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IAmHollywood · **02-01-2015, 11:53 PM**

It is Sunday morning and the sun is forcing its way through the blinds of C.C. Hollywood's bedroom as he lays in his bed, alone, just waking up from quite the slumber after a night of debauchery with Joey Bagadonuts. As time has proven itself before, going out with Joey to a strip club after smoking makes for a very hit or miss evening. What does Hollywood have to complain about? He woke up at home at ten o'clock in the morning. At the worst, he was able to sleep in. The very next thing he knows, there is a knock at his bedroom door followed by...

"Hey, man. Let's go to Waffle House for breakfast."

Clearly in the mood for breakfast, as usual, Hollywood didn't need much time to think before replying.

"Yeah, man. Pack up the Pax on the coffee table for me, bud. I'm getting on my groove today."

For those not familiar with what a Pax is, it is a portable vaporizer that allows the user to inhale tetrahydrocannabinol directly from the marijuana bud itself. The vaporized weed then can be formed later into what is commonly referred to as hash. It truly takes degenerates such as Joey and Hollywood to carry on with these processes to get high. Joey, on the other hand, has been making his own hash since his mid-teens. Surprisingly enough, he was never the dealer. At most, Joey was the middleman. The middleman gets his cut, so Joey didn't mind it. Hollywood, thinking out of the box, realized this far ago about Joey, which is why he is the "mad scientist" behind Camp Hollywood. Hollywood brings in the money and draws the attention while Joey does what he does best, spreading the wealth of earth's own medication. Hollywood's "space cadet" if you will.

"Dude, we should never go back to that strip joint again. I am forever unclean."

Let that sink in. Joey never misses an opportunity to see a pair of boobs, but yet is striking a name off of the list of strips clubs not to return to. It's unheard of. Hollywood sat up on his mattress in his room as he let what Joey said comprehend. Hollywood then gets to his feet and walks to his bedroom door to speak to Joey, somewhat concerned.

"With all due respect, you were forever unclean before last night, but I've never heard you say that you didn't want to go back to an establishment that offers the plain sight viewing of titties. I do recall, but remind me just as to why you have come to this revelation all the sudden. My night was shrouded in a haze."

Not before a half minute elapses, Joey goes to the couch where he and Hollywood were smoking two blunts the night before. He takes a few smaller buds and places them into a copper grinder and tears the weed into finer shreds, perfect for smoking out of the "Felix the Cat" pipe on the coffee table. Noticing that Joey is smoking in order to brace himself for telling his side of the story from last night, Hollywood sits beside him with his Pax in hand. The Pax is at temperature for Hollywood to drag a hit, which he does of course. C.C. makes himself comfortable as he sits on the couch next to Joey.

"I don't remember that place being as sketchy as it was. I mean, that place was located in what seemed to be the city shitter, next to a liquor store, across from a gas station. Hell, all that was missing was the hotel with the creepy 'no vacancy' sign that kind of lights up. Fuck that, man."

"But, I thought you said that was the place you went to after the Flyers game, or was it?"

"I was drunk when I found titties last time. This is what happens when you go out and find a strip joint when you are high versus letting titties find you when I'm drunk. I think one stripper came up to me asking for a dollar dance. A fucking dollar dance! This broad was so lowly that she was going to spread cheeks for a buck!"

With a mouth full of vapor, Hollywood released the smoke and began to laugh, knowing that there was no ignoring what is coming out of Joey's mouth. Then again, there was a reason as to why Hollywood did not drink anything last night, including water. The sanitation codes of the strip joint where that of what older Philadelphians refer to as "knock knock" joints. At these kinds of places are what you would expect at a local, in city dive bar. The beer taps are more than likely just cleaned only every other month, the water probably comes out with a trace of rust and metal before all, and let's not start to even begin with some of the hygiene of the people in the building. It's never a sunny day in Philadelphia when one can't distinguish the smell of musty pipes in an old building from the "fishy" smell of what could be a mashed vagina.

"It's not like it's a family owned place. They gotta' shake up for a buck, Joey. Plus, you wanted to go there."

"I told a stripper 'no,' C.C. I denied a stripper at the whopping amount of a single dollar. She probably hung herself because of me."

"Sometimes, you pay for what you get. It's probably best that you held out on a dollar stripper and used that to put towards literally anything else."

"Then, she had those really shitty looking star tattoo's on her hips and up along her sides. If the place didn't scream white trash enough as it is, this was the icing on the shit cake."

Another time where Hollywood just lets Joey go off on a tangent without any sort of safety net. In some cases, not correcting the people who are incorrect is the best way to capture lightning in a bottle. Joey has his moments of pure gold when he tells a good story, this is one of those moments. Hollywood, on the other hand, takes another puff out of his Pax as Joey continues.

