Post by Influence 2: Electric Boogaloo on Mar 20, 2023 12:17:59 GMT -5
BROUGHT TO YOU BY TACO BELL, ‘Liv Mas.’
Gimmick Infringement 101
Delia’s Journal: Entry 1.
I’ve never done something like this before, but the doctor said it might help more to write down my feelings instead of trying to ignore them completely or tying myself to a chair and forcing myself to watch Black Adam again. I’m a little out of my comfort zone with this, but I’m going to give it a shot and just write down whatever comes to my brain…
It’s been three days since we loaded up the RV for the road trip to West Virginia and even though Wrigley has been mad about it the entire time, he won’t let me or Claudia drive one bit. He claims the two of us would run us off a cliff because we’d be too busy singing along to 80s music and that he’s not going out like that. 80s music!? Come on, that’s old people's music. Also, he’s forcing us to do push-ups and crunches in the RV! The only time he’s stopped the thing is to get Taco Bell, poop or to take a nap. Did I really just write the word poop? That’s funny. Time to get serious and prove to Wrigley that I am actually literate.
The reason why I’m writing this is because I have been having these strange dreams night after night for the past few weeks and I don’t want to have to explain them to other people. Here it goes, the dream starts off with me in Wrigley’s break room and looking for cake in the fridge or something I don’t know, then I’m knocked down to the ground by something. From that point on I’m running around in a weird red robe in some twisted looking city, but it seems so familiar. It’s hard to explain, but if you’ve ever seen that really old movie Aliens it’s like a part where they’re looking for the survivors and the walls move. Then I end up running from something, something that I can’t see but feel and just before it grabs me I wake up. Everything is just so real. It’s strange. What even happened to me all those months ago? The doctors I’ve seen don’t seem to have any answers other than the suggestion of a stress triggered break, but I don’t feel crazy.
Yet.
What if that thing catches me in my dreams?
Maybe I’m going crazy. Maybe this is some residual damage from messing with that book, maybe Wrigley was right that we shouldn’t be messing with powers that the two of us don’t understand.
You know what, I’m starting to like this writing thing.
Oh God, am I turning into Harmon Egan!?
Delia drops the pencil to the table inside of the RV as she looks up out of a trance. The door to the back bedroom is closed which means that Claudia is getting some sleep, and up front Wrigley is nowhere to be seen as the RV is parked somewhere late at night. Delia closes the notebook and looks at the cover where she has sketched a picture of herself wearing the Craze Championship belt around her waist. Who would have thought? She’s a pretty good artist.
She gives it a smile, she speaks softly so as not to wake Claudia from the back.
BLACK: You know, if I had my choice between you and the tag title belts? I’d pick you, but don’t tell anyone that. Sure, me and Claudia have been ride or die since the beginning of our lives… we were born on the same day, in fact. But, we’ve done everything together ever since and winning a singles title on my own? Well, that’d be something that I’ve never done before. It might be something that I never get a chance to do again in my life.
Don’t get me wrong, I want those tag team titles too. But if we’re picking one thing, it’s that. Claudia would understand, she’s been there for everything. Heck, we used to get made fun of by the rich little girls in the fifth grade about it. They’d say something to me about being alone for once because I was a little one they thought would be an easy target, and bam! Without a moment’s notice there was Claudia right by my side ready to rumble. It’s good to have that. But, this would be something on my own.
Can you imagine it? Delia Black, that scrappy little girl holding one of the biggest championships in the entire world.
And she did it all by herself.
Delia stands up now that the RV is no longer in motion and stretches her arms above her head as she moves over to the little kitchen and the mirror. Taking a long look at the reflection she gives a nodding approval to it.
BLACK: And all that is standing between me and the raising of this arm as the brand new OCW Craze champion? Is a guy named TBA. Or a girl. I don’t know, honestly. TBA could stand for anything… Tina, Trish, Taylor Bella Anderson. Todd, Tony, Tom Brady Andrews. What if TBA is a nickname? Oh man, so many possibilities. You know, now that I like writing, maybe I should make some lists about those.
Cordelia. Easter. Black. Take a breath. You’re getting worked up over nothing.
All I know is that when TBA stands across the ring from me, regardless of their pronouns they are getting kicked thousands of times. For every single wanna-be bully that thought I was meek or small, I’m going to unload with these knees until TBA’s face is covered in lumps.
Yeah, I’m going to kick some serious as--
Just then the door to the RV opens up and in walks Wrigley who has himself some Taco Bell offerings. He looks a little strange at Delia as he places the bags down onto the table where Delia’s diary is sitting, using his powers of observation at the cover art he gives a smirk.
WRIGLEY: You know, you’re allowed to have it all.
Delia looks a little confused at his statement. She does that thing with her head that dogs do when they’re confused.
