Civil War and Overdrive Spoilers: The South Loses

[Delikado]

Some-Kinda-Something-Productions presents
B O S S
Episode 27 – “Civil War and Overdrive Spoilers: The South Loses”

Boss Delikado: DELIKADO WANTS A REMATCH!!

A wooden chair hits the wall, only a few inches above the head of Manny Valdez, Delikado’s lawyer, and shatters upon impact. The bits of wood sprinkle all over Manny’s head, and he flinches from the debris as Jet and Moss Carrington fake attempts to try and calm their Bawse, stepping forward with hands raised, only to flee in reverse as the raging Cuban paces about with a reddened face.

Boss Delikado: DELIKADO WANTS A REMATCH WITH THAT SHITHEADED TAG TEAM!! THEY FEAR, THEY FEAR, THEY FEAR DELIKADO, AND THAT IS WHY THEY HAVE NOT OFFERED A REMATCH, OR ACCEPTED DELIKADO’S CHALLENGE OF ONE!!!

Manny Valdez: You haven’t offered a—

Boss Delikado: *SO* AFRAID OF A DIFFERENT OUTCOME ARE THEY, SO FEARFUL THAT CHEATING WILL NOT SPARE THEM THE DEFEAT THEY DESERVE A SECOND TIME, DERUTY AND SPEEDE SHIT THEMSELVES AND COWER WITH THEIR STOLEN TOURNAMENT ADVANCEMENT!! WHY SO SILENT?!! DELIKADO KNOWS: THEY. ARE. SCARED!! OF ME!!!!![/i][/color]

Spit flies as Delikado roars, possessed by the full extent of his Cuban fire. His wrath booms in every word, and his insanely large, pulsing eyes and bulging temples give everyone the vapors, tenfold. As his cries echo around the room, Delikado, panting like a mad dog, simmers down slowly. Nonetheless, despite his physical anger cooling, his mental anger, this temper tantrum, is still very much active. He slams his hands down on a desk and his eyes dart toward Valdez.

Boss Delikado: Delikado’s not wrestling anymore. He’s done until he gets another match in the ring against those…those FOOLS! A position in the tournament on the line, me and Evan against Deruty and Speede, on Overdrive where they can’t rig the ring, nothing less. Do you hear Delikado, lawyer man? WRITE IT DOWN!! And then send it to Diamond or Johnny Rebel or WHOEVER can help reverse this TRAGEDY! Let them know Envikado will not grace the APW with its presence otherwise. DO YOU HAVE ALL THAT?!

Valdez: D-Did you speak to Evan on this or—

Boss Delikado: Evan Envi is a grown-ass man! He will understand, if he is not already out and about seeking the same thing as me, which Delikado reckons he is! Now do as DA BAWSE commands of you, you fucking—

Sofia Monzón: ENOUGH!!

Delikado turns his head and is immediately grasped on both sides of his face by Sofia, whose pent-up frustration is visible as she looks the Cuban in his eyes.

Sofia: You can have it that way if you wish, “Boss”. You can have this, letting people see that the mighty Delikado is in fact breakable, that he is a whiny little girl who can dish it but not take it. Let all of APW, and to a greater extent the wrestling world, see how fickle you are, how much of a shallow diva you can be, that you are not the man who will reform the APW for goodness’s sake, but that you are a child, an INFANT who will leave it at the mercy of others after one particularly bad loss! If those things are what you want to have people read about and see in the Delikado name come the next Overdrive, then I will write it down and take it to Diamond myself! Tonight! I mean hell, who am I, but the Bitch who has taken your commands countless times before?

Sofia releases Delikado, who stands in silence as he pants. He slowly lowers his head as his breathing slows…and then moves a hand over his groin area in a shielding motion. Sofia glances down and rolls her eyes in disgust.

Sofia: Oh for God’s sake, REALLY?!

