Post by Dandy DiVito on Sept 25, 2018 18:55:23 GMT -5
carrying capacity [kăr′ē-ĭng] The maximum population of a particular organism that a given environment can support without detrimental effects. - The American Heritage® Science Dictionary
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On the side of I-95 near Jacksonville, FL, traffic buzzes by a state crew diligently working to pick up refuse on the roadside. The crew, composed of a handful of young to middle-aged men and women wanders the median and the highway shoulder collecting and properly discarding those items which passing drivers had discarded all too improperly. The foreman of the crew stops to take a headcount of the crew. He mutters to himself as he takes role.
Foreman: Almeida, check. Harris, check. Anderson, check. Zuke, check. Visser, check. Johnson, check. Rodgers, check. Trumboltd, check. DiVito… DiVito…
The foreman looks around the area, scanning the faces for any sign of DiVito. He’s nowhere to be found. Frustrated, the foreman yells out.
Foreman: DiVito! Where the hell are you?! You’ve got 5 seconds to get your ass back to work or I’m informing your P.O. of your defiance of a court order!
Dandy DiVito peaks up from behind a bush where was resting and pulls out one of his headphones. From a kneeling position, he holds up his minimally filled bag of collected roadside litter and rolls his eyes hard.
DD: Bossman, you best not be talkin’ to me. I’m doin’ what I gotta do here. This ‘my last hour of community service, and I ain’t ‘bout to go back to square one, nah. Not at all, brah.
The foreman is agitated and yells from a distance.
Foreman: Get your ass over here, DiVito!
DD: I’m righ’ here, Bossman! You come to me!
The foreman angrilly stomps toward DD.
Foreman: What is your goddamn problem? Do you want me to mess up your whole probation and tell your P.O. and your judge you aren’t following orders?!
Dandy laughs to himself while maintaining his seated position with his mostly empty garbage bag.
DD: No balls; you won’t.
A grin grows across DD’s face while the foreman reacts in angry confusion.
DD: Oh, come on, Bossman. You know what’s up. I got money. Why do you think I got probation in tha’ first place? If you had what I had… it’d been felony possession!
The foreman rolls his eyes.
Foreman: You think Daddy’s money can buy you out of this, too?
DD: Nah, man. I know it can. Ain’t nothin’ I can’t undo with a little green.
Foreman: Yet you’re here, picking up trash on the side of the interstate just like any other schmuck who gets in trouble. I guess your green has limits.
DD: Ha! I had enough white powder in my possession that this probation just proves how powerful greenbacks can be!
DD laughs in the foreman’s face.
DD: You can’t do shit to me, Bossman. I’m here, and I’m doin’ this out of tha’ kindness of my big, beautiful heart.
The foreman is unimpressed, but remembers something that makes him smile.
Foreman: Regardless of whether you crawl up off your ass and finish your service, your probation still requires you to secure employment, yeah? I can’t imagine your ass sitting down for an interview. Even a burger joint wouldn’t want you flipping them in the kitchen.
DD: Joke’s on you, man. Joke’s on you.
Foreman: Huh?
DD: I gots a job. I start October 1.
Foreman: So being an entitled piece of shit is a job title now?
DD: You’re cute, Bossman. Real cute. Back right up now or I’m gonna do something that makes you less cute.
Foreman: Really, DiVito? Threats?
DD: Nah, man. Promises. New job I got? I’m a pro. I fight for money now, Bossman. Ain’t that somethin’? Gonna be famous an’ everything.
DD rises to his feet, gets into the foreman’s face, and the foreman immediately deflates in intimidation.
DD: Tha’s what I thought, Bossman. Backin’ down like a bitch. I got daddy’s money and my own fame, so I ain’t never gonna be in real trouble again.
DD moves nose to nose with the foreman, and through angry clenched teeth, DD speaks.
DD: I am tha’ trouble.
DD backs up out of the face of the foreman, lifts his trash bag over the man’s head and empties it on him.
DD: None a’ this had to happen, Bossman.
DD turns and immediately walks down the highway, away from the job site. Over his shoulder, he yells.
DD: Tell tha’ PO. Tell tha’ judge. I don’ give a shit, man. Ain’t nobody my boss but me, Bossman.
DD lifts his arm above his head and extends his middle finger back toward the foreman. As he marches, a fellow crewmember, Maria Almeida, drops her bag on the ground and runs after DD.
