In The Dark, Act III

Pressure Point 77
Oct. 6, 2003
Starring Trey Vincent, John Rocker & Little Good
Writer(s): John Leary

As Angel regained consciousness, he discovered he was in a parking garage. He could tell by all the cars there. But he found that his arms were chained to the ceiling and he was hanging about a foot off the ground. Michelle Branch’s CD “Hotel Paper” played in the background.

“Golly, I hope there’s a sexy S&M mistress to spank me!”

“What do you want, Angel?” a voice asked as the source of that voice came into view. “What do you want, God-boy?”

“Rocker,” Angel said in disgust.

John Rocker. He stepped forward, decked out in his classic Atlanta Braves uniform.

“You know what this is?” Rocker asked Angel, holding a baseball near his face.

“Yes I do,” Angel said.

“It’s a baseball. Do you know what I do with baseballs?”

“Throw them badly?” Angel asked.

“Shut up. And witness the awe-inspiring sight of a John Rocker 95 mph fastball.”

As Rocker backed up, Trey Vincent came into Angel’s view.

“Vincent!”

“Hey, Kurt. What can I say?”

“Must we have the bleedin’ Britney playing?” Little Good asked.

“It’s not Britney, it’s Branch. Michelle Branch,” Vincent corrected. “I think it just adds a touch of class this torture segment is missing.”

“It’s making me insane. We are here to torture Angel, not torture me, mate.”

“Whatever,” Vincent said. “Go Rocker.”

Rocker dug his foot into the pavement and looked in at his target. Angel’s body. Rocker wound up and pitched.

Followed by the sound of glass breaking.

“Wow. Nice pitch, Rocker,” Angel said, smiling like a goof. “No wonder they demoted you to the minors!”

“That’s it.” Rocker said as he picked up a bat and got behind Angel.

The camera’s suddenly cut to an establishing shot of the Arrowhead Pond.

“YEEEEEEEEEEEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW” came the cry of Angel.

Then we returned back inside the parking garage of torture.

“Where is the ring?” Little Good asked. “I need that ring to become invincible to broken legs. Just in case the Slayer ever gets a little rough. Or I turn completely evil again.”

‘And do you have Kordell Cronin’s mother’s number? That’s one MILF,” Vincent added.

“MILF?” Rocker asked. “Is that a Mick I’d Like To Fuck Up?”

“Um, no. Mother I’d Like To Fuck.”

“Come on, Angel, talk. Or I’ll tell you about my day getting here.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Oh, I would,” Rocker said. “So I come to this dump called Anaheim, a town that looks like Baghdad after a war that pissed off the entire planet. I’m sitting next to some teenage kid with red hair, next to some bitch with a mullet, next to some priest who had white stains all over his robe and right next to some crack whore getting her snatch licked by a gang of darkies!”

“Oh, for the love of God, shut up,” Angel pleaded. “I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

But the sound of squealing tires suddenly overwhelmed the group of evildoers. The source? A Black Hummer! Vincent, Rocker and Little Good dove out of the way. Mike Monroe stepped out with a red fire ax as Kordell Cronin and Claire Voyant grabbed Angel and helped him into the Hummer.

With that, the Hummer drove off.

“Bloody hell. Who was driving the Hummer? And where’s my ring? Mark my words, Angel, one day, I’ll get that ring and everything else you have. And I’ll probably show up when you get to parodying Season 5!”

“Forget it, Little Good. He can’t hear you. But good torture, fellas. Barney, looks like you can go.”

The camera pans over to Barney The Dinosaur.

“Awww. Sounds like somebody needs to hear a song. (Singing) I love you—“

“Rocker. Baseball bat. Now.”

NEXT CHAPTER: In The Dark, Act IV >>

©2003 John Leary