hD: AUCTION WINNER ANNOUNCEMENT

[Patty O'Green 0]

piKA pika!

 

An image of Terry Taylor standing on the entrance stage appears on the screen. The arena is dimly lit, and a spotlight directs all attention towards the often abused announcer. Looking quite daper in a pinstriped suit, he resides in a state of the art interview area. The staging is adorned with oversized cardboard pictures of the OAOAST logo, Ebay's logo, The Tibetan Freedom Organization logo, and two portraits of Alix Spezia and Krista Isadora Duncan. Standing beside him is a Tibetan monk, outfitted in the traditional yellow and purple robe. He seems painfully oblivious to the glamorized proceedings layed out in front of him.

TERRY TAYLOR
Terry Taylor here live on OAOAST television, joined by a very special guest, Seongjeong Dobeop, head patriarch of the Yenisha monastery in Tibet! 

Taylor lovingly squeezes his arm around the monk's shoulder. The unwanted show of affection is met by the monk sticking his finger down his throat and pretending to vomit.

TAYLOR
Ladies and gentlemen, it is that...

“Hey, moron!” a middle aged woman with a lazy eye screams “Keep it down, your father and I are trying to fuck over here!” she orders, causing the monk to giggle in deliciously naughty fashion.

TAYLOR
(cont)
Sorry, mom. Fans, it is that...

“Go back to Atlanta and kill yourself, pussy!” yells a fan in a Fall Out Boy t-shirt.

TAYLOR
People, it's time...

“No seriously, go back to Atlanta and hang yourself you piece of shit! You suck!” Hollers the fan, leading the monk to put a finger gun to Terry Taylor's head, much to the delight of the audience who chant “kill the rooster!”

TAYLOR(weeping on the inside)
Ladies and gentlemen after three weeks of waiting and anticipation, it is now time to for myself and Seongjeong Dobeop to reveal to the world the name of the lucky winner, the luckiest person on earth, dare I say, of the OAOAST's much publicized, much discussed charity Ebay auction. Not only will this person have the satisfaction of knowing they've done their part to free Tibet, but they will also be given the opportunity of their lifetime, a chance to spend a day with world tag team champions, Hollywood “it” Girls, and socially conscious young ladies, Chicks Over Dicks! So it is without further adieu that I bring to you the name of the big spender who has made a great contribution to his life and to the Tibetan Freedom Organization. The envelope please!

A stage hand scurries to Taylor's location and shoves an envelope into his hand. He eagerly tears through the white paper, anxiously wishing to see the name of the lucky victor.

TAYLOR
Fans, the winner at a very cool twenty six thousand dollars, Terry....wait a second that's not how you spell my last name! Oh no....I lost? I lost! I mortgaged my house and sold my sick mother into the Taiwanese slave trade for nothing! Son of a bitch! And how am I supposed to get my son's kidney back off the black market before his mother finds out it's missing? Jesus tap dancing Christ! Fine then, let's find out the name of ol Richie Rich, Donald Trump, who thinks he can use his big pocket book to get one up on The Rooster. The winner of the OAOAST's and  Tibetan Freedom Organization's charity Ebay auction is.........(pause for dramatic effect)....what the hell? The winner is...that's funny...the winner is Marcellus Wallace, and Vincent Santana? Hey, we've got two guys on the OAOAST roster with those exact same names! Strange.

Terry Taylor=not so smart.

The metallic opening of [url="http://sharebee.com/cb8f226a"][i]Cross That Line[/i][/url] by Rick Ross fills the arena with an urban scented dread. As the audience sizzles with flaming hatred, the formerly bright lights delve into a troubling blue hue.

[i]Convict....Convict....Convict[/i]
[i]Up front
Yeah....
[color="#FF0000"][size="6"][b]Convict Music[/b][/size][/color][/i]

While the haunting piano melody heightens the tension in the venue, scenes of The South Central Militia's special brand of havoc blaze across the Angletron, showing the alarmed fans what type of savage aggression the men who are soon to arrive are capable of.

