The TITLE, Part 2
A Rant On Tape: As Read By XamfARRR!
XamFARRR: Yar, outside of the Four Dragons Casino in Sin City, SARRRah “The JobbARRR SlayARRR” and Trey Vincent walked towARRRd the front doors. The perfect sunny desert spring weathARRR would not deter Trey and SARRRah from enjoying the wailing police sirens in the distance. As they walked, Trey’s hand was in the back pocket of SARRRRah’s black leathARRRR pants. Kid Pirate stole my gimmick! Ahead of them, a man was washing windows on a laddARRR. Trey was about to walk under the laddARRR to get to the front door when SARRRah yanked him backwARRRd.
“Trey, that’s seven years of bad luck. And you remember what happened last time you walked under a ladder,” Sarah warned.
“Yeah, when was that, 2002? Right around the same time…I started working in BOB? The horror…the horror…”
Trey shoved his tongue in her mouth. Sarah shoved him away.
“Don’t pretend you’re John McCain. You know how that freaks me out.”
“We fucking at yer place or mine tonight? Why do I sound like a pirate again? XamfARRR! Quit it!”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’ll call you later,” she said.
“I’ve gotta go do a Rant against Mr. PARRR…*ahem* Mr. Paradox. And I promise I’ll talk to Seth and we’ll get this whole Studnuts thing sorted out,” Trey said as he began walking away backward. “Later!”
Sarah turned around and walked ahead. Before she even realized it, she had passed beneath the ladder.
“Oh, that can’t be good.”
As Sarah reached the front doors, they automatically parted, and a speeding black cat ran between her feet and out into the parking lot.
“Uh, hey, Sarah,” a nervous voice called from within the front doors of the hotel and casino.
“Hey, Door Man. How’s it going?”
“Good. I picked this for you,” he said smiling awkwardly. A five-leaf clover. Sarah cocked an eyebrow. Door Man was non-descript, definitely not a “hottie” in Sarah’s eyes. Thus, he gets no description in this rant, either.
“Anyway, hey, I was wondering if you might wanna hang out sometime. Maybe we could have a movie marathon. Guess what I just got?”
Door Man bent down and picked up a bag. He held it out to Sarah, who reluctantly reached inside and pulled out a stack of movies. “Friday The 13th.” All of them.
“Ladder. Black cat. Friday the 13th. Just, great,” Sarah sighed. “I need a drink. Is the bar open?”
“Yeah. I’m on a break in five minutes.”
“Good for you. Enjoy it. Bye-ee.”
Sarah was then stopped dead in her tracks by an odd sound. A sound that shouldn’t be heard in the middle of a hotel in the middle of the day in the middle of her Rant. The hooting of an owl. Not once. Not twice. But thrice! An owl was in a crate in the middle of a floor.
“Say, Door Man?”
“Yes, Sarah?”
“Why is this owl here?”
“Some zoo guy’s staying here, and he’s appearing on some local talk show with a bunch of animals. You know, like how those guys bring animals on David Letterman?”
Ignoring him, Sarah wandered toward the first-floor restaurant, which had just opened for lunch. She ordered a table for one and was led to a table by the hostess. As she sat down, she noticed some lovely red and white flowers in a vase.
A loud smash echoed through the restaurant. Several waiters and kitchen staff walked out, trying to find the source. One of the restaurants many mirrors had fallen, and glass littered the floor. Nobody had been near it when it fell.
“Wow, that was weird,” said a gravelly voice in front of Sarah.
Death.
“What, haven’t you ever heard that if an undisturbed mirror suddenly falls and smashes, it means there will soon be a Death? Well, the proof is sitting right in front of you.”
“I ordered a table for one,” Sarah pouted. “So, what, you’re saying that I’m having bad luck today or something? Is your name Death or Duh?”
Sarah angrily grabbed her napkin. In the process, she knocked over both the salt and the pepper.
“Today sucks beyond the telling.”
Death chuckled. “So, who are you wrestling at UnFOURgiven after you lose to Steve Studnuts on iMPLOSION?”
“I’m so not losing. Sure, I may be a little unlucky today, but even on my unluckiest day, I’m way hotter and a much better wrestler than Studnuts. Not to mention, my Rants are much less vulgar.” Sarah dug into her shoulder bag and looked at her ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. “Pretty.”
Death got up from the table.
“I’ve gotta go. Oh, by the way, Sarah. Your bag’s on fire.”
Indeed it was.
“Shoot!” Sarah had knocked over a candle onto her bag. “Bad day. Baaaad bad day…”
That’s when Sarah’s cell phone rang.
“The Rant Zone is WHAT?”