Post by spike on Dec 15, 2016 21:53:04 GMT -5
On Camera
Spike Steel's home
Cody, Wyoming
It's a day like any other at the Steel residence, when from nowhere Mallow comes running through the door in a huff. Spike, having seen his child's anger, approaches him and clamps a paw down on his shoulder. Mallow, being in an angry state of mind, simply allows it to happen, and glares into the foreground.
Spike: What gives Mallow, you look pissed.
Mallow: Oh you're damn right I'm pissed! That fat fuck up north, put me on his naughty list. That Jolly Bastard has to pay dad.
Spike: Oh really now?
Mallow: He has to!
Spike: Oh, no doubt kid. I was referring more to the list. This must not go unpunished.
Mallows demeanor instantly changes, and the scene fades as father and son plot what can only be something evil. The scene opens back up, and we are now in the basement of Spike's house. A fat man with an impressive beard, a red suit and hat, and black boots is tied to a chair. The fat man looks frantically around, trying to get a bearing on his location, and more importantly his situation.
Santa: What in the devil is going on, you can't do this to me! Santa has to make all the boys and girls in the world happy.
It's about this time two sets of footsteps can be heard, making their way down a set of wooden stairs. Mallow, and Spike then come into frame, and position themselves on either side of Santa Clause.
Mallow: Yeah, but only the good ones, right?
Santa: Well, I...I don't know what you mean young man.
Spike: Listen, Nick enough fucking around. You are tied to a chair, there is not a soul around for miles, and you happen to be in the presence of a man who does not care if you make your world tour so to speak.
Mallow: Yeah, answer the question you jolly fuck!
Santa: Look, son, I don't make the rules. All you can do, is try very hard to make the nice list next year.
Spike: You don't make the rules? Yet, it is YOUR list, is it not? Sounds to me like you do make the rules.
Santa: Please sir, I beg of you, don't do this! There will be millions of sad children if I don't show.
Spike: Yeah? Well, I really only care about one. Yet, he just happens to be on the naughty list, so what exactly is my incentive to let you leave here?
Santa struggles against his bindings, but it's no use. Spike had done an especially good job of binding him to the chair. Spike grows tired of seeing Santa struggle, and slams the back of his right hand into his cheekbone making spit fly out of his mouth.
Spike: We have something really nice planned for you. Mallow dug up some info, and it appears as if you really like egg nog.
Santa: Well, yes. Let me go, and we can drink some together.
Spike: And deprive you of this generous gift my boy picked up for you? I think not fat man.
Mallow: You don't like my present Santa? (Mallow feigns grief)
Spike: Now, Mallow. I have to ask, you holding or pouring?
Santa: Wait, holding or pouring what!?
Mallow: Oh I'm pouring, I've been waiting for this all day!
Spike nods, and motions towards a five gallon bucket sitting idly by in a nearby corner. Mallow grins, nods, and trots toward the corner to fetch the bucket. The Son of Spike hoists the bucket up, and makes his trek back to Santa, taking care to go slowly as to not spill the buckets contents. Santa's nostrils are attacked by the smell of egg nog, but before he has a chance to enjoy it, a rag is stretched across his face, and his chair is quickly jerked back.
Spike: Ok Santa, I know you must be terrified, but screaming is just going to make this worse. I'd calm the hell down if I were you.
Santa, still unsure what's going on, refuses to listen to Spike's suggestion. Mallow, bucket in hand, begins to pour the liquid goodness down over the rag, causing Saint Nick to cough and spurt. Spike holds up a hand, and Mallow stops his pouring. After Santa had gotten a brief moment of rest, Spike motions for Mallow to begin pouring once more. Mallow eagerly begins to pour again, Santa's legs begin to twitch uncontrollably, he now begins to make choking noises, much to the delight of young Mallow.
Spike: Oh darn Santa, that's all the egg nog. You are a messy guy, got more of it on you than in you.