[I]Oooooh ooooh oooooh
If you ever cross that line 
I guarantee ya there'll be nothin' to save ya (save ya, save ya)
I got a whole bunch of gorillas ready to pull the trigga 
And we all for that paper (paper)
Comin' from a life of crime 
Tryna be on my best behavior 
You see my rep's gettin' bigger but still that same nigga bustin' shots at them haters (them haters, them haters)
But only if you cross that line[/i]

The colossal bass of Rick Ross' street anthem booms through the venue, signaling the arrival of the auction's winners', Vincent Santana and Marcellus Wallace. The pair step on stage, greeted by Terry Taylor's jaw hitting the floor, and the crowd emitting a round of heated boos. Vincent, topless and looking like he just crawled out of a trailer park sewer in baggy sweat pants, and leopard print cowboy hat, saunters over to Terry Taylor's location Marcellus, in camouflage pants, white fur coat, and numerous platinum chains follows behind him, while flashing gang signs into the camera.

SEONGJEONG DOBEOP THE TIBETAN MONK
Ya'll niggas?!

The two men nod, beaming with loathsome pride.

TAYLOR
What in Neptune's trousers is going on? You're the honest to god winners? Let me see if I can scrape my jaw up off the floor long enough to um...get to the bottom of all this. I'm confused, the audience is confused, and I'm sure the people who put this auction together are confused. I never figured you for the altruistic, giving of yourselves type, but here you are donating twenty six thousand dollars in a charity auction. That's truly amazing. 

Again the two nod with pride, and dap(shake hands) in celebration of their unorthodox victory. Even the monk gets a dap, a fist pound, and a manly hug from the brutish criminals.

TAYLOR
And that leads to my first question, where in god's name did you get twenty six thousand dollars? You're always complaining that you're poor and stuck in the hood, but you're bid was probably more then what your entire neighborhood combined pulls down in a year! No way you made all that money selling fake driver's licenses to illegal Mexicans in downtown LA. We all know that when you guys get a little cash, you're heading to the liquor store to get a 40 and a pack of Marlboro Lights. What happened, did the cops shut the store down 'cause of illegal dice games in the back? How many kilos of drugs did you have to sell to get this chunk of change?

VINCENT
Around six hundred fifty.

TAYLOR(taken aback by the answer)
I was just making an insensitive and needlessly stereotypical joke! Good god above, you really did sell drugs to get this money!

WALLACE
Weed ain't no motherfucking drug. Weed is a plant, same as a daisy or a tulip. If it should so catch on fire, then some effects can happen. Drugs you gotta cook it, stir it up, add baking soda, and shit, I don't know recipe I'm just saying. Crackers be sellin' harder shit down at Rite Aid. Go and look, weed ain't got nothing on no Advil or Tylenol. You take fourteen Tylenol you fuck around and die. Mama ain't never called me up, talkin' about “Marcellus come quick, your brother in the hospital, getting his stomach pumped 'cause he overdosed on some Mary Jane.”

TAYLOR
An excellent argument for the legalization of marijuana, to be sure.  My second question is why even bid in the first place? Especially to hang out with two women who have cursed you with the dishonor of being the shortest reigning tag champions in history. You see them everyday Thursday! And if you're really desperate, just let your man, Terry, know, because over the years I've managed to successfully drill a peep hole into the women's locker room of every major arena in North America. Admission is ten dollars, and that includes drink service, a light dinner, and a commemorative Krista Isadora Duncan topless on the beach paparazzi photo. Save a few thousand bucks. So, please tell me, why have you've done this?

WALLACE
'Cause we different. Plenty of tag teams got some kind of problem with Chicks Over Dicks. But, see, the difference between us and them, is that they gonna hate a bitch and be okay with just doing that. They just gonna walk around being mad, but they ain't never gonna do nothing about it. Maybe they might drop a promo here and there, but when it comes to putting heat to the street, they ain't no where to be found. Even those dudes who claim to be gangsta, ain't really comin gangsta with it when the time comes. All kinds of niggas gettin' in on some "I want to be that nigga I ain't" type shit. Running around here talking bout all the work you got and how ain't no nigga gonna do this or that, and the other to you. Then turn around and soften up like butter when one of them real niggas get at your ass bout that shit you was talking. We different. We got beef with Chicks Over Dicks resulting from two weeks ago and we gonna be damned if we gonna have a problem with a chick and not do nothing about it. If we fucks with you, we do, if we don't, we don't. But to hate a ho, a couple of suburban housewives at that, and not do anything about it, thats corny, that's a bitch move, to me. Whether we gotta fight the chicks, pay a nigga to get that handled, or do it ourselves, we gonna do so.

