Post by EPFTW! on Jun 1, 2019 9:16:22 GMT -6
It was well into the early hours of the morning when El Pablo returned to his Las Vegas apartment. The past two weeks had been a blur; his mind still swamped by the emotional fallout from his chastening defeat to half-brother Xavier Reid at PRIME #46. A victory over Terra Walker in Cameroon had at least put some ice on any talk of a crisis in the ring, but such was the state of EP’s psychological disarray that he could already barely remember anything about the events of Yaounde. As a result, the Technicolour Tecnico had taken the difficult decision to withdraw from competition for the next few shows; to retreat to Rainbowlution HQ and try to restore some semblance of sanity and normality.
As he shuffled down the hallway to his apartment, EP’s curiosity became piqued by the commotion of communal conversation coming from the other side of the door, backed by what sounded like an 8-bit rendition of early-noughties frat rock anthem Party Hard by Andrew WK:
Understandably wary, EP opened the door. As he stepped inside, he was greeted - literally - by a living room filled with a motley collection of people from Hollywood’s middling tiers; a veritable whos-who of b-movies and ‘90s sitcoms. EP stood, dumbfounded, for several seconds, his already-beleaguered mind racing with even more questions; namely, How did these people get here? How did they get into my apartment? and Is Christopher Lloyd actually immortal?
"How cool is this, huh?"
The sudden combination of a voice in his ear and two hands upon his shoulders caused EP to jump. He spun round to find himself face-to-masked-face with a man the same height as he was, with the same build, the same clothes and the same aura of naive, restless energy. EP stood frozen, his mind immediately flashing back to that phone call in the Royal London Hospital.
"Before you say anything," the doppelganger continued, "I know the 'snack' situation's a little…askew. You can blame Tisdale for that. I specifically asked her to hook this bitch up with some primo guac and this bitch rocks up with what looks like pureed avocado. Can you believe that? I mean, sure, it rhymes, but… Oh, and if you're looking around at all these High School Musicals and wondering where ol' Zachary Fron is, don't worry; I called that little pipsquark personally and told him he ain't coming within Three Trees of Vegas until he cuts us a cheque! He was all like, 'A cheque for what?' So I said, '2008 motherfucker - we all came down to Disney town, you were telling us about your dreams of becoming a famous actress and we said you had more chance of running off and joining the circus. Low and behold, nine years later…'."
The doppelganger paused as if awaiting a response. EP just stood, dumbfounded, desperately attempting to pull some strand of logic from what he'd just heard.
"Anyway," the doppelganger persevered, "you still ain't called or wrote. I'd hoped you'd have the chance. I ain't mad; I just think it’s fu-"
"You've gotta stop quoting Stan," EP finally interjected, "it's like, what, 20 years old now?"
"I'm sorry," the doppelganger responded with a tone that suggested he definitely wasn't, "but, uh, in case you've been living under a rock…I've been living under a rock! A desert rock. In the desert."
“Yeah, I got it,” EP sighed, taking another look at the festivities going on around the room. “What is all this?”
“I told you,” the doppelganger beamed, “we’re getting the band back together! El Pablo and the Shenanigans, bay-bay!”
“Okay, first of all...that’s actually a pretty chill name for a band…”
“Thankyou.”
“Second...I don’t want to get the band back together.”
A record scratch brought the music - and the party as a whole - to a sudden stop, which was especially weird because, you know, streaming. Shocked expressions turned towards the Technicolour Tecnico, as a devastated Pauly D from Jersey Shore made a dramatic and tearful exit into the hallway.
“Okay, that’s pretty shitty, man,” the doppelganger scolded, “you’re like his fucking idol. He wants to be j-”
“Seriously!” EP snapped, “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Sorry everybody! Go back to your festivities! I love you all - Viva La You Guys, etcetera.”
With some reluctance, the revellers obliged and the music kicked back in. Relieved - or something close to it - EP made his way into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from one of his cupboards and filling it with Skittles from the faucet. Yup. He hopped up onto one of the wooden stools that lined his breakfast bar, and took a sip of candy shells before turning to the doppelganger beside him.
“It’s just different now, you know? This isn’t some isolationist ultraviolent backwater...this is the big leagues. All this stuff; all the things we did together, or with the people here, or to the people here…I dunno, it’s just...Plus, there's been all this stuff with Xavier, and the rest of my family…I just don't think…"
"Oh my god," the doppelganger snorted, "what are you thinking?"
"...I was literally in the process of telling you."
"No, I mean, 'what are you, thinking?' 'What, are you thinking?' 'What are, you…?'"
"I got it, I got it."
"I don't think you do. Do you know how many times I thought about any of that stuff we did back in the day? Do you think I thought about 'Lion Blackbird' or 'Jacques Angryman' or any of the Cyde family?"
