In 2017 a crack commando unit was formed in the XWF for the purpose of beating the shit out of people. These men promptly ran roughshod over the rest of the competition and the Los Angeles underground. Today, still hired by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune.

If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire the The Motherfuckers.

THIS CRAZY MOTHERFUCKER

Look, I don't care, I don't want to.

We open to see Robbie Bourbon standing next to Carlos, his neighbor. Robbie looks less than pleased.

Robert, you must. You owe it to your community, and to the people, to do this thing.

Yeah, I get it. Gimme some drug dealers to wreck, gimme some charity case that needs a sofa lifted or something, but this...

Robbie points to a building behind he and Carlos. The camera zooms out to show there's a sign reading "Golden Oldies Retirement Community".

Robert, reading to the elderly is one of the greatest things one can do for their community. Those people are lonely, and feel alienated by society.

They won't know who the fuck I am!

That doesn't matter. You will know who the fuck you are, as you put it. Now come, let us go.

Carlos leads Robbie into the old folks' home. Robbie rolls his eyes as he follows along. They enter a pair of double doors, then come across a second set of doors, this one requiring a key code.

Jeeze, what are they keeping in here, King Kong?

Robert, those with dimentia and Alzheimer's could wander off.

Shit, they have dementia and Alzheimer's? Not only will they not know who I am, they won't even remember!

Robert, be a grown up.

...

Robbie looks even less pleased. Carlos enters the code on the keypad and the distinct, loud click of a magnetic lock disengaging is heard. Carlos swings the door open. An orderly sitting at a desk greets both men.

"Hello Carlos! Who is this?"

My neighbor. He wanted to read to the elderly.

"No I didn't. Damn it, Carlos. I hate hospitals, and this place is just a really creepy hospital that people go to die at specifically." Robbie throws a smile up as he waves to the orderly, his internal monologue dominating the soundscape. "Peter Gilmour gets to hype his wife's band every promo he does, and he gets to spill iced tea on the carpet. I have to come here. Shit, three fourths of the Motherfuckers have left permanent boot prints on his ass, me, Cain, and Raven, how come he gets to watch servants run through roll after roll of paper towels? Lifestyles of the rich and famous right there." The orderly leads Robbie and Carlos to an elevator, which has yet another keypad next to it. She punches in the numbers. "I'm just going upstairs to what could be considered an asylum, a place we put the mad and infirm, and Gilly the Goblin gets to cut even more In This Moment promos on XWF airwaves." Robbie, Carlos, and the orderly enter the box of the elevator. The orderly hits the button for the second floor. "Well, I guess the karma points I'm gaining by reading to the elderly will be good for my soul, I guess. Wait, I don't even have any books, what the fuck am I supposed to be reading to the elderly?"

The elevator doors slide open, and as we leave Robbie's head, we hear In This Moment blaring throughout the second floor of the retirement home. Robbie looks downright perplexed as Carlos and the orderly lead him out of the elevator car. A swath of old ladies are seated, neatly in a row in individual chairs along the wall, waiting patiently as a nurse, gussied up to look like Maria Brink, works dilligently behind a counter getting their meds prepared.

"Wait right here."

The orderly walks over behind the medicine counter. Carlos turns to Robbie.

Robert, what is wrong?

Why the fuck are they playing In This Moment?

They like this music.

An elderly gentleman shuffling along with the assistance of a walker passes by, hollering "SUPERKICK! I DIGRESS!" at the top of his lungs every so often. Robbie does a take when he sees this. He turns to Carlos.

What the shit is going on?

Robert, the elderly have their needs for comforts, and most of society isn't ready to handle those needs.

A little old man approaches Robbie and immediately grabs him by the hand.

Help me.

Robbie, bewildered by everything, feels his arm tugged by the little old guy. Robbie follows along as he looks back at Carlos. Carlos gives a swift nod of approval. Robbie follows the little old man to a room. Inside is a huge poster of Mia Yim, a bed, another huge poster of Mia Yim, a stripper pole, a night stand, another stripper pole, and another night stand with a stripper pole on it.

Uh, hi, how can I...

The little old man puts a finger to his mouth, shushing Robbie. He points out of the window of his room across the street, at a McDonalds.

I like Peter Gilmour.

Oh, well, I work with Peter Gilmour.

I know. Peter Gilmour is the best.

Well, he's a staple, that's for sure, but the best?

He's the best Alzheimer's patient on the planet.

Robbie's eyes go wide at this.

He's what?

Peter has Alzheimer's. I don't, not yet at least, but I know I'll get it if I stay here long enough.

I didn't think it was contagious.

It isn't, not normally, but being trapped inside this mad house, being treated like an Alzheimer's patient, with all the In This Moment, all the Mia Yim, all the digression, it's maddening.

Damn.

Damn is right, young man. See, Peter Gilmour is older than Dirt.

Well, I knew that...

No. Dirt!

Another old man steps out of the closet he was hiding in. He's wearing a Peter Gilmour shirt.

He's right, Peter Gilmour is five years older than me.

How old are you?

Eighty-nine.

Woah, Peter Gilmour is ninety-four years old?

Yes. Peter Gilmour is so old if you cut him in half you can see where he survived a fire in 1954.

Damn, that's pretty wild.

You never noticed?

No, I was always busy just beating him in matches, over and over and over again. I never cut him in half.

Seriously, next time you're around him, see if you smell the Depends undergarments.

I guess that explains why he can't remember what his partner's moves are, or his partner's first name, thus why he always calls him Brother.

No, that's because he's a dumb ass. The Alzheimer's is why he always poops his pants, gets lost in Wal-Mart parking lots, and has flashbacks to the Korean War.

Wow, Peter fought in Korea?

He thinks he did. It's why he has such a think for Mia Yim, it reminds him of the woman he lost his virginity to.

He lost his virginity in Korea in the fifties?

No, he lost his virginity a year and a half ago to an Amish runaway who was way into anime.

How do you know all this about Peter Gilmour?

He's a folk hero among us elderly. We're stuck in here, but he's out there, spilling iced tea!

That's true. So, how can I help?

Dirt and the other little old man look out the window again at McDonalds.

Bring back the McRib.

What? I, uh, I can't do that. I don't have that kind of sway or anything.

Dirt and the other old man look at each other sadly.

Woah, easy, easy, Hardees has a new burger with rib meat on it!

It's not the same.

I know. Well, I tell you what, I have a crack team of chefs at my disposal, no lie. I'll have them whip up a McRib for each of you guys. In fact, I want you both to come to my dojo sometime.

Really?

Really really. Now, Dirt, and...

Stan.

Stan! Okay, guys, what am I reading to you both today?

Stan opens his night stand, the one with the stripper pole. He reaches in and pulls out some form of magazine and hands it to Robbie. Robbie looks at it as his mouth creeps into a frown.

Penthouse Forum? This is from 1978!

Both Stan and Dirt shove their hands down their pants.

Get to reading, boy, and make it sexy.

Robbie looks at both elderly men. He rolls his eyes, and opens the magazine.

The Laundromat's Dirty Secret. I was exhausted, washing my work uniform, when I noticed a pair of panties in with my slacks...