Post by James Raven on Mar 25, 2021 20:30:07 GMT -5
Presents:
Time For a Montage
Time For a Montage
“Bored…”
There I was sitting in my office, staring at the ceiling, spinning mindlessly in my chair. Tennis ball in my hand as I toss it in the air and promptly catch it.
“Soooooo bored…”
I toss the ball.
“It’s not even fun anymore.”
The ball falls and lands directly in my palm.
“Like come on already. How many times do James and I have to go out there, spank the children and walk away with the expected outcome?”
The door to the office opens up, and in walks James Raven. For some ungodly reason he’s carrying the Project Honor Tag Team title. I toss the ball into the air, and he snatchs it away before I could catch it.
“What’s up superstar?” James tosses me the ball as I stop spinning on the swivel chair.
“Well you know me.”
“Oh so overthinking everything and slowly driving yourself insane?” Raven smirks as chuckles to himself.
“Well obviously.”
“Sauce and Petey are really doing this to you?” James questioned as I leaned forward while raising an eyebrow.
“No you fool.” I scoff at the notion. “But also, there are so many different variables. I can’t plan for everything.”
“And you don’t have to.” He calmly explains. “It doesn’t matter what the fans voted for, you and I have seen everything this business has thrown at us. We don’t have to worry about anything. Unless…”
“Unless what!?” I said as James trailed off. “What would I have to worry about?”
“Wellllll….” James shrugs. “If my vote is the winner, I Really hope you’re up for some good ole fashioned Turkish Oil Wrestling.” He smiled and laughed.
“Not fucking cool dude. You know how I feel about water based lubricants.” I throw my arms to my side. “It dries out my skin! Natural oils or nothing!”
“Two things.” James holds up his hand. “One, how the hell would I know that? And two, how does an oil dry out your skin? Like that doesn’t make any sense.”
“I don’t know man, I guess I’m just a freak of nature like that.”
“I feel for Atty.”
“Oh shut up.” I quickly responded.
“Touchy subject. My bad eh.” James smiled and clapped his hands together. “Well then there is only one thing that is going to take your mind off of everything.”
“Don’t say it.” I sigh.
“We.” James stands up.
“I’m begging you.”
“Do.” He raises his voice.
“Please stop.”
“A training montage!” James extends both his arms, does a quick spin and shoots some finger guns towards me. “Come on Bro. It’ll be harmless fun. We make fun of Drip, and we let the boy build some very suspect shit.”
“I don’t know man.” I shake my head. “It just kinda sounds like you’re trying to get me to workout and prepare.”
“Yeah kinda.”
“I’d rather prepare my way.” I said with a classic shrug.
“What’s that? Drinking bourbon, playing Call of Duty, and yelling at tweens on the internet?”
“Well….” A deep breath. “It’s not always Call of Duty.”
“Right sorry, you’re a man of taste. You play League of Legends too.” James rolls his eyes.
“I don’t play that garbage game. That’s for losers who have nothing better to do with their lives.”
“Doesn’t Noah play League?”
“Shit….” I stand up from the chair and toss the ball on the couch. “Remind me to buy him one of those card things.”
“Right.” James slaps me on the shoulder. “Ready to work out….”
“I knew it was a vain attempt to get me to workout.” I mumble.
“Right, right….” James calms himself. “Are you ready for a Montage?”
“Do I have a choice?” I said while giving James a side eye.
“Nope.” James swirls his hand above his head and points towards the door. “It’s what we are going with this week.”
“Yay. Well let’s get on with it then.” I said while rolling my eyes and shrugging despondently.
“That’s the Legacy spirit!”
James and I walked out of my office and headed to our first montage training sequence.
** RECORDING STARTED **
Boys...
What the fuck are we doing here?
** A soft scuffling can be heard off screen, incoherent whispers coming from a distant source. **
I’m starting a promo, Jax. Why would you come in here and interrup-
** His voice is faint, as he’s presumably pulled away from his microphone to confront his intruder. He stops as the incoherent whisper repeats itself. **
They pushed it? … fucking why? The match is this weekend, if Big Drip couldn’t be bothered to put up a fucking YouTube video or fire off some tweets by now, what’s an extra 24 hours going to do?
