Post by Dandy DiVito on Oct 15, 2018 12:58:20 GMT -5
American way
a method or manner of behaving or living that is regarded as distinctively characteristic of the U.S. and representative of its values - Merriam Webster
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In a beat down dive bar in the heart of Minneapolis, MN, a pudgy, middle aged man stands behind a straight forward microphone/mic stand set up on a slightly lifted stage. He is illuminated by cheap party lights: spinning and flickering globe lights, trashy disco balls, and mini-spotlights that wildly flail around while more closely resembling cheap flashlights than anything else. This… is a karaoke bar.
The man on the stage is unnaturally sweaty, and his combover is washing down over his forehead and into his eyes. His shirt was once tucked in but has long since worked its way to becoming mostly untucked and disheveled. His tie hangs loose, the knot closer to his breast pocket than his throat. It’s been a long night already, and his song is coming to a merciful end.
Singer 1: ...Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don't think that I can take it!
'Cause it took so long to bake it!
And I'll never have that recipe again!
Oh, no!
Ohhh, nooo!
Nooooooooooo, nooooooooooooo!
OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
The tonally incongruent performance of what is widely considered to be the worst song of all time ends and a wave of relief crashes over the audience. Someone cruelly shouts out.
Heckler: Thank god!
The rest of the audience laughs and the man on the stage grimaces and quickly bolts from the stage and leaves the bar entirely in embarrassment. The barkeeper yells out to him as he makes his exit.
Bartender: See you next week, Bill. Same time as always. (muttering to himself) Same fuckin’ song as always.
The bartender runs a damp rag across the bar top as he surveys the crowd of about 20 - a decent crowdfor this shit-hole establishment, even on a weekend night.
At the end of the bar, Dandy DiVito is nursing a double shot of something dark in color and thumbing through the catalogue of songs available for patrons to perform. He talks to himself as he reads.
DD:Nope.
Nope.
Nope.
Maybe that one.
Nope.
Nope.
Bingo!
DD continues thumbing through the catalogue. When he finds what he’s looking for, he writes the information on the songs down on his karaoke form and turns it in to the host booth.
As he returns to his seat at the bar, DD pulls out his phone and opens his map. The map displays a 2400 mile route from Detroit to Seattle. DD disgruntledly talks to himself as he looks at the map.
DD: How long has Action been open anyway? You’d think motherfuggin’ Torture and Gravedigger would figure out how to plan a goddamn tour. Ain’t gettin’ my ass on no airplane. Stuck spendin’ god knows how many fuggin’ hours in that damn car. Man, fuck.
The heckler who ran Bill off earlier taps DD on the shoulder. DD looks up with a snarl.
DD: What the fuck you wan’?
Heckler: Don’t I know you from somewhere?
DD: Pro’ly.
Heckler: Do you work at the Electric Fetus?
DD looks up at the man with a look of exasperated confusion.
DD: The fuckin’ what?
Heckler: The Electric Fetus? You know. The record store.
DD: Y’all got a store here called The Electric Fetus?
Heckler: So I guess that’s not where I know you from… Hmm… Where have I seen you before?
DD lets the man agonize over his confusion. The silence grows increasingly awkward with every second. Eventually, the man starts peppering DD with possibilities.
Heckler: Did you go to Edina High?
DD: Nope.
Heckler: Are you a Golden Gopher?
DD: Fuck no. Human being.
The man pauses for a beat, attempting to figure out if DD is seriously assuming the he was asked if DD is a small, furry animal. The man lets the thought go and continues asking questions.
Heckler: Are you famous or something?
DD sits silently and takes a sip from his drink. A silent, awkward moment passes after the man’s question, and the announcer breaks the silence by calling out the name Dandy DiVito.
DD rises from his seat as the man has an epiphany.
Heckler: I fuckin’ knew it! I knew I knew you from somewhere!
DD silently strolls past the man and marches toward the stage. DD grabs the mic and rips it out the holder atop the stand and waits for his song to start. As the DJ gets things set up, DD talks to the audience of barflies.
