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~~Ronnie Cage~~ · (11-19-2016)

It's Thursday night in Milwaukee, and Ronnie Cage has finally awoken from a post alcohol-induced workout nap. And for all you dimwits out there, that's just a fancy way to say he drank a bunch of beer, hit the gym harder than it's ever been hit before, and then went back up to his room to take a nap. Now, a hung over and bored Ronnie Cage is not only looking for more beer, but something to do after he gets it.

Satan's Superior throws on a pair of jeans, his confederate Converse All-Stars and a CSNY - that's Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young to you young folk - t-shirt and grabs his trademark black Stetson Corral Cowboy Hat off of the dresser. He leaves his room heading towards the elevators when he passes a pretty young girl pushing the cleaning cart in the direction of his room. Ronnie stops, turns around and quickly grabs the girl. She's wearing a dark beige polo and a black cotton pants. Her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"Step foot in mah room, and Ah will end yew. We clear?"

The girl nods, visibly scared.

"What's yore name, girl?"

"Emily..."

"Emily, what are yew dewin' Saturday night?"

Emily stares down at the floor and mumbles something.

"What? First, yew better fucking look someone in the eye when yore talkin tew them. Second, Ah couldn't understand a word of that."

Emily lifts her head, her soft green eyes meeting Ronnie's. She speaks slowly and clearly.

"I'll be here, sir. I need the money and I don't make enough to take weekends off."

"Fuck that! Listen here, Emily. Ah don't know a single fucking person is this waste of a town, and Ah have this pair of tickets that Ah'm supposed tew give tew friends or family tew come watch me wrestle. Yew see Ah work fore this company: Ex Dubya Eff and Saturday night, Ah'm supposed tew wrestle with mah best pal, David Stone. We're up against a couple of losers, so there's a good chance it'll be entertaining."

All the while Emily is looking at Ronnie, stunned. We're not entirely sure if she's stunned because XWF, and wrestling in general, means absolutely nothing to her, or that she's shocked that the man who just threatened to end her a few minutes ago, is now offering her tickets to see him wrestle.

"Are..are you offering me those tickets?"

"Well yes, yes Ah am. Although, not really much of an offer, more of a demand. Now dew yew have someone tew go with?"

Emily shakes her head.

"Are there any boys yew like around this shithole?"

"Well, there's Jacob, the bell boy."

"Jacob, yew say? Good. Yew a virgin, Emily?"

Emily's face turns about as red as Nami the Pirate's after Ronnie hit her with the Alabama-Rama last week. A huge grin comes over Ronnie's face. He takes her reaction as a yes.

"Yew keep workin', Emily. Saturday, yew meet Jacob out front of this place with these tickets. Ah'll take care of the rest."

Without waiting for her acknowledgment, Ronnie leaves a speechless Emily and takes off towards the elevator. Ronnie smacks the G for ground floor, and just before the door opens, he hits all the other buttons, smiling to himself. Upon stepping out of the elevator. He sees a young man in a short sleeved, white button down shirt, tucked in to the same black cotton pants that Emily was wearing, and a black vest, with a little gold nametag that says Jacob on it, leaning against a little podium which must be the bell hop station. Ronnie walks over to him, still smiling to himself.

"Yew must be Jacob."

"That's what my nametag says."

Jacob sighs because of course he's fucking sighing. He works at a Ramada in fucking Milwaukee. Who wouldn't hate their life?

"Don't yew fuckin' give me lip, boy. Ah'm about tew change yore life. Come with me."

Easier said than done. Right at that moment, the uppity on-duty manager, Francis, walked up to the two men.

"Hello sir. Unfortunately, this young man can't help you with anything. But I can. So whatever you need, I can help you over there by the desk."

Ronnie laughs loudly.

"Listen here, fuckstick. Jacob here isn't helping me with anything. Ah'm helping him. Speaking of which, Ah need tew borrow him fore the night. So yew'll have tew cover fore him. Oh don't yew worry, yew'll dew just fine, Francis."

Ronnie takes Jacob's nametag and sticks it on Francis. He then shoves Jacob towards the door and keeps pushing him as they walk towards his black 1966 Dodge Coronet Deluxe Hemi.

A few hours later, Ronnie's car pulls into the parking lot of the Harley Davidson Museum.

"I can't believe any of this."

"Any of what?"

"Where do I start? I'm sitting in a car with Ronnie fucking Cage! You got me out of work tonight. You're going to get me out of work on Saturday night, with a date! We stole this awesome fucking leather jacket!"

Ronnie smacks the back of Jacob's head.

"Say that louder, dumb shit. Anyway, Saturday night...is why we're here."

"The Harley-Davidson Museum? What does that have to do with Saturday night? You're not going to steal a harley for me, are you?"

Jacob laughs because he doesn't know that that's actually the reason they're there. Then Ronnie starts laughing, and they both laugh for a few seconds until Ronnie stops and looks Jacob straight in the eyes.

"That is exactly why we are here. Yew gotta have something tew take the lady tew the arena with. Yew drive stick, right?"

