Post by @xL on Oct 1, 2007 6:11:12 GMT -5
[Scene: One of the many aisles of NowhereMart, the number one supermarket in Nowhere. Mainly due to the fact that it's the ONLY supermarket in Nowhere.]
[Brother Joe is pushing the shopping cart, as Jim and Jon stand at his sides, browsing the aisles for items. Axl is further out ahead, speaking to Tifa on his cell phone. He has a bandage over his nose, still hurting from the bloody nose his own crew of jobbers gave him a couple of days ago...]
Axl: Tifa, I just... I can't get over the fact that those... those... EEEDIOTS, gave ME... the Metal God... the SAVIOR... the Ayatollah, of SINISTER... uh... -o-lah, a bloody nose... ... Yeah, I know, I might want to drop the impersonating famous wrestlers bit if I want to be taken seriously as a truly sinister savior of sports entertainment. But babe... ... Yeah, I'm still wearing the "Le Poser" kit I got from 'Goth Topik'. I really need to start promoting them in my rants, maybe run a deal like I did with Parodyox Inc. ... Whaddya mean 'I wouldn't have to worry about damaging their reputation with all my sexually-confused-shenanigans, judging by the customers they attract'?! What, are you insinuating that they attract- ... Oh yeah... nevermind. ... Yeah, I'm TOTALLY focused on the match at 'A Chance Would Be a Fine Thing Two'. ... Uhm, what is the match, you ask. ... Er... uhm... What... IS the match you as- NO, I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN!!!
[Axl covers the phone's voice receiver and whispers back to Joey...]
Axl: Uhm, Joe, what is the match, Tifa asks? [...] Ohhh, yeah, I sooo remembered that, just making sure. [returns to the phone] Ok, it's some sorta Pineapple Cage Match or something with ten or twenty other guys in there. Whoever wins gets a shot at the belt. ... Train? Babe, the Metal God does NOT train. The SAVIOR of BoB does NOT train. For I am at peak physical condition at all times, and no matter what-
[Suddenly, a box of 'Honey Deez Nutz Cheerioz' brand cereal falls off a shelf, and happens to brush against Axl's nose. He instantly begins wailing away in pain, and jumping up and down in anguish. Axl drops the cell, and his foot crashes into it, sending pieces of plastic and bits of metal flying in every direction. As Axl grabs onto his nose, he looks down, and his eyes widen in terror, seeing his phone smashed to oblivion. Axl fumes... Axl's face reddens... Axl... is pissed.]
[And that's when Axl decides to toss a can of green beans.]
*thwack*
Joey: SON-OF-A- ... Which one of you clods decided to bean me in the head with that can of beans?
Jim: Wasn't me...
Jon: Me either...
All three: ...
[Suddenly, all three of them look up, finding Axl standing there, awash in rage and fury, and gripping a can of hominy like a dagger in the hand of a deranged mad man. And at this moment in time... Axl couldn't possibly look more deranged OR mad.]
Axl: YA KNOW WHAT... I've had it up to here... had it up tah FUCKIN' HERE- ... With being pushed around!!!
Jim: Axl... boss... put down the hominy, and step away from the canned food aisle.
Jon: Boss, you're losin' it...
Axl: You're damn RIGHT I'm losing it! EVERY... FUCKING... DAY. I'm either ignored... or pissed on. Ignored... or pissed on. Well DAMMIT... I'm sick of being ignored, and NOW?! I'm just... plain... PISSED OFF!!! I'm sick of geezers... GEEZERS... dried up old PRUNES... like Steve WrinkledNuts and Trey... uh... WRINKLEDNUTS... ... I'm sick of them, and I'm sick of the slimeballs... like Kevin... like XXXTreme... like... like... like SCOTTY WHATBODY! YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT, I SAID IT!!!
Joey: Boss, you're gonna get us kicked outta here...
Axl: Kicked out? KICKED OUT?! Joey, I OWN this store. I own this damn TOWN. And if I do something, say something, want something? I do it... I say it... and I damn well GET IT!!! These people FLOCK to me, Joey. These people flock to me like I have the mother fuckin' cure for cancer! And WHY do they do that, Joey? I'll tell you why. It's not because I DO have the cure... it's because I PROMISE the cure. I ADVERTISE the cure. I PROMOTE the cure. I keep tossing out the bait, I keep luring them in, reeling them in inch by inch... inch... by inch. And when their feeble, pathetic, puny little minds finally realize I DON'T have what I promised them all that time? When they see, what they wished for, hoped for, dreamed for, wanted and waited with bated breathe for... isn't even THERE?! It's too... fucking... late.
