A sly smile appears.
WENTZEL: In fact, Wesley Crane…I haff a surprise fer yah. Yah’ve been goin’ around sayin’ yah want tah see New Intercourse, naw onst. Naw I’m gonna show yah that my home is no pig-sty, Herr High ant Mighty. New Intercourse is tha future, ant when all tha discipline off the new order fall into line…yer gonna’ wish you had joined our cause.
The woods cast an ominous shadow over the path as the taxi driver enters into a familiar clearing where the compound of New Intercourse was founded.
Driver: Here’s the address you gave me…nothin’ here, boss.
Jakie exits the vehicle and makes an audible gasp. What once was a thriving new community…the second chance at a new life and the Amishman’s believed nirvana from the modern world…is gone without a trace, leaving nothing but a grassy clearing.
Cameras fade out.