DD: I’m Dandy DiVito, and this weekend, I’m fightin’ 3 motherfuggers for the United States Championship at Action Wrestling. This song’s for Mikey Massaro... who I’m gonna Mikey Massacre come Sunday.
The crash of a cash register and the iconic bass lead in hits the PA, and it’s clear DD’s selected “Money” by Pink Floyd. DD immediately begins making up his own lyrics to the song.
DD: Money, go away
Get the fuck off my TV tooooodayyyy
Money is straight trash
Choke that cashboi with both hands and wreck his ass
New belt, ice packs, and a five star dream,
Think I'll buy Mikey a personality
Massaro smokes crack
I'm alright, Mike, just keep your head off that pipe.
Money, it's a hit
Don't give me that do goody good bullshit
I'm in the US championship mindset
And I think Mike needs an adult
DD laughs hysterically as he drops the mic to the ground and walks off the stage. The announcer looks confused and reminds him the song isn’t over.
DD: I disagree, man.
DD returns to his spot at the bar, and the man from before is still there at a seat next to DD’s.
Heckler: Quite the show.
DD: You still fuckin’ here, huh?
Heckler: It isn’t every day you get to have a drink with someone famous.
DD: Listen, bruh, we ain’t havin’ a drink. I’m drinkin’ ova’ here and you drinkin’ ova’ tha’. Ain’t nothin’ about that that says you with me.
Heckler: Ok, man. Ok. Point taken. Fine.
The two sit at the bar in awkward silence as another singer takes the stage in the background. The silence grows more and more awkward as it’s obvious the man just wants to pick DD’s brain.
Heckler: Look, man, my name is Barry.
Barry extends his hand out to DD for a shake.
DD: My name is I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-your-name-is-Barry.
DD spits into his own hand and grabs Barry’s before Barry can recoil.
Barry: Oh, dude. Fucking gross! Why’d you have to do that?!
DD: I didn’t have to, but I sure fuckin’ enjoyed it.
Barry asks the bartender for a towel. He continues talking as he wipes the spit from his hand.
Barry: You’re kind of an asshole, huh? I just figured that was some kind of gimmick.
DD: I ain’t a fuckin’ gimmick. I’m 100 percent real deal, baby.
Barry: Got it. 100 percent asshole. The genuine article.
DD: Ha. Yeah. Genuine article.
The men sit in silence for moment until Barry breaks it yet again.
Barry: So you’re in the US Title match, huh?
DD: Man, what the fuck? Do you just die if you stop makin’ small talk or somethin’?
Barry looks defeated. DD sees Barry’s dejection and lets out a deep sigh as he actually answers Barry’s question.
DD: Yes, Barry. I have a US Title match at Carnage against Mike Massaro, Claire Hawkins, and TFK. I’m going to beat all three of their asses.
Barry: A fatal four way? You can lose that without being pinned or submitted, right? How can you be so sure you’re going to win?
DD: ‘Cuz I’m better than them three.
Barry: ...that’s pretty straight forward, I guess.
DD: Look, man. I know the odds are stacked against me, but they’re stacked against all them motherfuggers, too. Lookin’ just at the number of us in that ring, we each got 25 percent shot at the win. When you account for skill and toughness and all that bullshit, my odds only get better. There’s a chance I ain’t walkin’ outta there with that belt. But there’s also a chance a fuggin’ asteroid is gonna come down on this bar as we sit here jabberin’ about how damn bad I’m gonna whoop they asses this weeken’. Ain’t nothin’ tha’s got 100 percent odds ‘cept dyin’.
Barry: That’s… that’s, uh, pretty damn profound. I didn’t expect that from you.
DD: What. The. Fuck’s. That suppos’d ta mean?
As the prior singer wraps up their song, the announcer once more calls out the name Dandy DiVito
DD: You jus’ fuckin’ wait on that thought. I’ll be right back, Barryboy.
Intimidated, Barry swallows hard as DD stands and makes his way toward the stage again.