** The incoherent whisper suddenly sounds defensive, informing our hero that this wasn’t a decision that he had anything to do with and he was merely relaying the message, since the G.O.A.T. had unceremoniously left the company discord and was as such unaware of the situation. **
I’m not saying it’s your fault, Jackson! Jesus! I’m just saying… if I’m Project Honor I’d just run with whatever promo material we already have and call it a fucking day! It’s not like an extra vlog from Sauce is going to change anything, or like some last second instagram reel from Petey is going to drive buy rates through the roof! They didn’t want to hype this match up because they know they’re gonna get their asses beat AGAIN! Now I’m expected to adjust MY schedule, so that THEY can get an extension to actually do their fucking jobs?!
** The incoherent whisper in the distance seems to suggest to our hero that his personal schedule doesn’t need to be adjusted at all. In fact, he could go ahead and do his promo now (as intended) and go on with his life, and whatever Big Drip does or doesn’t do in the next 24 hours is irrelevant. **
No no, let’s not get crazy… an extra day is an extra day… I have a scarf I was hoping to finish crocheting today. I can deal with this bull shit tomorrow.
** RECORDING STOPPED **
24 HOURS LATER
** RECORDING STARTED **
*Ahem*
Boys…(I begin for most certainly the first time)
What the fuck are we doing here?
Does this not seem familiar to the rest of you? More importantly, does this not seem redundant? I’m running out of the crayons and tablecloth space necessary to break things down any simpler for these two mental munchkins, and I’m running low on interest or desire to find creative new ways to say the same things that they already haven’t been able to refute for the past eight weeks.
Do you know the most infuriating part of it all?
They don’t TRY to refute it. They don’t even listen to the points you make when speaking to them. They’re just above it all; the industry they claim to be trying to make it in, the opponents that they forced their way into a feud with, the social media platforms that they registered themselves for… they recoil when confronted by any of it, falling back on the “talk is cheap, see you in the ring” argument as if the words are invalid. As if they’ve ever once actually shown up with a solid effort to make the threat of seeing them in the ring a threat worth considering.
I harsh their buzz by taking this all seriously.
I kill their vibe by reminding them that they aren’t the superstars they want to pretend that they are.
I wonder if they think that their apathy makes them endearing? I wonder if they believe that a complete disinterest in their own profession is what makes them the hero’s of this story? Because they sure as FUCK think that they’re the hero’s, we all know that.
Claiming not to be evil does not make you good.
Losing a lot doesn’t make you a compelling underdog.
Saying “we’ll get you next time” is not an answer to why you’ve lost every interaction previous.
Don’t worry, Sauce. Don’t stress out, Petey. I’m not expecting you two to actually absorb any of this or take it to heart. I know I’m talking to myself. I know I’m shouting into the void. Sure, I had hoped that maybe some of my points might sink in the first time we all got together, and I’ll admit I was foolish enough to hope I could hammer them home the second time around too…
I’ve given up on that.
I’ve given up on speaking to the two of you.
Instead, allow me to address the Project: Honor roster as a whole; YOU are all responsible for this. You all roll your eyes just as hard as I do and groan just as loudly at Big Drips antics, but where are the rest of you when it comes to putting them in their place? You all hate the tired and recycled booking of the tag division, its stretch of inactivity and stagnancy… but where is the effort to insert yourself and change any of it?
None of you have any fucking friends?
None of you can find one person you can stomach enough to chase some gold with, to prevent BIG DRIP FUCKING PRODUCTIONS FROM TAKING UP TWO MONTHS OF MY GODDAMN LIFE?!
Shame on you.
Shame on all of you for allowing them to reach this point, and for still not having made any moves to position yourselves for April to prevent Big Drip from somehow stumbling their way into a fourth opportunity to shatter a Legacy.
Cowards. Don’t pretend you have anything better going on. I’ve seen the way some of you scratch and claw through hell on the off chance that you’d be named as a contender for a singles belt we all knew you had no chance of winning… but you can’t be bothered to take a shot at us?
You force the company to constantly outsource for new talent, not even realizing you’re pushing yourself further and further down the ladder with each incoming name?
Big Drip doesn’t deserve this match.
I don’t deserve this torturous, never ending rivalry.
None of you deserve Legacy…
… but you’re stuck with us…
… and we ain’t going anywhere.
