Post by garryrayraynelson on Jun 16, 2022 1:21:36 GMT -5
06/15/2022
Tijuana, Mexico
Dr. Bill’s Beautification Emporium
The slap-fighter from Nelson County, Kentucky sits like a ball of pent up energy. His twenty-two year old body urges him to run out into the streets of Tijuana and engage in debauchery of unimaginable proportions, but instead our six-foot nine colossus of the wrestling industry finds himself waiting. And of course this isn’t your normal Doctor’s office, this is Dr. Bill’s Beautification Emporium. One of the finest backwater establishments in all of Tijuana. Finally the door opens and a short little man shuffles through looking down at a chart.
DrBill: What the hell are you doing here?
GRRN: Sorry Dr. Bill, I guess yer assistant didn’t let ya know I was comin’ in here today. I called and made an appointment and everythin’.
DrBill: She didn’t tell you that I only work on beautiful women who work at strip clubs named after Rabbits in New York? I don’t have time for REGULAR people son, I have my dancing clients to work on.
GRRN: Well I mean, I ain’t here ‘bout gettin’ no work done doc.
DrBill: Then what the hell are you here about?
Garry Ray-Ray Nelson pulls forth a folder that he had haphazardly stashed behind him against the chair. He flops the manilla container down and pulls out two photographs. He lays them both on the desk and looks at Dr. Bill.
GRRN: Do ya know either of these two fellers?
Of course Dr. Bill probably knows the man, hell there’s a highly probable chance he worked on the man recently, however in this line of work discretion is valued as much as quality in craftsmanship. From cartels to movie stars, the man’s ability to keep a secret was astonishingly well appreciated across the industry.
DrBill: Never seen him.
Garry sighs dejectedly. He tosses the manilla folder across the room and begins to crumple up the papers, the Dr’s hand reaches out and is placed carefully on top of Garry’s. The good doctor looks our poor idiot in the eyes and smiles.
DrBill: I’ve never seen him for nothing. But for a price, I may have seen the man.
Ray-Ray slowly lets go of the photograph of the spindly man child with brown hair and frantically tries to straighten it up before starting to reach around in his pockets. Considering the type of clientele the man had, the odds of a man keeping enough money in his pocket were small.
DrBill: Let me look at these photographs for a second.
After assuring himself this wasn’t a cartel reconstructive surgery job, he looked back at our baffling buffoon with enormous hands.
DrBill: Ten thousand.
Garry’s eyes widen to the size of watermelons. He frantically reaches for his cellphone in his pocket, as he removes it he starts to juggle it but the old man is fast as lightning and nabs the cellphone out of the air.
DrBill: If you want to make a call with this, twenty thousand.
GRRN: YER A GOD DAMNED NINJA!
DrBill: In a different life son I was a lot of things, but right here, right now, I’m the only man who can answer your questions about those two men on the table. And at this moment, it’s going to cost ten thousand dollars.
GRRN: Is it negotiable?
DrBill: What do you have in mind?
After a very brief moment of intense pondering, and I do mean intense pondering. Ray-Ray even sat there like that fancy statue that thinks all the time for a moment while smoke came out of his ears. A brilliant epiphany came over our Sultan of Slap.
GRRN: I got a Camaro?
DrBill: I’m not taking an old Camaro from some incredibly tall dumbass for payment.
Ray-Ray scrambles to the window behind Dr. Bill’s desk, the Doctor reaches into his desk drawer frantically trying to grab a pistol while Garry rips at the blinds to the window to pull them open.
GRRN: LOOK AT THAT BEEEEEAUTY!
The Doctor stands up with the pistol in hand with it awkwardly pointed at Garry. Garry looks down at it, and back up at the doctor very confused. Ray-Ray’s eyes had grown to the size of softballs. (If you need more context, think Scooby Doo when he sees a sandwich, dipshit.) The doctor smiles sheepishly, shaking the gun around aimlessly while smiling and tucks it into his long white coat.
DrBill: That is one fine Camaro, son. Comes out in the fall doesn’t it?
GRRN: Yeah I dunno, some guy on the internet bought it for me when I was in New York and got robbed. Crazy day.
DrBill: Alright, well, let's sit down and talk about some business.
Ray-Ray nods and runs around to the other side of the table. Because you need to have something between two people if they are going to talk business. This isn’t a shady back-alley Tijuana plastic surgeons office after all… we have to be civilized.