Joey: ... Damn.
Jon: But... wait... so... So what you're saying...
Jim: What you're saying is... you're not REALLY the savior of BoB?
Axl: Of course I am, my sons. [turns a quick eye toward the BoB camera hidden in the aisle between the cans... before turning his gaze back to his 'Brothers'] Of COURSE... I am.
Axl: I am... the Savior of BoB.
Axl: I Am... the Savior of Sports Entertainment.
Axl: But most importantly... I AM...
*thwack*
[Axl sends the can of hominy slamming into Jon's face in the blink of an eye.]
Axl: ... About to give you three the second lesson in your journey to becoming ready to truly BE... the Hierarchy. It's something I like to call "The Defense Mechanism Test". It is a test of, of course, your defense ability, and how you're able to avoid attack. Now... You see this can of corn in my hand?
Jim: Uh... there isn't a can of anything in either of your hands?
[Axl looks down at his right hand... then his left. He quickly turns his head back to his followers, before snatching a can off the shelf without looking at it.
Axl: NOW... do you see this can of corn in my hand?
Joe: ... You mean peas?
[Axl looks down at the can of... peas. He puts it back, and resumes his gaze with his three man jobbing crew. He whips a can off the shelf...]
Axl: ... Now?
Jon: Beets.
Axl: ... Now?
Jim: Carrots.
Axl: ......... Now?
Jon: Peas again...
Axl: DAMMIT!!! ... Now?
Joe: Dude, that's a box of Rice-A-Roni.
Jim: How in the hell do you even GET a box mixed up with a can?
Jon: Seriously, even if you DON'T look, you'd have to be able to tell the difference in the shape... unless you're half retarded.
Axl: AGGGHHH!!!
[Axl slings the box straight at his men... only to have all three of them duck at the exact same time. They lift their heads, and look behind them, to find...]
Joe: Oh dear sweet heavenly father...
BG: YOU'RE NEXT!!!
[... none other than former WCW/WWE wrestling superstar/complete waste of time and money - Bill Goldberg! Goldberg is apparently slumming it in Nowhere, taking part in the local MMA promotion - UALYFC [ultimate act-like-you're-fighting championship], and this sudden Rice-A-Roni attack bodes none too well with Big, Bad, Bald, Bill. 'Berg stares at Joe, Jim and Jon with eyes as slits... hands as fists... teeth clenched, and only a few words left before he unleashes an attack of mediocre proportions.]
BG: Now... I'm gonna give you... THREE seconds... to tell me... which one of you sorry... sons of BITCHES just threw that damn box of Rice-A-Roni at the back of my head? ... 3...
Jon: [turns toward Axl] Boss... I just remembered... uhm... I just remembered... I JUST REMEMBERED THAT I LEFT OUR STOVE ON! [runs the hell out of there]
BG: 2...
Jim: [turns toward Axl] Uhm, yeah, er, uh... Axl... I just... uhm... I just remembered something t-t-too. I... forgot... I forgot to uh... PUT THE DOG OUT!
Joe: Dog? We don't have any-
[Jim shoves Joe into the shelf, and before long, Jim and Axl are the only two left in Goldberg's sights. As Joe slams into the shelf, another box of Rice-A-Roni falls on Bill's head, and bounces off right into his hand. He looks down at it... before looking up into the eyes of Joe. Goldberg tosses the box away, before grabbing Joe by the throat, and bringing him in.]
BG: ... One.
Joe: [on the verge of tears] I DIDN'T DO IT!!! I... I DIDN'T DO IT! IT WAS ALL THAT GUY! [pointing at Axl] AND BILL... CAN I CALL YA BILL? [Goldberg shakes his head slowly] MR. GOLDBERG SIR! I HAVE NEVER... EVER... IN MY ENTIRE LIFE... EVER MET THAT MAN BEFORE! ISN'T THAT RIGHT AXL? [Axl looks at Joe with a look, a mixture of bewilderement, shock, and fright] SEE, HE'LL TELL YA! ... WHOEVER HE IS! [winks at Axl, as Axl's expression is now simply that of dumbfoudedness. Axl scratches his neck, and coughs, knowing Joe is most likely about to get it.]
