Thursday August 16, 2012
St. Gregory’s Cathedral- Cemetery
Belfast, Northern Ireland
11:46 AM Local Time
Wendy Briese rose from her seat as the bus pulled into the stop, staggering towards the front while trying to avoid bumping into or tripping over the other passengers. Finally, she made it to the front, disembarking after muttering a thanks to the driver. Stepping off, she looked across the street, shielding her eyes against the sunlight. It was odd- all the previous occasions she had been in Belfast, the weather was dark and gloomy.
Now, the sun was shining brightly, the sky a beautiful azure. The cemetery had never seemed so bright before, she thought, as she hustled across the streets towards the gates, the two small bouquets clutched in her hand. Although the visual appearance of the cemetery had been brightened, her mood was considerably darker than the last time she had visited.
Last time had been the first time ever Wendy had ever visited her mother’s grave, and realized she had completely managed to put the tragedy behind her. The only feeling she had felt looking at her headstone was one of content, the knowledge that her mother was in a better place, and that all the pain and sorrow that had been brought by her death ten years prior had been moved away from. The wound had healed cleanly, and while there would always be a scar, it was one that she’d learned to accept.
The events that had transpired had sliced the wound open again, almost to the point to where she felt like she was starting from square one. The worst part was- this time, she didn’t even know what to feel. Her father was not a good man by any stretch of the imagination, but he was still her father. Didn’t that mean she had some moral obligation to mourn him? Or should she feel happy that he was no longer part of her life? And just thinking that she derived some sort of contentment from another human being’s death, no matter how awful a person he had been. And through it all, there had been a tragic undertone. After all, her father had been killed in one of the worst ways imaginable- betrayed by someone he had trusted for years.
She sighed, and stopped walking to lean against the outer gate to the cemetery, pausing to rub her tired eyes. It was supposed to be more simple than this, wasn’t it? The bad guys were dead. The good guy had won. Justice was served. This was when the happy ending happened, right?
Then why the hell was every thought she was thinking about it a miserable one?
She took a deep breath, and proceeded into the cemetery, her thoughts still ajumbled. So far, the trip had been wonderful, despite the many nights she’d found herself unable to sleep. Theresa’d had a blast at the Olympics, particularily watching the equestrian and rhythmic gymnastics events. And they’d had a lot of fun going up the London Eye, and touring both Westminster Palace and the Tower of London. Yesterday in Belfast had been enjoyable too, touring Belfast Castle and the Waterfront. Today they were going to take a barge tour on the River Lagan, once she finished her business here.
And yet, for all the enjoyment she’d had touring two of the world’s most beautiful cities with her daughter, she couldn’t help but worry if she was just making another stupid decision in a long string of careless ones. The police had assured her that the CLF problem was under control, with the leaders all in custody. But she didn’t know. What if some fringe nutjob was still on the loose, and wanted to take revenge? Was she being stupid in coming here? And even more stupid for bringing her daughter?
More questions she didn’t have any answer to.
Theresa wasn’t with her now. Wendy had left her with Pollaski (oddly, the one decision she made in the last week she was sure she was comfortable with), in order to do this alone. Theresa had never known her grandmother, and barely known her great-grandmother, so Wendy knew that the six-year old would find this excursion quite boring. But even more, she knew that this would be emotional, and she didn’t want her daughter to see her like this. She still felt horrible about Theresa having to see her the afternoon they returned home from Seattle, and she had resolved never to let her daughter see her upset again.
She and Terrence hadn’t even told Theresa what had happened that night, agreeing it would be far better if they waited until Theresa was old enough to understand. Maybe by then Wendy would have come to understand everything that happened that night to herself. It hadn’t been easy, although Theresa had been asleep during most of Terrence’s worrying that night when she had failed to return Terrence’s calls. And while she was certain the girl knew something had happened that made her mom very sad, every question Theresa had asked on the matter had been deflected, and the little girl had never really pursued the matter. She hoped she wouldn’t for a long time.
Wendy cautiously picked her way through the rows of gravestones, quickly finding the ones that had belonged to her mother and grandmother. She was surprised to see that the flowers that had left on her previous visit remained there, although they had obviously wilted away in the time. Grimacing, she knelt down in front of the graves, and placed a flower on each grave, grabbing the withered husks of the old flowers. She stood up, looking down, then to her right as something caught the corner of her eye.
