Yeah, THIS Is How We Start 2013

[Delikado]

Some-Kinda-Something-Productions presents
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Episode 30 - "Yeah, THIS Is How We Start 2013"

The Carnival[/u]

Something old,
something new,
something borrowed,
something blue,
and a sixpence in her—

Boss Delikado: WHY DO WE HAVE TO WRESTLE *THEM* AGAIN, IS THIS PLACE JUST A FUCKING ZOO?!

Delikado tosses his bottle of champagne onto the table that everyone else is standing around in silence, watching as the Cuban takes his phone-call.

Boss Delikado: *to phone* Delikado KNOWS we have them beat, Evan! It’s just…it’s just fucking ENGLAND? EnviKado has to fly all the way to nature’s cesspool, America’s loudmouth Uncle, to wrestle the godless Sons of the South AND that toilet-paper ex-champion Nick Watson in a tag team HANDICAP match?!

He pauses, as no doubt the rest of the details are relayed. Delikado’s eyes widen as he snarls angrily.

Boss Delikado: *to phone* HIM?! HE’S our tag team partner?! Well it might as WELL be a Handicap match, Evan! He’ll screw us!! He’s much more likely to side WITH the Sons and Watson to beat on us, if he doesn’t just flee the match altogether like the spineless little BITCH that he is!!

Another small pause. A questioning look passes through Delikado’s face.

Boss Delikado: *to phone* Who?

And a third pause.

Boss Delikado: *to phone* Oh…right… Well if Slade can play a proper referee—that is, no screwing with us—then Delikado sees no reason to kick his head off as well. Still, Delikado don’t know, man…by themselves, none of these guys deserve to even TOUCH our ring, much less compete in it. They’re not quality like us, and we’ve handled all of them like the bitches they are in some form or another prior to this week. But all of them bunched up like the pack of fat, annoying, whiny slobs they are, combined with the unstable element on our own team, mixed with that Overdrive backstabber Craven…we’re looking at some kinda messed up science experiment from hell. Gah…Shadow…Delikado swore to himself he was DONE with that Hall of Failure after the Meltdown Supershow. It’s that Johnny-whathisface, Diamond! HE’S the one who continues to set the bitches of badness in our way. He WANTS us to fail in keeping APW pristine! Villain! Scoundrel! They should all be tied up and hung by their necks, and be forced to have Delikado kick their reddening faces until there is nothing but REAL APWers left!! FACT! FACT!! FAAAAAACT!!!

Delikado’s shouts ring throughout the room and he pants heavily into the phone. Nobody else says a word, preferring instead to stay busy gearing up for the task ahead.

Boss Delikado: *to phone* Fine. Delikado will join you in England, brother. Perhaps you speak sense. After all, we’ve beaten the Sons before in tag team action—hell, you defeated them both BY YOURSELF after Delikado was forced to make a tactical departure from the ring in order to deal with Shadow’s pursuing. And Nick Watson? Pfft, he’s broken. Everyone can see that. His performance at the Supershow was pitiful, and he deserved to be fired after he lost that title. He’s long given a terrible name to both the Xtreme Championship and APW altogether. Anyone whose head is THAT out of the game that they lose cleanly to some dirty ex-cop shouldn’t be in the game at all if you ask this Cuban.

Delikado grins as he reaches over to an ashtray and picks up his lit cigar. He takes a puff as he speaks to his tag team partner.

Boss Delikado: *to phone* No, no, that won’t be necessary, my cream of the crop amigo. If Shadow gets in Delikado’s way again, or eyes either one of us like he might attempt something…teammate or no teammate, Delikado will lock that bitch in the Choke-A-Bitch, and never, EVER let go by any means but his own choice. Hell, if Mark Mania can get away with clocking his teammate with a chair and still keep the match going, there’s an unlimited list of possibilities Delikado can see himself unleashing on an overzealous, incompetent ingrate partner like Shady. That’s a locked and cement-sealed, tech-savvy, butt-smackingly happy, good old Delikado-supported statement of FACTuality. Yes…yes, you continue to read Delikado’s mind. We *will* make the most of this bad, slightly repetitive situation, Evan, and then it’s on to bigger and, by default, greater things than wrestling inbred jellyfish like the Sons of the Confederate South and the equally weak-bodied, mind, and ability Watson.

…

Tag Team gold? Oh-ho-ho, they won’t be able to keep it from us forever. See ya in England, bro.

Delikado hangs up his phone and chuckles.

Boss Delikado: Ha. That kid cracks Delikado up.

Delikado pockets his phone and turns to his Deli Tee Vee teammates, who are standing by with an array of melee weapons, mostly comprised to debris that’s been collected in the cleanup of the carnival.