"I've tried not to think about that last one for the past 10 years."
"Yeah well, Twitter won't forget."
EP couldn't resist a smile. The doppelganger reached over and took a handful of Skittles from the glass, mulling over them a moment before tossing them into his mouth.
"Lemme ask you something: all this campaigning you've been doing about 'living in the moment'...all this spreading of our great-grandfather's gospel…who exactly have you been trying to convince?"
"What do you mean? I've been living in the moment!"
"No you haven't."
"I've been trying-"
"No, you haven't. You've been obsessing over the moment. Just like Senor Volando did. He spent his entire life fanatically trying to map out every microsecond; to predict and prepare for every single possible permutation, and then every permutation off of that, and off of that, and that, and you know why? Because he was too scared to just. Fucking. Try. To toss a bunch of half-baked set-pieces, mangled metaphors and fantastically-unimpressive guest stars - present company included-"
"You mean ex-cluded."
"Nope. - and see what sticks! That is what living in the moment is. Sure, I may not know the precise angle one needs to springboard off the second rope in order to successfully hurricanrana a grizzly bear, but you know what I do know? Myself."
Silence seemed to fall upon the pair, despite the continuous cacophony around them. A deep sigh blew forth from the darkest recesses of El Pablo's respiratory system, strong enough to blow free even the heaviest weight from the most world-weary shoulders.
"You're right," he conceded, "I thought I was carrying myself as this care-free, fun-loving free spirit, when the truth is, my care and my spirit have been about as far from free as they've ever been…and, I dunno, maybe I was scared...scared that the guy I was…that we were…wouldn't be 'serious' enough for a place like this. I never felt like I fit in at SCW, so why would I here? Then there was all this stuff with Xavier…I've tried so hard to put the past behind us, you know? But seeing Xavier, now…the way Villano is with him…"
"Hey, don't worry about it," the doppelganger interrupted, a warm smile spreading across his face, "I helped you through all of that before, I can help you through it again - only, this time, it'll be better. This time, we won't just be a coping mechanism! Together, you and me…we will be Pablo's. Smirking. Revenge."
EP contemplated the pitch for a moment before a wry smirk did indeed tickle the corners of his mouth. With his gaze remaining forward, he drew his glass to the side and delicately tapped the rim against one of the matching glasses in front of his doppelganger. A toast, perhaps, to a new start. A new era. The new Dissociated States of La Rainbowlution. With the chime of the glasses still ringing into the ether, EP turned to face his doppelganger - and found only empty space. It was at this point that EP became aware that the music had also stopped...that the chatter and commotion had subsided...and that he was all by himself.
For the first time in a long time, however, El Pablo was not alone.
As he shuffled down the hallway to his apartment, EP’s curiosity became piqued by the commotion of communal conversation coming from the other side of the door, backed by what sounded like an 8-bit rendition of early-noughties frat rock anthem Party Hard by Andrew WK:
Understandably wary, EP opened the door. As he stepped inside, he was greeted - literally - by a living room filled with a motley collection of people from Hollywood’s middling tiers; a veritable whos-who of b-movies and ‘90s sitcoms. EP stood, dumbfounded, for several seconds, his already-beleaguered mind racing with even more questions; namely, How did these people get here? How did they get into my apartment? and Is Christopher Lloyd actually immortal?
"How cool is this, huh?"
The sudden combination of a voice in his ear and two hands upon his shoulders caused EP to jump. He spun round to find himself face-to-masked-face with a man the same height as he was, with the same build, the same clothes and the same aura of naive, restless energy. EP stood frozen, his mind immediately flashing back to that phone call in the Royal London Hospital.
"Before you say anything," the doppelganger continued, "I know the 'snack' situation's a little…askew. You can blame Tisdale for that. I specifically asked her to hook this bitch up with some primo guac and this bitch rocks up with what looks like pureed avocado. Can you believe that? I mean, sure, it rhymes, but… Oh, and if you're looking around at all these High School Musicals and wondering where ol' Zachary Fron is, don't worry; I called that little pipsquark personally and told him he ain't coming within Three Trees of Vegas until he cuts us a cheque! He was all like, 'A cheque for what?' So I said, '2008 motherfucker - we all came down to Disney town, you were telling us about your dreams of becoming a famous actress and we said you had more chance of running off and joining the circus. Low and behold, nine years later…'."
The doppelganger paused as if awaiting a response. EP just stood, dumbfounded, desperately attempting to pull some strand of logic from what he'd just heard.
"Anyway," the doppelganger persevered, "you still ain't called or wrote. I'd hoped you'd have the chance. I ain't mad; I just think it’s fu-"
"You've gotta stop quoting Stan," EP finally interjected, "it's like, what, 20 years old now?"