** RECORDING STOPPED **
“What… in the ever loving fuck… is this?” James whispers with equal parts shock and awe, his eyes tracking slowly upward as he soaks in the structure in front of him.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Noah Jackson responds proudly, arms crossed over his chest and covered with small cuts and bandages from the construction process.
“It’s… it’s…” Raven stammers, “What in the ever loving fuck is it?”
Shawn Warstein says nothing, studying the cold steel and twisted barbed wire carefully. He takes a measured step forward, reaching out and intertwining his fingers with the chain link. He tugs firmly, and the trio watches as the entire structure sways and creaks. Raven covers his mouth with his fist, wincing and shaking his head in horror before turning to Noah.
“Is this thing safe?” he asks.
“Is wrestling?” Noah quickly fired back, “Grow some balls, cunt.”
Noah looks to Shawn with hope-filled eyes, eager for his fathers approval. Shawn eases away from the structure, still studying it thoughtfully before he turns to Noah.
“You’re right, Noah. It IS beautiful,” Shawn tells Noah, “Walk us through it.”
Noah leaps in the air, pumping his fist wildly before crouching down and busting out a sick air guitar solo. He rushes over to The People’s G.O.A.T. and flips both middle fingers in his face, sticking out his tongue and snarling his upper lip.
“BAM! BAMBAMBAM I told ya, ya cunt!” Noah shouts in Raven's face as James stands motionless and silent, looking to Shawn for support but receiving none.
“Relax, Noah,” Raven responds in an attempt to pacify the young Legacy member, “All I did was ask a couple of questions. I’m confused.”
“Well, that’s because you’re the looks of this operation,” Noah quickly retorts before spinning on his heel and moving away from James, back towards his beautiful creation of chaos, “I call it the Cunt Cage!”
“That sounds like a BDSM toy that Elena Dedraca would own,” James snipes.
“Ignore him, Noah,” Shawn instructs his son, “... but the name might need some work.”
“ANYWAYS!” Noah continues, “This baby has a little bit of everything. It’ll get you ready for anything Project Honor could throw your way. It’s got tables, ladders and chairs, OH MY! It’s got barbed wire, razor wire, and concertina wire, HOT DAMN! We’ve got light tubes, garbage cans, baseball bats, two by fours, cinder blocks, thumb tacks, kendo sticks, heavy chains, lead pipes, sledgehamm- *GAAAAAASSSSSSSSSP*”
“You forgot to take a breath didn’t you?” Shawn asks.
Noah nods his head, placing his hand on the makeshift cage around the ring and sucking in air as his face restores from the soft purple it had become. He straightens up after a moment, turning back to Warstein and Raven.
“The point is there’s a shit ton of weapons, boys,” he beams proudly, “All locked into this steel cage, which is on a thirty second timer to release small electric bursts. Speaking of which…”
He looks at an imaginary watch, leaving his other hand firmly on the cage until it jolts suddenly and he jerks it away while giggling loudly.
“You electrified the goddamn cage, Noah?!” Raven shouts in horror, “Why would you fucking touch it?!”
“It gives me tingles in me jingles, mate,” Noah says sheepishly.
“I- I-” James stammers, “I’m just so confused. You said you were going to build a course for a barbed wire table match.”
“You two have been wrestling for a combined seventy years, cunt,” Noah says flippantly, “If you don’t know how to navigate a coupl’a tables and some razor wire, there’s nothing you’re gonna learn in one montage scene. THIS IS LEGACY! We take things to the next level, we prepare for the extreme so that reality seems tame! Big Drip in a table match? Some silly ol’ barbed wire? That’s a walk in the park after you’ve prepared in the Cunt Cage!”
“Please stop calling it that,” James begs.
“C’mon guys!” Noah groans, “I worked really hard on this! Don’t let it go to waste! I promise, it’ll get you ready for literally anything. I even forgot some stuff it could do when I first described it.”
James steps forward, eyes scanning the entire structure once more as he considers it.
“It’s pretty intense,” Raven finally concedes, “Pretty cool, Noah.”
“It’s fire,” Noah says.
“I already called it cool, Noah,” Raven sighs, “You don’t have to call it ‘fire’ just to make me feel old.”
“No,” Noah corrects him, “Fire is one of the things I forgot to tell you about.”