[And that's when Bill decides to drop Joe. And stare a hole through Axl.]
Axl: Whoa... wait... WHAT?! No, no, no, you're not actually gonna BELIEVE that doofus... uh-uh-are you? G- ... G- ... Goldberg? MR. .... Mr. Goldberg. Please... don't kill me.
[Goldberg creeps closer... and closer... about to do massive amounts of bodily harm to our hapless hero... when suddenly... he stops. ... And turns around.]
Axl: ... You're... you're not going to kill me? ... Wow! Heheh... sheesh... *muttering* And the Savior strikes another one down... boo-yah. Heheh, go me.
[And THAT... is when Bill Goldberg decided to crouch down juuust a bit, turn around ever... so... slowly, and lock his gaze on Axl, hands on his knees, in a stance, ready to pounce. Axl is looking to the side at a plastic wrapped item that just so happens to give off a bit of Axl's reflection... when he happens to notice Bill in the reflection... he turns... just in time to feel the-
[SPEAR!!!~1one]
- which sends both men careening backwards into the shelves, sending items everywhere. As Bill gets back to his feet, he drags his thumb across his throat, signalling for one more move... the Jackhammer. But thankfully for Axl, a nearby worker sees Goldberg doing the damage, and hands the big guy a broom and bucket, telling him to get to work on cleaning up the aisle.]
Worker: Get to work on cleaning up the aisle.
BG: YOOOOUUUU'REEE NEXTTTT!!!
Worker: You're next, alright. To get to work on cleaning up the aisle.
BG: ... Damn.
Worker: HEY! I know you!
BG: Oh, you do? I mean... You better! Or YOU'RE NEXT!
Worker: Yeah, you're a wrestler, aren't you? Hey... I gotta deal for ya. You sign my shirt, and I'll let ya off the hook with this whole 'get to work on cleaning up the aisle' thing. Deal?
BG: Sure. Ya got a pen?
Worker: Yeah, I just so happen to have one in the event I meet you.
BG: ... You carry around a pen, everywhere ya go, just in case you meet me.
Worker: Yup.
BG: ... K.
[The worker takes out a pen, hands it to Goldberg, and Goldberg jots down his name on the worker's uniform. The worker looks down, and sees Goldberg's name. But instead of looking happy, the worker looks a bit down.]
BG: What's the problem?
Worker: I thought you were Ron Simmons?
BG: ... Isn't he black?
Worker: Yeah.
BG: ...
Worker: Well, that sucks. This is the only uniform ever made that fits me.
BG: ... Whoa, what? You mean at this supermarket?
Worker: Nah. The only one. Ever. Any uniform whatsoever in the entire history of mankind.
BG: ... That's really... unlikely.
Worker: Yup.
BG: ... ?
Worker: So, I'm gonna have to quit.
BG: Oh... well... I'm sorry? You don't think you could wash it?
Worker: Nah. I've been meaning to kill myself anyway, so- [shoots himself]
BG: ...
[The worker falls to the floor, gun at his side, blood spilling from his head.]
BG: ... That's... ... What in the fuck just happened here?
Axl: That's the man, Harley! Arrest him!
BG: Wh-what? ... HEY! What in the hell are you arresting me for?!
Officer Harley: You have the right to remain silent, anything you do or say can and WILL be used against you in a court of law.
BG: YOU! YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!!! Why am I being arrested?! You can't arrest me! I'm Bill F'n Goldberg!
Axl: EXACTLY. And according to Nowhere City Law #9,328, which I just passed a few moments ago, when a former wrestler turned MMA combatant signs a supermarket worker's uniform under false pretenses of said former wrestler turned MMA combatant being a current wrestler with non-MMA background, who frequently speaks in single syllable phrases, is of African-American descent, and has hair, when in fact said former wrestler turned MMA combatant ACTUALLY is found frequently speaking in two syllable phrases, is Caucasian, and has NO hair.... annnd, said supermarket worker's uniform, which has already been signed, is the only uniform available to said supermarket worker, which is clean AND fits said supermarket worker... annnd, said supermarket worker is FORCED, by said former wrestler turned MMA combatant who is found frequently speaking in two syllable phrases, is Caucasian, and has NO hair [who is indeed NOT, in fact, a current wrestler with non-MMA background, who frequently speaks in single syllable phrases, is of African-American descent, and has hair] to quit his position as supermarket worker, and proceed to take his/her/its own life... then the NPD [Nowhere Police Department] have no choice... but to arrest said former wrestler turned MMA combatant, who is found frequently speaking in two syllable phrases, is Caucasian, and has no hair, who is indeed not, in fact, a current wrestler with non-MMA background, who frequently speaks in single syllable phrases, is of African-American descent... and has hair.
