Mark Keaton stared at the busy Toronto traffic from the second story of the cheap hotel. He took a sip of beer from a bottle of
Moosehead Dry then closed the curtain.
A tag team match, with Tony Mancini as my tag team partner. Of all people to tag with, the very guy I want to destroy for attacking my pal Roady. At least our opponents will be having the same trouble, Stormrage and Callie Clark. She’ll be so disgusted with him she won’t even tag in the match. The only chance he has is if he gets her drunk and bangs her or something before the night of the match. Ha! They are going to be quite a screwed up team, man. Come to think of it, if I see Tony standing in my corner, I’ll be tagging his frigging face instead of his hand.
Mark walked over to the closet and opened the sliding door, the voice of his mother came to mind as he pushed all the cheesy 80’s dress shirts to one side.
“Darla Gorgia has invited us to her wedding reception Mark, you remember Darla don’t you?”
“Ya ma.” I had said, chewing a ham sandwich at the time.
Boy did I ever, friend of the family, my age, super athletic, very attractive brunette, secret sex sessions all the time no matter if we were in relationships or not. Damn. I heard she got in with a rough crowd though, started getting inked all over herself and beating up people.
“......so don’t forget to wear that really expensive suit you have.”
“Ya ma, don’t worry. I’ve taken really good care of it. Love ya, bye.”
The suit she was talking about was hanging in front of Mark now, zipped up in it’s own special bag to prevent dust from ruining it. Mark bought it for special occasions back when he ran with Vis Imperium, but never got a chance to wear it. A white, 80 thousand dollar
Zoot Suit with a black tie, white pants and white dress shoes.
“Time to take you for a walk dude.” He said as he unzipped the bag.
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7:30 PM - The ShipYard 47 Club -
A limozine pulled away from the front of the large building with a glittering
ShipYard 47 Club sign lighting up the street, the large front window showing the wedding reception already in full swing with hundreds of people mingling, some dancing, eating, laughing, having a great time. A Toronto Yellow Cab pulled up, coughed out some exhaust, then drove away, leaving Mark standing there waving the exhaust out of his face. He strolled into the club, his white Zoot Suit moving as cool as he was, his black tie swaying, his blonde hair slightly spiked with the help of some heavy hairspray, but still somehow classy looking.
It’s too bad BigRoad had a family emergency, he’d probably have a blast at one of these events. He was immediately assaulted with the smell of expensive perfumes, pastry, some spice smells mixed in, but what really caught his senses was the loose women gathered by the woman’s bathroom, plenty of skin showing, every one had perfect tans and legs for miles. Mark let out a breath.
This is going to be a fun one.
“Ladies and gentlemen, a quick tune to clear the air. ” Said
Bryan Adams from a large stage. He quickly went right into
Summer of 69 and the dance floor filled up with people trying their best to dance. Mark raised his eyebrows.
Wow, Darla must have married a rich guy to afford all of this, Bryan Adams, hell, I love Bryan Adams!
Mark looked around, just out of his eye sight, a few
Skull’s Angel’s sat in the corner, smoking and drinking, not really mingling much with the mixture of guests. There was a group of rich Texan’s by the long bar, a group of young college people as well. It would be really easy to miss someone or get lost in the mob of people going back and forth. He caught sight of the bride, Darla was by the huge table of food, grabbing a little chocolate square. He strolled over, but the closer he got, the more confused his expression became, she was changing more and more from what he remembered, she was far more muscular now, more tattoos and her hair was buzzed down micro short. She had a constant scowl on her face, she just looked mean now. He almost turned around to walk out of the place when she grabbed his arm, she easily spun him back around.
“Mark Keaton,” She smiled as she scanned him with her eyes,
“my oh my, it’s really you! You haven’t changed at all.”
“Y-you neither, either. You either....neither?” Mark squeaked out, surprised at the bass of her voice, she sounded like a female Big Bad Roady.
“Yer still the cute guy you were back in the day. I’m glad you came,” Darla said as she sat down her square, she looked around the packed club.
“I think you should meet my husband.”
“I’d be delighted. Where is the man?” Mark smiled, a little more comfortable now as he arched his neck to see over a wave of women walking towards the dance floor.
“Follow me, I know where he is.” Darla smiled and grabbed Mark’s arm, she led him through the large crowd until they got to a hallway, there was a half door and a counter where a teen was sitting next to a box. A large woman came by and gave him a ticket and her huge fur coat. Darla opened the half door and led them to a dark room that was wall to wall coats.
“What’s your husband doing back here?” Mark asked dumbfounded, looking at all the expensive jackets hanging on the wall.
Darla hauled down the front of her wedding dress, her large, tattooed breasts fell out and pointed at Mark.
Oh.....my......god. This is about to happen.
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15 minutes later......
Mark wobbled out of the coat room, he had lipstick smears on his face. Darla followed him, she wiped the lipstick off of his face and vanished into the crowd when she heard her name being called by the M.C.
“Naw! You listen, I ain’t standin’ there cause I want to stand right HERE, by the bar! Yew want ta shoot yer bonus footage, go right ahead shitstain! This right here is MAH real-i-ty, I’m off duty, so yer little crew can take a bite of mah behind, y’hear me boy?” Stetson Hayes bellowed from the bar, slurring his words a little and trying his best to ignore the T.V crew he had following him around. A group of nearby Texan’s laughed and agreed with Hayes, taunting and making fun of the smaller men operating the television equipment.
There’s that impressive new wrestler that’s already on a two win winning streak. The dude seems to be some kind of reality star too, though I don’t watch those reality shows. Man, he can throw back those Bourbon’s though.