Spike says as he puts the chair back in a seated position. Spike lets the, now damp, rag fall, revealing a heavily breathing fat guy. Spike moves around to Santa's front, places a hand on each of his knees, and leans in really close to Santa's face.
Spike: So, my boy still on that black list?
Santa: I told you mister, I have no control over it!
Spike: Are you sure?
Santa: Yes, I'm sure.
Spike: Oh, pity. Well, Mallow, get the other bucket then.
Santa: NO! He's off the list, I swear it. No more, I can't take it, please just stop!
Spike: That's a good Jolly Fat Fuck. Now, Mallow hop up on his lap, and let him know what you want for Christmas.
Santa, not sure what to think, turns his head away from Santa. Spike's young son, does as he's told, and simply sits himself on Santa's, now nog covered, lap. Mallow then drapes an arm over Santa's neck. and looks him dead in the eye.
Mallow: Most people would ask for some fancy toy, or a bike, or something lame like that. But, my father has taught me that material possessions don't mean shit without a family, and well I consider a certain group of people my family. And it would sure make me sad if they were shown up by The Jew Blazer, Ronnie North, or Blazer's human blow up doll. I guess what I am trying to say, is I want Black Light District to come out of Winter Solstice with a win under their belts, you think you can handle that Santa.
Santa: I...I have no control over such things!
Spike: Don't worry son, the rest of the family and I already planned on getting you that for Christmas. Because there is no way in hell that "loveable" group of losers, is going to beat us. I'd venture to say, they are in WAY over their heads.
Santa: So, you got what you want. Can, can I go now?
Mallow: Well dad, if that's the case we really don't need him anymore. You know what that means?
Spike: Sure do kiddo.
Spike hands Mallow what appears to be a sharpened candy cane, Mallow licks it a couple of times, and acts like he is going to go on upstairs. But, out of nowhere, Mallow spins on his heels, and plunges the candy cane into Santa's chest. Spike, who was standing by the staircase, flips two switches. One, that kills the lights, the other that turns on a black light. Santa's blood flows from his body, and form the letters BLD on the ground below as the scene ends.
Spike Steel's home
Cody, Wyoming
It's a day like any other at the Steel residence, when from nowhere Mallow comes running through the door in a huff. Spike, having seen his child's anger, approaches him and clamps a paw down on his shoulder. Mallow, being in an angry state of mind, simply allows it to happen, and glares into the foreground.
Spike: What gives Mallow, you look pissed.
Mallow: Oh you're damn right I'm pissed! That fat fuck up north, put me on his naughty list. That Jolly Bastard has to pay dad.
Spike: Oh really now?
Mallow: He has to!
Spike: Oh, no doubt kid. I was referring more to the list. This must not go unpunished.
Mallows demeanor instantly changes, and the scene fades as father and son plot what can only be something evil. The scene opens back up, and we are now in the basement of Spike's house. A fat man with an impressive beard, a red suit and hat, and black boots is tied to a chair. The fat man looks frantically around, trying to get a bearing on his location, and more importantly his situation.
Santa: What in the devil is going on, you can't do this to me! Santa has to make all the boys and girls in the world happy.
It's about this time two sets of footsteps can be heard, making their way down a set of wooden stairs. Mallow, and Spike then come into frame, and position themselves on either side of Santa Clause.
Mallow: Yeah, but only the good ones, right?
Santa: Well, I...I don't know what you mean young man.
Spike: Listen, Nick enough fucking around. You are tied to a chair, there is not a soul around for miles, and you happen to be in the presence of a man who does not care if you make your world tour so to speak.
Mallow: Yeah, answer the question you jolly fuck!
Santa: Look, son, I don't make the rules. All you can do, is try very hard to make the nice list next year.
Spike: You don't make the rules? Yet, it is YOUR list, is it not? Sounds to me like you do make the rules.
Santa: Please sir, I beg of you, don't do this! There will be millions of sad children if I don't show.
Spike: Yeah? Well, I really only care about one. Yet, he just happens to be on the naughty list, so what exactly is my incentive to let you leave here?
