Post by Dean Wolf on Nov 17, 2019 18:27:00 GMT -5
We start off with exclusive footage after this past Monday’s Metal went off the air. Dean Wolf regains consciousness in the ring. He sits up, officials trying to help him up. He pushes them off and gets to his feet on his own. He takes a few steps and collapses. Officials try to help him but he waves them off. He crawls under the bottom rope and gets his feet on the outside floor. He groggily walks up the aisle, falling to his knees every few steps but always getting back up to walk a few more steps. Once he steps through the curtain, a camera on the other side catches him collapsing face first to the ground, unconscious again. Medical personnel rush to his aide.
We then fade to a shot of Wolf, in his apartment on Long Island, looking into his bathroom mirror. He rips off the bandage on his head, exposing the wound, now all stitched up. He speaks as he continues to look at the wound.
Wolf: You know, I’ve got to say, I’m quite surprised. After all the time Smith Jones spent running down hardcore wrestling, he ended up resorting to hardcore means to try and get a leg up on me ahead of our World Title match at Omega. I guess it’s a “fight fire with fire” type of deal with you, Smitty, and I don’t blame you, because they way you were doing things didn’t work out the first two times we fought. I, on the other hand, fought the type of match you wanted and beat you at what you thought was your own game.
He turns and looks at the camera.
Wolf: Regardless, you kicked the shit out of me last Monday. I’m not ashamed to admit it. You left me in that ring bloody and unconscious. Well, I hope that you enjoyed it. I hope that you got everything out of it that you wanted because it’s not gonna happen again. What you fail to realize is that every time I have a setback like the one I had last Monday, I get back up and overcome it. Look at the run I’m on right now here in APW. I’m having the most successful period of my career, and that’s after a career filled with stops and starts. Even here in APW, I’ve faced setback after setback, just to get right back up and push past them.
My first match here, I lose to Lucy Sixx and I see a shot at the Junior Heavyweight Championship slip through my fingers. I come back and I beat you and the week after that, I beat half the roster to win my Hardcore Championship. Two weeks later, I embarrass myself and let Spartan pin me to take my title. What did I do? I came back a month later and won it back. Right after that, Triple B and his goons put me through a table during a press conference. I recovered, I came back, and I dominated him at Supremacy. And this latest challenge that I had against Arthur Pleasant almost saw me losing my title. I had every weapon imaginable thrown at me. I got triple teamed and put through a food truck; but I was resilient and I found a way to walk out of Chernobyl still the champ.
He points to the wound.
Wolf: So if you think that THIS is going to give you the advantage that you’re hoping to have at Omega, you’re dreaming. The only thing you’ve done is give me more of a reason to kick your ass. You think my pride isn't hurt by this? You think I’m not a little bit embarrassed that I, the dominator of the APW Hardcore Division, was left vulnerable in that ring? Trust me, I am, and I’m a little pissed about it!
He hits the wound with his bare knuckles until a little trickle of blood starts pouring down his face. He points at the wound again.
Wolf: Which is why from now until Omega, THIS is going to be my prime motivator along with my desire to become the World Champion. That means that anybody that comes up against me between now and Omega is unfortunately going to feel my wrath.
And Zion Simmons, Mr. Moneybags, it sucks to be you, because you’re gonna have to be the first person to pay for Smith Jones’ sins. I just hope that for your sake, you come at me with everything you have. Last week in the tag match, I didn’t see any fire in your eyes. Your body was there but your mind was somewhere else. What I saw in you was a guy that pretty much gave up because he didn’t win the World Title at HorrorKore. I saw a guy that was just phoning it in. I saw a guy that was just collecting a paycheck.
I am not in this business to fight people that are only collecting a paycheck. I am in this business to face the best and beat people when they’re at their best. If you don’t give me your best, I will give you my worst.
He wipes some of the blood and licks it off his finger.
Wolf: I’m Dean Wolf, right? Dean isn’t my first name. Dean was my title in The Core Institute. You know why I’ve kept that title? 1) It sounds cool next to “Wolf.” 2) I consider myself the Dean of Discipline around APW. I’m the one who makes the rules in that ring, I enforce them, and I’m the one who lays down the punishment when they’re not followed. The rule I’m going to enforce this Monday, Zion, is that when you step in between those ropes, you put it all on the line. Are you going to do that? Are you going to put it all on the line? No, this isn’t a title match, but that doesn’t matter. It’s a competition to see who the better man is. I know that most of your matches here had World Title implications. You won the #1 contender’s tournament and went on to face Smitty. You failed at that, and now you’re just fighting a regular match against me. Are you going to treat it like that? I’m not. I’m putting everything I have into this match just like I’ve done for every match. If I lose to you, I lose my momentum. I walk into Omega weak. I need to beat you to show the world that what Smitty did to me last week is not going to decide my fate when he and I step into the ring for the World Title.
