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Rank：Diamond Member
- Score：643
- Posts：643
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From：Canada
- Register：12/07/2008 01:08 AM
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Date Posted：07/24/2016 15:20 PMCopy HTML
The scene opens up to Rorie Steele stepping out of her limo. She has on a black pencil skirt with a white dress shirt tucked in; open enough to show some cleavage. An under-bust corset is wrapped around her ribcage. Her hair is pulled up into a tight bun, and a pair of black thick-rimmed glasses is on her face. She smiles at the camera in front of her and walks towards the building her limo is parked in front of. The camera pans up to show the name of the restaurant.
Golden Corral.
Rorie steps into the main doors and bypasses the entrance waiting line, much to the dismay of the workers. They yell at her to get in line, but she waves her hand, dismissing them.
Rorie Steele: "I've already got a table."
She says simply, still walking into the extremely old style of the restaurant. Rorie looks around at the patrons of the restaurant and makes a disgusted face. Everyone is fucking old. Like... not just 50s or anything... I mean geriatric old. 100 plus. She sighed and walked to the buffet area, checking out the food. She turned back to the camera, addressing the audience.
Rorie Steele: "The Golden fucking Corral. A cesspool of disgusting humans and germs to the brim. Likely the breeding ground for all overweight young children. I'm kind of picturing a giant fat people orgy. And it's vomit-inducing."
Rorie looks as if she's going to be sick. She puts a hand over her waist and the other at her mouth for a moment. She shakes it off and looks back to the camera.
Rorie Steele: "Honestly. Fucking gross. Anyways... I do actually picture this being the favorite feeding hole for some of our most passionate fans. You remember the 'It's real to me, dammit' guy? He probably loves the shit out of this place. Because he's gross. But in other news, I heard this place used to be a favorite for a certain person I'm facing this week. That is until he was blocked from twitter and probably banned from ever stepping foot in his favorite food establishment. It's actually quite impressive that you got banned from the literal worst restaurant of all time. Clearly, they let everyone in here..."
She had made her way to a small family closest to where she had been. The parents were both extremely obese along with one of the two children. The smaller of the kids was rather thin, not yet old enough to really force that much food into her body. But she'd learn. Oh yes she would learn. Rorie held her hand out towards the family, still addressing the camera. They stopped eating, looking up at the camera. They all put their food down; wiping their chubby faces on their sleeves and smiling at the camera, thinking it was their TV debut.
Rorie Steele: "Here we have a family of pigs, grazing in their pen. Like normal pigs, they are quite messy. Take this large one for instance. Wait... they're all large. My apologies. Take this largest one for instance. His face is smeared with his meal. And he smells as if he took a bath in his own shit. This is the common attendee of Golden Corral. And now look to his mate. She is almost as disgusting. But for other reasons. Look at the hair. The hair! It reminds me... of... someone..."
Rorie stares at the woman's hair, trying to figure it out. All the while, the family was protesting at her words, angry about everything she said. But nobody did anything about it. As if they were stuck in their seats. As if they couldn't get up. As Rorie stared at the woman's hair, it began to click. The curls. The blonde and black random spots. The awkward mullety cut. Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Rorie Steele: "Jesus Christ. You're Bronx's missing twin sister!"
Rorie's eyes widened at the sight. The woman had the hair... but she was at least three times his size. Like she had eaten two Bronxs' and added them to her already Bronxy sized body. Rorie went over to the woman and absently put her hands on the woman's head. She messed with her hair, trying to run her fingers through. They didn't go.
Rorie Steele: "This hair. This magical fucking hair that you both share. So majestic. So natural. You look... You look..."
Her words trailed off. Her face quickly turned into disgust as she pulled her hands away from the woman's head, realizing what she was doing. She started shaking her hands, trying to get the oily feeling off of her hands.
Rorie Steele: "Your hair looks like a fucking giraffe and a cheetah had sex and the demon spawn baby grew onto your fucking head. One half on your head, the other on Bronx's. You fucking disgusting creature. And the fucking oil! Why is your hair so oily!? Do you not fucking shower? Is Bronx's like this? I'm calling a match stipulation! Bronx needs to wear a fucking shower cap during the match! A fucking shower cap! I need hand sanitizer! HAND SANITIZER! JESUS CHRIST!"
Rorie left the large family in search of hand sanitizer. She found one close to the food, hitting the pump to get out as much as she could, rubbing it all over her hands and arms. She shuddered, feeling gross now. She walked to the food again, looking through some that was closest to her. It was all generic buffet style foods. She shook her head, looking to the camera. She adjusted her glasses and started to speak.
