“Uh, is this security?”
Well that’s an interesting open.
“Yeah, I-um… well we got a bit of an interesting situation unfolding down here.”
Any astute FWF follower, at this point, has narrowed our subjects down to four. Does The Raging Dead have his messed up family held hostage after even they realized the dude was too weird to withstand? Or maybe Kentucky Tarzan decided the hub-bub of the real world was too much and decided to build an underground Amazon forest? If neither of those, we can only wonder what kind of mess Kutter and Chicken Leg got into…
“So this… rather large… individual… he um, well it wasn’t a stretch to think he was one of the new moving guys. Not sure if you’ve caught him on the cameras yet, but he’s giant in the orange and black hoodie. The one carrying a matching lunchbox like he’s still in grade school… yeah, that’s the guy! HUGE, huh?”
The audio input is suddenly supplemented with video as a camera comes into focus on a suited individual with a phone against the side of his face. The well put together individual runs his free hand through slicked back, brown hair. His blushed face matches his flustered tone.
“Yeah, so anyway, I just assumed he showed up to help set up the beach…”
The camera slowly zooms out and the rest of the scene comes into view. Anyone who’s done the research-
Ask Jarvis, if you haven’t. That nutjob would be well aware of these.
-would know this was a famous underground bunker house on the market for approximately $20 million.
“So I showed him where the bags were located and kinda assumed he’d get to work…”
The suit looks over his shoulder, then turns back and continues in a whisper.
“But I came back to… well… you can see it. Should be on camera five.”
The view pans to the left, where the man quietly glanced toward moments earlier.
“Wait you’re sending anoth- shouldn’t we handle the current situation before sending down prospective buy- oh this isn’t? He’s here to see… him? … Yeah, I guess. If this gets weird, you better be on standby.”
Just then the elevator beeps and its doors slowly open. Jumping out as soon as they’re wide enough, FWF’s own Rumor Man Stan bursts onto the scene. His eyes dart around behind his glasses, until they find it…
“A sandbag igloo… that’s gotta be it!”
The scruffy millennial beat writer bolts toward the unorthodox structure. He stops dead in his tracks when a frightened shout comes from inside the igloo.
RMS slowly inches closer. The voice inside, a little less shaky, projects.
“I can still hear you!”
RMS clears his throat.
As RMS circles the structure, he sees the entrance. One step toward it and it suddenly collapses right in front of his eyes. Stan jumps back.
“You, uh… you okay in there, Larry?”
An exasperated shout this time,
“NO LARRY HERE!”
A shoddy Hispanic accent, poorly disguised from the same voice, follows.
“NO HAW-BLOW AYNGLESH!”
RMS bows his head, slowly shaking it.
“I know that’s you in there, Larry. They got you building this… thing on camera.”
“EFFFFFF”, you could almost hear Larry deflating.
“You know you’ve got a match tomorrow, right?”
“Uh huh.” The child-like response should scare any FWF stakeholders.
“You gonna come out of there so you can make it?”
A couple moments of silence pass until the manchild answers.
“Can you make him stop?”
Stan’s face contorts.
Almost no wait on this one.
RMS almost looks to be in pain trying to process that one… then it hits him.
“I can’t control Gust, man. He’s just another guy, though. Don’t buy into that mind game, angry zombie crap. You got Harry.”
The igloo grunts. RMS shrugs in despair.
“Well, looks like this is a waste. Hope you straighten out your head game and we’ll see ya tomorrow… maybe…”
On his way toward the elevator, Rumor Man Stan stops and turns back.
“Would be awful inconsiderate of you, Lunchbox… a lot of fans are gonna be at that show tomorrow to watch you fight Black.”
A third grunt. This one was a little less obstinate, almost like there was a question mark after it. RMS grows a short smile, then adds the cherry on top.
“Not to mention, I heard Harry’s been really hungry lately…”
The voice inside the sandbagged structure finally returns to words.
“Th-think… you think he wants a sandwich?”
The smile on Stan’s face lengthens.
“There’s only one sandwich, I could imagine, would do the trick…”
Just then, a reinvigorated roar bellows through the bags as Lunchbox Larry crashes through the walls like he was the Kool Aid man. Within the blink of an eye, you hear a security guard jump on Larry. Another one is quick to assist. A third leaps on and they finally take the FWF Champ down. The first guard to act grabs a small mic on his person,
Larry stops squirming under the pile of guards.
“You got Gust?!”
The camera cuts to Rumor Man Stan pinching the bridge of his nose.
"JESUS SHIT TITS"
- Kentucky Tarzan