BG: ... What in the holy mother lovin' mary of GOD did you just say?
Axl: Bottom line? You made this young man, one of my sure to be many, many followers... as soon as he met me, atleast... take his own life. You, Bill Goldberg, darkened his soul with your LIES! Claiming to be that which you are NOT! For Bill Goldberg... alas and forthwith, through darkness AND the light... thou hast-
BG: Dammit, can ya just speak ENGLISH, for christ sakes!!!
Axl: You, made this guy, kill himself, because he thought you, were someone you claimed to be... when in fact you weren't. Bottom line - you lied to this poor boy, and because of that, he KILLED HIMSELF!!!
BG: But... that's INSANE! I never told that idiot that I was anyone but Bill F'n Goldberg!!!
Axl: I've got one word for ya.
RE-GARD-LESS.
BG: ... Huh?
Axl: Exactly. Take him away, Officer Davidson.
Officer Harley: No problemo, boss.
BG: ... Boss? ... Problemo? Wait... aren't you that guy-
Axl: GET HIM OUT OF HERE!!!
["Officer Davidson" drags Goldberg away, as... wait... ya know, that sure looks like... Joe???]
[Axl smiles, staring through his painted face, before reaching into his baggy 'Tripp' jeans, and pulling out... a toy Harley Davidson bike? He rolls the cycle around in his hand... before kissing it.]
Axl: Sometimes... the most sinister plans... are the most simplistic. Who's evil? Who's dark? Who's... sinister? [slowly lifts his eyes to the camera... still hidden amongst the cans of vegetables. Axl's smile is dripping with a demonic smirk... and his eyes... a devilish glint]
I AM...
[Brother Joe is pushing the shopping cart, as Jim and Jon stand at his sides, browsing the aisles for items. Axl is further out ahead, speaking to Tifa on his cell phone. He has a bandage over his nose, still hurting from the bloody nose his own crew of jobbers gave him a couple of days ago...]
Axl: Tifa, I just... I can't get over the fact that those... those... EEEDIOTS, gave ME... the Metal God... the SAVIOR... the Ayatollah, of SINISTER... uh... -o-lah, a bloody nose... ... Yeah, I know, I might want to drop the impersonating famous wrestlers bit if I want to be taken seriously as a truly sinister savior of sports entertainment. But babe... ... Yeah, I'm still wearing the "Le Poser" kit I got from 'Goth Topik'. I really need to start promoting them in my rants, maybe run a deal like I did with Parodyox Inc. ... Whaddya mean 'I wouldn't have to worry about damaging their reputation with all my sexually-confused-shenanigans, judging by the customers they attract'?! What, are you insinuating that they attract- ... Oh yeah... nevermind. ... Yeah, I'm TOTALLY focused on the match at 'A Chance Would Be a Fine Thing Two'. ... Uhm, what is the match, you ask. ... Er... uhm... What... IS the match you as- NO, I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN!!!
[Axl covers the phone's voice receiver and whispers back to Joey...]
Axl: Uhm, Joe, what is the match, Tifa asks? [...] Ohhh, yeah, I sooo remembered that, just making sure. [returns to the phone] Ok, it's some sorta Pineapple Cage Match or something with ten or twenty other guys in there. Whoever wins gets a shot at the belt. ... Train? Babe, the Metal God does NOT train. The SAVIOR of BoB does NOT train. For I am at peak physical condition at all times, and no matter what-
[Suddenly, a box of 'Honey Deez Nutz Cheerioz' brand cereal falls off a shelf, and happens to brush against Axl's nose. He instantly begins wailing away in pain, and jumping up and down in anguish. Axl drops the cell, and his foot crashes into it, sending pieces of plastic and bits of metal flying in every direction. As Axl grabs onto his nose, he looks down, and his eyes widen in terror, seeing his phone smashed to oblivion. Axl fumes... Axl's face reddens... Axl... is pissed.]