Boss Delikado: Speaking of cracking…

Sofia Monzón: Nothing of a new age revolution, but it’ll all still make an impact if you hit someone over the head.

Standing around the circled table is Sofia, Dr. Apartment, and Ron Reynolds. Delikado picks up what looks like a security guard’s stun gun tangled in bits of broken barbed wire. He examines the weapon for a few seconds before discarding it.

Boss Delikado: Stun guns ain’t Delikado’s game. Not close and personal enough.

Sofia shifts through a trash can full of additional items. She reaches inside and pulls out the headpiece off a tiger mascot. Initial intrigue turns to disgust when Sofia finds the inside covered in sticky, white goo, and she tosses it.

Sofia: Ugh. I DON’T see the appeal to mascots...

Ron Reynolds cocks an eyebrow and lifts up part of the bodysuit.

Ron Reynolds: Ya know, we could clean this outfit up good and proper. It could be used to appeal to our younger fanbase; children do love the dancing critters. Focus on the right target market, and our ratings could only go up.

Sofia: Oh suuure. Why don’t we just get dramatic and sit around, talk about our personal lives in the 90s, our messed up, depraved childhoods while we’re at it? Focus on the “middle-aged soccer mom” target market, maybe…? No, let’s not. Deli Tee Vee’s fine where it’s at. There’s no point in dicking around, pandering to little loudmouth brats who don’t even understand how to tie their shoes because Timmy the Tiger’s hugging a rainbow. We’ve been successful in our own rights by bringing it fast, bringing it hard, and bringing it heavy.

Sofia grips hold of the tiger head and jabs it in the pupil fabric with a small, handheld spike.

Sofia: Violent and dirty. That’s where it is.

Delikado chuckles as he watches his second-in-command relish in her need for brutality. Reynolds looks slightly rejected.

Ron Reynolds: Well who knows? Maybe Delikado could use one as a disguise? Get the drop on someone sometime? We could pay some people to wear them and set a trap, like a Trojan horse or even—

Boss Delikado: Ron Reynolds, stop talking about stupid things like parading around in condoms or whatever you said and focus. Damn.

As the weapon surveillance goes on, Lily Smith, the team’s makeup lady, enters the room.

Lily Smith: Doc, could you come here for a minute?

Delikado looks between Dr. Apartment and Lily before grinning and playfully elbowing the good doctor.

Boss Delikado: She wants your popsicle, bro!

Lily rolls her eyes.

Lily: No. Not that. I mean…err, I just need him…for…uhhh…I JUST NEED A DOCTOR, OKAY! Grief…

Dr. Apartment shrugs and walks off down the carnival hall with Lily. Delikado’s playful grin slowly fades away as licks his lower lip idly, takes a puff of his cigar, and returns to work while simultaneously gearing up for the first Overdrive of 2013…

(o)(o)(o)(o)(o)(o)

In the Tunnel of Love ride, which has since been drained of raw sewage and the occasional corpse, we find Delikado’s girlfriend Ariel Hassle sitting in a lawn chair while Dr. Apartment stands at her side; Lily stands in the background with a whiter than usual face.

Dr. Apartment: What do you mean you want the number for an abortionist?!

With a mix of sadness and shame, Ariel lowers her head against the astonished Apartment.

Ariel Hassle: It’s what I said. I don’t feel capable of having Delikado’s baby. For a while I wasn’t sure if it was just hormones, or if I was just scared, but…

Dr. Apartment: You’re just exhausted. That happens with a move like this, with it being the baby of someone like Mister Cuba. He’s intense, and the experience of carrying something of his is likely to be just the same.

Ariel: It’s maddening. And I sometimes think Delikado might be mad too. You know, he doesn’t even like children all that much. His only acknowledged daughter is a prop, a trinket he can use for publicity. He told me once that HE didn’t even go through childhood, that he wasn’t even born! He…He said that he just sprouted out of the ground one day, an ‘Awesome Cuban Flower’, and jumped right to adulthood. For the longest time I thought he was just imaginative, eccentric and at worst overly dramatic. But lately I’ve started to think he might actually be… the c-word!

Dr. Apartment: Cuban?

Ariel: …..Touché, Doc. App—But no! Crazy![/i] It’s those rabies he got back in September. They haven’t gone away. The treatments haven’t solved anything. The rabies are still alive, and I think they’ve been merging with his overall personality for a while now. What if…what if the merging had been done prior to me getting pregnant? What if our unborn baby is infected with the rabies too?[/color]

Dr. Apartment: Ariel, I don’t think that’s possible…

Ariel: It could be! If anyone’s batpoop crazy enough to bend the rules, to make something like that possible, it’s GOT to be Boss Delikado! I could be carrying a rabid, half-Cuban, half-Swedish, Bob Dornan-quality psycho Antichrist in my woman area right now, and it needs to be stopped—*I* need to be stopped—if it is!