"This one stripper wouldn't back off. The situation reminded me of last week, but thank you for being the Brian Dawkins that I needed and intercepting. She looked like she literally just had a kid before she came from behind the curtain to swing around the brass pole."

"If by intercept you mean that I got you and left before she took you in the backroom for a blowjob, then you're welcome."

"Is that how it went? Whatever."

Picking up the "Felix the Cat" pipe from the table, Joey lights up and takes another hit, holding in as long as he can. Joey then got up and started to walk back towards his room.

"If you need me, I'll be in here...slut shaming myself."

The door closed behind Joey. For the first time in a very long time, Hollywood can clearly tell that Joey is appalled by his own decisions. The consistently shameless person that C.C. is on the road with has seemed to of discovered a sense of vulnerability for a moment. If anyone knows Joey, it is the front man of Camp Hollywood: "Philadelphia's Second Son" C.C. Hollywood. Undisturbed, Hollywood propped his feet up on the living room couch and began to reflect on is upcoming triple threat match against Mastermind and Pest tomorrow night on Monday Night Madness.

"Tell me, Mastermind, how long did it take for you to think of wresting as a game of chess? Did the comparison strike you as a stroke of brilliance, something original? That's what I have come to conclusion on about you, little fella'. You don't have an original thought running in that that mind of yours, do you? Do yourself a favor and pay the man. Tip your pest of a bartender. It's the only hope you have on Monday night. Myself, I've always been a Checkers or Connect Four kind of guy, so your talk of being a pawn is really falling on deaf ears. You don't have to be a prodigy to defeat the master. At least ten thousand witnesses saw that first hand when I made a self-proclaimed submission master tap out at Turning Point. So, I guess this is where I say 'checkmate."

C.C. pauses before finishing his thoughts on Mastermind.

"I'm just going to take a wild guess at how many times I wished that I stayed silent in my life, Mastermind. Approximately, I would say that I never was one to stay silent. Save your breath and leave the name calling at the school yard, little fella'. Surely, I don't know anyone who would be offended at being called a 'nosey parker,' but then again, I am more mature than most people. You have my word that I won't take candy from a baby too, Mastermind, though...that is exactly what it feels like I will be doing to you with this match on Monday night. King me."

Hollywood gets up from the couch and goes into his room, slipping on a pair of black sweatpants with what looks like a "City and Colour" black shirt with a picture of Dallas Green on the front. Dressing himself before he and Joey leave out for breakfast, C.C. puts on his "Toothgrinder" zip up hoodie, black with white strings. Dressed to take on the cold weather, but before that, he chooses to address the even colder Pest.

"You know, I just don't understand what it is with the people that I have to face here in the X-Treme Wrestling Federation. I had to face a guy who dreams about having sex with a half robot, half Angelina Jolie thing. Scarred Joey for a while, TJ. Then, I fought twice against a guy who liked to dress up his slaves in latex suits then break their necks when they wouldn't follow irrational commands. He's not even booked and it seems to say that I earned by trophy kill. Now, let's put a guy in a wrestling ring who holds women hostage to hold little children hostage and starve them to become monsters. No, no, no...you're going about this all wrong, Pest. I'm the one with a monster in my corner. All the evidence I need is the bill that I pay when we leave Waffle House."

Joey can be heard from his room.

"Don't be calling me fat!"

Hollywood knocks on Joey's door and then opens the door. Joey is laying in his bed.

"Ready when you are."

"I'll be right there."

Leaving Joey's room, C.C. walks towards the front door, slipping on a pair of Adidas Shelltops.

"Pest, I expect you to put up a bit more of a fight than our mutual opponent, Mastermind. At least it sounds like, in your own demented, deranged sort of way, you have a purpose to be here. By good or by evil, you want a fight. If it is a fight you have wanted, then it is a fight you will more than willingly receive from me. The difference between you and me is that I am the future of the business. Mastermind is treading water, but you building the heir of your throne only proves to me that you are drowning. If you want to throw the match, that's fine by me. I don't take kindly to quitters. Mastermind at least has the dignity of this sport left to fight for. Pest, you are fighting for nothing. I promise you that if you plan on throwing this match away, then I will toss out the remains of your career with it. Camp Hollywood lays down for no one."

Joey comes from his room and Hollywood opens the front door as they make their exit from the apartment.

"With a fist full of cottonmouth, there won't be any half steppin'. Pest and Mastermind, I'll piss on the ashes as your scene fades to black."

-fin-

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