DD: Y’all remember me, of course, but in case we got any new comers, I’m Dandy DiVito, and this weekend, I’m fightin’ 3 motherfuggers for the United States Championship at Action Wrestling. This song’s for Witchy Poo, Claire Hawkins.
The opening chords of “Witchy Woman” by the Eagles start playing, DD starts clapping along with the start to get the crowd into the song. They clap along as well.
DD: Bad makeup and delusional shit
She really believes she’s fuckin’ magic
Echoed voices in her brain
She's schizophrenic an’ needs new meds
Woo hoo witchy woman,
Wind, water, earth, and fire?
Woo hoo witchy woman
She’s a less appealing Captain Planet
DD laughs and screams out.
DD: BY YOUR POWERS COMBINED, I AM DANDY DiVITO!
DD puts the mic back on the stand and wanders back to his seat, laughing all the way. Barry and the rest of the audience seem to be entertained by his last song.
Barry: Mike Massaro, “Money.” Claire Hawkins, “Witchy Woman.” What do you have in store for TFK? I can’t think of any Thaddeus puns.
DD: You gotta wait an’ see, B-Boy.
Barry: I’m waiting on bated breath.
DD looks at him with suspicion.
Barry: No shit, really!
As DD and Barry sit, a older woman approaches DD. She is a stout, bowling ball of a woman who appears to be in her late 40s. She seems to be the kind of person to come to the karaoke bar and get completely hammered in hopes of gaining the courage to get on stage. As she stands next to DD, she drunkenly sways back and forth. As she speaks, she slurs her words badly.
Drunk Lady: M’ naaaaaame’s Shelly. Doyou wannnnnnnnna buy me a drijnk?
DD: Nobody in the world wants ta’ buy you a drink tonight.
Shelly: Wha’s that supposeda mean?
DD: It means get the fuck outta here, ya’ goddamn drunk.
Shelly: Y’r shhhhhure playin’ hard to get. Come on, li’l fella. I’ll blow you in the bathroom.
A look of pure disgust spreads across DD’s face. As Barry grimaces on DD’s behalf, Barry steps in in hopes of de-escalating the situation.
Barry: Now, Shelly. You can’t be doing shit like this. It’s unbecoming. You’re a nice enough lady when you’re sober, but no one wants to get their junk within ten feet of that toothy strip mine operation you call a mouth.
DD: Yea, fuck. I’d rather have mine cut off and tossed out in a field John Wayne Bobbitt style than get all up in that bear trap.
Shelly is offended and pissed off. She begins to cry.
Shelly: Why you guys gotta be so meaannnn?
Barry: You pull this shit every weekend. You have to stop.
DD: Keep at it, girl. I don’t give it shit what you do from here. You just repulse me is all. Ain’t lookin’ for a reason to turn celibate, and I feel like it’d just shrivel up and die if I put li’l Dandy anywhere near the Gulf of Shelly.
Shelly: Fuck both of you!
She stumbles away still crying.
DD looks back to Barry.
DD: I had that handled jus’ fine. You didn’t need ta say shit for me. I do my own talkin’.
Barry: I get that. I’m just real sick of her perpetually hornny old lady routine.
The announcer calls out the name Shelly, and the same schnockered lady who just propositioned DD heads up to the stage still crying just a bit.
She timidly stands in front of the mic stand as her music plays: Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball.” DD can’t keep it together and starts laughing hysterically as he begins to yell out at Shelly.
DD: Fuckin’ hilarious, Shelly! Did you pick this song ‘cuz you look like a goddamn wreckin’ ball or was that just a coincidence?
She immediately throws the mic down and runs for the exit. Barry laughs to himself.
Barry: The score is 1-1.
DD: Wha’ fuckin’ score?
Barry: I ran off the frosting song guy, and you ran off Shelly. The game is tied 1-1.
DD: Man, fuck you. I ain’t playin’ no game.
Barry: Too chicken?
DD: Eat shit, Barry. I’m just gonna do my last song and get the fugg outta this dump.
Barry: Surrrrre. Pussy.
The announcer saves Barry from what surely would have been a savage beating by calling out the name Dandy DiVito for the third and final time. DD rises from his seat and punks out Barry by raising a fist in the air as Barry winces and flinches.