Two people were standing, maybe fifty yards away, staring at her. The woman on the left was older- probably in her fifties or sixties, although her hair remained jet black, although whether through dye or good fortune, Wendy couldn’t tell. The other, a man, towered over her, large and muscular, and a face that would always be ingrained in Wendy’s memory.
For a second, an alarm went off in Wendy’s head, that this could possibly be another ambush of some sort, but it was soon washed away by an anger so fierce it made Wendy’s hands tremble.
What in the HELL was he doing here?
“Why aren’t you in jail?” she demanded, her voice cutting into the quiet peace of the cemetery. Abandoning all sense of caution, she stormed towards the two unwelcomed intruders, her fists clenched so tight the stems of the dead flowers cut into her palms. “Did you escape?”
Her brother laughed at the notion. “If I did, I’d be doing a pretty awful job of hiding, sister.”
“Then what…?” Wendy demanded, stopping perhaps twenty feet from the man she had never expected- or wanted- to see ever in her life again. “Why are you not rotting away for the rest of your life in Crumlin Road?”
The older woman began to angrily respond to Wendy’s words, only for Yuri to grab her shoulder and squeeze, placating her. “Mother, please,” Yuri said quietly, as Ivana swallowed her words, before turning back to Wendy. “I was released.” He responded simply, his voice thick with his Ukranian accent. “One week ago.”
Wendy scoffed in disbelief. “Kidnapping, attempted murder, conspiracy to commit terrorist acts, and they let you stroll out the door after two weeks?”
“Which was nothing compared to what the evidence I was able to provide gave them,” Yuri replied. “I alone have enough information to put ten men away for life, you think they care that I just simply went along with my father’s plans?”
“So you ratted out everyone else to save your own hide. Sold out your friends-“
“My friends?” Yuri burst into a callous laughter. “They were Father’s friends, the soldiers for a cause I couldn’t have given a damn about. Those men meant nothing to me, and I meant nothing to them. I didn’t know them, they didn’t know me, and I didn’t like it much in jail the first time.” He shrugged. “I leave for America in just a couple of days. Plan to still be at Climax to teach that impudent brat Nathan…”
“So why are you *here* then?” Wendy interrupted, her patience running thin. “Were you waiting for me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Ivana sneered. “Yuri hardly spends his entire life thinking about some worthless sister who...”
“His actions in the past have indicated otherwise,” Wendy replied hotly.
“That’s over and done with,” Yuri rumbled, surprisingly calm, although he involuntarily rubbed his shoulder. “If you have such an issue with my presence, then you should have resolved it when you had a chance.”
Wendy looked away, biting her lip at the pointed remark, and feeling hler face flush as she remembered that horrible night. She had Yuri at her mercy, him down on the floor wounded, a bullet having passed through his shoulder. He had told her to end it… practically begged her, and she had refused, fleeing the room instead. Even now she wasn’t sure if it had been mercy or fear that had kept her from pulling the trigger again.
“There was no need…” she said lamely.
“Your sense of mercy lives up to your reputation,” Yuri said, a clear taunt in his voice. “For your sake, I hope you never come to regret it.”
Wendy’s head snapped up, and her eyes bored into her half-brother’s. “Is that a threat?”
“Merely an observation,” Yuri replied, shrugging nonchalantly, although Wendy didn’t entirely miss the wince. “Either way, I have no desire for a rematch with you right here and now. I’m here as you are, to pay respect to those who have left us.”
It took a second for Wendy to realize who he was talking about, and her face went pale. “No,” she said, shaking her head in denial. “Not here…”
Yuri almost looked surprised at Wendy’s denial. “This is a cemetery…”
“Where? Where is it?” she demanded. Yuri pointed to the side of the path, at a group of headstones not far away. Dropping the old flowers she had still been holding in her hands, she ran down the row of gravestones. The plot in question was pretty hard to miss, a mound of fresh earth in front of the headstone, where the grass had barely begun to grow back. She rubbed her eyes, and looked at the headstone.
AUGUSTUS TEAGUE BRIESE
August 28, 1948- July 24, 2012
“No!” Wendy protested, abandoning all semblance of dignity as she dropped to her knees on the ground, her hands curled into a cup. Angrily, she began to dig at the dirt with her hands as if a dog. She didn’t care where else or how, but there was no way in HELL this man was going to be buried in the same cemetery as her mother!