Rorie Steele: "Okay... let's get real, now. You see... I've got Bronx as my next opponent for this tournament. Yet another one of Perry's bastard children. It's as if I'm fated to meet every single one of his ugly, illegitimate children in the ring. I've already beaten one...so why not another? Now let's think here... Bronx threw out a crap promo days ago. Quick to jump into it, huh, sugar? I will say this... You think that your bringing up everything someone could possibly say about you will deter me from coming at you with something worse? Please. You suck. I know it. You know it. The end. That's why this will be an open and close match. Open to me, obviously. Close with me winning. It will be… all about me. Bronx is just... another patchy dyed weirdo that I have to put up with. That’s all.”
Throughout the entire speech, she was slowly moving spoons around in the buffet food. Moving the spoon for mashed potatoes into the chicken pan. The chicken spoon into the lasagna. Whatever combinations she felt worked least. She continued along the line of food, doing the same thing without anyone noticing yet.
Rorie Steele: “I mean… I see this match as more of a charity case. My arrogance towards the match is perfectly justified, really. Look at your track record. You can’t even beat Jason Cashe! And he’s fucking terrible! The toothless fucking wonder over there. He’s disfigured and half retarded and you still can’t fucking beat him! That’s sad. But this isn’t about that inbred prick. This is about you. The son that Perry likes right now only because the other ones hate him. You’re his favorite by default. And even then, you’re not really liked that much. You hit the nail on the head constantly in everything you said. You brought up all the things I would have said about you. That’s partially smart and partially you pulling shit out of your ass to make yourself look bad so that you could pretend to not be hurt by anything else I’d have to say. You know you’re pathetic. That’s fucking great. Congratu-fucking-lations. What you don’t know is that you have this false idea that you’re going to win this match. Sugar… I’m here to tell you that you won’t. Bring up all the shit you want about me bring a whore. Do as everyone else does. Say you won’t in the first place. Which, in a sense, acknowledges that I am, which is bringing it up. Then, later on in the same rant, bring up the fact that I am, in fact, a fucking whore, and pretend like you never said you wouldn’t mention it. Because at the end of the day, it’s planted into your mind and you will say it. That’s what I’ve done. The insult is so easy because I forced it into your mind. And you all look stupid every time you bring it up.”
She smiles sweetly at the camera. She moves past a person at the buffet grabbing food. They look at the spoon for the beans, confused. It looks as if there are old pieces of peas and carrots crusted onto it. Rorie leans back against the counter, looking over at the man. The one decent looking guy in this whole establishment. She puts her hand over his, pushing it down to put the spoon back.
Rorie Steele: “Ignore it, sugar. You probably shouldn’t be eating those anyways, hm?”
The man turns to look at Rorie, eyebrow raised. His face then curls into a smile, taking her in. He looks her over, liking the view. Rorie licks her lips slowly. But the guy’s eyes quickly turn to something else, looking past Rorie. She tilts her head to the side, looking where he was. A woman was storming over to them, seeming to be pissed off. Rorie stands up straight, turning towards her. The woman gets in Rorie’s face, cussing at her for flirting with her boyfriend. Rorie stays quiet for a bit, taking the lashing from the girl.
She starts to get bored of the woman’s voice and quickly grabs her by the back of the neck, slamming her face down on the metal counter of the buffet. The woman crumples to the floor, holding her nose, which has started to bleed. She’s shrieking at Rorie, who ignores it. People come to her aid as Rorie moves further down the buffet towards the dessert. She quickly turns to look at the mess, the boyfriend still looking at Rorie, clearly stunned. Rorie puts her hand up to her ear with her thumb and pinky out. She mouths ‘call me’ to him. She continues making her way to the dessert bar. She turns her face back to the camera, smiling.
Rorie Steele: “That was eventful, huh? But look, Bronxy. It’s something for you to look forward to. Like jealousy ‘gee eff’ over there, you see me as a non-threat at the start. Like I won’t do a thing to you. And then… when you least expect it, I snap. I break your fucking nose and leave you bleeding on the floor. That’s the thing you don’t get about me, Bronx. I have a temper, yes. I throw fits sometimes, yes. But there are also times where I can calculate the perfect time to strike. And those times? Those times are the best. Those are the times when I get my best work done. Those are the times I look forward to most. I always have plans set in motion. You may not think so, considering my current… situation with Riddle. But don’t for one second think I don’t have ideas running through my pretty little head. But you? I don’t think you’re even capable of thinking of things like that. Can you even tie a pair of shoes? Doubtful. You probably get daddy to do it for you. Or use Velcro. Either way, you probably like wearing those generic Velcro shoes that the special people wear. Because you’re special too, Bronx. A special little nugget.”