[And that's when Axl decides to toss a can of green beans.]
*thwack*
Joey: SON-OF-A- ... Which one of you clods decided to bean me in the head with that can of beans?
Jim: Wasn't me...
Jon: Me either...
All three: ...
[Suddenly, all three of them look up, finding Axl standing there, awash in rage and fury, and gripping a can of hominy like a dagger in the hand of a deranged mad man. And at this moment in time... Axl couldn't possibly look more deranged OR mad.]
Axl: YA KNOW WHAT... I've had it up to here... had it up tah FUCKIN' HERE- ... With being pushed around!!!
Jim: Axl... boss... put down the hominy, and step away from the canned food aisle.
Jon: Boss, you're losin' it...
Axl: You're damn RIGHT I'm losing it! EVERY... FUCKING... DAY. I'm either ignored... or pissed on. Ignored... or pissed on. Well DAMMIT... I'm sick of being ignored, and NOW?! I'm just... plain... PISSED OFF!!! I'm sick of geezers... GEEZERS... dried up old PRUNES... like Steve WrinkledNuts and Trey... uh... WRINKLEDNUTS... ... I'm sick of them, and I'm sick of the slimeballs... like Kevin... like XXXTreme... like... like... like SCOTTY WHATBODY! YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT, I SAID IT!!!
Joey: Boss, you're gonna get us kicked outta here...
Axl: Kicked out? KICKED OUT?! Joey, I OWN this store. I own this damn TOWN. And if I do something, say something, want something? I do it... I say it... and I damn well GET IT!!! These people FLOCK to me, Joey. These people flock to me like I have the mother fuckin' cure for cancer! And WHY do they do that, Joey? I'll tell you why. It's not because I DO have the cure... it's because I PROMISE the cure. I ADVERTISE the cure. I PROMOTE the cure. I keep tossing out the bait, I keep luring them in, reeling them in inch by inch... inch... by inch. And when their feeble, pathetic, puny little minds finally realize I DON'T have what I promised them all that time? When they see, what they wished for, hoped for, dreamed for, wanted and waited with bated breathe for... isn't even THERE?! It's too... fucking... late.
Joey: ... Damn.
Jon: But... wait... so... So what you're saying...
Jim: What you're saying is... you're not REALLY the savior of BoB?
Axl: Of course I am, my sons. [turns a quick eye toward the BoB camera hidden in the aisle between the cans... before turning his gaze back to his 'Brothers'] Of COURSE... I am.
Axl: I am... the Savior of BoB.
Axl: I Am... the Savior of Sports Entertainment.
Axl: But most importantly... I AM...
*thwack*
[Axl sends the can of hominy slamming into Jon's face in the blink of an eye.]
Axl: ... About to give you three the second lesson in your journey to becoming ready to truly BE... the Hierarchy. It's something I like to call "The Defense Mechanism Test". It is a test of, of course, your defense ability, and how you're able to avoid attack. Now... You see this can of corn in my hand?
Jim: Uh... there isn't a can of anything in either of your hands?
[Axl looks down at his right hand... then his left. He quickly turns his head back to his followers, before snatching a can off the shelf without looking at it.
Axl: NOW... do you see this can of corn in my hand?
Joe: ... You mean peas?
[Axl looks down at the can of... peas. He puts it back, and resumes his gaze with his three man jobbing crew. He whips a can off the shelf...]
Axl: ... Now?
Jon: Beets.
Axl: ... Now?
Jim: Carrots.
Axl: ......... Now?
Jon: Peas again...
Axl: DAMMIT!!! ... Now?
Joe: Dude, that's a box of Rice-A-Roni.
Jim: How in the hell do you even GET a box mixed up with a can?
Jon: Seriously, even if you DON'T look, you'd have to be able to tell the difference in the shape... unless you're half retarded.
Axl: AGGGHHH!!!
[Axl slings the box straight at his men... only to have all three of them duck at the exact same time. They lift their heads, and look behind them, to find...]
Joe: Oh dear sweet heavenly father...
BG: YOU'RE NEXT!!!
