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| False Advertising; El Lobo's culture shock | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Feb 12 2005, 11:41 PM (47 Views) | |
| BobPalindrome | Feb 12 2005, 11:41 PM Post #1 |
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[The scene opens in a Mexican restaurant in Richmond. Like most Mexican restaurants found outside of the southwestern United States, it is incredibly fake and phony. Neatly cleaned tables are covered in festive tablecloths, cheesy posters in Spanish encourage patrons to try various platters, and mariachi music blares from speakers within the ceiling. Dopey-looking teenagers hustle from spot to spot, doing their best to hold burritos and margaritas without dropping them. The camera centers on El Lobo Loco, who is sitting solitary at a table, looking disgusted as he pokes what looks like an amalgamation of fried rice, refried beans and salsa. Along with his mask, he wears a denim jacket – we can’t see the bottom of him as he is seated. A waiter, covered in acne and already prematurely balding, comes up to Lobo with a very apathetic look on his face. As he sets a Corona beer bottle before Lobo, Lobo looks back at him with a glare that could kill.] Waiter: Here’s your beer, sir. Can I get you anything else? El Lobo: Si! How about an explanation on how you can call this mierda “authentic Mexican food”? This is garbage! I wouldn’t even feed my puerro this garbage! I’d retch, but whatever chemicals were put in here have incapacitated my gag reflex. And seeing as how I’m not an 18-year-old cheerleader, that’s not a good thing! Waiter: I see, sir. Could I bring you some complimentary chips and queso? El Lobo: Oh, yes! Please! More of that yellow piss-colored bland goop you call queso! I’m sure eating that would make me feel just peachy! Thanks, but I’ll stick to this beer. It’s the one thing in this hellhole idiots like you haven’t been allowed to ruin. Waiter: My apologies, sir. [As the waiter scurries off, El Lobo shakes his head and turns to the camera. He takes a quick sip of his beer, shrugging his compact shoulders.] El Lobo: There is something I can’t understand about you Americans. You advertise authentic ethnic food, and then when asked to deliver, you give up some watered-down, cheapened version. I went into an Italian restaurant the other day… It was about as Italian as Orlando Bloom. Just like Orlando Bloom, actually… Pale, bland, maybe nice to look at, but ultimately worthless. And the Utah Jazz? This country is full of false advertising! [El Lobo takes another gulp from his beer before fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his coat. He lights it and takes a long drag before pointing the end of his smoke at the camera.] El Lobo: Even the FIW has false advertising. You see, here in Richmond, I will soon be facing Max Corona. Now, even though I am one of the two Fighting Spirit champions, it does not bother me that my match is not higher on the card… The time will come when I will be a full champion and there will be no doubt that I deserve to be counted as one of the best. Right now, I’m perfectly happy facing off against cabrons like Max, as it will be just another victory for me in the FIW. Where the false advertising comes in with Max is that he is supposedly a cruiserweight, but he does not utilize very many high-flying moves! If you have been graced with the lean, mean body of a junior heavyweight, then why don’t you use it? Instead, Max is no better than my last opponent, Kuriyama… Suplexes, suplexes, suplexes! Listen, idiotas… If the fans wanted to see grown men grabbing each other and rubbing all over each other, they’d go to a discreet adult video store. What the people truly want is to be amazed by true athletic skill, by scant mercy shown to opponents! It’s the reason my pay-per-view debut was so amazing! Now all the chicos and the chicas have learned how utterly death-defying I really am! And the fans will stare in dazzled amazement once again on Tuesday, when I defeat you handily on Throwdown… [As he sneers at the camera, the waiter returns into view, carrying another Corona and this time accompanied by fellow skinny young white boy dressed in a stained smock and chef hat.] Waiter: Here is your beer, sir. And I told the chef that you might want to share your opinions on the cuisine tonight. Chef: Dude, do you not like your enchiladas? El Lobo: Oh, is that what that was supposed to be? Having a white nino cook Mexican food is only asking for a trouble. If they can’t jump and can’t dance, what makes you think they can spicy food? Idiotas! [In a huff, El Lobo stands, reaches into a pocket and produces some cash. The waiter conspicuously counts along as the bills are thrown down. When El Lobo stops, the waiter looks at him with plaintive eyes.] Waiter: No tip…? El Lobo: Here’s a tip… Burn this place to the ground. [In a huff, El Lobo walks off, leaving the waiter and chef to look at each other with annoyed faces. Fade to black.] |
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7:07 PM Jul 11
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7:07 PM Jul 11