WRIGLEY: You’re allowed to have both the Craze and Tag Team titles, there are no rules preventing you from accomplishing all of your dreams in a single night. All you have to do is trust me, trust Claudia and most importantly trust yourself.
Delia is a little taken back, because normally Wrigley just yells at her or is swearing about something randomly -- like being stuck in an RV. Wrigley takes a long drink from his large soda pumping even more caffeine into his body.
BLACK: Thanks. You know, I have never been this nervous about a night like this in my entire life. Tag team title match against two Hall of Famers, and this Craze title shot against TBA.
WRIGLEY: Who?
BLACK: TBA. Tristan something-something?
Wrigley chokes on his drink and coughs a couple of times.
WRIGLEY: Wait, who do you think you’re facing in the Craze title match?
BLACK: Tilly… Tessa… Topanga.
Delia trails off there, and it’s probably for the best.
WRIGLEY: Topanga? You honestly think that you’re facing the girl from Boy Meets World at the pay-per-view? Does that mean I get to take care of Ben Savage at ringside? I hope so, he was always so annoying compared to his brother Fred. Fred was the man, fuck Ben and his shitty hair.
But back to you.
You’re not facing a person TBA. They just put that there in order to say that the person you were facing as of this past Massacre was to be announced.
BLACK: What?
WRIGLEY: TBA stands for to be announced. You’re facing that blonde chick who posts thot pics on Twitter that I may or may not stalk, Brooke Blakely. You might want to start figuring out more on her and stop making up names for TBA or you’re in some serious trouble. Don’t you have some sort of thing against blonde chicks?
Delia stands there and just steams. Almost to the point where you can see her face turn flush red and boil.
WRIGLEY: No, you hated people who were taller than six feet. Claudia hates blondes.
BLACK: No, I hate blondes too.
WRIGLEY: You hate a lot of people. Thankfully, I’m short and black. But either way, why don’t you have a crunchy beef taco and sort through all of that. I figure we could be in West Virginia in the next two days if I just push us through these nights. We’re close to Chicago now and I think I can sense at least two of my ex-wives within a hundred miles. If I can sense them, they can sense me.
Product placement aside, Wrigley pats Delia on the top of the head as he heads to the front of the RV. Delia flops down into the chair again and flips open her diary as she picks up her pen with clenched teeth.
Delia’s Journal: Entry 2.
F. U. C. K. Now I’m in deep poop. Now I…
Hai ah yar. Goka yogor ymg' orr'e, Delia.
See you in your dreams.
Delia drops the pen again and stares blankly out of the RV window as it chugs along the highway. Wrigley is too busy talking to himself while listening to the R&B channel to notice what is going on in the back. We fade out.
Grainy camera footage is being shown.
Black candles.
A wooden table with a pentagram etched in white across the top.
There it is laying wide open, that book.
That damn book that keeps on popping up.
However, it is neither Delia Black or Claudia Frost who is sitting in front of the book carelessly reading from its pages. Rather, this time it is Christopher Wrigley who is the one sitting down with a meticulous eye on the written pages. Time passes, the fast forwarding of the video also helps this happen. Wrigley, the lawyer with an eye for details from his years dealing with contract law, flips the pages through the passing of this time.
Finally the fast forwarding stops and Wrigley looks ready to do something. He places a wooden bowl on the table in front of him, followed by other various “ingredients” we’ll call them. Wrigley begins to say strange words. But if you use a R’lyehian translator these words and Delia’s written words make sense, shhhh. After Wrigley finishes speaking he waits for something to happen…
…when nothing happens, he takes it upon himself.
WRIGLEY: Alright, look. Whatever dark entity this is I just wanted to get into contact with you about my girls, Delia and Claudia. Now, they might not be the smartest duo in the world messing around with this sort of stuff willy-nilly, but that doesn’t mean their hearts are in the wrong place.
And it gives you no right to keep on trying to get them to keep on screwing around with this book. I’m no man of God, far from it, but those are my girls and I’ll get Samuel L. Jackson levels of holiness on your ass if you keep poking around in their lives.
I have the book, and I will keep the book in my possession from this point forward. So, here’s the deal… if I find out that you’re lurking around the corner waiting to snatch either one of their souls or whatever I am going to set fire to this damn book severing your connection with Earth forever. If you stay away and let the two of them live their lives? The book might just find its way into some public library to be found by someone else. Who knows, maybe you’ll be found someone with more connections and has never heard of the movie Black Adam or wears cheap make-up. Hell, if you want I’ll hand deliver you to all of my ex-wives if I didn’t think you already had possession of their souls. Either way, just leave them alone… they’re good girls and don’t deserve eternal damnation for being idiots.
Do we have a deal?
