AS 124 - Mark Keaton vs. Ace Stevens
RP Deadline Tuesday 16th January 23:59 (Central).
Extensions available upon request.
“It’s a what, what, what now?” Mark spit out, annoyed at the traffic in front of him. They were waiting in the long line up in a jet black 1982 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am with a red pearlescent hue. Did you just scream “Fuck yes!”? There’s airbrushed Skeletor Images all over it too, there you go, drink that in.
“It’s one of those Pop Fuck Vinyl things that you see everywhere.” Big Bad Roady burped at the end of his sentence as the toy barely hung on to the end of his ripped denim knee. The over 400 pound man balanced a beer in one hand and a sub in the other.
“What does it do? Can you stretch the arms or can it give other Pop action figures a Voltron Suplex?” Mark lit a smoke and turned the radio to a different station.
“Don’t think so boss. It just stands there. I think people collect them. Fuc(curse word) sakes! What in the (word starting with F)?!” The bear of a man roared as a small chime rang from deep within his leather biker jacket.
“It can’t be her again. Tell her we’re tied up in traffic dude.” Mark laughed, then tried to hold in more laughter as he watched BigRoad balance his beer on the dash, put his sub down and try to dig through his jacket with his ham-like hands to retrieve his cellphone, again.
His BIG sister, I can’t imagine what she looks like! Some eight foot tall monster that won’t fit in my backseat. Dammit, I should be training right now for my match with Ace Stevens, not running around giving ugly chicks a drive somewhere. If Cooper would just pick up his damn phone I wouldn’t be having these problems right now.
Big Bad Roady let out a big, exaggerated sigh and slowly texted a reply on his small cellphone screen. The traffic moved and RMK slammed his foot to the floor and they took off in a smoke show down the street! BigRoad’s beer slid off of the dash and spilled all over him, his sub and Pop Vinyl fell on the floor. BigRoad cursed and juggled his cell phone.
“Ha ha haaa!! Shouldn’t be texting while I’m driving man, I think it’s illegal in this state.” Mark butted his smoke and turned to remove the coffee pot from the burner, he poured himself a coffee and calmly put milk and sugar in it while his car roared down the side walk, barely missing pedestrians and parked cars.
22 Minutes later…..
They finally pulled away from the bulk of the traffic into a suburb area with a huge park. Mark drove up the serene street, the weather was mild and people were out walking their dogs, kids and snakes.
“Boss, see that guy walking his snake? Man, what kind of drugs are they doing around here? Nice day though, after we drop off Veronica we should see what kind of bar….”
Veronica? Why did his voice trail off into the background like that? Something is happening….as I drive around this corner I can totally expect to see his gross older sister sitting on a picnic table with a bucket of KFC tucked under her arm with a shirt that’s too small so her gut is hanging out with stretch marks all over it and….
Mark hit the brakes on his car, now he knew why BigRoad’s voice trailed off into the background……
Click for Spoiler:
His older sister Veronica was a hot 40 year old sex pot with long raven hair, her lipstick was on thick and she was dressed in tight leather clothes. She leaned on a light pole and stared at them with a pissed off expression.
“I wanna know what love iiiiiiiiiis, I want you to show me. I wanna feel what love iiiiis, I know you can show meeeeeeee!” A tear rolled down Mark’s cheek.
“Nothin man, come on. Let me marry your sister. I mean, let me give her a ride all night long….I mean, let me give her a ride! Dammit all!” Mark hit the gas and pulled the car up next to Veronica.
“What took you idiots so long? Like TOTALLY! I was like, oh my gawd, going to call a dirty cab! Ugh!” Veronica loudly snapped her gum as she plopped down in the back seat.
“We got caught up in traffic sis. Then we nearly died.”
“So sure. Who’s your friend?”
“Veronica, this is Remarkable Mark Keaton, Mark, this is my big sister Veronica.”
The sexy older woman put her hand over Mark’s shoulder and he gently shook it.
Her hand is so soft, and she smells so good, “It’s a pleasure, I’m Veronica, no! No you are! I’m soft, no I mean I smell good! I’m not Veronica!”
“Boss, you feelin ok man? Sure you don’t want me to drive?”