Dr. Apartment rubs his chin in thought for a few moments, as if he’s actually considering Ariel’s abortion request.

Dr. Apartment: Hmmm…Swedish, you say…?

He shakes his head, forgoing that idea.

Dr. Apartment: Listen to me. You can’t let these perceptions eat away at you—

Ariel: Oh God, who’s going to eat me?!

Dr. Apartment: No! You just can’t let yourself be overwhelmed by ideas that aren’t even true. They’re interesting, yes, but not true.

Ariel: Doc. Listen. If I have this baby, what’s to stop it from being like Dee-Struction, or worse… following the same path as Delikado? Of being a professional wrestler, an APW Megastar who’s all about conquest and owning fools “Like a Bawse?” What if I’m not here to have a say?

Dr. Apartment: Do you plan on going somewhere when the baby’s born? If so, you could try texting.

Ariel: Oh eff that noise. I’ll be lucky if Delikado doesn’t kick MY head off the second the cord’s cut. He’s learned his lesson about doing bad things to pregnant chicks…but when I’m not pregnant, it’ll be ”Senare, förlorare!” to this baby-damaged va-jay-jay.

Ariel grabs hold of Dr. Apartment’s arm.

Ariel: If this is a son, especially. Delikado will want to do things HIS way. Should I be steadily thrown to the curb, Delikado will have free reign to strike any way he pleases. He could cut down you, maybe even Dee-Struction—a lesser child in his eyes, no less—or anyone in Deli Tee Vee to keep that son and the legacy afloat. It could be the beginning of the end, Doc! I’m trusting you. You and you alone. If you perceive the end is near, if a son to Delikado should enter this world, you get it out of Delikado’s hands. You GTFO—Get The Fudge Out. If I’m not gone yet, you leave me behind and you RUN. If you promise me that, I won’t seek out an abortion. Promise me!

Dr. Apartment pauses for a few moments before shrugging his shoulders.

Dr. Apartment: …K.

Ariel embraces the good doctor in a quiet, emotional moment…before Lily’s cell-phone rings, with a pleasant jingle known as “Betcha Can't Do It Like Me” by D4L being the ringtone. Lily is in a hurry to silence the phone. Ariel and Doc App’s eyes widen in surprise as they break the hug.

Lily: Sorry, oh crap, sorry, sad scene, I’m SO sorry!

The phone shuts off and Ariel refocuses on Dr. Apartment.

Ariel: Thank you. It’s just…sometimes I feel like I should do something. Take a different approach…

Dr. Apartment: Such as…?

Ariel: Setting Delikado up to be injured in the ring. Like, REALLY injured.

Dr. Apartment: Ariel! That’s Deli Tee Vee TREASON! I would strongly advise to not go saying things like that aloud again, for ALL our sakes, not just yours!

Ariel: I know, I know. But…But what if I talked to someone? The Sons of the South? Shadow? If not one of them, there’s plenty of people in the APW who wouldn’t mind doing the job. Taking Delikado out. He’s someone almost nobody seems able to stand.

Dr. Apartment: But those who DO like him won’t take kindly to you, or anyone else for that matter, trying to take him out of action.

Ariel: Gosh….And you know that number of people who think like Delikado’s growing. His daughter, someone I helped take care of after her mother left, is even starting to act like him, starting to spit fire at me. And that’s not an exaggeration or something: she ACTUALLY spit fire at me. She drank a small cup of gas, took Delikado’s lighter, and spit flames at me with it! That’s just whack, yo…sorry, Lily’s ringtone was still ringing in my head. But yes…Dee-Struction’s taking up the same morals as her Papa. And as for Delikado? Hates my guts. He snubbed me all Christmas break. Looked me square in the eye as he kissed another girl on New Year’s, and it was his SISTER!

Lily: I saw that. Like, gross what the fuck, right?

Ariel: Right! This whole baby thing’s just been one big reason to blow me off. The only reason he hasn’t dumped me completely is my APW-DTV contract’s not up for review until the summer! He can’t touch it. The words haven’t escaped his lips just yet, but the eyes, those fireballs of his, don’t lie: Delikado hates me, and he would kick me in the stomach if he stood to gain more out of it than not.

Ariel again embraces Dr. Apartment for comfort, though both take a pause to see if Lily’s phone will go off. When it doesn’t the moment continues.