GRRN: See, this feller right here with the brown hair, lookin’ all skinny like he’s straight out of one a them Abercrombie and Fitch catalogs? Well, somehow, and I ain’t sure how, but that boy done changed his face.
DrBill: I see…
The doctor ponders to himself for a moment, assuming the iconic statuesque pose of pondering so we know. Because we definitely need to know when something like that is happening.
GRRN: See, he and I were set ta have a tussle in a steel cage, and well I need ta be sure I’m slappin’ the right feller. He says his name is Sebastian Stone, but if I had ta reckon a guess he’s really one a them shape-shiftin’ mutants.
DrBill: You sure he didn’t just do some weight training and dye his hair?
GRRN: What kinda steroids is that feller on then? ‘Cause I mean if there is juice like that, I may know a few fellers who might be interested if ya know what I’m sayin’... But really, what kinda witchcraft could make a man go from that to that?
The good doctor and Ray-Ray once again both assume pondering positions over the table for a moment before the doctor finally speaks up and takes a step back away from the desk.
DrBill: Well that’s not a customer of Doctor Bill’s Beautification Emporium, I’m sure of that.
Once again the doctor brandishes the pistol from his lab coat, and points it at our hero’s beautiful face.
DrBill: The keys…
GRRN: WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE KEYS? YOU DIDN’T TELL ME SHIT!
The doctor smiles and keeps the gun leveled between Ray-Ray’s eyes. He’s infuriated, but understands the power of the pistol and pulls the keys to his Camaro out of his American Flag jumper that is clearly too short for our lanky friend. He places them on the table between him and the doctor and nods his head. He turns around, and walks out of the office, down the long hallway and into the back alley. He hears three large locks clink behind him as he stands in an alley in Tijuana.
GRRN: It’s gonna be a long walk home Frank.
CameraMan: What do you mean it’s gonna be a long walk?
GRRN: Lost the car.
This dipshit definitely just got robbed in Tijuana. He pulls his phone from his pocket and frantically begins typing on his favorite app, the Twitter machine. International data charges be damned.
—------------------------------------
Sebastian Stone, ya sound like one a them fellers that run some type of securities companies in them Marvel movies. Ya know, supposed ta be a big bad super villain type, walkin’ ‘round wearin’ a Dr. Doom helmet, cacklin’ ‘bout how yer gonna take over the world and all kinds of other nonsense. But yer EVEN worse. Ya operate on people’s trust, ya pray on their curiosity. Yer a sneaky one Sebastian, a real sneaky one. I got ya all figured out now though boy, I’m onta yer little game.
Ya tricked me real good! Prolly thought it was awfully fuckin’ funny too. Had me down here in Tijuana lookin’ up plastic surgeons, chasin’ ‘em down day ‘n night, just KNOWIN’ I’d find yer lil sleazeball friend here eventually. AND YOU STOLE MY FUCKIN’ CAMARO!
You lowbrow pretend influencer pile of festering cow shit on a hot day in Texas.
You know how much that Camaro means ta me? It’s a symbol Sebastian, a symbol of my friendship with Mr. Duke. We bought that car together, myself, Mr. Page, Mr. Duke, and my mechanic friend we’re all out at the dealership pickin’ out the PERFECT Camaro. Ya know how fuckin’ fast that thing goes? Do ya know what that thing dyno’s at?
NEITHER DO I BUT THE MECHANIC SAID IT WAS REAL FAST.
And that’s all I needed ta know Sebastian, that’s all I needed ta know about my Camaro. ‘Cause I put my FAITH in people. I believe in them ta do the right thing, I believe in people every day. I believed in that doctor man ta be a good man, and do the right thing. I believed he’d tell me all ‘bout yer sorcery, yer mutant evil ways. But instead, that son of a bitch robbed me.
HE ROBBED ME.
AN AMERICAN ICON.
A MAN WEARING AN AMERICAN FLAG JUMPER.
IN MEXICO.
I had ta give him my keys Sebastian, all ‘cause ya couldn’t come out here and tell us all how ya did it. How ya changed the color of yer hair and got some muscley muscles in like seven hours. I had ta figure out which Nazi super soldier program ya came from. I should have known ya were one of their experiments in the first place.
Hidin’ out here in plain sight usin’ S.S. initials thinkin’ yer slick.