Noah hits a button on the side of the cage and a flamethrower burst shoots from a small hole in the piping and fans up inches from James’ face. Raven collapses to the floor, covering his eyes and scrambling back away from Noah and the structure before leaping to his feet.
“WHAT THE FUCK NOAH?!” James roars as Shawn steps calmly between Raven and Noah, separating his tag partner from his son.
“Well, I figured maybe Pyro would be backstage and want to help out Big Drip,” Noah explains, “If he did, he might conjure up some fire to screw you up. So bing bang boom I built that shit in. You’re welcome. I told you, this baby will prepare you for anything.”
“Pyro isn’t a fucking wizard, Noah!” James shouts, “He can’t just be sitting backstage and attack me with flames in the goddamn ring!”
“He can’t?” Noah asks quizzically, “So he’s just a lame cunt with a lighter? Faaaaack...”
Shawn pushes James back a few steps, urging him to take a couple of breaths and relax. Raven obliges and starts to calm down once he’s been assured his eyebrows and eyelashes are still intact. Such a prissy bitch that James Raven. Shawn makes his way back to Noah, putting an arm around his shoulders.
“You did good,” Warstein tells Jackson.
“Thanks,” Noah responds gratefully, “There’s so much more you haven’t even seen. There are hidden speakers that blast vulgarities at you on maximum volume, in case Julius Fairweather comes to the ring and talks at you. There’s a wrestling dummy dressed up like a biker in case that new guy wants to interfere and make a name for himself… I couldn’t find a good mask of the guy though, so I just put an old John Nash Strader one on him and honestly you can’t even tell the difference… there’s lube that soaks the canvas and makes it slippery, ‘cause what if the custodial crew doesn’t have the time to properly clean up after Eli Atlas’ match and all the mums in the crowd finish? I’m tellin ya I thought of everything.”
“I know you did… but I don’t think we can use this right now, buddy,” Warstein reluctantly informs his son.
“Really?” Noah presses, crestfallen, “Why not?”
“It’s too much for Raven, over there,” Shawn whispers, “If you and I were getting ready for this match, bet your ass we’d be in there, but this close to the show? With Raven? I can’t risk it. He might break a nail in there or something.”
“Yeah, he is a soft one, isn’t he?” Noah finally accepts, “Alright, fair enough.”
“We’re gonna have to get this montage moving, and get to the next scene, you want to come?” Shawn asks.
“Nah, I’m just gonna stay here and maybe turn the electric charge timer down to twenty seconds…” Noah considers out loud.
Shawn nods his head and turns away from Noah. He motions for Raven that they should head out, and the two begin to walk out of sight.
“That thing’s not safe at all, is it?” Raven whispers to Warstein, “Someone would die in there if we tried to use it, right?”
“Oh absolutely,” Shawn confirms.
Noah holds on to the cage, his hand jolting once again and his giggle echoing through the room as Raven and Warstein disappear.
Dead Men Walking…
How appropriate.
I wish, oh how I wish upon the gods that one day Big Drip will see the errors of their ways. However we all know that isn’t going to happen. I could stand here all damn day and tell you everything wrong with them, but I just don’t have the time. See I’ve got more important things to handle.
A crumbling relationship. An entire company with eyes on destroying me, for the sole purpose being, that I’m there.
Just let that sink in for a second fellas.
An entire company, solely focused on me, and yet here I am still standing. Still smiling. Still winning. I know that it’s such a difficult concept for either of you to comprehend, so I’ll break it down for you.
Winning is when the referee raises YOUR hand at the end, not when you’re left staring at the lights. It happens so infrequently for you two, just go ahead and raise your arms now. You’ve done it! You made it to this point. Cookies all around. However…. you’ve got to finish.
Two Proving Grounds in a row all of you were made to look like the fucking garbage you truly are. First go round, we were all ready for a fight, then we decided to go a different route. It’s amazing how quickly your fortune can go from, bless you I’m up, to oh shit I never graduated High School. Guys after that showing you should’ve known that this was never going to end well. Sure did Betsy act out of character? Sure, am I to blame for that, of course. I did it all for the, hold on let me get as brain dead as the rest of the world… ‘Lulz’. Watching your lives work go poof, and the dumbfounded looks on your faces, made it all worth it.