DD: Yeah. Exactly. Pussy
DD takes the mic again, this time anger is pulsing through him. The song starts and DD stands perfectly still screaming into the microphone.
DD: By now, I’m sure you know I’m Dandy DiVito, and this weekend, I’m fightin’ 3 motherfuggers for the United States Championship at Action Wrestling. This song’s for the champ, TFK... who, come Sunday, will be the former champ, TFK.
DD:I hate the world today
A world where TFK has any kind of gold
I know that that will change
Tried to tell TFK
But he looks at me like maybe
He can beat me anyway
Innocent and sweet
Yesterday he cried
Must have been relieved to see
His pretty face on another magazine
I can understand how he'd be so convinced
That he’s the best in this damn place
But I'm a better fighta’
I’m gonna whoop his ass
He’s a bitch, I'm not a bitch.
He’s a child, I'm a man.
I'm a sinner, he’s a bitch.
Have I mentioned he’s a bitch?
I'm Frankie’s hell, he’s still a bitch
There is nothing in between me and that gold
You know you wouldn't want it any other way
DD gives the “cut the music” signal to the announcer, and then talks to the crowd.
DD: This week, I will stay undefeated and unstoppable. I’m on a collision course with destiny, and tha’ bitch ain’t gonna let up fo’ nothin’. Ain’t nothin’ I like more than beatin’ fuggas black and blue, so I’m looking forward to this weekend like it’s my bad boy Christmas. Sons of bitches gonna bleed. I’m gonna walk away the new champ. Doin’ this shit my way, Jacksonville way, AMERICAN way! As long as the American way is the one that tortures motherfuckers and takes out villages on accident an’ all. There will be collateral damage, and I won’t be held responsible.
DD drops the mic on the stage, marches back to his drink, picks up the glass, and pounds what’s left. He looks at Barry menacingly, and drives the man’s head down into the bar stiffly. Barry is out of it immediately. DD smirks and immediately heads for the door out into the cool Minnesota night air.
a method or manner of behaving or living that is regarded as distinctively characteristic of the U.S. and representative of its values - Merriam Webster
-------------
In a beat down dive bar in the heart of Minneapolis, MN, a pudgy, middle aged man stands behind a straight forward microphone/mic stand set up on a slightly lifted stage. He is illuminated by cheap party lights: spinning and flickering globe lights, trashy disco balls, and mini-spotlights that wildly flail around while more closely resembling cheap flashlights than anything else. This… is a karaoke bar.
The man on the stage is unnaturally sweaty, and his combover is washing down over his forehead and into his eyes. His shirt was once tucked in but has long since worked its way to becoming mostly untucked and disheveled. His tie hangs loose, the knot closer to his breast pocket than his throat. It’s been a long night already, and his song is coming to a merciful end.
Singer 1: ...Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don't think that I can take it!
'Cause it took so long to bake it!
And I'll never have that recipe again!
Oh, no!
Ohhh, nooo!
Nooooooooooo, nooooooooooooo!
OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
The tonally incongruent performance of what is widely considered to be the worst song of all time ends and a wave of relief crashes over the audience. Someone cruelly shouts out.
Heckler: Thank god!
The rest of the audience laughs and the man on the stage grimaces and quickly bolts from the stage and leaves the bar entirely in embarrassment. The barkeeper yells out to him as he makes his exit.
Bartender: See you next week, Bill. Same time as always. (muttering to himself) Same fuckin’ song as always.
The bartender runs a damp rag across the bar top as he surveys the crowd of about 20 - a decent crowdfor this shit-hole establishment, even on a weekend night.
At the end of the bar, Dandy DiVito is nursing a double shot of something dark in color and thumbing through the catalogue of songs available for patrons to perform. He talks to himself as he reads.
DD:Nope.
Nope.
Nope.
Maybe that one.
Nope.
Nope.
Bingo!
DD continues thumbing through the catalogue. When he finds what he’s looking for, he writes the information on the songs down on his karaoke form and turns it in to the host booth.