The Deli Tee Vee second-in-command steps away at an arm’s distance as Delikado awkwardly shifts himself to a different angle. His eyes are not flaming with the warpath now, and his breathing has almost returned completely to normal. It seems Sofia has gotten through to the Cuban, or at least calmed him for the moment. Still, everyone is silent and keeps a respectable distance as Delikado runs his hands through his hair and softly paces about the room. He stops and stares at his reflection in a mirror; he rests his head against it and dabs a mix of sweat and saliva off his face. Silence lingers a few more seconds before Delikado retracts from the mirror and turns to his crew.

Boss Delikado: Gear Deli Tee Vee up for another week. Me and Evan got them hillbilly guys, right?

Ron Reynolds: The Sons of the South. As luck would have it, I’m from the South like both of ‘em—Mississippi—and I think I got some good ideas we could try to counter them and—

Boss Delikado: Just shut up, Ron Reynolds. Delikado’s got enough on his mind without you plaguing his good thoughts with your pig-humping childhood. There’s still big plans ahead for Delikado’s APW, with Evan at our side, for the tag division.

Ariel Hassle: Meaning what?

Delikado glances at his girlfriend, who is sitting on a bench with something small and white in her hand.

Boss Delikado: Delikado ain’t gonna lie, saving this company and keeping it pristine has been a mofo. It’s tiring shit we do, and lately Delikado’s in…CREDIBLE…plans have been met with resistance, with cheating, with selfish, lying pigs, with evil and corrupt people both in the ring and out of it. It’s more than Delikado anticipated when Envikado first came to be. But the Sons of the South, they can be a BEAUTIFUL counterstrike for me, for Evan, for the REAL APW that’s counting on us. A win here, it carries more weight than meets the eye, Delikado can smell it, in addition to all that other body odor that them hicks bring to our ring. Delikado’s not gonna stop, he’s gotta break some heads now more than ever—Delikado’s gotta push the mightiest push imaginable, for the good of the newborn baby Super APW that Envikado is meant to bring into this world.

Jet Carrington: That’s creepy.

Delikado boils on this for a few moments. He rubs his goatee and lets out an exhausted sigh.

Boss Delikado: No more creepy than what’ll happen if Delikado lets things be. We’re talking bringing potential inbred babies into the APW if Beavis and Butthead, if the Dukes of Fat-Assrd throw their girth and tobacco-spitting ways about Envikado’s company…and we do nothing. If we do SHIT and let them cook their grits without any kicks to the face, if we don’t meet their “Sweet Home Alabama” with “Ass and Titties”—and Delikado ain’t talking that Goochie’s fat ass and man-titties, but hot, anorexic-thin female butts and boobs, like the REAL APW deserves—then you might as well fire all the black people we’ve got, because the Sons WILL chain them up good and rough if Envikado doesn’t suppress all the slavery and shit those southerners got in mind.

Moss Carrington: Didn’t we used to have a black guy working here?

Jet: Yeah. But he ran off when he saw Sofia’s whip. Didn’t help Delikado kept asking him “what’s good in the hood” every time they crossed paths, or that he kept believing the guy’s Harvard degree was actually the lyrics to his next rap single. Ahhh…I miss H8r-Ayd.

Delikado steps forward and sets up a chair. He promptly places one foot on it, in a dramatic fashion as he stares across the room at his DTV team.

Boss Delikado: Bane and Gooch, they’re not what our APW needs. Hell, look at the way they dress and talk and be ugly. Those two aren’t wrestlers, they’re secessionists in the making.

Sofia: Haha, WHAT?

Boss Delikado: Yeah! Look at ‘em! Delikado learned about it when he watched that “Lincoln” movie the other day. T’was boring as shit, but that was the one thing Delikado held onto all five-thousand hours it was on. Southern boys like Gooch and Bane, causing trouble and seceding from America when they didn’t get their way! You watch, Sons of the South will secede from the APW the second shit turns sour for them, and by that Delikado means they’ll abandon ship in a heartbeat! Their team will crumble at the first sign of adversity—adversity from Envikado should be more than enough. Hell, you can say the same about Deruty and Speede, that’s why Delikado wants him a rematch.