That will all eventually lead us to the last Proving Ground. Where Big Drip in total, came up a bit short…. I bet that’s not the first time you’ve heard that, and it probably won’t be the last.
It was your opportunity to show the world that you do in fact deserve to be in the same ring as James and I. That you shouldn’t be overlooked. That we should take this seriously. Of course….
Big Drip does what Big Drip does.
The big three losses. So where you once had a point, at least TJ has a title, that is no longer true. The one shining spot is gone. Just like how Peter fell to James, and Sauce lost to me. It’s just the way of the world.
The sun rises in the east.
The Sky is blue.
Water is wet.
Legacy will always come out on top. Are you already forgetting everything? I mean I hope to god that you’ve not. I haven’t been fucking pinned in this company. My one, yes singular, loss came at the hands of the Current Legacy champion. Let that rattle around your skull. James has yet to taste defeat here, and you think that you have a fucking chance in hell?
Just remember….
James and I were more than content with showing up, defending our titles and leaving. Just know that you opened your mouth first. When you “earned” the right to face us.
You spoke first.
We will speak last.
However ours will be done with actions. They do speak louder than words. Everything we’ve done and accomplished, and you spit on it. Acting all tough behind your keyboards. Hidden behind the pale glow of your phones. It’s easy to talk when the object of your ire isn’t right in front of you.
Saying you’re going to end Legacy? Much better men and women have tried and failed. You’re not the first, you’re just the latest in a long line of people hoping to get a bit of that Legacy shine on them.
You’re no different than anyone else. You see our names and you see the mountain that comes along with it. You want to be the first people to climb to the summit....
Wait. I already did the mountain metaphor before, shit. Well either way. The point remains the same no matter who is across from me the outcome will always be the same. I wish that I could just sit here and rip apart the two of them, but why bother.
It would be like picking on Fred Durst and Dustin Diamond. One thinks that they have skills and the other is just a walking statement for abortion. Slap a red hat on one of them and BOOM! NuMetal is reborn. Put the other in a curly wig and ba-bam…. failed child actor constantly fighting for relevance and dying alone.
James said it best.
We end tag teams. We make duos and trios just stop for a second and rethink everything. Everything that made them get to this point. Like…
‘Maybe this isn’t for us’
*Whap*
‘Yup, definitely not for us’
*Thud*
‘Momma!!!!!!’
*Crack*
You two are walking right into the electric chamber. The other inmates clang their cups on their cell doors in a sign of solidarity. You walk with your heads held high, not knowing, that this isn’t what you thought it was.
There are no shackles. There are no chairs, no fanfare. This is two ignorant morons who opened their mouths far too often, being led to a brick wall. A cigarette given to either of you. You’ll stand there tough, and right before they blindfold you, you’ll see James and I walk in. No masks. No Hoods. To others this is a job, but for us? We are going to enjoy it. I’m sure you’ll smirk or flip us off before your world goes dark. Defiant until the end.
Good.
*Click*
We like that.
*Click*
We don’t miss.
*Boom*
Shawn’s black Lincoln Navigator pulled up to the scenic beach. The waves crashing and rolling in and out. Several people are scattered throughout, a few families, a couple of sunbathers, and a few people running around with their dogs.
“Really James?” Shawn glanced over to Raven. "Isn’t this just a bit cliche? I mean even for us?”
“Well yeah.” James and Shawn exit the car and begin making their way down the winding path towards the beach. “Yet that’s alright. We are facing a pair of walking cliches.”
“I’m aware of that, but that doesn’t mean…” Shawn stops in his tracks and looks around. There are a few cameras set up along the beach, and everyone seems to be repeating the same actions over and over again. “Did you hire actors?”
“No.” James smiles and shrugs at Shawn. “Legacy International Entertainment did, it’s basically a tax write off.”
“It’s really not.” Shawn said while pointing towards a tent. “You got catering?”
“Of course. It’s all organic. These Hollywood types man, killers on the pocketbook.” James and Shawn walk into the tent. They each grab a few finger sandwiches. “Plus with how much we were going to pay for the director…”
“You HIRED a director!?!?” Shawn throws his sandwich against the ground.