As he returns to his seat at the bar, DD pulls out his phone and opens his map. The map displays a 2400 mile route from Detroit to Seattle. DD disgruntledly talks to himself as he looks at the map.
DD: How long has Action been open anyway? You’d think motherfuggin’ Torture and Gravedigger would figure out how to plan a goddamn tour. Ain’t gettin’ my ass on no airplane. Stuck spendin’ god knows how many fuggin’ hours in that damn car. Man, fuck.
The heckler who ran Bill off earlier taps DD on the shoulder. DD looks up with a snarl.
DD: What the fuck you wan’?
Heckler: Don’t I know you from somewhere?
DD: Pro’ly.
Heckler: Do you work at the Electric Fetus?
DD looks up at the man with a look of exasperated confusion.
DD: The fuckin’ what?
Heckler: The Electric Fetus? You know. The record store.
DD: Y’all got a store here called The Electric Fetus?
Heckler: So I guess that’s not where I know you from… Hmm… Where have I seen you before?
DD lets the man agonize over his confusion. The silence grows increasingly awkward with every second. Eventually, the man starts peppering DD with possibilities.
Heckler: Did you go to Edina High?
DD: Nope.
Heckler: Are you a Golden Gopher?
DD: Fuck no. Human being.
The man pauses for a beat, attempting to figure out if DD is seriously assuming the he was asked if DD is a small, furry animal. The man lets the thought go and continues asking questions.
Heckler: Are you famous or something?
DD sits silently and takes a sip from his drink. A silent, awkward moment passes after the man’s question, and the announcer breaks the silence by calling out the name Dandy DiVito.
DD rises from his seat as the man has an epiphany.
Heckler: I fuckin’ knew it! I knew I knew you from somewhere!
DD silently strolls past the man and marches toward the stage. DD grabs the mic and rips it out the holder atop the stand and waits for his song to start. As the DJ gets things set up, DD talks to the audience of barflies.
DD: I’m Dandy DiVito, and this weekend, I’m fightin’ 3 motherfuggers for the United States Championship at Action Wrestling. This song’s for Mikey Massaro... who I’m gonna Mikey Massacre come Sunday.
The crash of a cash register and the iconic bass lead in hits the PA, and it’s clear DD’s selected “Money” by Pink Floyd. DD immediately begins making up his own lyrics to the song.
DD: Money, go away
Get the fuck off my TV tooooodayyyy
Money is straight trash
Choke that cashboi with both hands and wreck his ass
New belt, ice packs, and a five star dream,
Think I'll buy Mikey a personality
Massaro smokes crack
I'm alright, Mike, just keep your head off that pipe.
Money, it's a hit
Don't give me that do goody good bullshit
I'm in the US championship mindset
And I think Mike needs an adult
DD laughs hysterically as he drops the mic to the ground and walks off the stage. The announcer looks confused and reminds him the song isn’t over.
DD: I disagree, man.
DD returns to his spot at the bar, and the man from before is still there at a seat next to DD’s.
Heckler: Quite the show.
DD: You still fuckin’ here, huh?
Heckler: It isn’t every day you get to have a drink with someone famous.
DD: Listen, bruh, we ain’t havin’ a drink. I’m drinkin’ ova’ here and you drinkin’ ova’ tha’. Ain’t nothin’ about that that says you with me.
Heckler: Ok, man. Ok. Point taken. Fine.
The two sit at the bar in awkward silence as another singer takes the stage in the background. The silence grows more and more awkward as it’s obvious the man just wants to pick DD’s brain.
Heckler: Look, man, my name is Barry.
Barry extends his hand out to DD for a shake.
DD: My name is I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-your-name-is-Barry.
DD spits into his own hand and grabs Barry’s before Barry can recoil.
Barry: Oh, dude. Fucking gross! Why’d you have to do that?!
DD: I didn’t have to, but I sure fuckin’ enjoyed it.
Barry asks the bartender for a towel. He continues talking as he wipes the spit from his hand.
