We open cold to an orange cart with squeaky wheels being pushed around a certain home improvement retailer. Voices from nearby customers and employees supplement a busy background. Moments later, the incontrovertible voice of Metro himself slashes through it all.
I looooove the idea of this tag match! Why? ‘Cause not only do I actually respect my partner Rush Starlin’, but those who enjoy games and play “Hit and Run!” can’t do that when they’re forced out into the open. Sure, one can physically hide behind something. But, like a sharpened axe fresh off the grindin’ stone, I’m prepared to cut down an entire forest to flush out a certain… weasel.
Vito sighs as he navigates his shopping cart down aisle “13”.
And nope, I don’t mean that irrelevant troll log Walt Whezl. By weasel, I mean that lily-livered, yellow-bellied, cheap-shot artist that’s devaluing the REAL World’s Championship every second he holds it and reveals what the sunken face of a desperate man looks like.
Before long, he stops in front of a pallet full of peppermint spray. It’s become quite clear at this point that Vito is in the pest control section.
Maybe weasel ain’t the right comparison? Probably shoulda said…rat. And how do we flush out rats? Easy peasy.
The 50% proprietor of MECCA stops in front of a sign that reads “Please ask for assistance with handling of dry ice!” sign, indicating there’s an abundance of it somewhere nearby.
To deal with scamperin’ little disease pods like a rat?
You call an exterminator.
Vito ponders all of this with a smile and flashes a knowing wink at the camera.
Obvious choice, ain’t it? For one night only, I’m tradin’ my medallion and cab for traps, poisons, and bazooka-sized repellants. So with that in mind? I’m gonna do whatever I can, as any exterminator must, with whatever tools I have access to. Strength, perseverance, and undeniable determination to flush out this vile, scared little rat and end its miserable existence with one bone crushing, blood squelching stomp.
The squeaky wheels roll again. But then stop immediately after rounding the aisle’s corner.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. ‘Cause I’mma need to chop some trees down first. And it’s one big ole redwood in particular that needs to be reduced to a bloody stump.
Vito switches his attention to the adjacent wall of sharps. From box cutters to machetes, to… several gleaming axes of all sizes and blade length.
Listen, Coley. Yeah, not gonna call you ‘Lord’. ‘Cause there’s only one Lord in this world and He’s protectin’ us every time we step into the ring. Not callin’ you ‘Colossus’ either ‘cause he’s my favorite member of the X-Men and I’m not about to have a shriekin’ simpleton like you ruin that for me. So, Coley? I get it. We all get it. You’re big. You’re scary. And you’re the kinda LOUD NOISES~! weirdo who needs a jerk for a mouthpiece to give your intimidatin’ presence an actual voice.
But like your partner over there? When the pied piper discovers a way to escape the Rat Clutch and lead Remy outta town? It. Ain’t. Workin’.
Vito grabs a 36-inch splitting axe with a titanium handle. Feeling out its weight by waving it around, he nods as he puts it in his cart.
Nah. Instead, Coley, it’s makin’ you look like a circus act. Hearin’ you speak and watchin’ you meander along this world could be a deleted scene from ‘Big Fish’ and folks’d be none the wiser. That’s how ridiculous you look and sound when you open that overgrown, space-toothed mandible of yours. No wonder Walt has you wearin’ his full-body gimp suit for a damn mask. Good GOD!
But don’t you worry, Coley. When I’m done choppin’ you down? You’ll have ample enough time to get that growth removed from your pitui-what’s it so you can stop shoutin’ over the headaches from that protrudin’ skull of yours, you Lurch lookin’ freakshow.
Fact is, I’m settin’ a precedent.
You WILL show me some respect.
To that point? Not even God Himself will save you from my wrath when I’m finished with ya, Alex… never mind that Deku Tree on bath salts of a partner you’re hidin’ behind.
WELCOME to the- WATCH OUT, RUSH!
Vito hums the tune of “King Rat” by Modest Mouse as he heads off in the check-out area direction. With the wheels squeaking away, we fade to black (and gold, baby!).