I never lose my mind like this around any other girl. She must be the ONE. She’s the ONE for me. Even though she’s really old. She’ll probably be in her 60’s by the time I’m in my 40’s….
“Ya, ya I’m fine meatball. Even though I’m way younger.”
“Good. Let’s get her to Cam’s so we can go and hit the clubs.”
Cam’s must be a family name for Grandpa or something. Surely it’s not a husband or a pimp of some kind.
“Ya, no problem. Hey Veronica Roadie, do you like eighties music?”
“I ‘spose.” She snapped her gum again and looked out the side window, completely uninterested.
I ‘spose. I ‘spose, we have SO much in common! As I turn the station to my favorite 80’s radio I can totally picture our future together. A large castle on the hill, kind of like Castle Greyskull, hey look! There’s little Bobby and Clarissa Keaton, running up to me to show the frog they just caught, so cute with their huge blonde hairstyles and bright blue eyes. The smell of our Bar B Q is overwhelming as the ribs and hamburger send smoke in the air, I tend to it as my kids run off to find more animals. Then an intruder approaches me! Dammit! Not again! “I don’t want to contribute to the Seniors Development Project you old fucking bitch!” I poke at her with my fork and she screams and runs off. I only realise that it’s Veronica, she’s really old and I feel bad that I didn’t immediately recognize her because she got really, really old here in the future.
“Hey boss, are you gonna put the car in gear now? You’ve been revving the car in park in the middle of the road and mouthing stuff silently. There’s a long line of cars behind us too.” BigRoad took a bite of his sub, then spit out some grit. Yes, it was the same sub from earlier. Gross eh? Hey, I’m not telling him.
Mark put on another smoke show and roared down the street.
27 Minutes later…..
They approached a car with it’s hood up, smoke pouring out from the engine. Clearly car trouble for all you non-mechanics out there.
Don’t have time, don’t have time. The light turned red right next to the broken-down car. Shit.
The hood of the car slammed closed, revealing Johnny Klamor. The reporter had an instant look of relief when he saw Mark stopped at the light. He waved to get Mark’s attention, RMK rubbed his hand through his blonde hair to try and avoid eye contact, keeping a steel gaze on the red light in front of him. Johnny waved fast now and started a quick jog to the car.
“Hey Mark, isn’t that…?”
“No, just a guy that looks like him. Come on light, come oooonnnn..”
- Knock, knock, knock --
Mark rolled down his window.
“Hey, Mark! Glad I caught you here. I could really use a drive down to the studio, my car broke down and I’m running late for a meeting with WZCW Executive Consultant Rick Kenny the 3rd. Think you could give me a lift? It’s only a fifteen-minute drive in the direction you were going.”
“Sure.” Mark gritted his teeth.
“Ok thanks. Come on Carl! He said yes, let’s go! Be careful with that camera, remember you’re the one who cracked that 100-dollar lens last week and I was billed for it.”
“Are you serious man? Like, what in the hell dude!? You trapped me into an interview?” Mark growled as Johnny and Carl crammed into the car next to Veronica, Carl was strategically placed in the middle, so he could point the camera right at Mark in an angle to get Johnny in the shot too.
“Like, BigRoad, what is going on?” Veronica snapped her gum as she looked uncomfortable next to the sweating Carl.
“Remember the interview by motorcycle?! Huh? You OWE me an interview Mark! You OWE me! Don’t roll that Carl, we haven’t started the interview yet!”
“Sure man! SUUURE! Interview away! But I must take my wife…. I mean Veronica to her grandpa’s while you interview me. If you don’t like it then get out man.” Mark lit a smoke and Johnny nodded, he gave Carl a twirling finger -roll it- signal and the interview was on.
Mark put on his third smoke show in the last hour plus as he roared down the street, barely hanging on to the power slide as the car fish tailed all the way down the neighbourhood.
“So, Mark, tell me how are you preparing to tackle Ace Stevens for the first time ever in a match coming up soon?”
