Sunday’s are pretty slow when there’s no football to watch. And they’re pretty slow all the time in <st1
lace w:st="on"><st1:City w:st="on">East Lansing</st1:City>, <st1:State w:st="on">Michigan</st1:State></st1lace>. Unless you’re a member of the Izzone, in which case you watch college basketball, bump biscuits with hot college *****es, and get so drunk you can actually justify nailing that broad with the gap teeth and the FUPA.
<o> </o>
But SB’s not here for that. He’s not even here to wrestle yet, actually. He’s just trying to grab a bite to eat before he checks out the arena they have set up for the show. Have you ever seen those diners in zombie movies right before the all the flesh-eating undead burst in and start going to town on fat guys and slow children? This diner is probably where they filmed each and one of those movies, in part because of all the rats crawling around in the back and also in part because no one would be caught dead eating there. Not to mention, the place is falling to the freakin’ ground.
<o> </o>
But SB’s hungry, and its 1 AM. I know, I know, what the **** is he doing out this late? Eliot Spitzer isn’t the only New Yorker trying to scare some tail in the shady part of town, but SB isn’t, I can assure you.
<o> </o>
It was consensual, and after that performance, he’s the one that should be getting paid.
<o> </o>
He walks across the empty street, but in the distance we can hear the sounds of drunken college students – the faint, mixed-together rumblings of unprotected sex, breaking glass, and ping pong balls covered in beer and sometimes bodily secretions. Ahh, to be young and in college. SB never went to college, but he’s bagged enough sorority sisters to be a campus tour guide at Hofstra.
<o> </o>
Expensive leather shoes step through the front door of the run down mom-and-pop eatery, and SB nods to the only waitress in there – Agnes, her nametag says – that he’d like to have a seat. She motions for him to grab any table he’d like, since the only guys in there are the town drunks yelling rather loudly about Mateen Cleaves and Drew Neitzel
<o> </o>
SB grabs a seat by the window – so he can see anybody who might walk in and shoot the place up – and picks up the menu. Not that anyone ever needs to actually look at a menu in a diner, because they all serve the same ****. If you can find me a diner in the U.S.A that doesn’t have French Onion soup and disco cheese fries, well…you don’t wanna eat there.
<o
> </o
>
SB: No Strip Steak?
****.
<o
> </o
>
Agnes places two cups of coffee in front of the drunks and walks over to SB’s table. She looks your typical Irish-born 60-something grandmother. You know: alcoholic, white hair, paunchy, saggy boobs; the usual. She’s got a kind smile about her, and waves to SB.
<o
> </o
>
Agnes: (thick Irish accent)Can I help ya, mister?
<o
> </o
>
SB: Yeah…lemme just have an unsweetened iced tea.
<o
> </o
>
Agnes: Sorry sweetheart, we’ve only got reg’lar.
<o
> </o
>
SB: (sigh) That’s fine. And a cheeseburger deluxe…with disco cheese fries.
<o
> </o
>
Agnes: We’ve got soup, too.
<o
> </o
>
SB: That’s fine, I’m not in the mood for French Onion.
<o
> </o
>
Agnes: Soup of the day is-
<o
> </o
>
SB: The iced tea and the burger are fine, ma’am.
<o
> </o
>
Agnes: (smiles) Be right back with that, dearie.
<o
> </o
>
She half walks, half stumbles to the kitchen. SB looks slightly irritated – moreso at not being able to get a steak. By a general rule of thumb, SB only eats steak and his mother’s cooking. Oh well.
<o> </o>
One of the drunks, finished with his coffee, saunters over to SB’s table. SB puts his head down.
<o
> </o
>
Man: You there!
<o
> </o
>
SB keeps looking down, but the guy comes closer.
<o
> </o
>
Man: You! You in the booth!
<o
> </o
>
SB snaps his head to the left, glaring at him.
<o
> </o
>
SB: Yes?
<o
> </o
>
Man: You lookin’ at me funny, son?
<o
> </o
>
SB: Uh…I wasn’t looking at you.