"I'm sorry," the doppelganger responded with a tone that suggested he definitely wasn't, "but, uh, in case you've been living under a rock…I've been living under a rock! A desert rock. In the desert."
“Yeah, I got it,” EP sighed, taking another look at the festivities going on around the room. “What is all this?”
“I told you,” the doppelganger beamed, “we’re getting the band back together! El Pablo and the Shenanigans, bay-bay!”
“Okay, first of all...that’s actually a pretty chill name for a band…”
“Thankyou.”
“Second...I don’t want to get the band back together.”
A record scratch brought the music - and the party as a whole - to a sudden stop, which was especially weird because, you know, streaming. Shocked expressions turned towards the Technicolour Tecnico, as a devastated Pauly D from Jersey Shore made a dramatic and tearful exit into the hallway.
“Okay, that’s pretty shitty, man,” the doppelganger scolded, “you’re like his fucking idol. He wants to be j-”
“Seriously!” EP snapped, “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Sorry everybody! Go back to your festivities! I love you all - Viva La You Guys, etcetera.”
With some reluctance, the revellers obliged and the music kicked back in. Relieved - or something close to it - EP made his way into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from one of his cupboards and filling it with Skittles from the faucet. Yup. He hopped up onto one of the wooden stools that lined his breakfast bar, and took a sip of candy shells before turning to the doppelganger beside him.
“It’s just different now, you know? This isn’t some isolationist ultraviolent backwater...this is the big leagues. All this stuff; all the things we did together, or with the people here, or to the people here…I dunno, it’s just...Plus, there's been all this stuff with Xavier, and the rest of my family…I just don't think…"
"Oh my god," the doppelganger snorted, "what are you thinking?"
"...I was literally in the process of telling you."
"No, I mean, 'what are you, thinking?' 'What, are you thinking?' 'What are, you…?'"
"I got it, I got it."
"I don't think you do. Do you know how many times I thought about any of that stuff we did back in the day? Do you think I thought about 'Lion Blackbird' or 'Jacques Angryman' or any of the Cyde family?"
"I've tried not to think about that last one for the past 10 years."
"Yeah well, Twitter won't forget."
EP couldn't resist a smile. The doppelganger reached over and took a handful of Skittles from the glass, mulling over them a moment before tossing them into his mouth.
"Lemme ask you something: all this campaigning you've been doing about 'living in the moment'...all this spreading of our great-grandfather's gospel…who exactly have you been trying to convince?"
"What do you mean? I've been living in the moment!"
"No you haven't."
"I've been trying-"
"No, you haven't. You've been obsessing over the moment. Just like Senor Volando did. He spent his entire life fanatically trying to map out every microsecond; to predict and prepare for every single possible permutation, and then every permutation off of that, and off of that, and that, and you know why? Because he was too scared to just. Fucking. Try. To toss a bunch of half-baked set-pieces, mangled metaphors and fantastically-unimpressive guest stars - present company included-"
"You mean ex-cluded."
"Nope. - and see what sticks! That is what living in the moment is. Sure, I may not know the precise angle one needs to springboard off the second rope in order to successfully hurricanrana a grizzly bear, but you know what I do know? Myself."
Silence seemed to fall upon the pair, despite the continuous cacophony around them. A deep sigh blew forth from the darkest recesses of El Pablo's respiratory system, strong enough to blow free even the heaviest weight from the most world-weary shoulders.
"You're right," he conceded, "I thought I was carrying myself as this care-free, fun-loving free spirit, when the truth is, my care and my spirit have been about as far from free as they've ever been…and, I dunno, maybe I was scared...scared that the guy I was…that we were…wouldn't be 'serious' enough for a place like this. I never felt like I fit in at SCW, so why would I here? Then there was all this stuff with Xavier…I've tried so hard to put the past behind us, you know? But seeing Xavier, now…the way Villano is with him…"
"Hey, don't worry about it," the doppelganger interrupted, a warm smile spreading across his face, "I helped you through all of that before, I can help you through it again - only, this time, it'll be better. This time, we won't just be a coping mechanism! Together, you and me…we will be Pablo's. Smirking. Revenge."
EP contemplated the pitch for a moment before a wry smirk did indeed tickle the corners of his mouth. With his gaze remaining forward, he drew his glass to the side and delicately tapped the rim against one of the matching glasses in front of his doppelganger. A toast, perhaps, to a new start. A new era. The new Dissociated States of La Rainbowlution. With the chime of the glasses still ringing into the ether, EP turned to face his doppelganger - and found only empty space. It was at this point that EP became aware that the music had also stopped...that the chatter and commotion had subsided...and that he was all by himself.
For the first time in a long time, however, El Pablo was not alone.