“I’m not gonna lie J-Man, Ace Stevens is one cool cat. He was around back in the day when the first Mayhem Title made a run in the company. Now he’s back and the reason he’s back is because I paved the way for cool cats to be cool again in WZCW. There was a period there where all these dudes had to be spooky or whatever to get a paycheque around here, then I came along and scared all these Halloween thugs to the hills. Just like last week, Ty Burna or Blades, whatever his stupid name is…ran away for a second time from Cooper and Keaton. You saw it Klamor! He ran before the match even started! Ace Steven’s will get beaten, and lay at the feet….”
“Stop the car!” Veronica roared, causing Mark to slam on the breaks, Johnny’s microphone hit the back of Mark’s head rest and went right into his mouth, nearly swallowing the entire thing. Veronica jumped out of the car and slammed the door.
“CAM! Like, what the hell man?!” She screamed at a middle-aged man resembling a younger David Hasselhoff. Cam had his arm hooked into a young blonde’s arm, the girl was dressed in a purple swim suit, revealing a lot of tanned skin.
“That bastard! That’s her boyfriend, he’s out cheating on her again.” Big Bad Roady growled, he made a fist on the dash, crushing the door of the glove compartment inside his fist like The Incredible Hulk.
“Baby,” Cam said with a swagger-like head swivel, “you’re just a little too old for the Caminator. Got to get out there and try again. It’s been a fun five years babe. Come on Candy, let’s go to that new bar on South Street.”
Veronica slapped him in the face. He felt his cheek, then turned and pushed her on to the sidewalk.
Mark grabbed his door handle, but BigRoad clutched his bicep in a steel grip. He gave RMK a look that said – This is my meal- and Mark let go of his door handle.
Johnny got the microphone out of his mouth and checked his hand for blood, Carl was wiping off his camera. Klamor cleared his throat and made the hand signal to Carl again to continue the interview.
“Mark, tell me now that you have another chance to win the Eurasian Championship on your own……”
Meanwhile…. the colour in Cam’s face drained away as he saw Big Bad Roady exit the nearby car. His girlfriend screamed and ran away. Cam took a step to run but BigRoad grabbed his arm, he twisted it and made Cam slap himself in his own face, repeatedly, he then grabbed Cam by the throat and threw him over head….
“…. how do you think you’ll fare against the likes of…?”
Cam’s body smashed right through the windshield of Mark’s car! His leg went right through the opening in Mark’s steering wheel and kicked Mark right in the stomach, Mark gasped and flailed his arm back, smacking Carl’s hand causing him to drop the expensive camera, it rolled down and got wedged between the middle console and the gas pedal. The car put on it’s fourth smoke show of the day and took off down the street!
“Hold on Johnny! I can’t steer with his leg crammed in the wheel!” Mark desperately tried to free Cam’s leg, but he couldn’t, the car ramped over the top of a huge hill, Johnny and Carl went air born in the back, Klamor’s microphone bopping him right off his nose. The car landed sending sparks showering behind them down the long hill towards the waterfront.
“Do you know how to swim Klamor?” Mark yelled out as he continued to try and free Cam’s leg and camera.
“Shit!” Johnny yelled as he saw they were racing towards to rail at the bottom of the hill towards the ice-cold bay.
“Anyway, might be a bad time but I’ll answer that question dude,” The car careened off a parked car sending sparks flying everywhere, “just like everyone else, Titus will get beaten and lay at the feet….”
The car crashed through the rail and flew though the air…..
“This is not a good time Mark! Plus, we stopped rolling anyway!” Johnny screamed as he scrambled to attach his seatbelt.
“…..Remarkable Mark Keaton.” The car collided with the water in a symphony of white exploding mist.
Deleted Scenes: Everyone was ok afterwards.
The Narrator presents
“Bottled Ace: An Infomercial”
Ace Stevens is standing alone in front of a green screen. Don’t worry though. It will be edited in post-production to something more suitably American. Like the Star-Spangled Banner or a bacon double-cheeseburger eating contest.
“Hi I’m Ace Stevens! And do you have trouble getting chicks? Getting paper? Do you wake up in the morning and just think ‘damn, not another day in this body’? Well have I got the product for you! Bottled Ace! Bottled Ace is a revolutionary new product and is definitely not blue Gatorade and Crystal Pepsi mixed together. So stop saying that on the forums!