Barry: You’re kind of an asshole, huh? I just figured that was some kind of gimmick.
DD: I ain’t a fuckin’ gimmick. I’m 100 percent real deal, baby.
Barry: Got it. 100 percent asshole. The genuine article.
DD: Ha. Yeah. Genuine article.
The men sit in silence for moment until Barry breaks it yet again.
Barry: So you’re in the US Title match, huh?
DD: Man, what the fuck? Do you just die if you stop makin’ small talk or somethin’?
Barry looks defeated. DD sees Barry’s dejection and lets out a deep sigh as he actually answers Barry’s question.
DD: Yes, Barry. I have a US Title match at Carnage against Mike Massaro, Claire Hawkins, and TFK. I’m going to beat all three of their asses.
Barry: A fatal four way? You can lose that without being pinned or submitted, right? How can you be so sure you’re going to win?
DD: ‘Cuz I’m better than them three.
Barry: ...that’s pretty straight forward, I guess.
DD: Look, man. I know the odds are stacked against me, but they’re stacked against all them motherfuggers, too. Lookin’ just at the number of us in that ring, we each got 25 percent shot at the win. When you account for skill and toughness and all that bullshit, my odds only get better. There’s a chance I ain’t walkin’ outta there with that belt. But there’s also a chance a fuggin’ asteroid is gonna come down on this bar as we sit here jabberin’ about how damn bad I’m gonna whoop they asses this weeken’. Ain’t nothin’ tha’s got 100 percent odds ‘cept dyin’.
Barry: That’s… that’s, uh, pretty damn profound. I didn’t expect that from you.
DD: What. The. Fuck’s. That suppos’d ta mean?
As the prior singer wraps up their song, the announcer once more calls out the name Dandy DiVito
DD: You jus’ fuckin’ wait on that thought. I’ll be right back, Barryboy.
Intimidated, Barry swallows hard as DD stands and makes his way toward the stage again.
DD: Y’all remember me, of course, but in case we got any new comers, I’m Dandy DiVito, and this weekend, I’m fightin’ 3 motherfuggers for the United States Championship at Action Wrestling. This song’s for Witchy Poo, Claire Hawkins.
The opening chords of “Witchy Woman” by the Eagles start playing, DD starts clapping along with the start to get the crowd into the song. They clap along as well.
DD: Bad makeup and delusional shit
She really believes she’s fuckin’ magic
Echoed voices in her brain
She's schizophrenic an’ needs new meds
Woo hoo witchy woman,
Wind, water, earth, and fire?
Woo hoo witchy woman
She’s a less appealing Captain Planet
DD laughs and screams out.
DD: BY YOUR POWERS COMBINED, I AM DANDY DiVITO!
DD puts the mic back on the stand and wanders back to his seat, laughing all the way. Barry and the rest of the audience seem to be entertained by his last song.
Barry: Mike Massaro, “Money.” Claire Hawkins, “Witchy Woman.” What do you have in store for TFK? I can’t think of any Thaddeus puns.
DD: You gotta wait an’ see, B-Boy.
Barry: I’m waiting on bated breath.
DD looks at him with suspicion.
Barry: No shit, really!
As DD and Barry sit, a older woman approaches DD. She is a stout, bowling ball of a woman who appears to be in her late 40s. She seems to be the kind of person to come to the karaoke bar and get completely hammered in hopes of gaining the courage to get on stage. As she stands next to DD, she drunkenly sways back and forth. As she speaks, she slurs her words badly.
Drunk Lady: M’ naaaaaame’s Shelly. Doyou wannnnnnnnna buy me a drijnk?
DD: Nobody in the world wants ta’ buy you a drink tonight.
Shelly: Wha’s that supposeda mean?
DD: It means get the fuck outta here, ya’ goddamn drunk.
Shelly: Y’r shhhhhure playin’ hard to get. Come on, li’l fella. I’ll blow you in the bathroom.
A look of pure disgust spreads across DD’s face. As Barry grimaces on DD’s behalf, Barry steps in in hopes of de-escalating the situation.
