Pedro Gonzales and the Contract.
Mar 28, 2016 16:23:46 GMT -5
Post by Anna on Mar 28, 2016 16:23:46 GMT -5
(OOC: While plotting possible ideas for the Pride show, this story wanted to get out. So I'm allowing it to.)
For Pedro Gonzales, the first glance of America was the last glance of Mexico. Three figures looking down at him from his hiding place.
The one called "PuppetLiza" was a sentient voodoo doll not even a foot tall with beady black eyes and not much else in terms of facial recognition. Dressed up like magicians of yore (read: the 80's), She hugged her rather grown up bunny rabbit close all the while occasionally adjusting her too-small-for-her-large-head top hat. Perhaps if she had a mouth, she would've smiled widely at him.
Her twin, designated by the name "PuppetLisa", kicked Pedro in the ribs. Naturally it didn't hurt given that the assailant was made of canvas, felt, and stuffing. Yet it never really stopped her from doing it anyway. Despite the cute outfits of a preteen alt-rocker with too much time on their hands, there ended up being a certain malice in her demeanor as she told him in no uncertain terms to "get the fuck out of the bag, ya little slavebitch".
The tallest of the three was a five-foot-five female who helped him out of the bag he had been haphazardly thrown into. With loose curls onto her brown hair, she could easily be mistaken for somebody normal until she spoke.
"Havva nise nap?"
Pedro merely shook his head. In fact, the whole thing was the strangest occurrence. One minute, he was at his old job attempting to mop up a stain that had been on the floor long before he was ever alive. The next, he was being kidnapped, stuffed in a bag, and driven across the border. One simple does not call that a nap. Then again, looking as his acquaintances...
"Sowwy 'bout dat. The hole bag fing wasn't exactlee mi idea. Carlos kinda maid that a fing an wii figured 'ooooh, that sounds like fun'. sew we just kinda went whiff it."
It took him a moment to remember his rather fat and incredibly lazy boss from the Bueno Mart. It's kind of hard to have any type of feelings for somebody you rarely, if ever, see. Everybody in Mexico City knew that Carlos' real job was gunrunning to the highest bidder. Being the manager of the store became his proof that he really was a legitimate businessman after all. Pedro, out of equal parts loyalty and fear of losing his job, focused on his own tasks. Stuff like cleaning the store, taking care of customers, and trying to steer drunken newbs away from the large vat of Bueno chili that had already taken a life or two. Still, there didn't seem to be a reason on why he was here. But looking around at the cleanliness of here, a part of him couldn't help but think that this was the better deal.
"Anna...w-where are we?"
Anna smirks. "Dizneeland."
Pedro scratched the back of his head. "No, señora. Really."
Ever the magician, PuppetLiza and her rabbit float on top of a twin bed. "Really! It's Disneyland! Or rather a hotel room inside Disneyland. The most magical place on earth! Which is a perfect place for us to makes some new friends." The doll lounged on the bed. "Just think. I get to go on adventures with Cinderella and Peter Pan and Ariel and--"
A large thump to the head by PuppetLisa stopped the rant entirely, leaving her Pollyanna sister to silently sob. "You fucking dingbat. We didn't come here to prance around in pretty pink tights and pretend we're princesses. We're here to hunt! We're here to kill! We're here to make the fleshbags suffer!" There would be a fistpump here but given as how she had absolutely no fingers, there is no adequate description.
"Wii are hurr--" Anna began after a hard and lenghty sigh, "--cuz I gotta wrestle inn front ov dat Mickey Mouse statue inn two dais an my Asain clone tore down my house for pixie stix." She shakes her head as she unpacks. "Why thee Disney peeps desided itt would be a gud idea to bring in a promoshun that wuz booted out ov the States cause won of the rassler's blew hup a building dat killed a buncha fans, I dunno. But whatevs."
It would make sense for each of them to have a reason. But for Pedro, the question still remained. "But why am I here?"
The question sent all three heads looking towards him. Then to each other.
"Wut? Carlos didn't tell joo?"
The deer in the headlights look in the Mexican's eyes maid it perfectly clear he didn't.
"I'm not quite sure how to tell you this...", PuppetLiza began before her twin jumped off the bed and pointed(?) at him.