TAYLOR
The beef you refer to, no doubt relates to your tag title loss several weeks back. But how does winning a charity auction handle your problem, if you can truly call it that, with Chicks Over Dicks?

VINCENT
Last week we told Okerlund we got a plan to get our tag gold back, and when you announced us as the auction's winners you revealed it to the world. See, once Anglesault snatched our gold and gave it to those rat teeth hoes, we knew there weren't soul here who was gonna help us get it back. But like One Eye just said, we real with ours, and that means we don't get fucked like that. Ain't no director of authority, general manager, commissioner or president gonna change that shit and keep us from our gold. Real recognizes real all day long. We get ours. We took the hustle off the streets, put it up on them Internets, and looked up that Ebay auction ya'll kept pushin. And we saw something mighty interesting. We saw there wasn't nothing that said [i]how[/i] you gotta spend your day with them skanks. Nothing. You coulda done whatever you wanted. They just left it wide open for the winner to decide. And as the winners....well......

TAYLOR(dreadfully)
And as the winners of the auction, how would you like to spend your day with Chicks Over Dicks?

WALLACE
Ain't no would like, ain't no want to, ain't no desire to, all there is is how we gonna do it, and there ain't no debate to it. We gonna spend our day punching they clocks, snapping they necks, breaking they jaw, bustin' they heads, and takin' they tag belts, because they gotta put 'em on line against The South Central Militia at Syndicated! That's what's happening!

The crowd let's out a loud roar of excitement for the thought of a tag title defense at the OAOAST's premiere February event.

TAYLOR
I think we all had a feeling that's where you were going, but twenty six thousand dollars for a tag title shot? A very risk move, to say the least! Fans, there you have it, a tag title match at Syndicated in Cleveland, Ohio....

WALLACE
Cleveland? Cleveland ain't got no part in this. 

TAYLOR
But if you want a tag title match at Syndicated, then that's in Cleveland....

Vinny puts his hand in font of Terry's face to silence the confused interviewer.

VINCENT
Naw. We all stay in LA County, so we gonna settle beef in LA County. We gonna keep it local, throw down in Cali and have an “Battle of Los Angeles” match. Alix, Krista, because ya'll suburban chicks ain't never go east of the fag side of LA, we'll keep it right in your hood, Hollywood. But it ain't gonna be on no streets. No brawl down Sunset, La Ciénega  or Santa Monica, Naw, never that. We paid twenty six grand for this, we gotta do it real b-i-g.  Gotta do like the OAOAST ain't never done it before. People say you the Hollywood “it” girls? Then this match gotta jump off on what Hollywood is known for...the silver screen. We're gonna take some of that OAOAST money, pay off a few executives, and have an “Battle of Los Angeles” match, an all out brawl, right in a real life movie studio. Get them lights shinin', them cameras shootin', them director's directin','cause Whitey Ford and One Eye Wallace is bringing action right to ya. When it comes to the SCM, the only three letters ya'll need to know is BTK

WALLACE
Born to kill.

VINCENT
And that's AOK

WALLACE
Always out killing.

COLE
Wow! A “Battle of Los Angeles” match, which basically sounds like a street fight within a movie studio for the world tag team titles!

The announcement earns quite the pop from the fans, but one man who doesn't seem overly thrilled about it is, Terry Taylor.

TAYLOR
Militia, I for one think your plan... freaking sucks! 

COACH
He's going to die shortly. I guess we can look forward to clearance sales on “Remember the rooster” t-shirts on the OAOAST website.