She smiled as she got to her destination. The chocolate fountain. She sighed, enjoying the look of the flowing chocolate. It was sitting on its own little table, trying to have it look fancy. She picked up a strawberry, dipping it into the chocolate. She turned back to the camera, holding it up beside her.
Rorie Steele: “See this strawberry, Bronx? It’s coated in chocolaty goodness. Hiding the fact that it might be completely fucking dead and old underneath it. But with a chocolate covering, you couldn’t tell, right? You’re like a chocolate covered strawberry. You have this… actually your outside isn’t good at all. But you have a coating on the outside. The troll. The funny guy, but harsh in the ring. All fun and games for Bronx. All on the outside. Everything thinks you’re just the bees knees. But inside… under the chocolate… you are fucking rotten. You’re broken and damaged. You shouldn’t be consumed in any way. You’ll make someone sick. Probably why you don’t have a real girlfriend. You’re the strawberry that was growing mold on it, but nobody noticed. Though… your hair kind of tells another story there. But then there are the good strawberries. The fucking beautiful, plump, juicy strawberries covered in Swiss chocolate. That fucking expensive shit. I’m that kind of strawberry. The kind that leaves you craving for more. That costs top dollar. It’s just a strawberry… but it’s a fucking wicked strawberry. I’m that kind. You don’t even really need the chocolate for strawberries like me. But you have it anyways because it’s fucking chocolate and why not. So let’s have a bite, then.”
She bites into the strawberry. She had, thankfully, taken a nice plump strawberry. The good kind. She smiled, putting it into her mouth, slowly taking a bite. She smiled from the juiciness of it. But her face soon turned sour. She turned her head, spitting the contents of her mouth directly into the chocolate fountain.
Rorie Steele: “What the fuck!”
She throws the rest of the strawberry into the fountain, not caring about the bit of mess she was making.
Rorie Steele: “That’s the worst chocolate I’ve ever tasted. What the fuck.”
She shook her body, feeling gross about what she had eaten. Suddenly, an old man came over, his wife in tow. He stopped beside Rorie, looking at the chocolate fountain. He kept pushing her out of the way, trying to move around to get to more food. She glared at the man.
Rorie Steele: “Excuse me! I’m standing right here!”
Old Man: “Sorry miss. I’m just trying to get to the Jell-O.”
Rorie clenched her teeth.
Rorie Steele: “Go the fuck around. I’m shooting a promo!”
The old man turned to look at the camera. He shrugged.
Old Man: “And I want Jell-O. So move your pretty behind and stop cussing before I knock you down.”
Rorie Steele: “Knock me down? Are you kidding me, old man? You couldn’t knock over a piece of paper.”
The old man put his plate down and pushed Rorie. She stumbled back, a bit stunned. She looked from the camera and back to the old man. He came back towards her, pushing her again. It looked like he was trying to do a lot of damage. But Rorie wasn’t moving too far. And then he hit her. He punched her right in the fucking hip. The hip! Who punches people in the hip!
Old Woman: “Gerald!”
Rorie instinctively pulled back and then her hands shot forward. She pushed the old man hard. He stumbled back, right into the chocolate fountain. He crashed to the ground, chocolate spraying everywhere. The old man groaned in pain, now covered in nasty chocolate. Rorie shrugged her shoulders. She turned away from the chocolate carnage, heading for the door.
Rorie Steele: “I guess that’s our cue to go… I may or may not have broken his hip.”
Rorie shrugged again.
Rorie Steele: “Move your ass, Jackson. We have shit to do. And I’d rather not be here when the blame magically comes to me. I was provoked. Multiple times. Fucking Golden Corral. This place is a fucking disease. We’re never coming here again.”
The camera follows Rorie to the limo. Before getting in, she turns to look at the camera again.
Rorie Steele: “Oh… and Bronx? Don’t get your heart set on winning. You may have gotten lucky in the last match… but luck isn’t on your side anymore. I’m here to take it away from you. Also… I don’t blame you for getting banned from here. It fucking blows ass. Unless you liked it. Then… you know… you blow ass by default along with it. Which you do anyways. So... you’re meant for each other. You should make amends.”
She pauses.
Rorie Steele: “Also you’re dumb. Bye.”
She gets into the limo just as the scene fades to black. |
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