You are down at the bottom of the ladder looking up at me, who’s just one rung below the top. It should be your mission this week to climb up that ladder, to get closer to my position. Shit, you should be looking to push me off altogether! That’s what your motivation should be.
Forget about your money. That doesn’t make you the best. Forget about what you own. That doesn’t make you the best. Put all of those selfish, materialistic things to the side. They won’t help you. They certainly didn’t help me when I was living the good life as a member of the Core Institute. Sure, I had a lot of money and nice things, but I held my wrestling career up for three years so that somebody else could achieve the glory they sought. I was just a glorified bodyguard. No, what’s going to help you is yourself. Your desire. Your abilities.
Will you give me the fight of my life? My gut tells me you won’t, but maybe you’ll surprise me. I will still beat you and I will still kick the shit out of you, but I want you to make me earn it. I want you to make it tough for me. I want you to seek the wolf in thyself and make me do the same.
If you don’t and you end up wasting my fucking time, then the way my face looks now...
He starts hitting his wound furiously until the blood rushes out of it like water breaking free of dam.
Wolf: ...is just the start of what yours is going to look like.
He stares back at the mirror.
Wolf: Fuck. I’ve got to go to the hospital and get this re-stitched. I hope I don’t pass out on the way there.
He steps out of the bathroom and the camera fades to black.
Joe: Shit, shit, shit!
Joe Fager is rushing down the stairs at the start of another day in the never-ending saga of his shitty existence. He woke up late and realizes his entire family is downstairs waiting to be served breakfast. Could they serve themselves? Sure. Well, maybe not the kids. They’re retarded and barely know how to wipe their own asses. His wife, on the other hand, could surely take care of herself and the kids. Then again, looking at how obese she is, she doesn’t look like she’s ever taken the time to take care of herself beyond satisying her gluttonous appetite. Nope, they’ve all made Joe they’re bitch, totally dependent on him for their well-being. He could stand up and say “no,” but then he’d pay holy hell for it and end up doing it anyway. Despite the power he has over them, he’s too much of a coward to use it against them.
Joe: AHH!
Joe steps on Richard’s toy truck, which he has left on the stairs for the 50th time, and falls right on his tailbone.
God fucking damn it.
He painfully pulls himself up using the railing and continues making his way down to the kitchen. When he finally arrives, he hears it from Gina, who is sitting at the head of the table with their children waiting.
Gina: About fucking gawd damn time you showed the fuck up. Ya fuckin’ kids are starvin’ and you’re lolly-gaggin’ the fuck upstairs doing gawd knows what while their little stomachs are growlin’ because their father is a selfish prick who only gives a shit about himself!
Is she fucking kidding me?
Gina: Not to speak of me, who doesn’t get thanked for getting these fucking little shits in line because you, as the man of the house, can't discipline them properly! The least you could fuckin’ do for me is make me a nice fuckin’ breakfast before your existence ruins the rest of my fuckin’ day. I’m fuckin’ wastin’ away over here!
She is more full of shit today than most days. Alright, just block her out.
Joe: I’m sorry, dear.
Gina: You can shove your fuckin’ sorries up your gawd damn fuckin ass! Why don’t you say sorry to your fuckin’ kids for trying to turn them into those little African kids you see starvin’ on TV all the time!
Clifford: Yeah, Joe, say you’re sorry!
Clifford throws a fork at his father. Joe dodges it and tries to hold it together.
Joe: Kids, I’m sorry you’re hungry. Daddy was up late last night trying to wipe off the drawings you made all over the walls.
Gina: Don’t give us no excuses, fuck face! Just get to work makin’ our fuckin’ breakfast!
The kids start pounding on the table chanting “BREAKFAST! BREAKFAST!”
Gina: Hey! Knock that shit off!
The kids comply immediately. Joe grabs his apron off the hook on the wall and puts it on. Richard and Clifford snicker at the site of their father wearing an apron.
Just block it out. Just block it out.
He opens up the pantry and takes out pancake mix.
Gina: What the fuck are you makin’ anyway?
Joe is working feverishly to produce breakfast.
Joe: Um, pancakes, dear.
Gina: Oh, gawd, fuckin’ pancakes again?!