The fists of the Militia tighten into threatening balls, and growls of anger escape their snarling lips. Despite the obvious evidence that he needs to shut up at once, the imbecilic announcer fails to do so.

TAYLOR
You got your first title shot, not because you deserved it, but because Alix and Krista were nice enough to give it to you. And what did you do with that kindness? You spurned the traditions and respect that this sport was built on, to cheat your way to a title reign, that at ten minutes twenty two seconds, was ten minutes and twenty two seconds too long! And now you've come back to throw money at the “problem” and you think can buy your way into title contention? Sorry to say feminem and Puff Daddy, but that isn't the way this business, the business I've sacrificed blood sweat and tears for, is supposed to work! You have to earn your shot, not steal it by abusing charity auctions! Pay your dues, Militia! Am I right, people? Come on, chant it with me! Pay your dues! Pay your dues! Pay your dues! 

“GET AIDS AND DIE!” hollers a fan in a Phoenix Coyotes hockey jersey.

TAYLOR
No one's up for a pay your dues chant? Okay, you don't have to. Free country. Just thought it might be fun.

WALLACE (closing in on Terry)
Ya know what I think might be fun? Tossin' yo pale pee wee herman ass right off this entrance stage!

That seems to generate quite the positive reaction from the supposedly peace loving monk, who gleefully applauds the idea of Terry Taylor being thrown to an early grave. However Taylor's life is spared, when Chicks Over Dicks, the subjects of this expensive and now controversial auction walk out from the back, drawing the attention of the rooster's assailants. The girls' appearance earns a massive pop from the now standing audience. Krista's lithe figure is framed by a flirty white buttoned down dress, with short puffed sleeves, knee length hem, and a popped collar. Her hair is vibrant blond hair is tied into an up-do, and burgundy colored rhinestone colored sunglasses shield her baby blue eyes. Alix goes for a more eccentric look: [url="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/alixgoofy.jpg"]This unusual outfit![/url]

“C-O-D! C-O-D!” sing the audience. Ally plays to the audience,cupping her ears and flexing her muscles a la Hulk Hogan. All these jerky movements cause her oversized wings to constantly smack Krista in the face, which as you can imagine pisses Miss California off to know end. When the crowd settles down, and Alix finally stops trying to assault her with feathers, Krissy attempts to speak.

KRISTA
Hold up, hold up, hold up, Militia. If anyone's gonna be the one to brutally take Terry Taylor's life on national TV it's going to be me and a pair of high voltage wires connected to his testicles. Now, before I waste ten minutes of my precious time to address the Militia's massively moronic idea, let me settle this “is weed a drug" debate. The simple answer is, who cares? Weed is for people on the struggle. 

ALIX
Terry, you wouldn't understand that with your hood rich, ghetto fabulous life. 

KRISTA
But imagine for a second that you live a life wrought with destitution and plagued by misery. Your constant companion is a self loathing dread and your only sexual exhilaration is derived from the stuck together pages of the Victoria's Secret catalog you swiped from from your elderly neighboor's mailbox, or from gleefully ogling their fleshly rolls of fat as they prance about the house in said Victoria's Secret wear. When you're not crying guilt filled tears of despair and regret as you pleasure yourself to the sight of a sixty five year old Puerto Rican man in drag, you are suffocating under a mountain of bills that you're certain you'll never crawl out of. “I gotta pay this water bill, they don't want a deposit, or lay away, they want the whole thing. I'm ruined!” Well untangle that rope, unload that gun, shove those razor blades back in the drawer, and step away from the Panic at the disco albums, because all you need is a good blunt to make your problems go away. How is that possible? Because weed,Terry Taylor, contains a very potent, powerful, chemical, we in the scientific community commonly refer to as “dude,fuck it”. And when the power of “dude, fuck it” gets into your system, it changes your entire outlook on life. Water bill? “[i]Dude, fuck it.[/i] I wish they would turn it off, I got ten bottles of Evian in the refrigerator, I've been waiting to crack those things open. Get Shamu on the phone, I'm about to turn this house into Sea World.”

SEONGJEONG DOBEOP THE TIBETAN MONK 
Smoke weed everydaaaaaay.