“What the hell are you doing?” Ivana demanded, reaching down and grabbing Wendy by the shoulder to pull her away.
“Get off me!” Wendy snarled, turning and shoving the older woman hard. Ivana stumbled back with a cry, reaching out and catching a headstone to break her fall. It only partially worked- she managed to not fall as hard, but still flopped in the grass.
Alarmed, Wendy scrambled to her feet as a furious Yuri closed in on her. “Don’t you dare touch her!” the behemoth growled.
“That’s *real* rich, coming from you!” Wendy snapped back, her own temper rising again. “You touched my mom! You shoved her in front of a bloody truck! She’s buried over *there* because of you!”
But Yuri had turned away from her, and was kneeling down, reaching his hand out to Ivana, concern on his face. “Are you okay, Mother?” he asked.
“I’m… I’m fine…” Ivana said, accepting her son’s assistance in getting up.
Wendy looked back at the grave, breathing heavily. This wasn’t going to stand. Barely paying Yuri and Ivana anymore attention, she stormed towards the Cathedral. The priest would certainly see reason here, and correct this indignity. And if not, she was prepared to march into the Vatican itself and put Benedict in the Banshee if it meant righting this!
She heard footsteps behind her, and was dimly aware that she was being followed, but she simply walked on, quickening her pace. She burst through the doors of St. Gregory’s, looking for someone, anyone she could take her wrath on. She saw a young man, one of the associate priests, most likely, standing at the rear of the sanctuary, looking thoughtfully at the painting.
“Where is the Father?” she demanded, in a tone that she’d normally never think about using on a member of the clergy. “I need to speak with him, now!”
“What?” The young man was obviously caught off guard. “I’m sorry, he’s busy at the moment. If I could take a message-“
“I SAID NOW!” Her voice echoed through the empty sanctuary, and her emerald eyes bore into the poor priest.
The associate was obviously nonplussed, but held his ground. “Ma’am, this is a place of worship, and if you are going to act like this, I’m going to have to ask you to-“
“What’s the commotion, Patrick?” she heard an older voice behind her, and wheeled around. This man, she thought, was obviously the Parish Priest for St. Gregory’s. An older man, well into his sixties, maybe even seventies, dressed in a long black robe. He shuffled towards her, hunched over, and using a cane. Yet, he commanded such a presence that Wendy instantly remembered her manners, and immediately regretted her treatment of the younger priest.
“This… woman has insisted upon seeing you,” the younger priest intoned, a measure of relief in his voice that his superior had stepped in at the most opportune time.
“Very well, I’ll handle it,” the priest nodded.
Wendy glanced over towards the door, and saw Yuri and Ivana standing there, both looking completely bemused. She stepped forward, trying to smooth out what remained of her grace and dignity. “I’m sorry for troubling you, Father…” she trailed off, uncertain.
“Joseph,” he obliged, with a slight nod.
“Father Joseph,” she amended “There has been a mistake in your cemetery. A man… an evil man… has been buried there. You need to exhume him, and move him elsewhere.”
The priest paused, and looked at her evenly. “And why should this body not be buried on church ground?”
“He killed my mother,” Wendy replied.
“Being a murderer is not grounds to deny someone the right to be buried on church property,” the priest said gently.
“But my mom’s buried here too!” Wendy insisted, unwilling to give the issue some rest. “I had her moved from my father’s plot in New York to here so she WOULDN’T be buried with him! And now…”
“Are they buried in the same family plot then? Was there a mistake?”
Wendy opened her mouth to respond, but was stopped by the ringing of her mobile phone. She pulled it out, and glanced at it. Her manager was calling. With a huff of exasperation, she ignored the call, turning her attention back on the priest. “No… it’s a different plot. But… this monster doesn’t even deserve to be in the same city as her, much less the same cemetery!”
The priest studied her with some level of interest, and Wendy felt her face blushing. Finally, he spoke. “I’m sorry you find the arrangement so distasteful, ma’am. But alas, there is nothing I can do.”
Had she been in a more rational state of mind, she certainly would have expected the answer. But at the moment, it was the last thing she wanted to hear. “All I want is the body moved elsewhere. I will pay all expenses incurred in reinternment, I just want him OUT…”
The priest shook his head again. “Again, miss, there’s nothing I can do. Unless the man in question is a proven heretic, or has been excommunicated in any way, he is entitled to a burial here, regardless of what sins-“
“I want the number for the bishop.” Wendy demanded, cutting the priest off. She remembered her thought from several minutes prior that she would take the matter to the Pope if necessary. She hadn’t thought it would be necessary, but it looked like she might just have to after all.