Richard: I hate pancakes!
Joe: Well, that’s all we have.
Gina: Where’s the fuckin’ bacon and eggs?!
Joe: We’ve run out.
Gina: What the fuck?! And you didn’t go out and buy more?
Joe takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, his back to his wife.
Joe: No, dear. Between doing the laundry and cleaning the bathroom and scrubbing the floors and picking up after all of you, I didn’t get around to buying bacon and eggs yesterday.
Gina: Again with the fuckin’ excuses! That’s all I ever hear from you, excuses! Why do I expect you to provide for this family when all you do if fuck up!
Joe puts down his mixing spoon and leans both hands on the counter.
I can’t take this anymore. I’m not a pussy. I’m a man. I’m a real fucking man, and I’ve let this go on for far too long. I’m done. I’m taking my life back. I’m going to be the person I used to be before that fucking cum stain Dan Dexter or Dean Wolf or whatever the fuck he calls himself these days split the back of my head open and emasculated me indefinitely. I’m going to…
Gina: Hey! Who told you to stop mixing?! We gotta eat something, even if it is pancakes again!
Joe slowly turns around and talks low.
Joe: You know, dear, if you wanted to eat bacon and eggs, you could have helped me out and just gotten them yourself.
Gina is stunned, like he just told her that the buffet line at Golden Corral was closed. She responds in a voice just as low as Joe’s.
Gina: What the fuck did you just say to me?
Joe turns and walks towards her. His voice gets louder with every word.
Joe: I said, dear, that if you wanted bacon and eggs, you could have gotten off your fat ass and gotten them yourself.
She gets up now, walking towards him.
Gina: I don’t know you the fuck you think you are, but you better get back over there right fuckin’ now and make me some fuckin’ pancakes before I kick your fuckin a--
He clutches her chubby throat and squeezes as hard as he can before she can get the word out. The kids jump in their seats in fright. Gina looks at Joe in horror while he goes wide eyed and stares at her menacingly, the hand holding her throat shaking as it tries to tighten its grip.
Joe: You ain’t gonna do anything to me, you fat cunt.
She begins to choke. Her cries for mercy are faint.
Gina: Joe, Joe, I can’t…
Joe: Breath? Well, that’s nothing new for you, dear. You take five steps and you need a fucking inhaler. You know who hasn’t been able to breath, Gina? Me, for 15 years. You saw that I was weak and you took advantage of it so that you could have somebody to shit all over because you hated the way you fucking looked. You hated that no man with a shred of self-confidence would ever want to be with you, so you latched onto me and I’ve been your prisoner ever since.
The kids start to tear up.
Stella: Mommy?
Joe: And the biggest regret that I have, Gina, is that I shot my load into your putrid twat on three separate occasions and allowed you to pop out these three spoiled, stupid wastes of skin and bones that I have to call my children.
She starts turning purple.
Clifford: Joe, you’re going to kill Mommy!
Joe shoots a look at Clifford that makes him cower.
Joe: That’s the last fucking time you call me “Joe!” You will show me the respect that I deserve and call me “Dad!” Do you fucking understand? All of you! Do you fucking understand, you retarded pieces of shit?!
They all nod their heads.
Joe: SAY IT!
Kids: YES!
He turns his attention back to Gina.
Joe: And as for you, I’m done being your bitch. I’m done taking orders from you. From now on, you’re going to pull your fucking weight around here, which I know might be hard for you because you have so much to carry, but that’s just too fucking bad. Do you fucking understand me?
She can barely get her answer out above her choking sounds.
Gina: Y-yes!
He throws her back into the wall. She falls on her ass. The kids run to her and put their arms around her, but Joe puts a stop to that.
Joe: You three! Get up the fucking stairs right now and clean your fucking rooms! If I step on one more god damn fucking toy, I’m fucking throwing them all out the god damn window!
They stare up at him with moist eyes.
Joe: NOW!
They instantly run up the stairs and get to work. Meanwhile, Joe looks down on Gina, who is coughing and wheezing.
Joe: I have to step out for a little while. How about you make me fucking breakfast for once and have it ready by the time I get back?
She shivers, her fat reverberating all over her body.
Gina: O-ok, Joe. I’ll h-have it ready when ya get back.
Joe: Good.
He walks away and steps outside through the front door. He breaths in the fresh fall air and looks out at the sky. It’s a clear, beautiful day. For the first time in 20 years, he doesn’t feel any fear. It’s like he had some chronic pain in his body that was suddenly and magically relieved. He smiles at his re-discovered manliness. He takes a piece of folded scrap paper out of his wallet. Then, he takes out his phone and dials the number that’s written on the paper. He holds the phone up to his ear. The person on the other side answers.