[... none other than former WCW/WWE wrestling superstar/complete waste of time and money - Bill Goldberg! Goldberg is apparently slumming it in Nowhere, taking part in the local MMA promotion - UALYFC [ultimate act-like-you're-fighting championship], and this sudden Rice-A-Roni attack bodes none too well with Big, Bad, Bald, Bill. 'Berg stares at Joe, Jim and Jon with eyes as slits... hands as fists... teeth clenched, and only a few words left before he unleashes an attack of mediocre proportions.]
BG: Now... I'm gonna give you... THREE seconds... to tell me... which one of you sorry... sons of BITCHES just threw that damn box of Rice-A-Roni at the back of my head? ... 3...
Jon: [turns toward Axl] Boss... I just remembered... uhm... I just remembered... I JUST REMEMBERED THAT I LEFT OUR STOVE ON! [runs the hell out of there]
BG: 2...
Jim: [turns toward Axl] Uhm, yeah, er, uh... Axl... I just... uhm... I just remembered something t-t-too. I... forgot... I forgot to uh... PUT THE DOG OUT!
Joe: Dog? We don't have any-
[Jim shoves Joe into the shelf, and before long, Jim and Axl are the only two left in Goldberg's sights. As Joe slams into the shelf, another box of Rice-A-Roni falls on Bill's head, and bounces off right into his hand. He looks down at it... before looking up into the eyes of Joe. Goldberg tosses the box away, before grabbing Joe by the throat, and bringing him in.]
BG: ... One.
Joe: [on the verge of tears] I DIDN'T DO IT!!! I... I DIDN'T DO IT! IT WAS ALL THAT GUY! [pointing at Axl] AND BILL... CAN I CALL YA BILL? [Goldberg shakes his head slowly] MR. GOLDBERG SIR! I HAVE NEVER... EVER... IN MY ENTIRE LIFE... EVER MET THAT MAN BEFORE! ISN'T THAT RIGHT AXL? [Axl looks at Joe with a look, a mixture of bewilderement, shock, and fright] SEE, HE'LL TELL YA! ... WHOEVER HE IS! [winks at Axl, as Axl's expression is now simply that of dumbfoudedness. Axl scratches his neck, and coughs, knowing Joe is most likely about to get it.]
[And that's when Bill decides to drop Joe. And stare a hole through Axl.]
Axl: Whoa... wait... WHAT?! No, no, no, you're not actually gonna BELIEVE that doofus... uh-uh-are you? G- ... G- ... Goldberg? MR. .... Mr. Goldberg. Please... don't kill me.
[Goldberg creeps closer... and closer... about to do massive amounts of bodily harm to our hapless hero... when suddenly... he stops. ... And turns around.]
Axl: ... You're... you're not going to kill me? ... Wow! Heheh... sheesh... *muttering* And the Savior strikes another one down... boo-yah. Heheh, go me.
[And THAT... is when Bill Goldberg decided to crouch down juuust a bit, turn around ever... so... slowly, and lock his gaze on Axl, hands on his knees, in a stance, ready to pounce. Axl is looking to the side at a plastic wrapped item that just so happens to give off a bit of Axl's reflection... when he happens to notice Bill in the reflection... he turns... just in time to feel the-
[SPEAR!!!~1one]
- which sends both men careening backwards into the shelves, sending items everywhere. As Bill gets back to his feet, he drags his thumb across his throat, signalling for one more move... the Jackhammer. But thankfully for Axl, a nearby worker sees Goldberg doing the damage, and hands the big guy a broom and bucket, telling him to get to work on cleaning up the aisle.]
Worker: Get to work on cleaning up the aisle.
BG: YOOOOUUUU'REEE NEXTTTT!!!
Worker: You're next, alright. To get to work on cleaning up the aisle.
BG: ... Damn.
Worker: HEY! I know you!
BG: Oh, you do? I mean... You better! Or YOU'RE NEXT!
Worker: Yeah, you're a wrestler, aren't you? Hey... I gotta deal for ya. You sign my shirt, and I'll let ya off the hook with this whole 'get to work on cleaning up the aisle' thing. Deal?
BG: Sure. Ya got a pen?
Worker: Yeah, I just so happen to have one in the event I meet you.
BG: ... You carry around a pen, everywhere ya go, just in case you meet me.
Worker: Yup.