There is no response as Wrigley sits there concentrating for a bit. The recorded footage begins to blur and get even weirder until it completely cuts out.
Delia’s Journal: Entry 1.
I’ve never done something like this before, but the doctor said it might help more to write down my feelings instead of trying to ignore them completely or tying myself to a chair and forcing myself to watch Black Adam again. I’m a little out of my comfort zone with this, but I’m going to give it a shot and just write down whatever comes to my brain…
It’s been three days since we loaded up the RV for the road trip to West Virginia and even though Wrigley has been mad about it the entire time, he won’t let me or Claudia drive one bit. He claims the two of us would run us off a cliff because we’d be too busy singing along to 80s music and that he’s not going out like that. 80s music!? Come on, that’s old people's music. Also, he’s forcing us to do push-ups and crunches in the RV! The only time he’s stopped the thing is to get Taco Bell, poop or to take a nap. Did I really just write the word poop? That’s funny. Time to get serious and prove to Wrigley that I am actually literate.
The reason why I’m writing this is because I have been having these strange dreams night after night for the past few weeks and I don’t want to have to explain them to other people. Here it goes, the dream starts off with me in Wrigley’s break room and looking for cake in the fridge or something I don’t know, then I’m knocked down to the ground by something. From that point on I’m running around in a weird red robe in some twisted looking city, but it seems so familiar. It’s hard to explain, but if you’ve ever seen that really old movie Aliens it’s like a part where they’re looking for the survivors and the walls move. Then I end up running from something, something that I can’t see but feel and just before it grabs me I wake up. Everything is just so real. It’s strange. What even happened to me all those months ago? The doctors I’ve seen don’t seem to have any answers other than the suggestion of a stress triggered break, but I don’t feel crazy.
Yet.
What if that thing catches me in my dreams?
Maybe I’m going crazy. Maybe this is some residual damage from messing with that book, maybe Wrigley was right that we shouldn’t be messing with powers that the two of us don’t understand.
You know what, I’m starting to like this writing thing.
Oh God, am I turning into Harmon Egan!?
Delia drops the pencil to the table inside of the RV as she looks up out of a trance. The door to the back bedroom is closed which means that Claudia is getting some sleep, and up front Wrigley is nowhere to be seen as the RV is parked somewhere late at night. Delia closes the notebook and looks at the cover where she has sketched a picture of herself wearing the Craze Championship belt around her waist. Who would have thought? She’s a pretty good artist.
She gives it a smile, she speaks softly so as not to wake Claudia from the back.
BLACK: You know, if I had my choice between you and the tag title belts? I’d pick you, but don’t tell anyone that. Sure, me and Claudia have been ride or die since the beginning of our lives… we were born on the same day, in fact. But, we’ve done everything together ever since and winning a singles title on my own? Well, that’d be something that I’ve never done before. It might be something that I never get a chance to do again in my life.
Don’t get me wrong, I want those tag team titles too. But if we’re picking one thing, it’s that. Claudia would understand, she’s been there for everything. Heck, we used to get made fun of by the rich little girls in the fifth grade about it. They’d say something to me about being alone for once because I was a little one they thought would be an easy target, and bam! Without a moment’s notice there was Claudia right by my side ready to rumble. It’s good to have that. But, this would be something on my own.
Can you imagine it? Delia Black, that scrappy little girl holding one of the biggest championships in the entire world.
And she did it all by herself.
Delia stands up now that the RV is no longer in motion and stretches her arms above her head as she moves over to the little kitchen and the mirror. Taking a long look at the reflection she gives a nodding approval to it.
BLACK: And all that is standing between me and the raising of this arm as the brand new OCW Craze champion? Is a guy named TBA. Or a girl. I don’t know, honestly. TBA could stand for anything… Tina, Trish, Taylor Bella Anderson. Todd, Tony, Tom Brady Andrews. What if TBA is a nickname? Oh man, so many possibilities. You know, now that I like writing, maybe I should make some lists about those.
Cordelia. Easter. Black. Take a breath. You’re getting worked up over nothing.
All I know is that when TBA stands across the ring from me, regardless of their pronouns they are getting kicked thousands of times. For every single wanna-be bully that thought I was meek or small, I’m going to unload with these knees until TBA’s face is covered in lumps.
Yeah, I’m going to kick some serious as--
Just then the door to the RV opens up and in walks Wrigley who has himself some Taco Bell offerings. He looks a little strange at Delia as he places the bags down onto the table where Delia’s diary is sitting, using his powers of observation at the cover art he gives a smirk.
WRIGLEY: You know, you’re allowed to have it all.
Delia looks a little confused at his statement. She does that thing with her head that dogs do when they’re confused.
