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Joey B Ellis Go For It (Heart and Fire)
That moment is drawing ever nearer now fight fans. Nine pretenders have now come and passed; none of them able to topple our undefeated champ. Some have fared significantly better than others but all have perished and thus we are left with the crème de la crème. All hell raisers in their own right, Leatherface and The Cenobites are next up to the fray and chomping at the bit to take Marcus Miller down a notch or three. I’m not kidding, one of them is literally chattering away and those grinding teeth are really setting my shit on edge. Enough from me, let’s get to the money shot. First up, we have forgiven him for dressing up in lipstick and frock for Renee Zelwegger and he’s back from behind that rickety door, chainsaw humming like a turd on Route 66. It’s the one, the only…Leatherface!
Round Ten: Marcus Miller vs. Leatherface
No more larking around now, this shit just got serious. This man-mountain has only pain at its summit. Towering above Marcus; the tale of the tape doesn’t make for encouraging reading and that reach is considerable too. Hundreds of teeth, all wailing Miller’s name as it percolates by his side. It’s good to see the family enclosure bustle so; the entire brood have shown up for this one. Granted his family are a smidgen dysfunctional but at least they’re here to support. Even Grandpa is present and has been wheeled ringside where he uses hammer and bucket as percussion. Actually, he seems to have forged a connection with Old Ma Bates who is rolling down her stockings suggestively at this very moment. With all the bloodshed and brutality it is delightful to see young love blossoming in the crowd.
Leatherface enters the ring, ignoring the thorny ropes as he is entirely focused on the task in hand. Marcus Miller may well have been the dark horse of this tournament but his exploits have not gone unnoticed. He places the chainsaw down and pulls out his tenderizing mallet for starters. This earns a nod of appreciation from Miller as it suggests that getting up-close and personal is not going to faze his opponent. Marcus, in turn, plumps on that trusty screwdriver once more; freshly plucked from Jason’s barnet, it is still coated in membrane and seaweed. The two then begin their psyche-out; grill to grill and both respectful of one another’s personal space. Who knows, in a different set of circumstances, the two could have been bosom buddies but right now there will be no such thing. Miller wins the stare off as Leatherface is distracted by Mrs Bates hollowed head bobbing up and down on Grandpa’s lap to his left.
The opening toll chimes and both men circle the ring like dab-hands; eying one another from stem to stern as we await first blood. Neither appears willing to commit and the first few seconds of this bout play out as a somewhat dour stalemate. Despite any inactivity the crowd are far more animated; Leatherface has quite the loyal fan base it seems and every hillbilly hick in the state appears to have turned up to egg the manchild on. He also has an extensive cluster of second cousins, all of which are married to each other. Among the inbreds present are Pluto, Jupiter, Saw-Tooth, Three Finger, Major Buckman and even good old Captain Spaulding has put in an appearance. Throw in Granny Boone and Annie Wilkes as cheerleaders and you have yourself one hell of a hootenanny.
Eventually we see some action and it is Marcus this time who makes first move. Striding back to the midpoint, he is joined soon after by Leatherface as the pair square up once more. This time there is no such mind given to personal space and they are in each other’s grills from the offset. Yet their eyes don’t so much as flicker with emotion, poker faces are on and this psychological battle looks likely to go to the wire. Again, Marcus comes out victorious, Leatherface can’t resist a quick glance over to his left to ascertain how Grandpa is getting on with his sexual conquest. The Viagra appears to have kicked in now and the old coot is being ridden like Silver as he frantically attempts to hold his dentures in. He needn’t bother; Mrs. Bates is no spring chicken herself and flatuates with each of Grandpa’s subsequent pumps. Not a pretty vista.
Leatherface, annoyed at himself for taking his eye from the prize once again, can no longer mask his frustration and the tenderizer is brought into play in the most vitriolic manner. He aims for the soft summit of Miller’s head but Marcus manages to evade the mallet and stumbles to the side while he prepares his own attack. For a hench dude, Leatherface has pretty lightning reflexes and the bludgeoning tool is again swung, this time finding a spot on Miller’s left leg to leave its bloody imprint. In synchronicity, Marcus punctures his excess fat with his screwdriver, ripping away a few layers of blubber and settling right near the lunk’s kidney. Leatherface winces and recoils in visible agony but still manages to execute his next move like a consummate professional.
The brunt of his weapon hits Marcus square on the chin and, for the first time, The Orphan Killer topples to the canvas, clearly concussed. Could he be about to buck the trend and emerge victorious from this brutal clash of the titans? Sensing that he may just have gained the upper hand, he strides back to his corner to retrieve his chainsaw which is sliding wildly across the mat. Miller may be down but he is far from out and the taste of blood on his lips only serves to heighten his desire. He is up on his feet in anticipation of Leatherface’s return and astonishingly drops his only tool of defense. Has he lost his mind? Admittedly a screwdriver is always going to struggle against an instrument which could bring a 200 year old oak tree to its knees but it appears a suicidal act on his part. Maybe the chink in his valiant armor has been revealed.