They’re fickle teams, put together more or less for convenience. They ain’t got the potential for eternal tag teaming like me and Evan. We can take a rough hit or two, them bunch of pansies can’t. We can take a loss, and then give it right back—LIKE BAWSES! We’re just that good, business savvy, future-oriented against those doubtlessly future endeavored. You watch and wait, Delikado only speaks FACTS! The tag team division will call on Envikado more times than it will even LOOK at the Sons of the South.

They’re the ugly people in a beautiful people’s world—or in the case of Mac Bane specifically, we’re the beautiful people to all the people in his home state, a one-star piece of fail. All he’s done is talk shit about shit that nobody gives a shit about. Shit. He’s a one man wrecking crew that Delikado would like to see wreck in a ditch and be left behind, that’s how useless Delikado dictates him.

Because what the Sons don’t get is we’re legends-to-be of this company. We’re the Forefathers that chumps like Gooch should look up to and support, if not imitate, but just like everyone else who crawls out of Tennessee, he’d rather just up and FUCK his Forefathers. Or is it four fathers in his case? Damn shame Mama Gooch is such a prostitute, but hey, Buckson probably doesn’t mind, since he and his Mama spent nine months in the same womb. That’s a closeness you just can’t match. FACE!

Delikado exhales heavily and with a satisfaction, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulder.

Boss Delikado: Ahhh, that was nice. Delikado’s proud of what he’s done here…and what he is still to do! SO MUCH DOING!! The world is still for the taking, everyone. The life of hicks and moral-less street trash is what we have to look forward to if the Sons or any other lesser tag team takes the reigns, unleashes the sail, so let’s see you all stand by Delikado’s side, by Envikado’s side, and by the side of our APW, as the year winds down.

Moss: Even IF the world ends in 2012?

Boss Delikado: That’s the best time to lock things down in your favor. Squash the Sons, get payback on our enemies, go out on top! And if the world is still here in 2013, we continue that domination, increase that evil-doer squashing, and we make APW into the wrestling TITAN it was meant to be! You can find that possibility under the Envikado flag. On the polar side of this specific week, under a southern boy’s flag, all you’ll find is a recipe for some fried chicken and the path to diabetes. Thanks but no thanks, Delikado ain’t a fan of fat people in his wrestling. Yessir, these final weeks could be a UTOPIA for us.

Dr. Apartment: If I may, Mr. Delikado…?

Boss Delikado: You may, Doc. App.

Dr. Apartment moves forward gingerly and with hesitation as he motions to the Cuban’s left arm. Delikado looks down at it, just now realizing he has a cut on his forearm, possibly from the throwing of furniture from before.

Dr. Apartment: You need to make sure these final weeks aren’t your last. We realize the confidence is there, as are the possibilities, but the danger is just as prevalent in each and every match you compete in lately. With Azrael, the Thanksgiving battle, your endeavors on Meltdown, now the Sons of the South, you’re risking a crash and burn before you even see the New Year. It’s definitely not bettering your rabies.

Delikado catches the desire to help in his doctor’s eyes, but he seems to blow it off as he steps forward.

Boss Delikado: Then that’s why Envikado has to defeat our opponents swiftly and with clear control. The only crashing and burning will be on the Sons. And as for Delikado’s health? You should know, all of ya, that Delikado’s rabies are fine. He has them not only suppressed, but maneuvered to use for his gain! They are Delikado’s strength, not his fault!

Everyone else in the room is clearly under some sort of duress from this statement, among other things Delikado has spoken of, but nobody dares to speak out when the Cuban is in his “zone”, a place where those rabies are still in quiet motion.

Boss Delikado: All the good in this business is deserved by us. Delikado can take the Sons, just like he could take Deruty and Speede in an untainted ring, just like he could take Azrael, just like he could take on ANYONE who has ever crossed him. Delikado guarantees it with all the FACTS! behind him. It’s in Delikado’s genes, boys and girls and Ron Reynolds. The Sons of the South will be my bitch. The wrestling world is Delikado’s canvas. He’ll paint it with whatever the hell he wants, and you can bet your ass it’ll come out a masterpiece.

He pauses, looking his teammates in the eye one by one, before he bites down onto a cigar he’s just pulled from his pocket.