<o
> </o
>
The other guys gets up, drops his cup of coffee, and walks up behind his friend.
Man #2: And now you’re givin' him lip?
<o
> </o
>
SB: No. Why don’t you guys sit back down or hit the road?
<o
> </o
>
Man #1: We ain’t goin’ anywhere, chiefy. You just remember who runs things ‘round here.
<o
> </o
>
SB: (puzzled) In
this diner? Trust me, you can have it. I’m just trying to get a burger!
<o
> </o
>
Man #2: Bull****! We’re sick and tired of you all you college kids coming in here and causin’ a ruckus!
<o
> </o
>
SB: Whoa! I don’t go to college pal! I’m 29 years old! Do you watch professional wrestling? My name’s Simply Beautiful
<o
> </o
>
Man #1: Er..not since Gotch. Or was it Thesz?
<o
> </o
>
Man #2: You’re thinking of Gagne, now will ya shut up! What kinda name is Simply Beautiful – what’re ya, gay?
<o
> </o
>
SB: No.
<o
> </o
>
Man #1: Then let’s have us a drink!
<o
> </o
>
SB: They serve booze here?
<o
> </o
>
Man #2: Agnes does!
<o
> </o
>
With that, the drunks laugh. Agnes comes back out, a bottle of whiskey in one hand, SB’s drink and burger on a tray in the other.
<o
> </o
>
Agnes: Let’s fookin’ tie one on th’n!
<o
> </o
>
2 HOURS LATER
<o
> </o
>
SB, the drunks (named Dan and Butch), and Agnes are PLASTERED. Agnes is laughing, Dan appears to be sleeping, and Butch is shooting what must be his 15<sup>th</sup> double shot of Seagram’s.
<o
> </o
>
SB: Ss-soo, I got this freakin’ guy up for a suplex, and all’a sudden, his ****in’ cock flops out!
<o
> </o
>
Agnes roars in laughter. Butch just passes out, falling to the floor.
<o
> </o
>
SB: Poor bastard! The whole ****in’ crowd saw it!
<o
> </o
>
Agnes lays her head down on SB’s chest...
<o> </o>
And then starts going lower…we hear a zip and
<o
> </o
>
SB: WHOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
<o
> </o
>
Agnes’ head pops up.
<o
> </o
>
Agnes: What’s wrong, honey?
<o
> </o
>
SB: What the **** are you doing!
<o
> </o
>
Agnes: I thought –
<o
> </o
>
SB: You thought wrong! You think I want mother****in’ Mother Time all over my ****?
<o
> </o
>
Agnes: I once dry humped President Kennedy!
<o
> </o
>
SB: Jesus freakin’ Christmas, I’m outta here.
<o
> </o
>
SB gets up and leaves the booth, but Agnes grabs his shirt and yanks on it. SB’s caught off guard and almost trips over Butch.
<o
> </o
>
Agnes: Get back’n here!
<o
> </o
>
SB: Get the hell off, *****!
<o
> </o
>
Agnes grabs SB’s package in her steely, cold, decrepit fingers – like a nun, but only sex-crazed after years of loneliness resulting in near-insanity. SB howls like a banshee that’s…well, that’s having its testicles squeezed. With no other recourse, SB BACKHANDS Agnes across the face, sending her sprawling.
<o
> </o
>
SB: What the **** goes on in this town!
<o
> </o
>
Just then, four drunken college guys and their girls stumble in through the front door.
<o
> </o
>
Student #1: What the ****?
<o
> </o
>
SB points at him, and makes a throat-slashing gesture.
<o
> </o
>
SB: You say anything to anybody, and I’ll ****in’ kill you.
<o> </o>
His eyes go wide, and he grabs his girlfriend by the wrist and drags her outside. The others follow suit.
<o> </o>
SB reaches into his wallet, drops a 20 on the table – and nice tip for Agnes – and walks out through the back.
<o
> </o
>
SB: Yeah, nice college town my ass.
<o
> </o
>
<o
> </o
>
Fade out.