Fer that Sebastian, fer embarrassin’ all of America… I can’t forgive you. I can’t forgive a man who took my kindness fer granted, who took my friendship fer granted. I can’t respect a man who calls himself an influencer and has less followers than me on Twitter. I can’t respect a man who locked his account because a cartoon guy kept makin’ fun. And I definitely can’t respect a man who stole my motherfucking Camaro.
So instead Sebastian, I’m gonna beat ya.
I’m gonna beat ya bad.
Real bad.
It’s gonna look like when Dale Earnhardt used ta take Jeff Gordon inta the corner. Given’ him all that bump and grind, I’m gonna bump and grind yer ass inta that cage. Cause just like the enemies of this great country bein’ locked on planet earth with us, yer gonna be locked in that cage with me. And there ain’t no way in hell yer walkin’ out of there.
I’m gonna beat ya with my left hand, then I’m gonna beat ya with my right hand. It’s gonna look like a god damned killing field, I’m gonna use that cage like a fuckin’ cheese grater ta fuck ya up. I’m gonna smash yer skull in with slaps so hard yer shapeshifter grammy is gonna call ta check on ya.
AND I AIN’T STOPPIN WITH GRAMMY SEBASTIAN! That old bitch has gotta pay, she owes fer what ya owe, and I’ll beat ya so bad Grammy has a heart attack. She’ll go up ta heaven, and tell all yer other grammy’s there about it and THEY’LL HAVE HEART ATTACKS! IN HEAVEN!
I ain’t fuckin’ ‘round kid, I hope it’s evident. I’m gonna fuck you up on Massacre like ya just stole my Camaro. ‘Cause ya did. Dickhead.
—-------------------------------------
18 Minutes Later
Ray-Ray frantically types away on his phone keyboard and looks back up at the man behind the camera.
GRRN: FUCKIN’ A BABY! Got me enough for a new Camaro, and got me a ride home! See ya later dickhead!
And that’s the story of how Garry Ray-Ray Nelson left me in Tijuana with nothing but my shoes, a pair of pants, a camera, and my phone. I have no fucking idea what he did with my wallet and my shirt.
GRRN: Oh, and sorry Mr. Intern guy, that’s gonna be a couple years salary yer missin’. Thanks bro, I appreciate the donation ta the cause.
FADE TO BLACK
Tijuana, Mexico
Dr. Bill’s Beautification Emporium
The slap-fighter from Nelson County, Kentucky sits like a ball of pent up energy. His twenty-two year old body urges him to run out into the streets of Tijuana and engage in debauchery of unimaginable proportions, but instead our six-foot nine colossus of the wrestling industry finds himself waiting. And of course this isn’t your normal Doctor’s office, this is Dr. Bill’s Beautification Emporium. One of the finest backwater establishments in all of Tijuana. Finally the door opens and a short little man shuffles through looking down at a chart.
DrBill: What the hell are you doing here?
GRRN: Sorry Dr. Bill, I guess yer assistant didn’t let ya know I was comin’ in here today. I called and made an appointment and everythin’.
DrBill: She didn’t tell you that I only work on beautiful women who work at strip clubs named after Rabbits in New York? I don’t have time for REGULAR people son, I have my dancing clients to work on.
GRRN: Well I mean, I ain’t here ‘bout gettin’ no work done doc.
DrBill: Then what the hell are you here about?
Garry Ray-Ray Nelson pulls forth a folder that he had haphazardly stashed behind him against the chair. He flops the manilla container down and pulls out two photographs. He lays them both on the desk and looks at Dr. Bill.
GRRN: Do ya know either of these two fellers?
Of course Dr. Bill probably knows the man, hell there’s a highly probable chance he worked on the man recently, however in this line of work discretion is valued as much as quality in craftsmanship. From cartels to movie stars, the man’s ability to keep a secret was astonishingly well appreciated across the industry.
DrBill: Never seen him.
Garry sighs dejectedly. He tosses the manilla folder across the room and begins to crumple up the papers, the Dr’s hand reaches out and is placed carefully on top of Garry’s. The good doctor looks our poor idiot in the eyes and smiles.
DrBill: I’ve never seen him for nothing. But for a price, I may have seen the man.
Ray-Ray slowly lets go of the photograph of the spindly man child with brown hair and frantically tries to straighten it up before starting to reach around in his pockets. Considering the type of clientele the man had, the odds of a man keeping enough money in his pocket were small.