“No.” Shawn calms down for a second before James continues. “Scorsese wasn’t available. We tried. Plus he probably would’ve recast you, with Leo or a Wahlberg. We did the next best thing.”
“Funny.” Shawn rolls his eyes and sees two chairs sitting behind a camera. “So two directors? Is that to make up for the fact you couldn’t get Scorsese?”
“Kinda….”
A disturbance comes from the other side of the tent, as Atara and Betsy come strolling through. Betsy has a stack of papers in her hands, as Atara slides off her shades.
“There they are…” Betsy holds out her arms and gives James a big hug and a smile towards Shawn. “The stars of Project Honor and basically anywhere they step foot. The GOAT and The Tyrant.”
“Might have to recast this one. Doesn’t fit my vision for this particular scene.” Atara said while pointing towards Shawn. “This one however…” She licks her lips.
“As I was saying Shawn. One Writer.” James points towards Betsy, and then towards Atara. “One director.”
“Grea….. Wait!” Shawn grabs the papers from Betsy. “There’s a script? It’s literally just running on a beach back and forth. I’ve seen all the Rocky movies and not once do they talk during the montage other than some motivational music and a few words from Mick.” Shawn flips through the script.
“Wardrobe!” Atara snaps her fingers and a PA comes rushing over.
“There are PA’s too?” Shawn looks up with a confused expression. Raven leans over to Shawn.
“Yeah man it’s legit. They all got their SAG cards and everything.” Atara looks Raven up and down, and then does the same to Shawn. She points towards Raven.
“You, shirt off, oil on.” Atara then points to Shawn. “Shirt on, behind him, maybe out of frame.”
“Okay you know what…. fuck this.” Shawn throws the papers to the ground and storms out of the tent. Raven comes running up behind him. “James I don’t have to take this shit. It’s one thing on twitter…”
“I get it.” James grabs Shawn. “Just stop it man. Let it go. Let’s get out here, run on the beach for a bit. Get the cardio up and walk into Wired Consequences in tip top shape.”
“I’m on tip top shape man.” Shawn knocks on Raven’s chest with his fist. “I’m not the one with ring rust, remember ‘you needed to be decreed booked’ and not out there every week like I am.” Shawn gives Raven a wink. “Just go out there, be pretty and make it worth it for them.”
“Fine.” James shakes his head and heads towards the tent. Shawn gets in the car and leans the seat back and closes his eyes.
The rest is what you’d expect. Raven shirtless, oiled up, running on a beach to some instrumental music. The ladies thirsting and Shawn napping. Pretty basic montage stuff, as the scene quickly cuts to the driveway of Shawn’s west coast home.
“Okay Cunts.” Noah says as he slaps the hood of the golf cart parked next to him, “Time for cardio. Ladies. And Jax.”
Atara and Betsy come walking over, giving James and Shawn a quick smile. Each of them have a black duffel bag and take their seats in the back placing the bags on their laps. Jax takes up the passenger seat, kicking his feet up on the dash.
“Feet off the dash.” Noah swipes at Jackson. “Dad hasn’t paid for this one yet.”
“What the hell do you mean 'yet'?” Shawn barks at Noah.
“Oh shut up, you know you’re going to pay for it anyways.” Atara chimes in while rolling her eyes.
“Yeah Shawn, we all know that when Noah does something like this, you’re usually the bankroll.” Betsy smiles self assuredly towards the two of us.
“Well yeah…” Warstein shrugs. “But you all know Raven has money too, right?”
“Hey keep my bankroll out of this.” James backhandedly slaps Shawn in the chest. “Your kid, your money.”
“Fine.” Shawn shakes his head. “Noah, you said cardio, but we already did the beach run…”
“No, one of you did the beach run. The other sulked because of all the drool on the ground.” Jax said while raising a finger. “Plus you weren’t too fond of the baby oil.”
“It dries me out!” Shawn bellows.
“It was organic!” Noah yells back in retort. “All natural. Nothing added. You were being a baby!”
“Whatever, so what are we doing? Are we running behind y’all in the cart, while you play Eye of The Tiger or some shit?” Shawn asked while tapping James on the chest.
“Something like that.” Noah said with a grin and tapping his fingers together.
“You know usually when you do something evil, you don’t outright do villainous gestures.” James shrugged while pointing towards Noah, who quickly stopped and thrust his hands behind his back.