The priest opened his mouth to respond, but her mobile rang again, cutting him off. He smiled slightly. “It seems someone is quite eager to get ahold of you,” he said, a faint smile forming on his lips.
It was her manager again. If he was going to be this hell-bent on nagging her, there better be an emergency. “What?!” she demanded as she answered the phone.
“How long until you’re gonna be back?” Pollaski asked on the other end of the line.
“I… I don’t know. I’m busy with something.”
“Oh, well, Theresa’s hungry, and I kinda am too. So should we go ahead and eat somewhere, or should I wait til you get back?”
“Just go ahead. I don’t know how long it’s going to be. It could be a couple of hours.” Wendy replied.
There was a long pause on the line. “That’s going to be cutting it pretty close for the river tour.”
“I know,” Wendy said, suddenly feeling miserable. “Tell Theresa I’m sorry, but I have got to take care of this.”
Pollaski’s voice was filled with concern. “What’s going on?”
“They buried dad in the same cemetery as mom. I’m trying to get his body moved.”
The pause on the line was very, very long. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I know, right!” Wendy snapped, shooting a nasty glare at the two Ukranians still standing in the doorway to the cathedral. “Yuri knew where she was buried. He had him interred here to hurt-“
“You’re seriously going to waste an entire afternoon whining about where a dead body is buried?”
There was a long pause, before Wendy finally spoke. “What did you just say?”
“This is your last full day in Northern Ireland for God knows how long, you have your daughter with you, and you’re worried about a dead body,” Pollaski repeated. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
Realistically, the answer at the moment was likely ‘yes,’ although Wendy herself was far from admitting it. “Dan, you don’t understand! They buried him in the same cemetery as my *mother!*”
“Awesome!” Pollaski responded. “Then they can hang out together during the zombie apocalypse!”
“DAN!”
“Oh come on.” She could almost see her manager grinning on the other end of the line. “You’ve flipped out about a lot of stupid shit over the years, Wendy, but this one is up there towards the top. I mean, what harm is there in this?”
“It’s disgraceful!” Wendy replied, hissing into the phone. “Putting her anywhere near my father desecrates her-“
“Again, its corpses being buried in a cemetery. With other corpses.” Pollaski said. “You gotta stick them somewhere. Quit worrying so much about the damn dead, and get back here and LIVE, for Christ sakes.”
Wendy glanced over, and to her surprise, saw the priest smiling at her. Evidently, he was piecing her conversation together somewhat. She gritted her teeth, and looked away.
“Dan, you don’t understand. I don’t expect you to understand, just please-“
“Fine. Have it your way. But if you’re not back here soon, we’re going to miss that boat tour on the River Lagan. And if we miss the boat tour, Theresa and I are gonna get bored. And if we get bored, I might just end up teaching her every bad habit I know.“
“Are you blackmailing me?’ Wendy demanded.
“It’s for your own good,” Pollaski said cheerfully. “Balls in your court! Ta-ta!”
And then he hung up.
Wendy gritted her teeth, and stared down at the phone, resisting all temptation to fling it across the room as hard as she could. She noticed that Yuri and Ivana, and both priests were all looking at her, and all seemed to be amused, at least in varying degree. She could feel her face burning.
“Now, then, miss. You were saying something?” The priest asked.
Wendy blinked rapidly. For some reason, the argument with Pollaski had taken all the fight out of her. “There’s nothing you can do? At all?”
The priest shook his head, grimacing apologetically.
“Then I guess I won’t be needing the Bishop’s number after all,” Wendy said weakly, her face turning redder by the second. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
Before the priest could respond, Wendy quickly bolted for the cathedral’s doors, brushing by a still bemused Yuri and Ivana as she did so. Tears of anger and humiliation burning her eyes, she burst through the doors and out into the street, leaving St. Gregory’s behind her.
=================
Saturday August 18, 2012
Streets of the Pike Creek Subdivision
Indianapolis, Indiana
4:51 PM Local Time
The screen is black for maybe a second and a half, before an intro graphic is played, showing a fish swimming in the water, before being speared and lifted up. The image freezes as a watermark-style logo, as the words PCSN appear on the screen.