Ronnie grins as Jacob turns white and gulps.

"Don't yew worry, this place has been closed for hours and Ah promised the head of security that if he didn't give me the alarm code, Ah'd fuck both his wife and his daughter so well, that they'd abandon him and follow me on the road. Wait here, keys are in the ignition, when Ah come out, be ready tew follow me."

Ronnie gets out of the car and Jacob moves into the driver's seat. Ronnie then walks towards the door, picking up a nearby garbage can. Without warning, he throws it through the glass doors. He quickly unlocks the doors, goes to the keypad and enters the 4-digit code. He starts wandering through the exhibits looking for a good bike to steal. As he walks through the custom exhibit, he stops. "Holy Shit!" he says out loud. He's stopped in front of Elvis Presley's custom Harley. Not much impresses Ronnie Cage, but boy the King's harley sure does. Ronnie snaps out of it and continues down the hall until he stops at a black 1969 Sportster. The camera cuts to outside the museum where a few minutes later Ronnie, is howling as he speeds out of the museum!

About twenty minutes later we catch up with Ronnie and Jacob across town at the Miller Brewing Company. If you didn't know Ronnie Cage, you'd really be wondering why a man with more than enough money to buy any of the things he's stolen, is stealing them, but that's just Ronnie, he does it for shits, because he's the biggest shit disturber you've ever seen.

Ronnie is leading Jacob in the stealing of eleven cases of recently bottled, ice cold Coors Light. They pile ten of them into the trunk of Ronnie's Dodge, and then Ronnie, who has absolutely zero concern about getting caught, opens a case, pulls out two bottles, and then realizes he didn't give one to the kid, so he hands one of his bottles over and pulls out another one before finally leaning against the car.

"So, Saturday. You're in a tag team match with David Stone, right? Against Benito Angelo and Zachary Gowen? Isn't he missing a leg, is that even fair?"

"Nope! Definitely not fair. For us. Ah thought we'd actually get a fucking challenge here. My spit would be able tew pin Gowen. Hell, yore manager would be able to pin that gimp. Last week they gave us a match with a female pirate with tits bigger than her head and an ass tew match, paired with a fat dick eating bastard, and now they give us a one legged-freak and some weird Italian fuck? Benito Angelo. Ah hear he's a mob boss or something. Big fat whoop. 'Oooooh he might kill me...' hah! Like he could even try. This fuck sounds like he's wound so fucking tight, no wonder he was suspended. AND. Believe it or not, Ah have ANOTHER match with him next week with a different partner! Neither of which are his actual tag team partner. Who just so happens tew be a nice guy, who doesn't condone cheating! What a fucking laugh. David and Ah have been tag partners for almost twenty years, and best friends for thirty. We're wrestlers, through and through. Sure, Ah might be a part-time southern rock musician, and a full time shit disturber, but Ah am always a wrestler first, Ah've won a laundry list of titles, in various wrestling federations, Ah've owned mob bosses. So one, little italian fuck from New York doesn't scare me. Ah dew wonder though what got him suspended. Doesn't really matter though, after tew matches with Bad Attitude, he won't need a suspension, he'll be put on the injury list, permanently.

Now, Jacob, let's talk about something more important. Saturday night, yew will wear that leather jacket Ah got yew, and yew will be outside the Ramada at 6:15pm sharp on that Harley. Yew will take that pretty girl, Emily, tew a nice dinner, not some fucking chain restaurant. Somewhere the main course costs at least forty five dollars - Ah know yew can't fucking afford that shit - yew'll have the money, don't yew fucking worry about it. Then yew will bring her tew the arena and watch the show. Yew will cheer as loud as yew fucking can when David and Ah kick the shit out of these imbeciles, and then after the show is over, yew will take Emily back tew mah room, and yew will fuck her."

Jacob spits out his beer, unfortunately all over Ronnie Cage, who doesn't say a word, and just wipes the spat beer off of his face and continues.

”Yew will fuck her like yew've never fucked before. Ah know that most of yore experience is probably with yore hand, but yew will fuck her like yore life depends on it, because it does. If yew don't make her feel like she's fucking a movie star and all her dreams are coming true, Ah will turn yore stupid ass in fore all the crimes Ah have committed tewnight. Now Ah don't care if Emily doesn't want tew fuck yew. Yew will make it happen anyway. She doesn't know what she wants. So yore going tew tell her, and then deliver. Remember, Ah am Satan's Superior, Ronnie Cage. If yew dew not dew what Ah say, Ah will find yew, and yew will wish yew'd never been born. This is fucking Anarchy, bitch, and yew'd better be fucking ready fore it!"

Ronnie starts laughing. Not bad for solving his boredom: Borrowing a bunch of things (theft?) and match-making (rape?); The Ramada, The Harley Davidson Museum, the Miller Brewing Company, Francis, Jacob and Emily - these are all people who weren't standing in Ronnie's way. People he didn't have a match with. If he could cause this much trouble to strangers, one can only wonder what he has in store for Benito Angelo and Zachary Gowen.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode There's nothing funny about theft and rape.
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