“Another little lady, an keep em comin’, you ain’t near fast nuff fer me.” Stetson ordered and scooped up his bourbon quickly.
Mark sat next to the Texan.
“I’ll have what he’s having, but give me two. Sexy lady.” I’ll show this guy how to drink.
Stetson acted as if he didn’t know who this Zoot suit wearing dork that was sitting next to him, he quietly drank his booze and stared at the mirror across the bar.
After a half hour of drinking quickly, Mark was already swaying left and right, he half leaned on Stetson.
“Hey, you’re a pretty quiet drinker....phew! Man did they ever go all out for this party eh? Eh guy?” He elbow nudged Stetson.
Hayes stood up annoyed, but still in good shape to walk. He took off his black cowboy hat and gave it a quick shake then put it back on. He walked straight out of the club without telling the film crew. Mark stood up but staggered back, bumping into one of the smaller men.
“Hey, hey little man. What bout this, listen dude. Listen to this idea. Now ...now you listenen? Listen, listen it goes like this. Reality show, RMK all day, we’ll air it at like, 6 am or something, like 6 AM to 6:15 AM, that sounds like a good time? All day long, eh?” The little man hurried along as quickly as he could to get away from Mark.
“Now if we can get the bride and her groom to the dance floor please for a special dance.” The M.C announced as Bryan Adam’s and his band geared up for the special song. People formed a circle and the bride and groom walked to the center of the floor. Bryan Adams went into
Have you ever really loved a woman and everyone was captivated at the bride and groom, gliding around the fogged floor in a slow dance. Women were crying, men were smiling, family members were taking cell phone pictures, Mark was stumbling, drunk through the crowd to try and get a peek.
“What’s, what’s goin on? The wedding dance? This song is so, man, it’s so peaceful y’know?” Mark kept getting glimpses of the bride but never the groom, he was always getting cut off from his view by the crowd. He bumped into a brute wearing heavy Italian cologne, he tripped over his shiny loafers and further into the crowd were Mark accidentally shoulder checked a teen girl wearing a red dress and preoccupied by her phone , the FaceBook obsessed girl stumbled forward on to the dance floor, she tripped at the last second and reached out, her hands caught on to the back of Darla’s wedding dress and ripped it right to the floor. The crowd immediately screamed as she stood there completely naked, the music stopped. Mark was turned around and saw the buffet in front of him, he had a hankering for shrimp as he stumbled towards the table, past people with shocked expressions, mouths covered, parents covering there children’s eyes. Mark could hear a scuffle behind him and the teen getting dragged out of the crowd to one of the private rooms.
“Man, that girl is so dead.” A really fat waiter joked by the table as Mark grabbed a shrimp.
“Ya, probably. Yuh can’t go round pretending you know how to dance, man. I can’t dance, but at least I don’t pretend y’know? Like Genesis sang there once, ah....what was it, dude?”
“I can’t dance?”
“Ya, that’s it. Y’know, you remind me of somebody.” Mark stared at the fat waiter, he grabbed another shrimp and started crunching it, shell and all in his mouth.
“Ya, who dude?”
“Mikey, Mikey Stormrage. That video game playin bastard beat me at Kingdom Come. Now he’s getting a title shot for beating me. Pffft! I don’t know man, I don’t even care dude. The only thing I care ‘bout right now is getting back at Mancini. That son of a ....” Mark looked back, but the fat waiter had already moved further down the table to were the taco’s were, he snuck some in his shirt then quickly made his exit to the kitchen.
Then it happened.....almost in slow motion..... a tomato sauce covered meatball fell right on to his shoulder, the shoulder of his 80 thousand dollar Zoot Suit. Mark’s drunken expression changed from wonder to pure anger as he looked around, he saw a collage kid laughing and pointing in his direction with his pals.
Oh effff no kid, OHHHHH FUDGE NO, you DID NOT just ruin this suit! Holy crap!
Mark’s red eyes scanned the table for ammunition. He reached into a bowl of pickles and picked the biggest one he could find. He fired it at the college kid as hard as he could, but with his drunken aim he missed by a mile and it hit
Roselyn SanChez (A hot B List Hollywood actress) right in between the eyes! She looked across the table at the college kids, in her complete anger she grabbed two handfulls of potato salad and whiffed it at both of them just as Bryan Adams started up
18 Till I Die, the potato salad was a bad throw into a group of ****ty party women to ignite the food fight of all food fights! Soon it looked like the food version of D Day as peas, french fries and sauces were being hurled in every direction, Mark took many direct shots to his expensive suit as it look like nothing more than a bad finger painting now!
There were some private security with ear buds coming fast through the crowd, Bryan Adams was on the microphone, trying to get people to calm down. The food was still getting furiously thrown by a determined fifty or so people, most of them having a blast and laughing at it all. Mark staggered out of the Club to the street to get some fresh air, he was completely covered in desserts, crumbs, sauces, pieces of pasta, you name it.
Mark lit a smoke, then tossed it as he had lit the wrong end, he tapped his pack when he saw he had no smokes left.
“Hey pal, you got a spare smoke dude? I just ran out.” Mark asked a man talking to another man, both wearing leather jackets, the man absently gave him a smoke, not paying much attention to whom he was giving the smoke to.
Mark lit the smoke and jumped in the cab as soon as it arrived. He could hear yelling and protests as the cab pulled away, some object just missed hitting the back window.
“I think you stole their cab, mister. They didn’t look too happy.” The cab driver laughed as he adjusted his rear view mirror to get a better view of the angry mob stomping around the sidewalk.
“Pfft, screw em. Who do they think they are anyway, the mob? Laugh out loud! Cab driver!” Mark laughed then leaned sideways, he told the cab driver where he lived then passed out in the back seat.
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