Ariel: If he would just take some sort of fall, be brought down to a level where he’s broken, more humane, forced to hang up his boots, I think his temper might be soothed, that he’d be more inclined to accept things on a peaceful level. An injury in the ring, it’s the best thing I can think of to cut him off at the knees, to kill that bloodlust. The sooner it happens, and the worse it is, the more okay I think this team really would be! Ohmaigawd, I’m a MONSTER, aren’t I?!

Dr. Apartment: Hey, hey, hey…

He pulls Ariel away and looks at her in something of a reassuring fatherly manner.

Dr. Apartment: A little bit. But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is you carrying this baby, being the charm, the bright, loving face of Deli Tee Vee. You don’t worry about Delikado. You just worry about keeping yourself healthy, for your unborn son or daughter. Delikado will work himself out, and I guaran-damn-tee it’ll work out for you. Now c’mon, let’s get go try on hats.

Ariel laughs and is guided out of the Tunnel of Love by Dr. Apartment. Lily follows alongside, a curious smile on her face.

Lily: Hey, I’m one of the “charming, bright, loving” faces of Deli Tee Vee too, aren’t I, Doc. App?

Dr. Apartment: Hahahaha! Oh, Lily. Ohhhhh…

The doc lets out a humored sigh as the three leave the tunnels and we fade out.

(o)(o)(o)(o)(o)(o)

Boss Delikado here, recording a little chronicle on his tape recorder as he sits in first class on the flight to…”Leeds, England” for the first Overdrive of 2013.

…Fuckin’ A. England? Really?

And who is it that Delikado will be teaming up with Evan Envi to wrestle? The Sons of the South and Nick-flippin-Watson.

Fuckin’ A-times two.

You might have noticed Delikado left out a member of his team, the last piece of a three-man team that otherwise houses the great Envikado. Well you notice well and here’s a cookie for your attention to detail, because Delikado left out Shadow, who has been put in our corner, who Evan and I have to babysit while we fight off the poster children for both diabetes and mental retardation, and the biggest schmuck Delikado thinks he’s ever seen.

Does Delikado sound angry? That’s because he is.

Delikado hates everyone in this match but his tag team partner. Hates. Not even liking ‘em a little, not an ounce of respect there for the Sons or Watson or my “partner” Shady. Hell, even the special guest ref, Slade Craven, the bastard who sold out his brand to go be on Asylum, is a dog turd Delikado wants to scoop up with a shovel and fling into a bottomless pit. Now, some say Delikado owes Slade one for ‘saving my ass’ from Shadow at the Meltdown Supershow, but that’s where you’re WRONG little BITCHES! Delikado owes nobody SHIT in that match! Delikado did all the work! Delikado held his own like he said he would, and he put Shadow away for the one, the two, the THREE! Promises made, promises kept, ain’t nobody giving a crap how it happened. Delikado promised a boot to the face would drop Shadow, that Delikado would stand triumphant at the end of the night, and he did. Far as anyone should be concerned, any REAL APW member or fan, Delikado won the match before Slade even entered the ring. Craven just so happened to jump in and pick up the scraps Delikado had already broken off from the bigger piece of his glorious conquest. Just a little Christmas gift for ya, “Coma Man”, and you remember that gift when you’re in stripes and calling the action on Thursday, got it? Good. Because Delikado promises he’ll fuck you up too if you play Envikado wrong. I’m already gaining the rep for making referees bleed as it is…

But you know what, let Delikado divert his focus off the mix of conquest and embarrassment he’s had to play along with in the Shadow/Slade breakup or whatever to discuss the “men” Delikado is set to lock it up with…again. If you’re still attentive to details, you know Delikado’s talking about Buckson Gooch and Mac Bane, the Sons of Samedi…err, the South, whatever, fuck you. Delikado’s ain’t got time for your hillbilly lingo team name and garbage. And here’s why: The Sons of the South have only been in MY APW since…oh, let’s say November, and that’s a PA-THE-TIC amount of time when compared to some of the greater threats Envikado has taken care of and the past, and will take care of in the future. During these couple of short months, full of short-attention-spans being given to this short-on-the-excitement level team, a good portion of their time’s been on Meltdown. Meltdown, a brand Delikado has done little to disguise his disliking of once it reached the post-Evan Envi era. The Sons did…

They did……..uhhhhh……..Sons did……….