Barry: Now, Shelly. You can’t be doing shit like this. It’s unbecoming. You’re a nice enough lady when you’re sober, but no one wants to get their junk within ten feet of that toothy strip mine operation you call a mouth.
DD: Yea, fuck. I’d rather have mine cut off and tossed out in a field John Wayne Bobbitt style than get all up in that bear trap.
Shelly is offended and pissed off. She begins to cry.
Shelly: Why you guys gotta be so meaannnn?
Barry: You pull this shit every weekend. You have to stop.
DD: Keep at it, girl. I don’t give it shit what you do from here. You just repulse me is all. Ain’t lookin’ for a reason to turn celibate, and I feel like it’d just shrivel up and die if I put li’l Dandy anywhere near the Gulf of Shelly.
Shelly: Fuck both of you!
She stumbles away still crying.
DD looks back to Barry.
DD: I had that handled jus’ fine. You didn’t need ta say shit for me. I do my own talkin’.
Barry: I get that. I’m just real sick of her perpetually hornny old lady routine.
The announcer calls out the name Shelly, and the same schnockered lady who just propositioned DD heads up to the stage still crying just a bit.
She timidly stands in front of the mic stand as her music plays: Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball.” DD can’t keep it together and starts laughing hysterically as he begins to yell out at Shelly.
DD: Fuckin’ hilarious, Shelly! Did you pick this song ‘cuz you look like a goddamn wreckin’ ball or was that just a coincidence?
She immediately throws the mic down and runs for the exit. Barry laughs to himself.
Barry: The score is 1-1.
DD: Wha’ fuckin’ score?
Barry: I ran off the frosting song guy, and you ran off Shelly. The game is tied 1-1.
DD: Man, fuck you. I ain’t playin’ no game.
Barry: Too chicken?
DD: Eat shit, Barry. I’m just gonna do my last song and get the fugg outta this dump.
Barry: Surrrrre. Pussy.
The announcer saves Barry from what surely would have been a savage beating by calling out the name Dandy DiVito for the third and final time. DD rises from his seat and punks out Barry by raising a fist in the air as Barry winces and flinches.
DD: Yeah. Exactly. Pussy
DD takes the mic again, this time anger is pulsing through him. The song starts and DD stands perfectly still screaming into the microphone.
DD: By now, I’m sure you know I’m Dandy DiVito, and this weekend, I’m fightin’ 3 motherfuggers for the United States Championship at Action Wrestling. This song’s for the champ, TFK... who, come Sunday, will be the former champ, TFK.
DD:I hate the world today
A world where TFK has any kind of gold
I know that that will change
Tried to tell TFK
But he looks at me like maybe
He can beat me anyway
Innocent and sweet
Yesterday he cried
Must have been relieved to see
His pretty face on another magazine
I can understand how he'd be so convinced
That he’s the best in this damn place
But I'm a better fighta’
I’m gonna whoop his ass
He’s a bitch, I'm not a bitch.
He’s a child, I'm a man.
I'm a sinner, he’s a bitch.
Have I mentioned he’s a bitch?
I'm Frankie’s hell, he’s still a bitch
There is nothing in between me and that gold
You know you wouldn't want it any other way
DD gives the “cut the music” signal to the announcer, and then talks to the crowd.
DD: This week, I will stay undefeated and unstoppable. I’m on a collision course with destiny, and tha’ bitch ain’t gonna let up fo’ nothin’. Ain’t nothin’ I like more than beatin’ fuggas black and blue, so I’m looking forward to this weekend like it’s my bad boy Christmas. Sons of bitches gonna bleed. I’m gonna walk away the new champ. Doin’ this shit my way, Jacksonville way, AMERICAN way! As long as the American way is the one that tortures motherfuckers and takes out villages on accident an’ all. There will be collateral damage, and I won’t be held responsible.
DD drops the mic on the stage, marches back to his drink, picks up the glass, and pounds what’s left. He looks at Barry menacingly, and drives the man’s head down into the bar stiffly. Barry is out of it immediately. DD smirks and immediately heads for the door out into the cool Minnesota night air.