"You're my property now, cuntnugget! Now quit sitting on the floor like a whimpering puppy and bring me a drink! Preferably the blood of virgins!"
It was at this point that Pedro Gonzales performed his first headtilt. "Que?"
And after the headtilt came the explanation. "Reemember tat kontract you signed when you went two wurk for the Bueno Mart?"
He nods.
"Didja ever reed the fyne print?"
____________________
It took them about an hour to find the clause. Translating it into English made it sound worse to his ears.
Contract clause 1859-D: To ensure the integrity and security of BuenoCorp Inc. business practices, the employee therefore signs over his/her life and body to the local BuenoCorp representative (i.e. manager, district manager, et al). Any employee charged with selling BuenoCorp trade secrets shall be subject to punishment up to and including broken bones, broken hearts, horse heads in employee's bedroom, employee's dirty underwear hanging from the highest flagpole of local Bueno Mart (both figurative and literal), parasitic burrowing of the brain, banishment, and death via Bueno Mart Bueno Chili bath.
Three times it was read. It took every fiber of his being to not throw up. After a few minutes, Pedro finally mustered up the ability to speak. "B-but I don't understand. I never sold any trade secrets. I didn't do anything wrong!" He looked up at them, puzzled. "At least, I don't think so. I came into work every day. I cleaned it to the best of my ability. I treated the customers nicely. You guys are witnesses to that."
Anna blinked into the blankest stare imaginable. "The fakt that ur not even finking 'bout the part hair it sez yoo signed urself into slavery ish mynd boggling."
"Like it matters now!" PuppetLisa cackled. "He sold his soul to that fat fuck back in Mexico and the fat fuck sold it to us." A beat. "Well, mostly me. I'm the one that ponied up the cash."
"Dat ya stole frum my bank account.” came the grumble.
The doll pished-poshed the complaint. "Semantics."
And as the argument ensues between a wrestler and her living prop, Pedro Gonzales sighed, stepped outside, and took in his first big breath of Californian air. This was not what he envisioned when he thought about coming to America. No, he didn't expect to be in what seemed to be eternal servitude to a friendly lunatic and dueling muppets. But for this brief moment in time, looking out in the horizon to the sights of fun and listening to the voices of many, it didn't seem so bad.
Little did he know that two days later, all hell would break loose.
For Pedro Gonzales, the first glance of America was the last glance of Mexico. Three figures looking down at him from his hiding place.
The one called "PuppetLiza" was a sentient voodoo doll not even a foot tall with beady black eyes and not much else in terms of facial recognition. Dressed up like magicians of yore (read: the 80's), She hugged her rather grown up bunny rabbit close all the while occasionally adjusting her too-small-for-her-large-head top hat. Perhaps if she had a mouth, she would've smiled widely at him.
Her twin, designated by the name "PuppetLisa", kicked Pedro in the ribs. Naturally it didn't hurt given that the assailant was made of canvas, felt, and stuffing. Yet it never really stopped her from doing it anyway. Despite the cute outfits of a preteen alt-rocker with too much time on their hands, there ended up being a certain malice in her demeanor as she told him in no uncertain terms to "get the fuck out of the bag, ya little slavebitch".
The tallest of the three was a five-foot-five female who helped him out of the bag he had been haphazardly thrown into. With loose curls onto her brown hair, she could easily be mistaken for somebody normal until she spoke.
"Havva nise nap?"
Pedro merely shook his head. In fact, the whole thing was the strangest occurrence. One minute, he was at his old job attempting to mop up a stain that had been on the floor long before he was ever alive. The next, he was being kidnapped, stuffed in a bag, and driven across the border. One simple does not call that a nap. Then again, looking as his acquaintances...
"Sowwy 'bout dat. The hole bag fing wasn't exactlee mi idea. Carlos kinda maid that a fing an wii figured 'ooooh, that sounds like fun'. sew we just kinda went whiff it."
It took him a moment to remember his rather fat and incredibly lazy boss from the Bueno Mart. It's kind of hard to have any type of feelings for somebody you rarely, if ever, see. Everybody in Mexico City knew that Carlos' real job was gunrunning to the highest bidder. Being the manager of the store became his proof that he really was a legitimate businessman after all. Pedro, out of equal parts loyalty and fear of losing his job, focused on his own tasks. Stuff like cleaning the store, taking care of customers, and trying to steer drunken newbs away from the large vat of Bueno chili that had already taken a life or two. Still, there didn't seem to be a reason on why he was here. But looking around at the cleanliness of here, a part of him couldn't help but think that this was the better deal.