Ah fuck it, Delikado doesn’t know how they did. But if he were to partake a guess, he’ll guess they did okay. I mean, they MUST have, if they A.) Got the right to be drafted, and B.) Got the right to be drafted to Overdrive, APW’s top-tier show of which Delikado is established in. Of the time two men on that same, only one is actually any good, and good is REALLY being reached for here, so pardon Delikado. Buckson Gooch. Pretty sure Evan said it best when we whooped your asses last, but Delikado will say it again for your troubled, mother-fucking brain—mother-fucking as in LITERAL mother-fucking in this case. Your partner, Gooch, your cowboy hat-wearing skunk of a bane, Mac Bane, is a tragic figure, and Delikado is not talking about the videos he shells out of his overly dramatic younger days. It’s tragic, because he’s so bland, so useless and so unimportant in the grand scheme of anything, that it’s a wonder someone hasn’t tried to recruit him to hold signs outside a new Dunkin’ Donuts.

Oh right, because they found a piece of wood to prop it up instead. You see, Goochie? Your partner can’t even compete with a piece of wood. How ya like them apples with your fried chicken?

But it is you, little Buck. It is YOU who is being reigned in from a greater existence in the REAL APW, in part because you side with a partner who should have been left to dig ditches in the South, and in part because you side with the villainous, corrupting morals of the APW dictatorship that lingers over all our heads in the form of Cher-resident Jeff and Johnny Diamond and so many other parts of the “establishment”. If you cast off those two things, there’s no telling where you might go. For real, if EnviKado, the greatest tag team active in APW today, and maybe even greatest EVER in APW history, is telling you tag teaming is not for you and Mac Bane, you should listen. I don’t tell you to read, because you probably can’t do that. See how considerate Delikado is?

And now we move to the opposite of considerate: inconsiderate, “The Irrational One” Nick Watson, the ex-Xtreme Champion who just doesn’t know when to let it go. You’re hurting us, Nicky. You’re hurting us ALL with your continued persistence that never pays off. It’s too energy-consuming, bro. You’re just becoming a headache on the brainchildren who run this town. You’re like…again, this is me reaching, because chances are good you would never get an experience like this…your career right now is like forcibly holding your load in when you’ve been, ahem, “handled” by a fine Triple-A+, 11/10 model in the hot-tub of your limo on prom night. You wanna go. You’re saying, “Yeah, bitch, this is AWESOME, here I GOOOO—“ and then you can’t. The model, representing your career, says “Nuh-uh, nope, ain’t happening, Jack”, and all YOU, Nick, can say is “Okey……” and you relent. You give up, even though you go and swear to anyone who pretends to listen that you’ll “Get better”, and “you’ll do it next time when the opportunity comes along!”

But it won’t come around, Watson! You’re not Delikado! You don’t get hot chicks! Your aggression is not there! When Delikado’s in that situation with the chick and she’s like “Nuh-uh” on your unleashing of the Kraken in your manly loins, Delikado responds with “YUH-UH!!!” and pops the cork!! It’s POWER, the ravenous urge and hunger to take what you want and do as you please, that has made me a success my entire career, while you’re stuck with not only defending second-rate belts on a third-rate show, but LOSING said second-rate belt on said third-rate show! A REAL APWer would not get in that situation, and even if he did, he would not take it lying down! He’d stand up, find a bitch, and kick ‘em! Kick ‘em HARD! TAKE BACK the world that is YOURS!

But you won’t do that Nick. See, unlike with what Delikado said to Buck, this isn’t me giving you advice. This isn’t me telling you how you can still make up for your degrading career. This is Delikado telling you how it is, how it’s going to be ON you, not FOR you. There’s no hope for you, Nicky, no matter how much you like to still believe. People might tell you they’ve seen sparks, potential hope that you could reach a level that is far superior to anything you’ve done, but those people are idiots, FOOLS who simply tell you that so you won’t quit, because they either need someone around to make them look good in comparison, or they need a good punchline. They say “Oh Nick, no, you can still main event Pay-Per-Views”, but what they MEAN is “Oh Nick, no, you’re still needed so I can squash you this last week before a title defense. I need you to be my momentum!”

Because that’s what you are, Nick. Your momentum is now you being momentum for others. You are the stone people step on to reach the level people lie about you being capable of. That’s not bullying, either. That’s a FACT!, and it’s time you face ‘em.

It’s time you ALL, Sons, Shadow, Nick, even you, Slade, realize that the dawn of Delikado begins in 2013, and the New Year is already underway. That means it’s time for Da Bawse to begin his rise to ultimo glory, and it’s time for you to either step aside, join the ranks of the REAL APW…or face Delikado’s wrath. Be warned: You WILL fail, and Delikado will triumph.

LIKE A BAWSE!

Now…Delikado’s gonna finish his plane soda and take a nap. See you in England, little fools…
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Edit: Had some major coding issue, hopefully it's not a problem that I fixed them.