Maria: Hey! You! Stop!
DD smirks and waves her off.
DD: Nah. If you want me, come get me, lady.
Maria hurries to catch DD, and when she gets to him, she reaches out to grab his arm. DD throws himself around to rip his arm from her grip and raise his hand as if to deliver a firm back hand to whoever just laid hands on him. Maria braces for an impact that never comes. As she realizes that Dandy is not going to strike her, she looks at him confused.
Maria: What the hell’s wrong with you?
DD: Lady, you’re the one chasing a strange man off into the wilderness, an’ you argue there’s somethin’ wrong with… me?
Maria: I just watched what you did.
DD: You followin’ me to stand up for the boss? That’s cute.
Maria: No. I’ve wanted to dump that bag on his head every damn time he brought me out here to work my ass off picking up trash. Do you have any idea how many jugs of discarded piss I’ve had to pick up from this freeway over the past few months?
DD laughs to himself.
DD: I knew there was somethin’ good comin’ if I kept pissin’ in them jugs.
Maria: Hey, man, if you’re serious…
DD: What?! What are you going to do about it?
Maria doesn’t respond.
DD: Tha’s what I thought. Heh.
DD turns back to look at on-coming traffic and extends his thumb out into the air in an attempt to hitch a ride.
Maria: Do you think anyone is going to pick you up? You have “chain gang escapee” written all over your ass.
DD glares at her.
Maria: What? It’s true. You look like a thug piece of shit.
DD puffs his chest up with perverse pride.
DD: Girl, you just hit tha’ nail on tha’ head. I am. A. Thug. Piece. Of shit.
DD smiles wide.
Maria: What?! Why are you proud of that?!
DD: Babygirl, I got so much pride - in myself, my ability, my…
DD grabs his junk and Maria’s looks revolted.
DD: I am a proud man. It’s important to me. My pride defines me.
Maria sarcastically replies.
Maria: Are you a lion?
DD: A fuggin’ lion?! No, I’m a lion tamer. I ain’t pullin’ no thorns from no paws. I’m stabbin’ them bitches and leavin’ ‘em for dead. I ain’t Mufasa. No, I’m a goddamn wildebeest!
DD pauses for a beat.
DD: I’m gonna wreck a lion this week.
Maria appears confused.
DD: I fight, lady. I gotta start my fightin’ job on October 1. I’m fightin’ a lion.
Maria’s confusion grows.
Maria: A literal lion…?
DD: That’d be fuggin’ stupid, yeah?
Maria: Yeah.
DD: You think I’m stupid, yeah?
Maria remains silent.
DD: I asked you a question.
Maria: I didn’t walk off with you to start any shit.
DD: Why did you walk off? You’re gonna violate your probation.
Maria: I don’t think you’re stupid.
DD: Tha’s water under the bridge now, honey. I wan’ you ta’ tell me why you followed me.
Maria: Following you is better than picking up trash, I guess.
DD: Aww, so sweet, babygirl.
Maria: I’m second guessing that estimation more every time you open your mouth.
DD: You don’ like my big, swinging… bravado?
Maria grimaces.
Maria: I’m not into dudes, man.
DD: Your loss, girl. Ha! So you wanna go pick up trash or you wanna keep walkin’ with my ass?
Maria: Honestly, I’m wondering that, too. I have no idea.
DD: Make up your fuggin’ mind. I ain’t got much patience for this shit.
Maria stops walking but doesn’t turn around to head back to the crew. DD notices and calls out to her.
DD: Shit or get off the pot, babygirl.
Maria looks back at the crew and groans.
Maria: Man, fuck you!
DD laughs as he keeps walking and Maria turns around to head back to the crew as they are packing up to depart the worksite.
DD: Bye, bye, babygirl! Have fun with your garbage! I’m off to bigger and better places! I’ve got a lion to fight! A career to make and a career to destroy! I might even getta toss a dwarf! Gonna be the best day of my life!
As DD waves off Maria, he barrels on, marching toward Jacksonville.
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DD walks up the steps of a ramshackle house. This is not the home of his parents. No, daddy’s money didn’t buy this shack. It’s Dandy’s own abode. The roof is breaking down and drooping, and the house has a number of boarded up windows.
DD: Home sweet home!