Joe: Chris, it’s Joe. You told me to call you when I wanted to get back at Dan Dexter. Well...I’m ready.
We then fade to a shot of Wolf, in his apartment on Long Island, looking into his bathroom mirror. He rips off the bandage on his head, exposing the wound, now all stitched up. He speaks as he continues to look at the wound.
Wolf: You know, I’ve got to say, I’m quite surprised. After all the time Smith Jones spent running down hardcore wrestling, he ended up resorting to hardcore means to try and get a leg up on me ahead of our World Title match at Omega. I guess it’s a “fight fire with fire” type of deal with you, Smitty, and I don’t blame you, because they way you were doing things didn’t work out the first two times we fought. I, on the other hand, fought the type of match you wanted and beat you at what you thought was your own game.
He turns and looks at the camera.
Wolf: Regardless, you kicked the shit out of me last Monday. I’m not ashamed to admit it. You left me in that ring bloody and unconscious. Well, I hope that you enjoyed it. I hope that you got everything out of it that you wanted because it’s not gonna happen again. What you fail to realize is that every time I have a setback like the one I had last Monday, I get back up and overcome it. Look at the run I’m on right now here in APW. I’m having the most successful period of my career, and that’s after a career filled with stops and starts. Even here in APW, I’ve faced setback after setback, just to get right back up and push past them.
My first match here, I lose to Lucy Sixx and I see a shot at the Junior Heavyweight Championship slip through my fingers. I come back and I beat you and the week after that, I beat half the roster to win my Hardcore Championship. Two weeks later, I embarrass myself and let Spartan pin me to take my title. What did I do? I came back a month later and won it back. Right after that, Triple B and his goons put me through a table during a press conference. I recovered, I came back, and I dominated him at Supremacy. And this latest challenge that I had against Arthur Pleasant almost saw me losing my title. I had every weapon imaginable thrown at me. I got triple teamed and put through a food truck; but I was resilient and I found a way to walk out of Chernobyl still the champ.
He points to the wound.
Wolf: So if you think that THIS is going to give you the advantage that you’re hoping to have at Omega, you’re dreaming. The only thing you’ve done is give me more of a reason to kick your ass. You think my pride isn't hurt by this? You think I’m not a little bit embarrassed that I, the dominator of the APW Hardcore Division, was left vulnerable in that ring? Trust me, I am, and I’m a little pissed about it!
He hits the wound with his bare knuckles until a little trickle of blood starts pouring down his face. He points at the wound again.
Wolf: Which is why from now until Omega, THIS is going to be my prime motivator along with my desire to become the World Champion. That means that anybody that comes up against me between now and Omega is unfortunately going to feel my wrath.
And Zion Simmons, Mr. Moneybags, it sucks to be you, because you’re gonna have to be the first person to pay for Smith Jones’ sins. I just hope that for your sake, you come at me with everything you have. Last week in the tag match, I didn’t see any fire in your eyes. Your body was there but your mind was somewhere else. What I saw in you was a guy that pretty much gave up because he didn’t win the World Title at HorrorKore. I saw a guy that was just phoning it in. I saw a guy that was just collecting a paycheck.
I am not in this business to fight people that are only collecting a paycheck. I am in this business to face the best and beat people when they’re at their best. If you don’t give me your best, I will give you my worst.
He wipes some of the blood and licks it off his finger.
Wolf: I’m Dean Wolf, right? Dean isn’t my first name. Dean was my title in The Core Institute. You know why I’ve kept that title? 1) It sounds cool next to “Wolf.” 2) I consider myself the Dean of Discipline around APW. I’m the one who makes the rules in that ring, I enforce them, and I’m the one who lays down the punishment when they’re not followed. The rule I’m going to enforce this Monday, Zion, is that when you step in between those ropes, you put it all on the line. Are you going to do that? Are you going to put it all on the line? No, this isn’t a title match, but that doesn’t matter. It’s a competition to see who the better man is. I know that most of your matches here had World Title implications. You won the #1 contender’s tournament and went on to face Smitty. You failed at that, and now you’re just fighting a regular match against me. Are you going to treat it like that? I’m not. I’m putting everything I have into this match just like I’ve done for every match. If I lose to you, I lose my momentum. I walk into Omega weak. I need to beat you to show the world that what Smitty did to me last week is not going to decide my fate when he and I step into the ring for the World Title.