Voice-Over: The Pike Creek Sports Network… for over fifty minutes your leader in the coverage of Pike Creek sports!
And thus the scene opens in, what appears to be the Thompson family lawn. However, judging by the crowd milling around on the lawn and in the street in front of it, it’s probably not a normal day. The most telling sign of this fact, though, would be the desk that has been placed on the lawn, with the PCSN logo duct-taped to the front of it. Sitting behind the desk is none other than Daniel Pollaski, dressed to the nines in one of those godawful mustard-yellow blazers they used to wear on ABC’s Wide World of Sports.
Pollaski: “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, I’m Daniel Pollaski for PCSN, and welcome to exclusive coverage of the first ever Hiltonlympics! The only sporting event in the world where being like Crystal Hilton could actually be considered a good thing. We are just minutes away from the final event of the day, which will determine the all-important overall team champion. But first of all, let’s go back show you what happened earlier during this exciting day of Hiltonlympics competition.”
A brief graphic flashes across the screen, and we’re treated to a scene in the exact same location, albeit earlier in the day, with a crowd gathered around the desk.
Pollaski V/O: “Unfortunately, things got off to a rocky start, as a disgruntled protester tried to interrupt the games.”
Three guesses who the ‘disgruntled protester is.’
Wendy: “You cannot be serious, Pollaski. You’ve taken the annual neighborhood field day, and turned it into something mocking Crystal Hilton? What’s wrong with you?”
On the screen, Wendy’s evidently tearing into Pollaski, although her manager is certainly quick to defend himself.
Pollaski: “Hey! We talked it over with everyone, they’re cool with it! Besides, now we all get to be on television! Wave to the camera, guys!”
As the mingling people around the desk grin cheesily and wave at the camera, Wendy puts her hands on her hips, and glares at Pollaski.
Wendy: “The woman’s husband is in a COMA, Dan, and we’re going to make fun of her like this? How insensitive is that?”
There’s a sudden murmuring from the rest of the neighborhood, which doesn’t sound happy.
Woman: “You never told us her husband was in a coma!”
Other People: “YEAH!”
Pollaski only looks mildly dismayed by this, and he rises from his seat. Holding his hands up to quiet the crowd.
Pollaski: “People! Please! Your attention! Some may say that what we are doing today may be insensitive, even downright tasteless and offensive given recent events. However, do you know what I find insensitive, tasteless and offensive? This woman’s husband lies in a coma in a hospital in Belfast, and what does she do? Does she stay by her husband’s side, giving him her emotional support? Does she return home to her ten-year old daughter, to be with her in this tough trying time? NO! This woman flew to Los Angeles the very next day… AND WENT SHOPPING!”
Everyone looks over at Wendy, expressions of shock and revulsion on their faces. Finding herself on the spot, Wendy smiles sheepishly.
Wendy: “She did say that on Twitter…”
Same Woman: “Aw, hell no! This idiot gets everything she deserves! I say the games go on!”
Other People: “Yeah! GAMES ON! GAMES ON! GAMES ON! GAMES ON!”
As the sudden mob chants itself into a frenzy, Wendy looks over at Pollaski, complete incredulity on her face.
Wendy: “Did you take your leadership methods from Lord of the Flies or something?”
Pollaski laughs, and claps Wendy on the shoulder, smirking at her in sympathy.
Pollaski: “No, Wendy. We’re not going to go pig-hunting. Now LET THE GAMES BEGIN!”
A huge cheer comes up, as Pollaski’s voice-over comes back in.
Pollaski V/O: And after that, it was time for the teams to make their grand entrances!
The camera flashes to each group of people, men women and children, all who start cheering as they appear on television as the voice-over announces them, their only commonality a color coded armband indicating their team- red, yellow, blue, black, white, and green, respectively.
Pollaski V/O: The team representing Fulton Street! Miami Court! Pulaski Way… heheh. St. Joseph’s Place! Tippecanoe Terrace! And… Wabash Circle!
Fun trivia: The streets in the Pike Creek Subdivision are named after counties in Indiana. Oh, and Terrence, Wendy, and Theresa are all on the Wabash Circle team.
Pollaski V/O: And then it was on to our first event of the day, Perfection in Repetition! The goal was simple- be the first to say ‘Perfection Never Fails’ a hundred times, just like Crystal Hilton does in her promos! It wasn’t as easy as it looks, as some unfortunate contestants found out.”