Boss Delikado: Now get back to work. Am I the only one with a job around here? Jeez…

Delikado walks out of the room while everyone else is quiet and exchanging looks. Ariel Hassle lets out a soft exhale as she rises from the bench and follows Delikado.

Ariel: Deli?

Delikado stops and turns. His cigar is already lit and spewing smoke around him. Ariel continues to clutch whatever it is in her hand with noticeable secrecy.

Ariel: That was…that was some kinda something back there. You really don’t let anything keep you down. The team notices it, and they’re grateful you keep on going even after these few bad weeks. But I…we…is it possible some time and effort could be directed elsewhere?

Boss Delikado: *blowing smoke* “Elsewhere?”

Ariel: Nobody will say it because you won’t, but this schedule, moving around all over the place, it’s wearing us out. Maybe after this week, after the Sons, do you think a pause would be possible? Some time to cool off and regroup? Even just a few days? A week? You have sick days in your contract.

Boss Delikado: Those are just for show. Clauses put in there to give Delikado some humility among a company full of people who take time off as they please. I don’t get sick, ergo I don’t need to take sick days. Besides, what good would that do Evan, the team, to go into battle without Delikado? No. We squash the Sons and then we move on. No stopping.

Ariel: But what about our team? What about the Deli Tee Vee team? What about the “you and me” team, Deli…?

Delikado’s eyes narrow in confusion.

Boss Delikado: Are you talking about boning over a Confederate flag to score points against the Sons? Because you know that idea passed Delikado’s mind, and he could be down with that—

Ariel: I’m talking about…

Ariel slowly lifts up the object in her hand. Delikado glances at it and chuckles.

Boss Delikado: What’s that, a pocket knife?

Ariel: No. It’s why I want you to slow things down a bit. I’m pregnant, Deli, and you’re the father.

DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!

Delikado’s jaw drops and he nearly loses his cigar as Ariel reveals the pregnancy test. He looks at it for a few seconds, almost in shock, before responding.

Boss Delikado: Well…well then get un-pregnant.

Ariel: I…wait, what? No!

Boss Delikado: Then don’t let Delikado be the father.

Ariel: But you ARE. You are the only possible person. You. You’re the fa—

Boss Delikado: STOP SAYING THAT! NO!! GOD NO! Wait….are you……a vegan?

Ariel: Do you mean a “virgin?”

Boss Delikado: This is no time to rub your Latin in my face, on top of this baby problem. Answer the question!

Ariel: Well…if you must know….yes. I am. Or I WAS before I met you. And now it’s up to you to help get this situation in order.

Delikado takes an extended drag from his cigar and shakes his head as he looks off into the distance.

Boss Delikado: And taking control of the APW by defeating one person at a time, and bringing goodness back to an otherwise bad industry isn’t “getting the situation in order” to you? Is handling the Sons of the South, the most opportune chance at a decisive change in MONTHS, not Delikado getting the situation in order?

Ariel: I…I…I know it’s you giving your blood, sweat, and tears to this sport that you love and—

Boss Delikado: You finish that cliché statement and Delikado will put masking tape over your clown-hole. That baby will grow up into a person inside you, and it’ll be more miserable of an experience than anything in your life. Not QUITE as miserable as you’re making Delikado right now with your selfish getting knocked up, but it’s a fair space between them. Now eff your noise.

Delikado turns and starts to walk off, which alarms Ariel and causes her to pursue him.

Ariel: I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know this isn’t what you wanted—

Boss Delikado: This is what NOBODY has wanted, Ariel! NEVER! Babies are a curse on this world, and mankind would be better off if they would just stop being born!

Ariel: Again, I’m SORRY! But I’m NOT telling you to give up your career! I love having you be “Da Bawse”, out there every week doing what you do best. Take my word, our son or daughter will grow up watching videos of you deliver swift Last Calls to Cuba and shouting “LIKE A BAWSE!” until their own identity means nothing in the face of what you’ve done! All I’m saying to you now is to slow it down, put it in cruise control for a little while, and let’s discuss what the game-plan is going to—

Delikado spins around and gets right in his girlfriend’s face.