DD opens the front door to the house, and the inside is even worse than the outside: trash everywhere, rot and destruction on the walls, beaten and badly broken down furniture. The kitchen has no intact windows, so with the three windows therein are all boarded up and blacked out. As soon as DD drops himself onto his busted old couch, a man knocks on the door. DD sighs loudly, rises off the couch, and opens the door to find his P.O., Kevin Stanowitz, standing on the beaten down porch. DD and Stanowitz engage in a silent stare down for a beat until Stanowitz breaks the silence.
Stanowitz: Are you going to invite me in? We need to talk.
DD: That bitch ass foreman talk to you?
Stanowitz: What?
DD reacts in surprise.
DD: Nevermind. I guess, uh, forget I said anything. What do you want?
Stanowitz: I have to get your signature on some forms before we can finalize your probation and put all of this behind you.
DD: Yeah? Behind me, huh?
Stanowitz: You’ve met all but one of the terms of your probation, so not quite behind you yet, but soon.
DD is upset.
DD: What fuggin’ terms haven’t I met, Mr. Probation Officer?!
Stanowitz: Now, Dandy, calm down. You know you haven’t made any progress toward gaining employment.
DD: The fuck I ain’t!
Stanowitz: You’re employed?
DD: Yea!
Stanowitz: By whom?
DD: Action Wrestling!
Stanowitz: So you’re a fake fighter?
DD: It ain’t fake, motherfugga! Realer than you, bitch!
Stanowitz gathers himself to defuse this situation.
DD: Say somethin’! Say somethin’ else! Say somethin’ smart, Mr. Probation Officer!
Stanowitz: Now, Dandy, please calm down. I’m not here to get you riled up. I just need to see proof you’ve got this, uh, job.
DD: Alright, fine!
DD walks Stanowitz back to the kitchen where DD’s new contract with Action Wrestling is tacked up to the refrigerator.
DD: There’s your fuggin’ proof.
DD takes the contract off the fridge and throws it at Stanowitz. Stanowitz takes a long look at the paperwork, thumbing through the contract to ensure everything is in order.
Stanowitz: Everything looks good here, Dandy, but do you really think a fighting career is the right move for someone like you?
DD: Someone like me? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?
Stanowitz: You’ve pretty obviously got an anger problem, Dandy. What good will it do you to get involved in something so overtly violent and angry as fighting professionally?
DD: I’m gonna be famous, Mr. P.O. I’m gonna have my name in lights and win some sweet gold prizes. I’m gonna make something outta me but breaking somethin’ outta them. You ever heard of the idea of carrying capacity, Mr. P.O.?
Stanowitz raises an eyebrow at DD.
DD: It’s when an environment just can’t take no more life, Mr. P.O. When you go past that, shit changes. When you hit that, shit disappears. It dies. Poof. Gone forever. Mr. P.O. man, bringing me onboard was a decision ain’t no one at Action Wrestling ever gon’ not regret.
Stanowitz: You’re standing here and telling me your new employer is going to regret employing you, Dandy? That’s a pretty shit attitude about this new job.
DD: I’m a realist, Mr. P.O. man. They are giving me the greenlight to do what I want to these people every week. I get to maul, mame, and destroy whoever I want, whenever I want, so yeah, they are going to regret giving me that permission. I hope they got real good doctors. Real good. Like Canadian doctors on steroids. If they don’t… It ain’t my fault if one a’ these people gets beat straight to death, Mr. P.O. man.
Stanowitz continues flipping through the contract and looks at the final page.
Stanowitz: Dandy, you didn’t sign this.
DD: I know.
Stanowitz: You need to sign it.
DD: I can’t right now.
Stanowitz: And why not?
DD: Because when I am done with Hamilton after my debut match, I’m gonna use a quill pen to sign that shit with his blood. That lion is an endangered species, Mr. P.O. man. I ain’t comin’ to play. I’m coming to destroy an entire ecosystem and destroy populations an’ shit. It won’t be pretty. Hell, I might even get the company’s big CBS contract revoked. The first thing that channel will see of Action Wrestling is me trophy hunting a lion an’ mountin’ his fuggin’ head on my wall.
Stanowitz returns the contract to Dandy, and Dandy sticks it back up on the fridge.
Stanowitz: How do you think you’re going to do it?
DD: Simple. I’m gonna pin ‘im 1-2-3, and then I’m gonna stab the muddafugga in tha’ head wit’ a fork. If you wanna know more, you jus’ gonna have to watch like everyone else, Mr. P.O. man. Can you kindly step right the fugg outta my house now? I need to get some shut eyes.