“What would you know about villains, James?” Noah asked aloud. “I learned it from Dad. And he said…”
“No.” Warstein quickly interjected. “You didn’t learn that from me. I absolutely hate villain monologues in movies.”
“Yeah, suuuuure you do.” Atara sighs from the back of the golf cart. “You only do it all the time. Like constantly. I think you just like hearing the sound of your own voice.”
“Well yeah, I sound like an angel. And I don’t do it all the time.” Warstein shakes his head and sucks in air from his curled bottom lip. “Also, do as I say, not as I do.”
“That worked out for me.” Betsy jumps into the conversation. “Like you say that, but have you ever thought about just doing what you say?”
“You’d get a lot further if you just did what you say.” Atara raises an eyebrow.
“Whatever.” Shawn responded indignantly. “So what James and I are just supposed to run behind you?”
“Yessir.” Noah said with a sly smile as he hopped behind the wheel of the golf cart. “Just keep up.”
“What exactly is this preparing for?” James questioned while quickly looking over everyone.
The cart slowly begins to pull away. As James and Shawn keep up behind it with a brisk walk.
“Anytime you want to ramp it up Noah.” James says with a smile.
“Yeah, I got a better workout at the beach and I didn’t do anything.” Shawn said as Noah clearly took offense to that statement as the golf cart began to pick up speed, swerving down through the suburban neighborhood.
“That better ya cunts?” Noah bellows while keeping his eyes forward.
“Yea.” James said while barely breathing hard.
“Sure.” You can visibly see Shawn’s heart rate increasing.
“Bet you’re wishing you did cardio earlier?” James smirked while looking perfect and in good cardiovascular health.
“Fuck you.” Said in between heavy breaths. “I don’t” Breath. “Need cardio” Heavy breath. “For these two” Slight cough. “Morons.”
“Easy there tiger. Don’t need your old ass passing out in front of your neighbors.” James slaps Warstein on the shoulder causing him to stumble a bit, but keeps his footing.
“Real.” Heavy breath. “Funny”
“So what do you think this one is preparing us for?” James asked as the golf cart turns a corner and speeds up a bit more.
Atara and Betsy look from the back of the cart at the two of us and nod in unison.
“That can’t.” Deep breath. “Be good.”
“Wait…. we prepared for everything.” James said with a puzzled expression. “Well except for…”
“WILDCARD BITCHES!!!!” Betsy and Atara scream from the back of the cart.
“Shit!” Shawn catches his breath in a hurry. “Fan Suggestions.”
Suddenly a banana peel lands right in front of Shawn, as he quickly hops over it. Atara grabs a handful of legos and throws them towards James. They have little effect on him.
Betsy pulls out a bottle of car oil and begins to leave a trail behind the cart. Oil splashes up on Shawn’s Jordan’s as he peers menacingly at Betsy with a look that could kill. She shrugs and continues pouring the oil, as Atara pulls out a bag and flings it into the air.
Glitter begins to rain down on the duo. They try to cover their eyes but the damage was done. As both men wipe and peel their eyes open they see Betsy with what appears to be a turtle shell in her hands.
“MARIO KART!!!” Betsy rears her arm back, as a small little head pops out of the shell.
“HECTOR NOOOOO!!!!”
Noah slams on the breaks, and reaches for the turtle. Betsy’s arm begins to swing forward and just before she releases the poor animal, Noah grabs a hold of it and pulls it in tightly.
James and Shawn are still slightly blinded, didn’t notice the cart coming to a sudden halt, as they both crash into the back. Knocking over the duffel bags and their contents all over the pavement.
“This is my pet Betsy!” Noah holds the turtle up and rubs noses. As the animal tries to bite him.
“Sorry Noah.” Besty said sheepishly. “I didn’t know.”
“When did you get a turtle?” Atara asks with a quizzical look on her face.
“Does it matter? Either way…” Noah gently sets Hector down and continues. “You don’t throw actual shells at people. Most of all Dad and James. They are significantly older than us…. they might break a hip.”
“Fuck you.” James sits up from behind the cart, covered in glitter and oil. As Shawn doesthe same. “I think that’s enough training for this one.”
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day.” Shawn said as he fell backwards onto the pavement, hands strewn above his head. As the camera fades to black.