DrBill: Let me look at these photographs for a second.
After assuring himself this wasn’t a cartel reconstructive surgery job, he looked back at our baffling buffoon with enormous hands.
DrBill: Ten thousand.
Garry’s eyes widen to the size of watermelons. He frantically reaches for his cellphone in his pocket, as he removes it he starts to juggle it but the old man is fast as lightning and nabs the cellphone out of the air.
DrBill: If you want to make a call with this, twenty thousand.
GRRN: YER A GOD DAMNED NINJA!
DrBill: In a different life son I was a lot of things, but right here, right now, I’m the only man who can answer your questions about those two men on the table. And at this moment, it’s going to cost ten thousand dollars.
GRRN: Is it negotiable?
DrBill: What do you have in mind?
After a very brief moment of intense pondering, and I do mean intense pondering. Ray-Ray even sat there like that fancy statue that thinks all the time for a moment while smoke came out of his ears. A brilliant epiphany came over our Sultan of Slap.
GRRN: I got a Camaro?
DrBill: I’m not taking an old Camaro from some incredibly tall dumbass for payment.
Ray-Ray scrambles to the window behind Dr. Bill’s desk, the Doctor reaches into his desk drawer frantically trying to grab a pistol while Garry rips at the blinds to the window to pull them open.
GRRN: LOOK AT THAT BEEEEEAUTY!
The Doctor stands up with the pistol in hand with it awkwardly pointed at Garry. Garry looks down at it, and back up at the doctor very confused. Ray-Ray’s eyes had grown to the size of softballs. (If you need more context, think Scooby Doo when he sees a sandwich, dipshit.) The doctor smiles sheepishly, shaking the gun around aimlessly while smiling and tucks it into his long white coat.
DrBill: That is one fine Camaro, son. Comes out in the fall doesn’t it?
GRRN: Yeah I dunno, some guy on the internet bought it for me when I was in New York and got robbed. Crazy day.
DrBill: Alright, well, let's sit down and talk about some business.
Ray-Ray nods and runs around to the other side of the table. Because you need to have something between two people if they are going to talk business. This isn’t a shady back-alley Tijuana plastic surgeons office after all… we have to be civilized.
GRRN: See, this feller right here with the brown hair, lookin’ all skinny like he’s straight out of one a them Abercrombie and Fitch catalogs? Well, somehow, and I ain’t sure how, but that boy done changed his face.
DrBill: I see…
The doctor ponders to himself for a moment, assuming the iconic statuesque pose of pondering so we know. Because we definitely need to know when something like that is happening.
GRRN: See, he and I were set ta have a tussle in a steel cage, and well I need ta be sure I’m slappin’ the right feller. He says his name is Sebastian Stone, but if I had ta reckon a guess he’s really one a them shape-shiftin’ mutants.
DrBill: You sure he didn’t just do some weight training and dye his hair?
GRRN: What kinda steroids is that feller on then? ‘Cause I mean if there is juice like that, I may know a few fellers who might be interested if ya know what I’m sayin’... But really, what kinda witchcraft could make a man go from that to that?
The good doctor and Ray-Ray once again both assume pondering positions over the table for a moment before the doctor finally speaks up and takes a step back away from the desk.
DrBill: Well that’s not a customer of Doctor Bill’s Beautification Emporium, I’m sure of that.
Once again the doctor brandishes the pistol from his lab coat, and points it at our hero’s beautiful face.
DrBill: The keys…
GRRN: WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE KEYS? YOU DIDN’T TELL ME SHIT!
The doctor smiles and keeps the gun leveled between Ray-Ray’s eyes. He’s infuriated, but understands the power of the pistol and pulls the keys to his Camaro out of his American Flag jumper that is clearly too short for our lanky friend. He places them on the table between him and the doctor and nods his head. He turns around, and walks out of the office, down the long hallway and into the back alley. He hears three large locks clink behind him as he stands in an alley in Tijuana.
GRRN: It’s gonna be a long walk home Frank.
CameraMan: What do you mean it’s gonna be a long walk?
GRRN: Lost the car.
This dipshit definitely just got robbed in Tijuana. He pulls his phone from his pocket and frantically begins typing on his favorite app, the Twitter machine. International data charges be damned.