KRISTA
South Central Militia, you have obviously failed to follow the first law you learn when dealing drugs, don't hit your own product. You've apparently smoked, snorted, and sniffed your way onto the short bus here at OAOAST highschool. It is my expert diagnosis that your repeated hitting of the bong has caused you to become infected with the very dangerous chemical, the scientific community has dubbed “dude, that's fucking awesome”. Left unchecked, “dude, that's fucking awesome” can be a deadly substance, causing suffers to believe that typically inane, outright moronic ideas, are awesome inventions on the level of the printing press, the electrical grid, and the ignore feature on AOL Instant messenger, attention Melody Nerdly: I am a thirty six year old woman with bills to pay and a daughter to raise, I do not care how badly you just “owned” some eight year old playing on mommy's stolen credit card at World of Warcraft, stop telling me! Back to you Militia, the very fact that you would spend twenty six thousand dollars to get a glorified bitch slapping at what will probably wind up being a movie studio for shooting deviant fetish porn, shows me that “dude, that's fucking awesome” has reached it's most advanced stages and has eroded your capacity for common sense beyond repair. Your scheme, as Terry Taylor so poetically put it “freaking sucks!”

ALIX
Shakespeare could not have said it with more cutting eloquence. 

KRISTA
Militia, your's is a plan that's thought of as stupid by anyone who didn't spend their childhood living under powerlines, and does not consider paint chips an essential nutrient. Which means Alix, loves it.

ALIX
Hey, meanie, that's not nice. I never lived under powerlines!

TAYLOR
Does this mean the first ever Battle of Los Angeles match won't be happening?

KRISTA
I'd love to give you that great thumbs down, Terry, but they won the auction, and according to the insanely stupid contract drawn up by the feces eating circus monkeys doubling as OAOAST lawyers, that means they can do whatever they want. But let's all take a moment to think about this and mock the SCM for their gross stupidity and outright ignorance. An auction designed to help liberate a country devoted to spreading the message of peace and enlightenment, is now going to most likely result in chaotic bloodshed and career ending violence...

ALIX
Hope ya packed your asbestos proof swimming trunks and flame retardant underwear, because we're all going to hell!

KRISTA
Speaking of hell, what we put you clowns through....

ALIX
Waiaaaaaait, did you just say......[b]clowns[/b]? Krista, I thought you loved me! How could you hurt me with the c word? You know that I'm totally bummed on clowns!

KRISTA (tossing her hands up in exasperation)
Oh, Alix, please don't do this, not right now. To quote a phrase that Terry Taylor hasn't heard too often because he's never had a who woman he hasn't beaten unconscious first in his bedroom, I have a headache. Does anyone have any shiny objects we can distract her with?

ALIX(ignoring Krista's pleas)
Ya know, it's been a hella long time since I went crazy with one of my rambling stories that have little to do with anything...

KRISTA
(to One Eye)
Hey, Ice Cube, you got plenty of cheap shiny shit on. So much fake jewelry, I bet even your cholesterol is iced out. Flash some in front of her face. Forget a match, I'll give you my title, just don't let her get started! Please!

Krista lunges for One-Eye's wealth of chains, but he pulls back, allowing Alix to begin her story unhindered.

ALIX
One time when I was widdle widdle girl I was watching my daddy on [i]Showtime at the Apollo[/i] doing a classic Al Joloson "Mammy" routine. And the audience was just wubbing it to bits n pieces, chanting my dad's name “Boo you suck! Boo you suck!”. I guess the host messed up when he was introducing my dad, because his name is Anthony not “Boo you suck”. But all of a sudden a portal opens up from another dimension, and a clown named Sandman Sims tap-dances out! Obviously, some alien looking for his big break in show-biz. And my dad's trying to score with Kiki Sheparad, and still has his Bette Middler drag revue to get to, but this clown is probing his every orifice with a broom, giving him a preview of what his next ten years in state prison would be like. So my old man, is like, screw this, and grabs the broom, and tries to fly away, but I guess that only works for witches. So a whole bunch of security dudes storm out, because they totally hate clowns also, but they get confused and think my dad is a clown! Oh no! So they started shooting him with a tazer guns! ZAP! BUZZ! SPAZZT! KATE BECKINSALE! Wait that's the filthy whore that stole the leading role away from me in [i]Underworld[/i] not a sound affect. But my daddy's like totally fighting the security off like that one kung fu dude, what's his name? 