WRIGLEY: You’re allowed to have both the Craze and Tag Team titles, there are no rules preventing you from accomplishing all of your dreams in a single night. All you have to do is trust me, trust Claudia and most importantly trust yourself.
Delia is a little taken back, because normally Wrigley just yells at her or is swearing about something randomly -- like being stuck in an RV. Wrigley takes a long drink from his large soda pumping even more caffeine into his body.
BLACK: Thanks. You know, I have never been this nervous about a night like this in my entire life. Tag team title match against two Hall of Famers, and this Craze title shot against TBA.
WRIGLEY: Who?
BLACK: TBA. Tristan something-something?
Wrigley chokes on his drink and coughs a couple of times.
WRIGLEY: Wait, who do you think you’re facing in the Craze title match?
BLACK: Tilly… Tessa… Topanga.
Delia trails off there, and it’s probably for the best.
WRIGLEY: Topanga? You honestly think that you’re facing the girl from Boy Meets World at the pay-per-view? Does that mean I get to take care of Ben Savage at ringside? I hope so, he was always so annoying compared to his brother Fred. Fred was the man, fuck Ben and his shitty hair.
But back to you.
You’re not facing a person TBA. They just put that there in order to say that the person you were facing as of this past Massacre was to be announced.
BLACK: What?
WRIGLEY: TBA stands for to be announced. You’re facing that blonde chick who posts thot pics on Twitter that I may or may not stalk, Brooke Blakely. You might want to start figuring out more on her and stop making up names for TBA or you’re in some serious trouble. Don’t you have some sort of thing against blonde chicks?
Delia stands there and just steams. Almost to the point where you can see her face turn flush red and boil.
WRIGLEY: No, you hated people who were taller than six feet. Claudia hates blondes.
BLACK: No, I hate blondes too.
WRIGLEY: You hate a lot of people. Thankfully, I’m short and black. But either way, why don’t you have a crunchy beef taco and sort through all of that. I figure we could be in West Virginia in the next two days if I just push us through these nights. We’re close to Chicago now and I think I can sense at least two of my ex-wives within a hundred miles. If I can sense them, they can sense me.
Product placement aside, Wrigley pats Delia on the top of the head as he heads to the front of the RV. Delia flops down into the chair again and flips open her diary as she picks up her pen with clenched teeth.
Delia’s Journal: Entry 2.
F. U. C. K. Now I’m in deep poop. Now I…
Hai ah yar. Goka yogor ymg' orr'e, Delia.
See you in your dreams.
Delia drops the pen again and stares blankly out of the RV window as it chugs along the highway. Wrigley is too busy talking to himself while listening to the R&B channel to notice what is going on in the back. We fade out.
FOUR DAYS AGO?
Grainy camera footage is being shown.
Black candles.
A wooden table with a pentagram etched in white across the top.
There it is laying wide open, that book.
That damn book that keeps on popping up.
However, it is neither Delia Black or Claudia Frost who is sitting in front of the book carelessly reading from its pages. Rather, this time it is Christopher Wrigley who is the one sitting down with a meticulous eye on the written pages. Time passes, the fast forwarding of the video also helps this happen. Wrigley, the lawyer with an eye for details from his years dealing with contract law, flips the pages through the passing of this time.
Finally the fast forwarding stops and Wrigley looks ready to do something. He places a wooden bowl on the table in front of him, followed by other various “ingredients” we’ll call them. Wrigley begins to say strange words. But if you use a R’lyehian translator these words and Delia’s written words make sense, shhhh. After Wrigley finishes speaking he waits for something to happen…
…when nothing happens, he takes it upon himself.
WRIGLEY: Alright, look. Whatever dark entity this is I just wanted to get into contact with you about my girls, Delia and Claudia. Now, they might not be the smartest duo in the world messing around with this sort of stuff willy-nilly, but that doesn’t mean their hearts are in the wrong place.
And it gives you no right to keep on trying to get them to keep on screwing around with this book. I’m no man of God, far from it, but those are my girls and I’ll get Samuel L. Jackson levels of holiness on your ass if you keep poking around in their lives.
I have the book, and I will keep the book in my possession from this point forward. So, here’s the deal… if I find out that you’re lurking around the corner waiting to snatch either one of their souls or whatever I am going to set fire to this damn book severing your connection with Earth forever. If you stay away and let the two of them live their lives? The book might just find its way into some public library to be found by someone else. Who knows, maybe you’ll be found someone with more connections and has never heard of the movie Black Adam or wears cheap make-up. Hell, if you want I’ll hand deliver you to all of my ex-wives if I didn’t think you already had possession of their souls. Either way, just leave them alone… they’re good girls and don’t deserve eternal damnation for being idiots.
Do we have a deal?
There is no response as Wrigley sits there concentrating for a bit. The recorded footage begins to blur and get even weirder until it completely cuts out.