BG: ... K.
[The worker takes out a pen, hands it to Goldberg, and Goldberg jots down his name on the worker's uniform. The worker looks down, and sees Goldberg's name. But instead of looking happy, the worker looks a bit down.]
BG: What's the problem?
Worker: I thought you were Ron Simmons?
BG: ... Isn't he black?
Worker: Yeah.
BG: ...
Worker: Well, that sucks. This is the only uniform ever made that fits me.
BG: ... Whoa, what? You mean at this supermarket?
Worker: Nah. The only one. Ever. Any uniform whatsoever in the entire history of mankind.
BG: ... That's really... unlikely.
Worker: Yup.
BG: ... ?
Worker: So, I'm gonna have to quit.
BG: Oh... well... I'm sorry? You don't think you could wash it?
Worker: Nah. I've been meaning to kill myself anyway, so- [shoots himself]
BG: ...
[The worker falls to the floor, gun at his side, blood spilling from his head.]
BG: ... That's... ... What in the fuck just happened here?
Axl: That's the man, Harley! Arrest him!
BG: Wh-what? ... HEY! What in the hell are you arresting me for?!
Officer Harley: You have the right to remain silent, anything you do or say can and WILL be used against you in a court of law.
BG: YOU! YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!!! Why am I being arrested?! You can't arrest me! I'm Bill F'n Goldberg!
Axl: EXACTLY. And according to Nowhere City Law #9,328, which I just passed a few moments ago, when a former wrestler turned MMA combatant signs a supermarket worker's uniform under false pretenses of said former wrestler turned MMA combatant being a current wrestler with non-MMA background, who frequently speaks in single syllable phrases, is of African-American descent, and has hair, when in fact said former wrestler turned MMA combatant ACTUALLY is found frequently speaking in two syllable phrases, is Caucasian, and has NO hair.... annnd, said supermarket worker's uniform, which has already been signed, is the only uniform available to said supermarket worker, which is clean AND fits said supermarket worker... annnd, said supermarket worker is FORCED, by said former wrestler turned MMA combatant who is found frequently speaking in two syllable phrases, is Caucasian, and has NO hair [who is indeed NOT, in fact, a current wrestler with non-MMA background, who frequently speaks in single syllable phrases, is of African-American descent, and has hair] to quit his position as supermarket worker, and proceed to take his/her/its own life... then the NPD [Nowhere Police Department] have no choice... but to arrest said former wrestler turned MMA combatant, who is found frequently speaking in two syllable phrases, is Caucasian, and has no hair, who is indeed not, in fact, a current wrestler with non-MMA background, who frequently speaks in single syllable phrases, is of African-American descent... and has hair.
BG: ... What in the holy mother lovin' mary of GOD did you just say?
Axl: Bottom line? You made this young man, one of my sure to be many, many followers... as soon as he met me, atleast... take his own life. You, Bill Goldberg, darkened his soul with your LIES! Claiming to be that which you are NOT! For Bill Goldberg... alas and forthwith, through darkness AND the light... thou hast-
BG: Dammit, can ya just speak ENGLISH, for christ sakes!!!
Axl: You, made this guy, kill himself, because he thought you, were someone you claimed to be... when in fact you weren't. Bottom line - you lied to this poor boy, and because of that, he KILLED HIMSELF!!!
BG: But... that's INSANE! I never told that idiot that I was anyone but Bill F'n Goldberg!!!
Axl: I've got one word for ya.
RE-GARD-LESS.
BG: ... Huh?
Axl: Exactly. Take him away, Officer Davidson.
Officer Harley: No problemo, boss.
BG: ... Boss? ... Problemo? Wait... aren't you that guy-
Axl: GET HIM OUT OF HERE!!!
["Officer Davidson" drags Goldberg away, as... wait... ya know, that sure looks like... Joe???]
[Axl smiles, staring through his painted face, before reaching into his baggy 'Tripp' jeans, and pulling out... a toy Harley Davidson bike? He rolls the cycle around in his hand... before kissing it.]
Axl: Sometimes... the most sinister plans... are the most simplistic. Who's evil? Who's dark? Who's... sinister? [slowly lifts his eyes to the camera... still hidden amongst the cans of vegetables. Axl's smile is dripping with a demonic smirk... and his eyes... a devilish glint]
I AM...