You are down at the bottom of the ladder looking up at me, who’s just one rung below the top. It should be your mission this week to climb up that ladder, to get closer to my position. Shit, you should be looking to push me off altogether! That’s what your motivation should be.
Forget about your money. That doesn’t make you the best. Forget about what you own. That doesn’t make you the best. Put all of those selfish, materialistic things to the side. They won’t help you. They certainly didn’t help me when I was living the good life as a member of the Core Institute. Sure, I had a lot of money and nice things, but I held my wrestling career up for three years so that somebody else could achieve the glory they sought. I was just a glorified bodyguard. No, what’s going to help you is yourself. Your desire. Your abilities.
Will you give me the fight of my life? My gut tells me you won’t, but maybe you’ll surprise me. I will still beat you and I will still kick the shit out of you, but I want you to make me earn it. I want you to make it tough for me. I want you to seek the wolf in thyself and make me do the same.
If you don’t and you end up wasting my fucking time, then the way my face looks now...
He starts hitting his wound furiously until the blood rushes out of it like water breaking free of dam.
Wolf: ...is just the start of what yours is going to look like.
He stares back at the mirror.
Wolf: Fuck. I’ve got to go to the hospital and get this re-stitched. I hope I don’t pass out on the way there.
He steps out of the bathroom and the camera fades to black.
Joe: Shit, shit, shit!
Joe Fager is rushing down the stairs at the start of another day in the never-ending saga of his shitty existence. He woke up late and realizes his entire family is downstairs waiting to be served breakfast. Could they serve themselves? Sure. Well, maybe not the kids. They’re retarded and barely know how to wipe their own asses. His wife, on the other hand, could surely take care of herself and the kids. Then again, looking at how obese she is, she doesn’t look like she’s ever taken the time to take care of herself beyond satisying her gluttonous appetite. Nope, they’ve all made Joe they’re bitch, totally dependent on him for their well-being. He could stand up and say “no,” but then he’d pay holy hell for it and end up doing it anyway. Despite the power he has over them, he’s too much of a coward to use it against them.
Joe: AHH!
Joe steps on Richard’s toy truck, which he has left on the stairs for the 50th time, and falls right on his tailbone.
God fucking damn it.
He painfully pulls himself up using the railing and continues making his way down to the kitchen. When he finally arrives, he hears it from Gina, who is sitting at the head of the table with their children waiting.
Gina: About fucking gawd damn time you showed the fuck up. Ya fuckin’ kids are starvin’ and you’re lolly-gaggin’ the fuck upstairs doing gawd knows what while their little stomachs are growlin’ because their father is a selfish prick who only gives a shit about himself!
Is she fucking kidding me?
Gina: Not to speak of me, who doesn’t get thanked for getting these fucking little shits in line because you, as the man of the house, can't discipline them properly! The least you could fuckin’ do for me is make me a nice fuckin’ breakfast before your existence ruins the rest of my fuckin’ day. I’m fuckin’ wastin’ away over here!
She is more full of shit today than most days. Alright, just block her out.
Joe: I’m sorry, dear.
Gina: You can shove your fuckin’ sorries up your gawd damn fuckin ass! Why don’t you say sorry to your fuckin’ kids for trying to turn them into those little African kids you see starvin’ on TV all the time!
Clifford: Yeah, Joe, say you’re sorry!
Clifford throws a fork at his father. Joe dodges it and tries to hold it together.
Joe: Kids, I’m sorry you’re hungry. Daddy was up late last night trying to wipe off the drawings you made all over the walls.
Gina: Don’t give us no excuses, fuck face! Just get to work makin’ our fuckin’ breakfast!
The kids start pounding on the table chanting “BREAKFAST! BREAKFAST!”
Gina: Hey! Knock that shit off!
The kids comply immediately. Joe grabs his apron off the hook on the wall and puts it on. Richard and Clifford snicker at the site of their father wearing an apron.
Just block it out. Just block it out.
He opens up the pantry and takes out pancake mix.
Gina: What the fuck are you makin’ anyway?
Joe is working feverishly to produce breakfast.
Joe: Um, pancakes, dear.
Gina: Oh, gawd, fuckin’ pancakes again?!
Richard: I hate pancakes!
Joe: Well, that’s all we have.
Gina: Where’s the fuckin’ bacon and eggs?!
Joe: We’ve run out.
Gina: What the fuck?! And you didn’t go out and buy more?
Joe takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, his back to his wife.