—------------------------------------
Sebastian Stone, ya sound like one a them fellers that run some type of securities companies in them Marvel movies. Ya know, supposed ta be a big bad super villain type, walkin’ ‘round wearin’ a Dr. Doom helmet, cacklin’ ‘bout how yer gonna take over the world and all kinds of other nonsense. But yer EVEN worse. Ya operate on people’s trust, ya pray on their curiosity. Yer a sneaky one Sebastian, a real sneaky one. I got ya all figured out now though boy, I’m onta yer little game.
Ya tricked me real good! Prolly thought it was awfully fuckin’ funny too. Had me down here in Tijuana lookin’ up plastic surgeons, chasin’ ‘em down day ‘n night, just KNOWIN’ I’d find yer lil sleazeball friend here eventually. AND YOU STOLE MY FUCKIN’ CAMARO!
You lowbrow pretend influencer pile of festering cow shit on a hot day in Texas.
You know how much that Camaro means ta me? It’s a symbol Sebastian, a symbol of my friendship with Mr. Duke. We bought that car together, myself, Mr. Page, Mr. Duke, and my mechanic friend we’re all out at the dealership pickin’ out the PERFECT Camaro. Ya know how fuckin’ fast that thing goes? Do ya know what that thing dyno’s at?
NEITHER DO I BUT THE MECHANIC SAID IT WAS REAL FAST.
And that’s all I needed ta know Sebastian, that’s all I needed ta know about my Camaro. ‘Cause I put my FAITH in people. I believe in them ta do the right thing, I believe in people every day. I believed in that doctor man ta be a good man, and do the right thing. I believed he’d tell me all ‘bout yer sorcery, yer mutant evil ways. But instead, that son of a bitch robbed me.
HE ROBBED ME.
AN AMERICAN ICON.
A MAN WEARING AN AMERICAN FLAG JUMPER.
IN MEXICO.
I had ta give him my keys Sebastian, all ‘cause ya couldn’t come out here and tell us all how ya did it. How ya changed the color of yer hair and got some muscley muscles in like seven hours. I had ta figure out which Nazi super soldier program ya came from. I should have known ya were one of their experiments in the first place.
Hidin’ out here in plain sight usin’ S.S. initials thinkin’ yer slick.
Fer that Sebastian, fer embarrassin’ all of America… I can’t forgive you. I can’t forgive a man who took my kindness fer granted, who took my friendship fer granted. I can’t respect a man who calls himself an influencer and has less followers than me on Twitter. I can’t respect a man who locked his account because a cartoon guy kept makin’ fun. And I definitely can’t respect a man who stole my motherfucking Camaro.
So instead Sebastian, I’m gonna beat ya.
I’m gonna beat ya bad.
Real bad.
It’s gonna look like when Dale Earnhardt used ta take Jeff Gordon inta the corner. Given’ him all that bump and grind, I’m gonna bump and grind yer ass inta that cage. Cause just like the enemies of this great country bein’ locked on planet earth with us, yer gonna be locked in that cage with me. And there ain’t no way in hell yer walkin’ out of there.
I’m gonna beat ya with my left hand, then I’m gonna beat ya with my right hand. It’s gonna look like a god damned killing field, I’m gonna use that cage like a fuckin’ cheese grater ta fuck ya up. I’m gonna smash yer skull in with slaps so hard yer shapeshifter grammy is gonna call ta check on ya.
AND I AIN’T STOPPIN WITH GRAMMY SEBASTIAN! That old bitch has gotta pay, she owes fer what ya owe, and I’ll beat ya so bad Grammy has a heart attack. She’ll go up ta heaven, and tell all yer other grammy’s there about it and THEY’LL HAVE HEART ATTACKS! IN HEAVEN!
I ain’t fuckin’ ‘round kid, I hope it’s evident. I’m gonna fuck you up on Massacre like ya just stole my Camaro. ‘Cause ya did. Dickhead.
—-------------------------------------
18 Minutes Later
Ray-Ray frantically types away on his phone keyboard and looks back up at the man behind the camera.
GRRN: FUCKIN’ A BABY! Got me enough for a new Camaro, and got me a ride home! See ya later dickhead!
And that’s the story of how Garry Ray-Ray Nelson left me in Tijuana with nothing but my shoes, a pair of pants, a camera, and my phone. I have no fucking idea what he did with my wallet and my shirt.
GRRN: Oh, and sorry Mr. Intern guy, that’s gonna be a couple years salary yer missin’. Thanks bro, I appreciate the donation ta the cause.
FADE TO BLACK