Don’t believe me? Watch this. Derek!”
“Oh!” shouts Derek, full of exuberance. “What’s crack-a-lacking, bro?”
Derek is, as expected, almost identical to Ace himself. Well, that’s what he thinks anyway. He actually looks more like a drawing of Ace Stevens done by a very stupid child. A man who manages to look both short and lanky. But yet, his hair, clothing and overall demeanour are identical to those of the real Ace.
“This is Derek, ladies and germs. After just a week of taking Bottled Ace, he is already cool as a cucumber and fly as a feather. Let ‘em know, D.”
“Yo, what’s up guys? My name’s Derek and I used to be a total loser, man. Like a Triple X level of loser. I didn’t drink and stuff. I used to put little Xs on my hands ‘cause I thought that gave me an identity. What I didn’t realise is that I was coming a across with the chicks as a lil’ virgin loser. Then one day, I took Bottled Ace and my life was turned upside down.”
“Let’s examine Derek a bit further” says Ace, extending a pointer as if he were a top-level university professor. “First we have this thick head of luscious, dark hair. What colour was your hair before, Derek?”
“D’you hear that, guys? Blond. As we all know, grown men should never be blond. It’s weird. Now let’s move on to the body” says Ace, moving his pointer down Derek. “Pecs for days, biceps for days. You think he’s getting this protein shakes? No chance. BOTTLED ACE!”
Ace continues down Derek’s body.
“Now, as we get to the schwanz, I’ve gotta remind everyone that this is a family infomercial. But let’s just say there ain’t no problems there. Is there, Derek?”
“Hell no” replies Derek, with all the character and exuberance of his hero.
“I’m tellin’ ya. Like a goddamn salami. But enough of that. Tell me, Derek, how you doin’ mentally?”
“Oh man, it’s amazing. I’m like a new man. Before, I didn’t really go out at all. I’d just sit at home, threatening British kids on Xbox Live. But now? I’m livin’ it up, man. I’m out here. Going out every night on the Lower East Side. Doing lines and bangin’ nines. And I owe it all to Bottled Ace.”
“Preach, brother. Now, you shmucks might be thinkin’ ‘hey, there’s plenty of mind and body-altering formulas on the market – what makes yours different, Ace?’. Well, I’m not gonna tell you. I’m a show you. I’m gonna show you what happens when you take Keaton Force Extra – the only medicine endorsed by WZCW’s own Unremarkable Mark Keaton.
Johnny used to be cool. Hella cool. Like Don Draper on Hoth or the Fonz in a fridge. But that wasn’t enough for John-boy, he had to take it to the next level. So he took Keaton Force Extra. And now look at him.”
Johnny walks on to the set, dressed like a truly awful Billy Idol cosplayer. His bleached hair is dry and brittle, while his skin-tight leather trousers barely conceal a small, protruding stomach.
“Let’s start in the middle, shall we? Then work out in waves. First up, tiny pecker. Not even Triple X’s momma would be into that. Next, little pot belly thing going on. Look at Derek’s rippling six-pack, now look at this. Bottled Ace or Keaton Force Extra? The answer’s obvious. Then we’ve got these skinny chicken legs. Tell me, Johnny, you ever skipped leg day?”
“Never! I don’t know what happened. Atrophy just set in.”
Ace moves up to the head.
“And here, we got the dome. Look at this hair. Oh man. Vis Imperium? More like Frizz Imperium, am I right? But let’s move past the superficial and make this analysis super official, instead. How you feelin’ up in the old brain box, Johnny?”
“Please get me off this drug, Ace! Please! Give me Bottled Ace! Or whatever War Zone takes.”
“Um, I don’t think that stuff is FDA approved, if you know what I mean.”
“Please! I’m turning into a loser. A nerd. A social outcast. I even… I even found myself wanting to play Magic: The Gathering. I used to be cool! Now I just want to buy leather…”
Johnny breaks down in tears at his own pathetic nature.
“And that, ladies and gents, is the power of Bottled Ace.”
“My wife left me!” shouts Johnny through his tears.
“Buy now for the low, low price of $99.99. But not you, Titus Avison. I’ll send you a case for free. God knows you’re gonna need it, buddy.”
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