Cut to a woman, wearing a yellow arm band for the Miami team, reciting quickly in front of a judge.
Woman: “Perfection never fails! Perfection never fails! Perfection never flails! Erection never flails! Porkrinds never…
Judge: “Yeah… you lose, sorry.”
Pollaski V/O: “In the end though, Mindy Gates of Tippecanoe Terrace took home the first prize of the day!”
Shot to Mindy getting her medal.
Mindy Gates: “Woo-hoo!! Fifteen years of speech therapy finally paid OFF!”
Pollaski V/O: “And then it was onto event number two- the “I Hate You Shriek-off” Each contestant had three attempts to scream “I Hate You” as loud as they possibly could. And while no one could match Crystal Hilton’s ability for mindless hysteria, we did find ourselves quite the gem.
Shot to a small girl in a red armband, standing in front of a microphone, taking a deep breath.
Girl: “I HAAAAATE YOOOOOOOOOOOOU!”
Everybody winces from this, and there’s a short pause.
Judge: “One hundred forty-six decibels! That’s above the threshold of pain! We have our winner!”
Everyone applauds as the girl gets her medal.
Girl: “I imagined the time my sister told me Carly Rae Jespen stunk!”
The applause immediately stops.
Nearby Person: "Uh, Carly Rae Jespen *does* stink."
The little girl stares at him in horror.
Girl: "I HAAATE YOUUUUU!"
Everyone winces again.
Pollaski V/O: “Then it was the “Rose Goddess Karaoke” event, in which each team had to sing a song with either “Rose” or “Goddess” in the title. The proud winners were Pulaski Street, with a heart-rending rendition of David Lee Roth’s “Yankee Rose”, that moved the audience to tears! And then, came the moment that so many had been waiting for. The potato salad taste-off!”
Scene cuts to a dozen women, standing shoulder to shoulder behind a table, each one with a bowl of potato salad in front of her. Pollaski is standing in front of them, a large “judge” badge on his mustard blazer.
Pollaski: “And the winner of the potato salad taste-off is… WABASH CIRCLE’S WENDY BRIESE!”
Everyone bursts into applause, especially Terrence and Theresa, as the shocked Wendy grins excitedly at her cooking being recognized. It should be noted, however, that some of the women next to her look shocked, even downright offended. One woman over on the righthand side, however, is less pleased than most.
Woman: “Oh, that is BULLSHIT!”
She pounds the table, hard enough to knock her bowl of potato salad off, onto the ground, as the crowd gasps. Pollaski, who had been about to slip the medal around Wendy’s neck, immediately yanks it away, and presents it to the woman.
Pollaski: “And the winner of the SECRET CONTEST is Kelly Sickles of Tippecanoe Terrace!”
Wendy: “…what?”
The crowd is stunned, but nonetheless applauds as Kelly accepts her medal, seemingly mollified. Pollaski turns to the crowd to explain.
Pollaski: “The secret contest was to see who could throw the best tantrum when Wendy Briese beat them out for an award, just like Crystal Hilton did when Wendy won Breakout Star of the Year. Of course, unlike this, Wendy actually *deserved* the Breakout Star of the year. Anyways, well done, Kelly!”
Wendy: “So… I didn’t really win the potato salad contest?”
Pollaski bursts out laughing.
Pollaski: “Alright, guys, let’s move on to the backyard for the next event!”
Everyone else begins to get up, and move away from the table, save for Wendy who looks completely crestfallen.
Wendy: “Did you even try it? I mean… I spent two hours making it…”
Pollaski: “Wendy, it’s a good effort, but you can stop trying now. Kelly won the sore-loser award. We’re not gonna change it.”
Wendy: “But…”
Pollaski walks away, leaving Wendy by herself. With a sigh, she grabs a spoon, and begins to eat her potato salad.
Wendy: (sadly) “I think its good…”
Pollaski V/O: “Next up was the throwing people down the stairs contest! Unfortunately, we were unable to get Elizabeth Showtime to agree to be thrown off the Thompson family’s back deck repeatedly, so we had to settle for a dummy. Not like a Deas. One of those mannequin thingies.”