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On the side of I-95 near Jacksonville, FL, traffic buzzes by a state crew diligently working to pick up refuse on the roadside. The crew, composed of a handful of young to middle-aged men and women wanders the median and the highway shoulder collecting and properly discarding those items which passing drivers had discarded all too improperly. The foreman of the crew stops to take a headcount of the crew. He mutters to himself as he takes role.
Foreman: Almeida, check. Harris, check. Anderson, check. Zuke, check. Visser, check. Johnson, check. Rodgers, check. Trumboltd, check. DiVito… DiVito…
The foreman looks around the area, scanning the faces for any sign of DiVito. He’s nowhere to be found. Frustrated, the foreman yells out.
Foreman: DiVito! Where the hell are you?! You’ve got 5 seconds to get your ass back to work or I’m informing your P.O. of your defiance of a court order!
Dandy DiVito peaks up from behind a bush where was resting and pulls out one of his headphones. From a kneeling position, he holds up his minimally filled bag of collected roadside litter and rolls his eyes hard.
DD: Bossman, you best not be talkin’ to me. I’m doin’ what I gotta do here. This ‘my last hour of community service, and I ain’t ‘bout to go back to square one, nah. Not at all, brah.
The foreman is agitated and yells from a distance.
Foreman: Get your ass over here, DiVito!
DD: I’m righ’ here, Bossman! You come to me!
The foreman angrilly stomps toward DD.
Foreman: What is your goddamn problem? Do you want me to mess up your whole probation and tell your P.O. and your judge you aren’t following orders?!
Dandy laughs to himself while maintaining his seated position with his mostly empty garbage bag.
DD: No balls; you won’t.
A grin grows across DD’s face while the foreman reacts in angry confusion.
DD: Oh, come on, Bossman. You know what’s up. I got money. Why do you think I got probation in tha’ first place? If you had what I had… it’d been felony possession!
The foreman rolls his eyes.
Foreman: You think Daddy’s money can buy you out of this, too?
DD: Nah, man. I know it can. Ain’t nothin’ I can’t undo with a little green.
Foreman: Yet you’re here, picking up trash on the side of the interstate just like any other schmuck who gets in trouble. I guess your green has limits.
DD: Ha! I had enough white powder in my possession that this probation just proves how powerful greenbacks can be!
DD laughs in the foreman’s face.
DD: You can’t do shit to me, Bossman. I’m here, and I’m doin’ this out of tha’ kindness of my big, beautiful heart.
The foreman is unimpressed, but remembers something that makes him smile.
Foreman: Regardless of whether you crawl up off your ass and finish your service, your probation still requires you to secure employment, yeah? I can’t imagine your ass sitting down for an interview. Even a burger joint wouldn’t want you flipping them in the kitchen.
DD: Joke’s on you, man. Joke’s on you.
Foreman: Huh?
DD: I gots a job. I start October 1.
Foreman: So being an entitled piece of shit is a job title now?
DD: You’re cute, Bossman. Real cute. Back right up now or I’m gonna do something that makes you less cute.
Foreman: Really, DiVito? Threats?
DD: Nah, man. Promises. New job I got? I’m a pro. I fight for money now, Bossman. Ain’t that somethin’? Gonna be famous an’ everything.
DD rises to his feet, gets into the foreman’s face, and the foreman immediately deflates in intimidation.
DD: Tha’s what I thought, Bossman. Backin’ down like a bitch. I got daddy’s money and my own fame, so I ain’t never gonna be in real trouble again.
DD moves nose to nose with the foreman, and through angry clenched teeth, DD speaks.
DD: I am tha’ trouble.
DD backs up out of the face of the foreman, lifts his trash bag over the man’s head and empties it on him.
DD: None a’ this had to happen, Bossman.
DD turns and immediately walks down the highway, away from the job site. Over his shoulder, he yells.
DD: Tell tha’ PO. Tell tha’ judge. I don’ give a shit, man. Ain’t nobody my boss but me, Bossman.
DD lifts his arm above his head and extends his middle finger back toward the foreman. As he marches, a fellow crewmember, Maria Almeida, drops her bag on the ground and runs after DD.
Maria: Hey! You! Stop!
DD smirks and waves her off.
DD: Nah. If you want me, come get me, lady.