KRISTA
Bruce lee? Jackie Chan?

ALIX
No way Jose! 

KRISTA (groaning)
Uh, Al Roker?

ALIX
That's it, that's the onezo! So my dad's all like fighting them off, while Sandman tries to run away. But the rhyme goes run, run, as fast as you can, you can't catch me I'm the gingerbread man, not run, run as fast as you can, you can't catch me I'm the Sandman..uh....man. So my dad is like all on top of him and stuff and he's got him in a vertical suplex, then he gets all technical and drops him into an inverted atomic drop, and if this was No Mercy for Nintendo 64, which Melody plays [i]all[/i] day, we would've heard a comic DING. But this is real life, so we heard and even comicer, I made up a word!, sound of Sandman falling off the stage and right into Ray Chu and the crew, then bouncing into a very compromising position with Barry White! Can't get enough of your love, indeed, my chocolate honey muffin! Then Sinbad came out and he started tap dancing to! 

KRISTA(looking over the entrance stage to the floor below)
Would a fall from this height be enough to kill me?

ALIX
So, like, anyway, my mother has to leave her job early to pick me up to go my dad's trial, and if you know anything about whorehouses, getting off early is a major pain in the tush! In more ways then one, that's for sure! And at the trial, Sandman's wife is all like"He was an expected father! He had a kid in college! You robbed him of his dream to see his only son graduate! But at least he died doing what he loved.” Yeah, anywho, snort clowns, they suck! And if Krista off handedly refers to you as clowns, I don't take that as a minor insult to set up a vulgar, alcohol fueled man hating tirade, I take that as a license to slit your throats and bury you in the backyard next to Jodie Foster's decaying corpse. Why wouldn't she be my friend, Terry? I don't understand!

VINCENT
You done? 'Cause we got....

“Whitey” is quickly silenced by Krista's overpowering voice.

KRISTA
The only thing you got is to do exactly what I tell you. And what I'm telling you to do as of right now, is to keep your mouth shut. So we're both from the state where the sun always shines, but the only way you're leaving town with these titles is if we stick 'em up where the sun [i]don't[/i] shine. You think your twenty six thousand just bought you a ticket to land of milk and honey? I think it just bought you a glorified Starline studio tour, and an opportunity to journey into west LA without getting pulled over by the police and turned into Rodney King 2007. I think it bought you a chance to get busted wide open, left bloody red, and fighting for your life as they rush you to the med. All your money, and all your jaw jacking, just got you in a bunch of shit, and now your soon to get your ass beat. This isn't a Battle of Los Angeles, this is a slaughter of a couple of wannabe gangstas. I'm Krista Isadora Duncan, and I'm worth a lot more then twenty six thousand dollars.

ALIX
And I'm Alix Maria Spezia, and I like to dress My Little Pony dolls in Fetish Gear. BIATCH!

While Krista retreats to throw herself off the roof of the arena, Alix backs away slowly, flashing gang signs, that have no actual meaning, to the confused and irritated Militia. The thuggish pairing attempts to play it cool, making the tried and true belt motion around their waist, but it's obvious their fairly annoyed with the girls' words and actions. The shot returns to a close up of Terry Taylor, who has to shout to make himself heard over the roar of the audience.

TAYLOR
Fans, there you have it! What started out off as a simple goodwill charity auction, has somehow resulted in the first ever Battle Of Los Angeles match for the OAOAST world tag team titles! I'm sure over the next week, we'll find out what movie studio the match will actually take place in. For now, I'm Terry Taylor, wishing you a good night, and good health.

With that we cut back to the announce team of Coach and Michael Cole.

COLE (chuckling)
Oh that Sandman Sims! He is too much!

Edited February 16, 2007 by Patty O'Green