Joe: No, dear. Between doing the laundry and cleaning the bathroom and scrubbing the floors and picking up after all of you, I didn’t get around to buying bacon and eggs yesterday.
Gina: Again with the fuckin’ excuses! That’s all I ever hear from you, excuses! Why do I expect you to provide for this family when all you do if fuck up!
Joe puts down his mixing spoon and leans both hands on the counter.
I can’t take this anymore. I’m not a pussy. I’m a man. I’m a real fucking man, and I’ve let this go on for far too long. I’m done. I’m taking my life back. I’m going to be the person I used to be before that fucking cum stain Dan Dexter or Dean Wolf or whatever the fuck he calls himself these days split the back of my head open and emasculated me indefinitely. I’m going to…
Gina: Hey! Who told you to stop mixing?! We gotta eat something, even if it is pancakes again!
Joe slowly turns around and talks low.
Joe: You know, dear, if you wanted to eat bacon and eggs, you could have helped me out and just gotten them yourself.
Gina is stunned, like he just told her that the buffet line at Golden Corral was closed. She responds in a voice just as low as Joe’s.
Gina: What the fuck did you just say to me?
Joe turns and walks towards her. His voice gets louder with every word.
Joe: I said, dear, that if you wanted bacon and eggs, you could have gotten off your fat ass and gotten them yourself.
She gets up now, walking towards him.
Gina: I don’t know you the fuck you think you are, but you better get back over there right fuckin’ now and make me some fuckin’ pancakes before I kick your fuckin a--
He clutches her chubby throat and squeezes as hard as he can before she can get the word out. The kids jump in their seats in fright. Gina looks at Joe in horror while he goes wide eyed and stares at her menacingly, the hand holding her throat shaking as it tries to tighten its grip.
Joe: You ain’t gonna do anything to me, you fat cunt.
She begins to choke. Her cries for mercy are faint.
Gina: Joe, Joe, I can’t…
Joe: Breath? Well, that’s nothing new for you, dear. You take five steps and you need a fucking inhaler. You know who hasn’t been able to breath, Gina? Me, for 15 years. You saw that I was weak and you took advantage of it so that you could have somebody to shit all over because you hated the way you fucking looked. You hated that no man with a shred of self-confidence would ever want to be with you, so you latched onto me and I’ve been your prisoner ever since.
The kids start to tear up.
Stella: Mommy?
Joe: And the biggest regret that I have, Gina, is that I shot my load into your putrid twat on three separate occasions and allowed you to pop out these three spoiled, stupid wastes of skin and bones that I have to call my children.
She starts turning purple.
Clifford: Joe, you’re going to kill Mommy!
Joe shoots a look at Clifford that makes him cower.
Joe: That’s the last fucking time you call me “Joe!” You will show me the respect that I deserve and call me “Dad!” Do you fucking understand? All of you! Do you fucking understand, you retarded pieces of shit?!
They all nod their heads.
Joe: SAY IT!
Kids: YES!
He turns his attention back to Gina.
Joe: And as for you, I’m done being your bitch. I’m done taking orders from you. From now on, you’re going to pull your fucking weight around here, which I know might be hard for you because you have so much to carry, but that’s just too fucking bad. Do you fucking understand me?
She can barely get her answer out above her choking sounds.
Gina: Y-yes!
He throws her back into the wall. She falls on her ass. The kids run to her and put their arms around her, but Joe puts a stop to that.
Joe: You three! Get up the fucking stairs right now and clean your fucking rooms! If I step on one more god damn fucking toy, I’m fucking throwing them all out the god damn window!
They stare up at him with moist eyes.
Joe: NOW!
They instantly run up the stairs and get to work. Meanwhile, Joe looks down on Gina, who is coughing and wheezing.
Joe: I have to step out for a little while. How about you make me fucking breakfast for once and have it ready by the time I get back?
She shivers, her fat reverberating all over her body.
Gina: O-ok, Joe. I’ll h-have it ready when ya get back.
Joe: Good.
He walks away and steps outside through the front door. He breaths in the fresh fall air and looks out at the sky. It’s a clear, beautiful day. For the first time in 20 years, he doesn’t feel any fear. It’s like he had some chronic pain in his body that was suddenly and magically relieved. He smiles at his re-discovered manliness. He takes a piece of folded scrap paper out of his wallet. Then, he takes out his phone and dials the number that’s written on the paper. He holds the phone up to his ear. The person on the other side answers.
Joe: Chris, it’s Joe. You told me to call you when I wanted to get back at Dan Dexter. Well...I’m ready.