"Anna...w-where are we?"
Anna smirks. "Dizneeland."
Pedro scratched the back of his head. "No, señora. Really."
Ever the magician, PuppetLiza and her rabbit float on top of a twin bed. "Really! It's Disneyland! Or rather a hotel room inside Disneyland. The most magical place on earth! Which is a perfect place for us to makes some new friends." The doll lounged on the bed. "Just think. I get to go on adventures with Cinderella and Peter Pan and Ariel and--"
A large thump to the head by PuppetLisa stopped the rant entirely, leaving her Pollyanna sister to silently sob. "You fucking dingbat. We didn't come here to prance around in pretty pink tights and pretend we're princesses. We're here to hunt! We're here to kill! We're here to make the fleshbags suffer!" There would be a fistpump here but given as how she had absolutely no fingers, there is no adequate description.
"Wii are hurr--" Anna began after a hard and lenghty sigh, "--cuz I gotta wrestle inn front ov dat Mickey Mouse statue inn two dais an my Asain clone tore down my house for pixie stix." She shakes her head as she unpacks. "Why thee Disney peeps desided itt would be a gud idea to bring in a promoshun that wuz booted out ov the States cause won of the rassler's blew hup a building dat killed a buncha fans, I dunno. But whatevs."
It would make sense for each of them to have a reason. But for Pedro, the question still remained. "But why am I here?"
The question sent all three heads looking towards him. Then to each other.
"Wut? Carlos didn't tell joo?"
The deer in the headlights look in the Mexican's eyes maid it perfectly clear he didn't.
"I'm not quite sure how to tell you this...", PuppetLiza began before her twin jumped off the bed and pointed(?) at him.
"You're my property now, cuntnugget! Now quit sitting on the floor like a whimpering puppy and bring me a drink! Preferably the blood of virgins!"
It was at this point that Pedro Gonzales performed his first headtilt. "Que?"
And after the headtilt came the explanation. "Reemember tat kontract you signed when you went two wurk for the Bueno Mart?"
He nods.
"Didja ever reed the fyne print?"
____________________
It took them about an hour to find the clause. Translating it into English made it sound worse to his ears.
Contract clause 1859-D: To ensure the integrity and security of BuenoCorp Inc. business practices, the employee therefore signs over his/her life and body to the local BuenoCorp representative (i.e. manager, district manager, et al). Any employee charged with selling BuenoCorp trade secrets shall be subject to punishment up to and including broken bones, broken hearts, horse heads in employee's bedroom, employee's dirty underwear hanging from the highest flagpole of local Bueno Mart (both figurative and literal), parasitic burrowing of the brain, banishment, and death via Bueno Mart Bueno Chili bath.
Three times it was read. It took every fiber of his being to not throw up. After a few minutes, Pedro finally mustered up the ability to speak. "B-but I don't understand. I never sold any trade secrets. I didn't do anything wrong!" He looked up at them, puzzled. "At least, I don't think so. I came into work every day. I cleaned it to the best of my ability. I treated the customers nicely. You guys are witnesses to that."
Anna blinked into the blankest stare imaginable. "The fakt that ur not even finking 'bout the part hair it sez yoo signed urself into slavery ish mynd boggling."
"Like it matters now!" PuppetLisa cackled. "He sold his soul to that fat fuck back in Mexico and the fat fuck sold it to us." A beat. "Well, mostly me. I'm the one that ponied up the cash."
"Dat ya stole frum my bank account.” came the grumble.
The doll pished-poshed the complaint. "Semantics."
And as the argument ensues between a wrestler and her living prop, Pedro Gonzales sighed, stepped outside, and took in his first big breath of Californian air. This was not what he envisioned when he thought about coming to America. No, he didn't expect to be in what seemed to be eternal servitude to a friendly lunatic and dueling muppets. But for this brief moment in time, looking out in the horizon to the sights of fun and listening to the voices of many, it didn't seem so bad.
Little did he know that two days later, all hell would break loose.