Maria hurries to catch DD, and when she gets to him, she reaches out to grab his arm. DD throws himself around to rip his arm from her grip and raise his hand as if to deliver a firm back hand to whoever just laid hands on him. Maria braces for an impact that never comes. As she realizes that Dandy is not going to strike her, she looks at him confused.
Maria: What the hell’s wrong with you?
DD: Lady, you’re the one chasing a strange man off into the wilderness, an’ you argue there’s somethin’ wrong with… me?
Maria: I just watched what you did.
DD: You followin’ me to stand up for the boss? That’s cute.
Maria: No. I’ve wanted to dump that bag on his head every damn time he brought me out here to work my ass off picking up trash. Do you have any idea how many jugs of discarded piss I’ve had to pick up from this freeway over the past few months?
DD laughs to himself.
DD: I knew there was somethin’ good comin’ if I kept pissin’ in them jugs.
Maria: Hey, man, if you’re serious…
DD: What?! What are you going to do about it?
Maria doesn’t respond.
DD: Tha’s what I thought. Heh.
DD turns back to look at on-coming traffic and extends his thumb out into the air in an attempt to hitch a ride.
Maria: Do you think anyone is going to pick you up? You have “chain gang escapee” written all over your ass.
DD glares at her.
Maria: What? It’s true. You look like a thug piece of shit.
DD puffs his chest up with perverse pride.
DD: Girl, you just hit tha’ nail on tha’ head. I am. A. Thug. Piece. Of shit.
DD smiles wide.
Maria: What?! Why are you proud of that?!
DD: Babygirl, I got so much pride - in myself, my ability, my…
DD grabs his junk and Maria’s looks revolted.
DD: I am a proud man. It’s important to me. My pride defines me.
Maria sarcastically replies.
Maria: Are you a lion?
DD: A fuggin’ lion?! No, I’m a lion tamer. I ain’t pullin’ no thorns from no paws. I’m stabbin’ them bitches and leavin’ ‘em for dead. I ain’t Mufasa. No, I’m a goddamn wildebeest!
DD pauses for a beat.
DD: I’m gonna wreck a lion this week.
Maria appears confused.
DD: I fight, lady. I gotta start my fightin’ job on October 1. I’m fightin’ a lion.
Maria’s confusion grows.
Maria: A literal lion…?
DD: That’d be fuggin’ stupid, yeah?
Maria: Yeah.
DD: You think I’m stupid, yeah?
Maria remains silent.
DD: I asked you a question.
Maria: I didn’t walk off with you to start any shit.
DD: Why did you walk off? You’re gonna violate your probation.
Maria: I don’t think you’re stupid.
DD: Tha’s water under the bridge now, honey. I wan’ you ta’ tell me why you followed me.
Maria: Following you is better than picking up trash, I guess.
DD: Aww, so sweet, babygirl.
Maria: I’m second guessing that estimation more every time you open your mouth.
DD: You don’ like my big, swinging… bravado?
Maria grimaces.
Maria: I’m not into dudes, man.
DD: Your loss, girl. Ha! So you wanna go pick up trash or you wanna keep walkin’ with my ass?
Maria: Honestly, I’m wondering that, too. I have no idea.
DD: Make up your fuggin’ mind. I ain’t got much patience for this shit.
Maria stops walking but doesn’t turn around to head back to the crew. DD notices and calls out to her.
DD: Shit or get off the pot, babygirl.
Maria looks back at the crew and groans.
Maria: Man, fuck you!
DD laughs as he keeps walking and Maria turns around to head back to the crew as they are packing up to depart the worksite.
DD: Bye, bye, babygirl! Have fun with your garbage! I’m off to bigger and better places! I’ve got a lion to fight! A career to make and a career to destroy! I might even getta toss a dwarf! Gonna be the best day of my life!
As DD waves off Maria, he barrels on, marching toward Jacksonville.
-------------
DD walks up the steps of a ramshackle house. This is not the home of his parents. No, daddy’s money didn’t buy this shack. It’s Dandy’s own abode. The roof is breaking down and drooping, and the house has a number of boarded up windows.
DD: Home sweet home!