Santa struggles against his bindings, but it's no use. Spike had done an especially good job of binding him to the chair. Spike grows tired of seeing Santa struggle, and slams the back of his right hand into his cheekbone making spit fly out of his mouth.
Spike: We have something really nice planned for you. Mallow dug up some info, and it appears as if you really like egg nog.
Santa: Well, yes. Let me go, and we can drink some together.
Spike: And deprive you of this generous gift my boy picked up for you? I think not fat man.
Mallow: You don't like my present Santa? (Mallow feigns grief)
Spike: Now, Mallow. I have to ask, you holding or pouring?
Santa: Wait, holding or pouring what!?
Mallow: Oh I'm pouring, I've been waiting for this all day!
Spike nods, and motions towards a five gallon bucket sitting idly by in a nearby corner. Mallow grins, nods, and trots toward the corner to fetch the bucket. The Son of Spike hoists the bucket up, and makes his trek back to Santa, taking care to go slowly as to not spill the buckets contents. Santa's nostrils are attacked by the smell of egg nog, but before he has a chance to enjoy it, a rag is stretched across his face, and his chair is quickly jerked back.
Spike: Ok Santa, I know you must be terrified, but screaming is just going to make this worse. I'd calm the hell down if I were you.
Santa, still unsure what's going on, refuses to listen to Spike's suggestion. Mallow, bucket in hand, begins to pour the liquid goodness down over the rag, causing Saint Nick to cough and spurt. Spike holds up a hand, and Mallow stops his pouring. After Santa had gotten a brief moment of rest, Spike motions for Mallow to begin pouring once more. Mallow eagerly begins to pour again, Santa's legs begin to twitch uncontrollably, he now begins to make choking noises, much to the delight of young Mallow.
Spike: Oh darn Santa, that's all the egg nog. You are a messy guy, got more of it on you than in you.
Spike says as he puts the chair back in a seated position. Spike lets the, now damp, rag fall, revealing a heavily breathing fat guy. Spike moves around to Santa's front, places a hand on each of his knees, and leans in really close to Santa's face.
Spike: So, my boy still on that black list?
Santa: I told you mister, I have no control over it!
Spike: Are you sure?
Santa: Yes, I'm sure.
Spike: Oh, pity. Well, Mallow, get the other bucket then.
Santa: NO! He's off the list, I swear it. No more, I can't take it, please just stop!
Spike: That's a good Jolly Fat Fuck. Now, Mallow hop up on his lap, and let him know what you want for Christmas.
Santa, not sure what to think, turns his head away from Santa. Spike's young son, does as he's told, and simply sits himself on Santa's, now nog covered, lap. Mallow then drapes an arm over Santa's neck. and looks him dead in the eye.
Mallow: Most people would ask for some fancy toy, or a bike, or something lame like that. But, my father has taught me that material possessions don't mean shit without a family, and well I consider a certain group of people my family. And it would sure make me sad if they were shown up by The Jew Blazer, Ronnie North, or Blazer's human blow up doll. I guess what I am trying to say, is I want Black Light District to come out of Winter Solstice with a win under their belts, you think you can handle that Santa.
Santa: I...I have no control over such things!
Spike: Don't worry son, the rest of the family and I already planned on getting you that for Christmas. Because there is no way in hell that "loveable" group of losers, is going to beat us. I'd venture to say, they are in WAY over their heads.
Santa: So, you got what you want. Can, can I go now?
Mallow: Well dad, if that's the case we really don't need him anymore. You know what that means?
Spike: Sure do kiddo.
Spike hands Mallow what appears to be a sharpened candy cane, Mallow licks it a couple of times, and acts like he is going to go on upstairs. But, out of nowhere, Mallow spins on his heels, and plunges the candy cane into Santa's chest. Spike, who was standing by the staircase, flips two switches. One, that kills the lights, the other that turns on a black light. Santa's blood flows from his body, and form the letters BLD on the ground below as the scene ends.