We’re now on the back deck, where a Hispanic woman is standing calmly, waiting for her okay to go. At the signal, she picks up the dummy and begins screaming at it in Spanish, even slapping it a few times. Then, with a spinning move that nearly knocks over a couple of spectators, she hurls the dummy off the staircase, the dummy hitting halfway down the stairs, and tumbling the rest of the way, to the roar of approval from the audience. Pollaski again steps forward, looking impressed.
Pollaski: WOW! What a great throw by Juanita! Distance was superb, as was velocity and we’re waiting for the judges with their style marks. It should be… YES! It’s a gold medal for Juanita Sanchez of Wabash Circle!
Juanita grins excitedly, as the crowd cheers her, and she’s presented with her medal.
Pollaski: “Juanita, you had some tough competition in this event. How did you manage to become so good at throwing people down the stairs?”
Juanita: “Before I moved to America, I worked on a Mexican Soap Opera…”
As one, the crowd goes “Ohhhh,” as if that explains everything.
Juanita: “… so I just imagined the time my character was getting out of the shower, and saw her husband in bed with another woman. That’s what happened to the puta after a fifteen minute fight in our lingerie!”
Long pause.
Pollaski: “Can, I… uh… get a tape of that?”
Pollaski V/O: “So after that.. awesome moment, it was on to our penultimate event of the day, one especially for the kids- The Mountain Dew Chug!
Shot to about twenty kids, all of them with a six pack of Mountain Dew in front of them, as they all attempt to be the first to drink their alottment. Unfortunately, Theresa is way behind, although an older boy of about twelve who’s on her team looks to be winning by the four empty cans in front of him. Terrence is standing next to Pollaski, and their conversation can be overheard.
Terrence: “I thought Mountain Dew drinking is a Jennifer Williams thing, not Crystal Hilton.
Pollaski: “It is. But I couldn’t think of any more events, and besides, its something for the kids to do.”
The boy slams down his sixth and final can, and a judge checks to verify all six are empty, declaring him a winner. Everyone cheers as the parents practically weep in the front row.
Father: “That’s my boy. You’re gonna be so popular when you get to college!”
The coverage returns to Pollaski sitting at his desk, on the now “live feed.”
Pollaski: “What a day it’s been. What a day. As we head into our final event of the day, the standings for the overall championship is tight. Let’s take a look at them.
An overlay pops up, showing the scores, and that Tippecanoe Terrace and Wabash Circle are separated by only four points, while everyone else is considerably further back.
Pollaski: “And, it all comes down to this- the Ultimate Crystal Hilton Relay Race! Each street has fielded four members to their team for this all important final event, and let’s take you to the starting area!”
The feed cuts to a yard just a bit up the way, where the six starting participants are each sitting at a table, a laptop computer in front of them. Pollaski continues to call the action in voice-over, however.
Pollaski V/O: “At the whistle, each of the participants in this first leg has to delete ten Twitter accounts as fast as they can. However, they have to constantly be crying and moaning about how no one loves them the entire time, or there will be penalties incurred.
The whistle blows, and every one immediately starts crying pitifully and muttering to themselves as they quickly work on deleting the twitter accounts, ever wary that the judges are behind them, watching carefully.
Pollaski V/O: “And we’re off! And look at the mouse-work by Fulton Street! They are really deleting those accounts one after another, and he is making sure to keep making sure that everyone knows that nobody loves him. Look at that judge! He’s getting annoyed, and he’s *supposed* to be listening to this!
Finally, the Fulton representative deletes their last profile, and stands up, tagging in his teammate, who runs to another table, this one with six glass bottles of wine on it. She grabs one, and begins to pour it into the glass.
Pollaski V/O: "You have to drink the whole bottle and wash your miseries away! Fulton Street is ahead, but Miami Court has elected to use a soccer mom for this, so they could be gaining some ground! Oh, but here comes Pulaski Way and Wabash Circle! This is going to be a close one!”
It takes several minutes for a frontrunner to emerge, but as to Pollaski’s prediction, the woman from Miami Court staggers out first, tagging in her partner, who immediately runs to a breathalyzer machine that’s attached to a balloon. Wabash Circle and, Surprisingly, Tippecanoe Terrace are right behind them.
Pollaski V/O: “That’s right! You have to fake a breathalyzer by blowing up that balloon until it bursts! And look out for Tippecanoe… that’s the local high school football coach, and he’s full of hot air!
In the background the rest of the Hiltonlympics participants can be heard screaming and cheering on their teams, as now all six streets are blowing into the breathalyzers, the balloons getting bigger and bigger. Suddenly, a loud *bang* is heard, and the heavyset man in a white armband stands up, and makes the tag.