Boss Delikado: The game-plan is this: Delikado’s gonna keep wrestling as if nothing’s changed.

Ariel: But things HAVE changed, Deli! Think of this as your most important struggle yet. You have to help me face it. You and Evan want to talk about change? THIS is that change!

Boss Delikado: No. “Change” is what Delikado may shower you with to take a bus to Mexico to have that Xenomorph crawling around in your gut and leave me in peace! “CHAAAAANGE”, Envikado “CHAAAAAAANGE” is the stuff Delikado’s gonna out there and deliver in Providence against the Sons of the South. Chaaaaaange all over their ugly faces! Shit, that’s the bee’s knees for Delikado right now! You think anyone else cares about this, about YOUR problem?

No.

If Delikado went out there on Thursday and told the entire APW populace, “Hey guys, sorry, Delikado can’t wrestle and give you all the change he promised, because his girlfriend went and ate a baby and is now gonna shoot it out her butt and claim it’s mine! He’s gotta go ‘get that situation in order’ and leave you all to Gooch and Bane and whoever else wants to claim the ring”, they’d heckle Delikado out of the building! Evan would be ashamed and ridiculed for the rest of his career! “Hey Mac Bane, hey Buckson Gooch, can we have a rain check on this battle so Delikado can go be with his fat girlfriend and her SPAWN!?” You ever seen a hillbilly laugh so hard they poop themselves, Ariel? Because THAT’S what would happen! The Sons of the South would laugh and just shit ALLLLLL over the ring—MY RING!!

And Delikado, if he followed YOUR advice and took a break, would just be forced to sit there and watch the Sons shit all over the ring! Maybe he’d even be forced to sniff it, that’s how low he’d have fallen! Delikado has never, EVER surrendered previously, but that, oh-ho, THAT would be both surrender and that Japanese word for suicide with a sword, Kabuki or whatever! Delikado would never live it down, if he bowed out against the Sons of the South!

Ariel: But I already told you we’d be fine with you and Evan facing them and THEN—

Boss Delikado: Oh, so Delikado can face them, beat them, and THEN take time off? Well shit, that would just be SO much better! *buzzer noise* AHHHH! It would probably be WORSE! It would show that the Sons of the South took enough out of me in battle that Delikado had to move to the sidelines for a bit! That would give them CREDIBILITY, Ariel! It would make them look STRONG! STRONGER than ME! It would suggest that Delikado is wasting away, and that the FUCKING “HILLS HAVE EYES” MONSTER PEOPLE put Delikado in a place he doesn’t deserve to be! Their egos would grow, oh, there’d be no stopping the chaos and inbreeding and grits cooking and “MY COUNTRY TIS OF THEE, SWEET LAND OF LIBERTY-“OHH MY GOD, THE APW IS DEAD IF THAT HAPPENS!!!

That is why Delikado cannot acknowledge your request, Ariel, and that is why he leaves you to your issues while he himself goes off to deal with his own issues! Boss Delikado waits for nobody, because he’s already got them right where he wants them! I’ve got the Sons right where I want them, in Envikado’s crosshairs, and I’ve got the rest of the locker-room on notice! The day will ours! The last bit of 2012 will be ours! The APW will be ours! The Sons of the South will…be….OURS! The REAL APW welcomes such an outcome….and Delikado bids you the right to fuck off. Do as you please, go and do whatever makes you happy, just know Delikado will still be here doing his thing when you get back. Okay?

Ariel lowers her head as the Cuban’s ravings come to a bittering end.

Ariel: Okay…..

Delikado looks her in the eyes a few moments longer before he scoffs in annoyance and walks away. Ariel lifts her head up and lets out a shaky sigh.

Ariel: For the record…….I’m sorry....and I love you…

Delikado stops in his tracks and pauses for almost thirty seconds. He then cocks his head over his shoulder, puffing smoke as he speaks.

Boss Delikado: You should.

With that, Da Bawse walks away for good and turns the corner, vanishing from sight. Ariel is left speechless as she tries to hold back her despair. The scene slowly fades to black as the mother of Delikado’s unborn child rubs her arms and turns the opposite way.[/font][/size]