Regular People (Conceit)

[Raven's Truth]

JACQUI MONROE'S APARTMENT

TOKYO, JAPAN

SOMETIME THIS WEEK

'...this all your goddamn fault!'

'Wrap it up, kid. I ain't made of money.'

'Is TOO your fault! For not getting your lazy ass down there 'fore I done dragged it there myself!'

'Kid...seriously...long-distance international charges. Wrap it up. NOW!'

'Reckon that's funny, do ya? Well, guess what, mo'fucker? We done had a goddamn deal! An' now, 'cause of your good for nothin' no-'count ass, I'm stuck with some creepy-ass sumbitch, tryin' not to have my goddamn lady bits blown off!'

'Kid, if you don't hang up that phone in the next ten seconds, we're having stretching practice tonight! Capeesh, cupcake?'

'Well, you BETTER...!'

'...a DOUBLE session!'

'Whatever, fam. I oughta be goin', 'fore Coach loses her shit. I ain't lookin' for no hurtin' over your two-bit ass. You BETTER not be makin' me come all the way out there to get you, y'hear?'

'...seven....six...five...'

'YeahmetooIreallyoughtagetgoin'solongnow!'

'...three...two...'

'Quack! Quack! Quack!'

'...one and a half...'

'OK, OK, I done it! Hot diggity damn, woman! Ain't you never had a.... Hol' on, never mind.'

'You damn betcha, 'never mind'. I ain't looking to fund the Japanese telephone industry all on my own. Capeesh, cupcake?'

'I done needed to talk to Ross...!'

'For TWENTY MINUTES?'

'I done had shit to tell'm!'

'I sure hope you did, cupcake, for how much you just ran up our phone bill!'

'Hot damn, Coach! If it's that big of a deal, lemme just hit you back once I done got paid for this match I'm in!'

'You don't have to pay me back anything, kid. Just don't make this a habit, capeesh?. You want to talk to Ross, use your fancy-schmancy Zooms or Disorders or Telegraphs or whatever.'

'Yeah. OK, boomer. An' it's DISCORD. An' ain't nobody use Telegram. Nobody 'cept pervs 'n' pedos.'

'Whatever. Anyway, you listened to this guy?'

'Huh?'

'Guy you're teaming up with. This Truth guy. He's got a podcast. Real cuckoo Red Pill flat-Earther bullshit.'

'Wait...the Earth IS flat, tho'...I done seen on Instagram where...'

'...AAAANYway, he thinks your name's Kayley. Or Bayley. I think he said both.'

'Bayley?! Ain't nobody's name's Bayley. Nobody that ain't some high-falutin' asshat, anyhow...'

'….AND he thinks you're a minor, and in high school.'

'...fuck outta here! I done BEEN a minor. An' I ain't even gone to high school that much back then, neither.'

'Well, then you're gonna have to tell HIM that. I already know, jackass!'

'Oh, bet'cha ass I'm gon' be tellin' him. I'm gon' be tellin' him real good.'

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JACQUI MONROE'S APARTMENT
TOKYO, JAPAN
A FEW MINUTES LATER

All right, muthafuckers. Y’all listen up, an’ listen good, 'cause I ain’t fixin' to say this shit twice.

First of all, ain’t no ‘Bayley’. Or no ‘Kayley’, neither. It's HAYLEY. Hayley goddamn Robinson. Y’all best ‘member that for when y’all beggin' me to stop whuppin' y'all's asses on Friday. Second of all, I ain’t give a flyin’ green fuck if y’all want my help or not. ‘Specially not when y’all ain’t care enough to get y’all’s facts straight ‘bout me in the first goddamn place. I ain’t want nobody’s help with MY bizniss, neither. Shit ain’t ‘bout ‘help’. Shit’s ‘bout doin’ what them fancy-ass suit’n’tie folk done hired me to do. Shit’s ‘bout showin’ them folk they was right. An’ ain’t nobody gon’ stop me from doin’ that. So Johnny-boy…you want me outta your way? You say ya ain’t trust me? Well, guess what, mu'fucker? I ain't trust yo' creepy old ass none, neither. Way I sees it, YOU best stay out MY way.

Oh, an’ guess what else, you creepy ass sumbitch? Ain’t nobody like gettin’ dissed. Ain’t nobody like gettin’ disrespect. I sure as fuck ain’t, an’ I’m guessin’ them two suckers we facin’ in a couple days ain’t, neither. We better than ‘em? Dunno ‘bout you, I sure as fuck am. But just ‘cause we better than ‘em, ain’t mean we ain’t treat ‘em right. Can we beat ‘em? Again, I sure as hell can, dunno ‘bout you. But just ‘cause we can, ain’t mean we treat ‘em like garbage. We GON’ beat ‘em? Dunno, but I’m sure as hell gon’ TRY, even if I gotta fight the two a’ them muthafuckers by myself, an' I end up getting my arm blown off or somethin' on 'count of there's booby traps everywhere. You know why, Johnny-boy? ‘Cause I respect ‘em. I respect ‘em enough to give ‘em all I got. ‘Cause that’s what REAL fighters do. Real fighters ain’t mouth off to people on the goddamn Internet. Real fighters ain’t rag on people what cain’t rag on ‘em back. Real fighters git out there in that ring an’ put they money where they fat fuckin’ mouth is. An’ I’m sure as hell a real fighter. So on Friday, that’s just what I'm fixin' to do. An' cain't yo' ass or nobody else stop me. On Friday, I'm fixin' to blow up BIG – an' I ain't mean from the booby traps.

So yeah...Bobby...Scuff...Johnny-boy...Friday, at Fatal...y'all better respect the Raven....or y'all bound to end up getting' pecked.

See y'all Friday, suckers.