It’s just another in a long line of instances whereby he has finally spotted the weakness of his opposite number. Leatherface is a big motherfucker; colossal, Freddy Krueger could fit snugly inside one of his thighs and still have space for two Leprechauns and around forty minions from The Gate. Yet, for all his heft, he can be a little heavy-handed; a clusterfuck if you will and he just cannot keep his chainsaw under control. Instead he waves it wildly above his head and this presents time for Miller to deliver the knockout blow. He sweeps the big man’s ankles and the bigger they come, the harder they tumble.
What Leatherface hadn’t reckoned on is that irony is about to play its own hand. The humming chainsaw goes down with him, toppling from his klutz-like grip and straight underneath his apron as his entire body mass falls on his own sword. Sadly he is a couple of seconds shy of being saved by the bell and has been disemboweled by the time it chimes. I’m guessing the family will not be inviting Marcus round for thanksgiving dinner after all. Never mind, at least Grandpa hooked up; let’s just hope the Morphine doesn’t wear off before he exchanges digits with his new belle.
Round Eleven: Marcus vs. The Cenobites
A box. A mystifying box. It seems harmless to the naked eye and nothing to bother a hardened warrior such as The Orphan Killer. But looks can be very deceiving and Marcus is already aware of The Cenobites after rebuffing their pleas for him to join their new model army. They evidently hold him in great esteem but won’t have taken calmly to being given the cold shoulder. In truth, Miller could win this bout purely by negating to tamper with the cantankerous cube but that wouldn’t be like our Marcus now would it? Our Marcus never shirks a challenge, is always thriving to learn and is not fazed by the prospect of perpetual hell after years of suffering at the hands of his proposed gatekeepers.
He is, however, a realist and doesn’t fancy the prospect of single-handedly taking on all four of these hell dwellers in one go. That would be plain dumb. Who knows the kind of foul tricks Pinhead and his associates will have tucked away up their sleeves? These guys have a bedsit in hell, they clearly cannot be trusted. It is therefore time for a new pawn to be introduced, a Baby Sister no less. For one round only we shall see the siblings as a double team and this presents something of a first. It will, of course, still be 2 vs. 4 but Butterball has a bad case of gout in his left ankle and Chatterer has a wisdom tooth coming through so they will likely pose little more than obstruction anyhoots.
Audrey Miller emerges from behind the curtain and the crowd go into rapture. Grandpa takes one look at the flaxen-haired harlot and then another at Mrs Bates and his chemical-induced boner finally subsides. It’s a shame as they are matched well but rumor has it that he may have planted some of Grandpa’s special little seedlings in her last remaining ovary so we could be hearing the squeak of tiny wheels in the next few months. I’ll keep you posted on progress. I’m digressing, back to the supple and salacious sight just begging to be feasted on. Audrey is clad in her usual sparse arrangement which leaves bare minimum to the imagination, just what the doctor ordered after watching Freddy parading around with his sweater round his head.
She slinks her way down to center stage and slides past the barbed wire barricades with minimum fuss. Been there, done that. On arrival she offers her big brother a sarcastic grin and he doesn’t look amused in the slightest. Cast your minds back, if you will, to Norman’s fight. That lanky streak of love wee was never likely to ruffle the nest so to speak. Marcus could’ve dismantled him in the time it would take for him to pull his piece from the hole in the shower wall. Yet he was denied his quarry by his own flesh and blood. Having been a constant thorn in his side since they were reunited it appeared that relations had cooled. She had come around to his way of thinking and proven herself on the field so omens were positive. Then she stole the cheese from right under his nose. What a minx.
This siren can scrap; those ocular emeralds alone can bring an ogre to its knees and her smile has been reported to cause spontaneous combustion but, in addition to being a delectable dish, she is a trained assassin able of ripping out throats and taking notes. Marcus makes his annoyance crystal clear and bumps shoulders as he walks back to the corner. She bumps him right back and stands firm as though to remind him that she is nobody’s bitch and certainly no shrinking violet. The pair shall have to set their differences aside to stand a chance of emerging victors here as the odds are stacked against them. Backs will be against the wall and any breakdown in communications could have cataclysmic ramifications.
“Oh, big brother. A dainty ornate box, you really shouldn’t have” She skips over and sits down with both legs crossed, immediately starting the sequence “This is going to be so much fun.” She slides the dimensions in the correct combination and the cube lights up in her excited hands. “Oh deary deary. Somebody’s been a bad girl Marcus. Look who let the cat out of the bag.” She places it down on the canvas and skips back to her sibling, twisting her pig-tail around her middle finger and blowing gum in his ear. He still doesn’t respond and her flagrant disregard for his wishes earlier have really hit him where it hurts. She did Norman a favor as Big Brother had a far more destructive path planned but, for the next three minutes, he is prepared to set their differences aside in favor of getting the job done.
