Post by Harvey Marx on Oct 16, 2021 17:50:30 GMT -6
The Big Ticket's Bigass Barbecue Battle Boat
October 13
Marx: One more time for your King of the Ocean, Lazaro Vicente!
The crowd on the deck roars with appreciation. Their presence here is the result of what might be defined as kidnapping in some other universe. Sucker Punch Live has a truly captive audience.
Marx: The party isn't over, because we have another winner tonight! My special contestant survived the match and has earned the chance to spin the prize wheel!
Leo: Ha! Nice way to say he hid under the ring like a little bitch. You're a true pro, Marx.
Harvey is glad to hear Leo in his ear. She's just fine. Tonight wasn't the first time someone blew up her production room. She was mostly certain The Walkers hadn't been trying to kill her
Marx: Give it a spin Clarence!
Contestant: My name is Kyle.
Marx: Alright, Clarence. Leave the jokes to me
The wheel spins four times clockwise and crawls over three more tiles before stopping on $10,00O. The camera is on the wheel, and we hear a dull thud. The wheel finds a boxing glove after moving three spaces in the wrong direction.
Harvey's uppercut knocks Clarence two weeks into the future.
The sound of contestant hitting canvas sends Harvey Marx into the past
**
Seattle
2011
The basement of Elysium Casino Resort is filled with people dressed to be seen. The lights above the ring are giving off almost as much heat as the woman holding up the card for round five. Harvey can hear his heart beating. He's not the least bit tired. It's just so quiet here. This is much more ballet than boxing match.
The room is full of Sheldon Osbourne's cronies, and this is nothing more than a way to move money. A lot of very dirty money.
This is the point in the performance when Harvey is due to take a dive. The pathetic fighter across from him would be picking his nose if not for the gloves. Harvey is angry, but this is business.
At least it was before he took one last glance into the crowd, where Sheldon is standing in the isle with an arm around 8 year old Frank Bellwood.
Marx moved forward at the bell, standing in place to take a right hook as planned. He winked at Osbourne.
And then he ducked.
There was a gasp from everyone. Harvey's opponent was frozen in disbelief. And then Friday night Fights become Saturday Night Fever. Harvey treated the crowd to a flurry of disco inspired dad dancing, switching to the robot when they began to clap their heads. Gripped by mechanical madness, Marx shuffled over to his transfixed opponent. Then he laid him the fuck out with a single, thunderous body shot. The referee stood horrified. He looked between Oz, Marx and the downed fighter as if his head were in a pinball machine. This isn't supposed to happen, but only a force stronger than nature could fix this.
And Michael Bolton isn't walking through the door, folks.
The ref finally waves off the fight.
The crowd is angry.
Osbourne is intrigued.
Later…
Oz: I told you to go down in the fifth round
Marx: And I told you to stay away from the kid
Oz: That little display was a message for me?
Marx: No. Just a little something for the crowd. Your pony show needed a lift. Frank is untouchable. If I see you near him again, I'll kill you.
Harvey Marx will threaten to kill many people in a few years. It will be great television.
But there were no cameras in Osbourne's office.
Oz only smiles in response. An honest fighter with real skill could be a costly problem.
This game was getting interesting.
**
Wild cheers bring Marx back to the present. He drops an SPL t shirt onto Clarence's glassy eyed face and puts one foot on his chest as camera flashes go off all around.
Less than two months ago The Sexy Southpaw was taping shows in Seattle for a cult following. Tonight he was master of ceremonies for the most expensive live game show event in history.
All for a company with the same weird taste in jewelry as his new producer/boss's ex wife.
Harvey has been on the air long enough to know he's being played.
Games make great television
He leaves the ring and moonwalks down the entrance ramp. Backstage, speed dial two goes straight to voicemail.
Marx: I need those magic hands again Frank. Have I ever told you how much I love my job?