Post by outhouseinferno on May 3, 2015 13:00:38 GMT
Lucha Jack flopped onto the damp mat for the third time in ten minutes. The show had only just begun for the second time today, at Lucha Jack's. The announcer yelled out Lucha Jack's thoughts like a carnival barker as he rolled back up into a standing stance. Lucha Jack knew the announcer was full of shit, but it's how the script usually went.
"You ain't nothing!" El Gringo, the other luchadore, beckoned at Jack as he waved his arms around as an attempt at showmanship.
"Your parents died because you flunked out of luchadore school", Lucha Jack mumbled aggressively through his full-face mask.
Neither El Gringo nor the twelve audience members heard the words.
Lucha Jack charged at El Gringo, who sidestepped it quite easily. El Gringo knew it as the ploy it was, and he opened his arms in anticipation. Lucha Jack bounced off the ropes, and launched himself leg-first at El Gringo, and clamped his head between his legs. As he started spinning around, Lucha Jack wondered if he could let his legs go and hammer throw himself out of the ring. Maybe he'd land right in the middle of a dining table and send some diners flying. Serves them right for eating the shitty food here. Or more likely, since he couldn't really see where he was going, he'd hit the linoleum floor and break something in his own body.
El Gringo began to buckle. It was time to end it. Lucha Jack twisted and brought El Gringo down to the mat with a bang. The buzzing whir of a chainsaw caught his attention. It was Loseador, holding a chainsaw and readying it for Lucha Jack's finishing move.
"Is this going to be it? Are we going to see the world-famous chainsaw piledriver?" The carnival barker set the traditional ending.
Lucha Jack got up, caught the thrown chainsaw, and kicked El Gringo over in one smooth motion. He picked up Gringo, held the chainsaw to his chest, and piledrived him into the mat. If the chainsaw were real, El Gringo would be sliced in two like a half-price meatloaf. But the chainsaw was fake, the piledriver was held back, it was all fake, everybody knew it.
A few halfhearted claps ended the show for them. The announcer took a bow, El Gringo chose to roll under the ropes instead. Lucha Jack stood for a few moments more, contemplating the weight of the chainsaw in his hand.
How had it all come to this, he wondered? In the glory days of old, Lucha Jack cut down yetis and dinosaurs with a real, mighty chainsaw, forged by his lucha ancestors, and saved many a town from a great monster menace. Now, he wrestled his old colleagues over and over, for an audience of 12 at lunchtime in his lucha theme restaurant.
Lucha Jack didn't bother with the backstage exit this time. He sat at one of the many empty tables in the far corner and motioned a waiter.
"I'll have the special", said Lucha Jack, not even looking up at the lucha waiter. Fifteen minutes later a vaguely-grilled sirloin steak lay in front of him. Lucha Jack pulled his mask past his nose, then began to put mashed potato in his mouth. He no longer cared who saw his mouth anymore, it was just some guy's mouth.
Lucha Jack barely got through half the steak before a loud bang punctuated the restaurant. A black and yellow-masked luchadore in a suit walked straight to the ring in the restaurant's center, flanked by two less-fancy but similar luchadores holding suitcases. Lucha Jack instinctive bounced his fork off the table and stomped to head them off.
"Get the fuck out of my restaurant, Enemigo."
"Is this the way you treat your inspector?" Enemigo laughed heartily, then took a casual look around the diner. "Some crowd you've got here today."
"I don't care, you morons turn around and walk right out that door before i r-"
Enemigo cut him off.
"I heard from your landlord, funny thing actually, you've only got two months, right? These two friendly men with me can make that less than a month if you keep mouthing off."
Lucha Jack made the angriest snarl he could. The mask only allowed his eyes to glare at Enemigo. People in the diner had already started watching them. A lucha cook left his post and walked to Jack's side.
"Is there a problem here, Jack?"
"No, Dr. Tormenta. It's just Enemigo again trying to make fun of our business."
Tormenta turned to Enemigo. "You do remember what Everone is doing for Lucha Jack's Diner, right? Your "inspectors" aren't gonna have it easy if you shut us down, you know."
If that had any effect on Enemigo, he didn't show it. "We'll check in with your landlord in a week. Your audience, or lack thereof, has already decided what's gonna happen with all of you. Take care."
Lucha Jack didn't see when they left. All he could feel was a burning sensation in his right hand, one that told him to smash the nearest living object.
"You might want to let go of that Jack."
Lucha Jack looked back to his hand. He had brought the chainsaw there with him just like the old days. Of course.
"You know they're trying to make you mad, Jack. It's kind of Enemigo's thing, so are you-"
Lucha Jack responded by hurling the chainsaw at another empty corner. It caught two chairs and knocked them under the table.
"No, I'm not mad. And I'll think of something to get this restaurant running in a week. Just like the old days."