Captain Kirk would be proud of The Cenobites’ entrance; they beam in surrounded by an ethereal glow and in their very best S&M get up. Butterball is halfway through a frosted doughnut, blatantly disregarding doctor’s orders and Chatterer is muzzled up but evidently still in some pain as the soonest appointment she could get was for next Thursday and her orthodontist doesn’t do call-outs. Audrey’s eyes are instantly fixed on The Female and she is ready to reveal her kitty claws for this one. Pinhead is emulating Jehovah, clearly relishing the magnificent light display and really playing to this crowd. They are out of their seats, maybe this dude is the messiah?
Butterball may as well have not shown as his attempt to advance ends in tears. His ankle buckles and he falls headlong towards Audrey, smashing his designer shades on impact with the cold hard canvas. “Oh bless. Well isn’t that just the cutest thing I ever did see big brother. He fell at my feet” She lets out one of her devilish giggles and blows her largest bubble yet, bursting it on the back of the downed demon’s big bald head. One down, three remain and Marcus takes double duties. Chatterer is up first as Pinhead is still transfixed by his own effervescent aurora and milking the audience for all that they’re worth. Alas for Chatterer, the smarting pain of his ingrowing tusk has left him toothless to Miller’s fury and he feeds Chatterer a sandwich which consists entirely of knuckles, shattering every last tooth in his face. On the plus side, the wisdom tooth has evacuated also so at least his final few breaths won’t be so pain-laden.
Audrey and The Female are deep in the thick of it, trading spiteful blows. The cute bubblegum princess is now something far more feral and her protracted talons are leaving her insignia all over The Female’s tattered pelt. However Baby Sister has left her defenses down for a reason and has been subjected to a flurry of body blows in return. A haymaker to the jaw proves that Audrey has the chin for the fight as well as the obligatory verve and swagger. There is a misconception that women can’t be tough and she wishes to show all sides of her game to reveal what misinformed drivel it really is.
The Female is badly beaten and repeated blows to her cranium have left her disorientated. Baby Sister decides that now is the time to stop toying with her playmate and steps forward to finish what she has started. Body modification always appears a good idea at the time but right now The Female is about to discover its distinct disadvantages. One by one Audrey plucks each decorative ring from its root, much to her opponent’s bemusement. Six or seven are ejected before she leans in and slides her painted nails between the cenobite’s thighs. Maybe a tender moment is scheduled; an innocent exploration between two women, one admittedly easier on the eye than the other, but both prisoners to their quim’s desire.
Not this time, anyone hoping to yank their chains shall be provided with yanking of a far less erotic nature. “Oh you dark little pony. I see you have your clitty pierced. Mind if I play?” With that, Baby Sister tweaks the piercing from its labial origin and The Female drops to the canvas, tears streaming down her cheeks. Audrey too has a vagina and is quite aware how much this would smart so decides to end their skirmish swiftly. She pulls back her leg and performs a devastating low kick which knocks her opponent spark out. Audrey has prepared and a rusted razor blade protrudes from her boot which slices The Female’s throat as it glances by. Evidently she won’t be getting up from this one.
Marcus and Pinhead are locked together like rams but, sensing that his comrades have been dispatched, the prickly one has begun to lose much of the spring in his stride. He leaves an opening and Marcus forms a barbed wire fist to deliver that knockout blow. However, playing fair is not a concept The Cenobites are familiar with and Pinhead calls upon his puzzle box to throw him a bone. It does; although there is no marrow to be seen, just a dozen rusted chains with vicious hooks which flail from the cube and lurch in Miller’s direction. The full dozen make significant contact, restraining him where he stands and swinging the pendulum of fortune the other way once more.
A buoyant Pinhead is ready to tear yet another soul apart and he chuckles to himself as he augments his counter. This is a cheap trick and Baby Sister is not amused in the slightest. “Hey. No fair mister.” Ordinarily Marcus would be mortified at his sibling meddling into his affairs but there is no time for alpha bullshit now as Pinhead is clearly disinterested in playing by the rules. “Prove to me that you are worthy Baby Sister.” This is all the invitation she needs “mmm…okay” she replies and bounds to his aid gleefully. Grabbing the inhuman pin-cushion round his spiky head, she proceeds to push each of the pins in deep with her thumbs.
This buys Marcus the time to break free from his ominous shackles and grab that infernal box. Three slides to the left, two to the right and push. Marvelous, the box returns to its original configuration and all four Cenobites are sent back whence they came in a flash of blinding light. Pinhead, being the eternal raver that he is, clutches wildly at the illuminations with one hand as he clings on for dear life with the other. In a bolt of cruel electricity it is over and the rats are back in the trap where they belong. Marcus looks over at Audrey but this time he has softened distinctly. “Not bad”. The bell tolls and Audrey leaves her sibling to prepare for his ultimate showdown.
Truly, Really, Clearly, Sincerely,
Keeper of the Crimson Quill
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Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2014