Pollaski V/O: “It’s Tippecanoe Terrace in the lead heading into the final stretch!”
The fourth member puts on a pair of goggles, and immediately finds himself disoriented, as he tries to stagger towards a row of waiting go karts. He trips over one of the kart’s wheels, sprawling, then picking himself back up. Other balloons are now bursting behind him, and more tags are being made- including one to Terrence, who’s anchoring the Wabash Circle team.
Pollaski V/O: “This last run isn’t as easy as it looks! Those are drunk goggles they are wearing, and they have to drive through a field of obstacles to the final challenge to get home!”
The Tippecanoe driver finally gets into his kart starting it, as the other bumble and stumble towards their rides. The white driver takes off- immediately crashing into the curb, as the other karts roar to life behind him.
Pollaski V/O: Tippecanoe’s in trouble! It’s still anyone’s race, and there’s a pro race car driver on the Wabash team!
Terrence has started his kart, and is moving forward, except he’s suddenly cut off by the Miami kart, the two crashing into a traffic cone. The Tippecanoe kart has gotten under control, as the driver has figured out to go a little slower, the better to easily navigate the obstacles, and he begins to pull away from the rest of the field.
Pollaski V/O: “Tippecanoe’s in the lead! This could be a huge upset!”
As the rest of the field maneuvers their go-karts, the Tippecanoe kart makes its way towards the finish line. Suddenly a rather sizeable stuffed doll is thrown in front of the kart, which promptly runs it over!
Pollaski V/O: “Oh no! He’s hit someone! It might even be his daughter, but he can’t let that stop him! He’s gotta pull it out from under the car, and keep going!”
The man staggers from his kart, tripping again as he’s still disoriented from the goggles. Other cars are now coming down the stretch, hitting their dolls an coming to a stop, including Terrence, who dives out of the car, and begins tugging on his doll, who’s lodged under the back wheel. Suddenly, there’s a loud rip, and the Tippecanoe driver looks horrified, as he holds the severed leg of his doll.
Pollaski V/O: “OH THE HUMANITY!”
There’s a crashing sound, as the Fulton driver, in his efforts to dislodge the doll, has tipped over his go kart, much to the dismay of his teammates. Finally Terrence tugs the doll out from under his car, drops it on the asphalt, and hops back in.
Pollaski V/O: “WABASH CIRCLE IS FREE! THEYRE GONNA WIN IT!”
Terrence takes off towards the finish line, a hundred yards away, as the fumbling Tippecanoe driver gets into his car, trying to pursue. But Terrence crosses, to the cheers of the Wabash team!
Pollaski V/O: ‘WABASH WINS IT! TERRENCE THOMPSON WINS IT FOR WABASH CIRCLE!”
Everyone cheers, and gathers around Terrence, who’s grinning as he pulls off his goggles, raising his arms triumphantly in the air. The rest of his team surrounds him, congratulating him (including Wendy, although she looks more disgusted than completely into it). The trophy is given to the team, and Terrence raises it high in the air, as the rest of his team chants “Wabash! Wabash!” Pollaski walks in front of the camera, still in his mustard blazer, a microphone in his hand.
Pollaski: “What an exciting finish to an exciting day! Wabash Circle comes from behind to take the First Ever Hiltonlympics grand prize! But just remember, folks. Do not try any of what you’ve seen today at home, because Crystal Hilton is just simply someone you should never… ever… want to emulate. Unless you can get a trophy out of it.”
Pollaski gestures behind him, to where Terrence is still holding up the prize.
Pollaski: “From all of us here at PCSN, I’m Daniel Pollaski, wishing you a-“
Pollaski pauses as a bunch of yelling is heard, and he stares behind the camera, which slowly turns around to show that nearly every kid in the neighborhood has ran into the street now that the race is over. They’re pretty much hellbent on mayhem, kicking over the obstacles, a couple even throwing them. Two kids are stomping on one of the dolls while a couple others are knocking things off the tables on the Thompson’s lawn. It’s bedlam.
Wendy: (Hissing) “Remember what I said about Lord of the Flies?”
Pollaski: “Yeah… um… maybe we shouldn’t have done the Mountain Dew Chug after all…”
Everyone nods in agreement, then hurries to get their kids under control as the scene fades.
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