Lucha Jack walked out through the double doors of the diner. So what if people didn't like a lucha restaurant, there had to be some way to get more people into the stands. He headed down the street to see the busy diner district, where Lucha Jack's and many other had devolved into themed food service. That'd be the first place to start, if the missing audience wasn't in his diner, then they had to be here...
"You ain't nothing!" El Gringo, the other luchadore, beckoned at Jack as he waved his arms around as an attempt at showmanship.
"Your parents died because you flunked out of luchadore school", Lucha Jack mumbled aggressively through his full-face mask.
Neither El Gringo nor the twelve audience members heard the words.
Lucha Jack charged at El Gringo, who sidestepped it quite easily. El Gringo knew it as the ploy it was, and he opened his arms in anticipation. Lucha Jack bounced off the ropes, and launched himself leg-first at El Gringo, and clamped his head between his legs. As he started spinning around, Lucha Jack wondered if he could let his legs go and hammer throw himself out of the ring. Maybe he'd land right in the middle of a dining table and send some diners flying. Serves them right for eating the shitty food here. Or more likely, since he couldn't really see where he was going, he'd hit the linoleum floor and break something in his own body.
El Gringo began to buckle. It was time to end it. Lucha Jack twisted and brought El Gringo down to the mat with a bang. The buzzing whir of a chainsaw caught his attention. It was Loseador, holding a chainsaw and readying it for Lucha Jack's finishing move.
"Is this going to be it? Are we going to see the world-famous chainsaw piledriver?" The carnival barker set the traditional ending.
Lucha Jack got up, caught the thrown chainsaw, and kicked El Gringo over in one smooth motion. He picked up Gringo, held the chainsaw to his chest, and piledrived him into the mat. If the chainsaw were real, El Gringo would be sliced in two like a half-price meatloaf. But the chainsaw was fake, the piledriver was held back, it was all fake, everybody knew it.
A few halfhearted claps ended the show for them. The announcer took a bow, El Gringo chose to roll under the ropes instead. Lucha Jack stood for a few moments more, contemplating the weight of the chainsaw in his hand.
How had it all come to this, he wondered? In the glory days of old, Lucha Jack cut down yetis and dinosaurs with a real, mighty chainsaw, forged by his lucha ancestors, and saved many a town from a great monster menace. Now, he wrestled his old colleagues over and over, for an audience of 12 at lunchtime in his lucha theme restaurant.
Lucha Jack didn't bother with the backstage exit this time. He sat at one of the many empty tables in the far corner and motioned a waiter.
"I'll have the special", said Lucha Jack, not even looking up at the lucha waiter. Fifteen minutes later a vaguely-grilled sirloin steak lay in front of him. Lucha Jack pulled his mask past his nose, then began to put mashed potato in his mouth. He no longer cared who saw his mouth anymore, it was just some guy's mouth.
Lucha Jack barely got through half the steak before a loud bang punctuated the restaurant. A black and yellow-masked luchadore in a suit walked straight to the ring in the restaurant's center, flanked by two less-fancy but similar luchadores holding suitcases. Lucha Jack instinctive bounced his fork off the table and stomped to head them off.
"Get the fuck out of my restaurant, Enemigo."
"Is this the way you treat your inspector?" Enemigo laughed heartily, then took a casual look around the diner. "Some crowd you've got here today."
"I don't care, you morons turn around and walk right out that door before i r-"
Enemigo cut him off.
"I heard from your landlord, funny thing actually, you've only got two months, right? These two friendly men with me can make that less than a month if you keep mouthing off."
Lucha Jack made the angriest snarl he could. The mask only allowed his eyes to glare at Enemigo. People in the diner had already started watching them. A lucha cook left his post and walked to Jack's side.
"Is there a problem here, Jack?"
"No, Dr. Tormenta. It's just Enemigo again trying to make fun of our business."
Tormenta turned to Enemigo. "You do remember what Everone is doing for Lucha Jack's Diner, right? Your "inspectors" aren't gonna have it easy if you shut us down, you know."
If that had any effect on Enemigo, he didn't show it. "We'll check in with your landlord in a week. Your audience, or lack thereof, has already decided what's gonna happen with all of you. Take care."
Lucha Jack didn't see when they left. All he could feel was a burning sensation in his right hand, one that told him to smash the nearest living object.
"You might want to let go of that Jack."
Lucha Jack looked back to his hand. He had brought the chainsaw there with him just like the old days. Of course.
"You know they're trying to make you mad, Jack. It's kind of Enemigo's thing, so are you-"
Lucha Jack responded by hurling the chainsaw at another empty corner. It caught two chairs and knocked them under the table.
"No, I'm not mad. And I'll think of something to get this restaurant running in a week. Just like the old days."
Lucha Jack walked out through the double doors of the diner. So what if people didn't like a lucha restaurant, there had to be some way to get more people into the stands. He headed down the street to see the busy diner district, where Lucha Jack's and many other had devolved into themed food service. That'd be the first place to start, if the missing audience wasn't in his diner, then they had to be here...