DD opens the front door to the house, and the inside is even worse than the outside: trash everywhere, rot and destruction on the walls, beaten and badly broken down furniture. The kitchen has no intact windows, so with the three windows therein are all boarded up and blacked out. As soon as DD drops himself onto his busted old couch, a man knocks on the door. DD sighs loudly, rises off the couch, and opens the door to find his P.O., Kevin Stanowitz, standing on the beaten down porch. DD and Stanowitz engage in a silent stare down for a beat until Stanowitz breaks the silence.
Stanowitz: Are you going to invite me in? We need to talk.
DD: That bitch ass foreman talk to you?
Stanowitz: What?
DD reacts in surprise.
DD: Nevermind. I guess, uh, forget I said anything. What do you want?
Stanowitz: I have to get your signature on some forms before we can finalize your probation and put all of this behind you.
DD: Yeah? Behind me, huh?
Stanowitz: You’ve met all but one of the terms of your probation, so not quite behind you yet, but soon.
DD is upset.
DD: What fuggin’ terms haven’t I met, Mr. Probation Officer?!
Stanowitz: Now, Dandy, calm down. You know you haven’t made any progress toward gaining employment.
DD: The fuck I ain’t!
Stanowitz: You’re employed?
DD: Yea!
Stanowitz: By whom?
DD: Action Wrestling!
Stanowitz: So you’re a fake fighter?
DD: It ain’t fake, motherfugga! Realer than you, bitch!
Stanowitz gathers himself to defuse this situation.
DD: Say somethin’! Say somethin’ else! Say somethin’ smart, Mr. Probation Officer!
Stanowitz: Now, Dandy, please calm down. I’m not here to get you riled up. I just need to see proof you’ve got this, uh, job.
DD: Alright, fine!
DD walks Stanowitz back to the kitchen where DD’s new contract with Action Wrestling is tacked up to the refrigerator.
DD: There’s your fuggin’ proof.
DD takes the contract off the fridge and throws it at Stanowitz. Stanowitz takes a long look at the paperwork, thumbing through the contract to ensure everything is in order.
Stanowitz: Everything looks good here, Dandy, but do you really think a fighting career is the right move for someone like you?
DD: Someone like me? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?
Stanowitz: You’ve pretty obviously got an anger problem, Dandy. What good will it do you to get involved in something so overtly violent and angry as fighting professionally?
DD: I’m gonna be famous, Mr. P.O. I’m gonna have my name in lights and win some sweet gold prizes. I’m gonna make something outta me but breaking somethin’ outta them. You ever heard of the idea of carrying capacity, Mr. P.O.?
Stanowitz raises an eyebrow at DD.
DD: It’s when an environment just can’t take no more life, Mr. P.O. When you go past that, shit changes. When you hit that, shit disappears. It dies. Poof. Gone forever. Mr. P.O. man, bringing me onboard was a decision ain’t no one at Action Wrestling ever gon’ not regret.
Stanowitz: You’re standing here and telling me your new employer is going to regret employing you, Dandy? That’s a pretty shit attitude about this new job.
DD: I’m a realist, Mr. P.O. man. They are giving me the greenlight to do what I want to these people every week. I get to maul, mame, and destroy whoever I want, whenever I want, so yeah, they are going to regret giving me that permission. I hope they got real good doctors. Real good. Like Canadian doctors on steroids. If they don’t… It ain’t my fault if one a’ these people gets beat straight to death, Mr. P.O. man.
Stanowitz continues flipping through the contract and looks at the final page.
Stanowitz: Dandy, you didn’t sign this.
DD: I know.
Stanowitz: You need to sign it.
DD: I can’t right now.
Stanowitz: And why not?
DD: Because when I am done with Hamilton after my debut match, I’m gonna use a quill pen to sign that shit with his blood. That lion is an endangered species, Mr. P.O. man. I ain’t comin’ to play. I’m coming to destroy an entire ecosystem and destroy populations an’ shit. It won’t be pretty. Hell, I might even get the company’s big CBS contract revoked. The first thing that channel will see of Action Wrestling is me trophy hunting a lion an’ mountin’ his fuggin’ head on my wall.
Stanowitz returns the contract to Dandy, and Dandy sticks it back up on the fridge.
Stanowitz: How do you think you’re going to do it?
DD: Simple. I’m gonna pin ‘im 1-2-3, and then I’m gonna stab the muddafugga in tha’ head wit’ a fork. If you wanna know more, you jus’ gonna have to watch like everyone else, Mr. P.O. man. Can you kindly step right the fugg outta my house now? I need to get some shut eyes.