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Hors d'oevres


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{Scene opens as the sound of tires slowly rolling over sand and debris of the worn asphalt. An all black Phantom Rolls Royce can been seen aproching the curbside of the oddly familar Motel 6, home of OCW's resident behemoth Patolomai.}


{The camera changes frame and begins to focus on the door of the nearly half million dollar vehicle. What takes moments feel like hours as the anticipation and curiosity builds of who are the occupents. A white gloved hand reaches into frame and pulls the door ajar. A small almost skeletal man can been seen wearing a perfectly taylored Armani suit. He must weigh no more than 95 pounds and looks almost as old. His skin is stretched and weathered from his many years. A few stringy gray hairs wave almost rythmicly with the gentle breeze. A spattering of brown and black moles add to the oddity of this man. Robert McBride, the billionaire "owner" of the Samoan mamoth.}


{Mr.McBride struggles to compose him self with a feeble attempt to free him self from the depth of the leather seat. Successs evades the eldery man}


Robert McBride:"Get over here you twit! Do your job befor I feed him your carcass!"


{Befor Mr.McBride can even finish rolling the words off his tounge, two gloved hands hoist the eldery man from the vehicle.


Gerad "The Butler":(stutters) "Sss si sir. I'm sorry sir. Please sir, I would just be an hors d'oevre!"


Robert McBride: "Stop talking, stop talking stop talking! Get my things befor I loose my patience."


{Gerad scurries through the car like a roach when the lights come on. He emerges with a few items. A long fur coat most likely chinchilla, a walking cane and lastly a brown paper bag rolled at the top for a handle. The paper is dark and moist from the contents. Gerard moving with a sense of fear and trepidation attends to the old mans needs, dressing him with his coat and assuring he is stable enough to walk with his cane. Robert steadies himself on the butlers shoulder as the pair make there way towards the motel.


{With a shove of Mr.McBrides cane the door to the Samoan's dwelling creeks open to darkness and the smell of decay. The room is in shambels barely recognizable from the weeks prior. Massive holes pepper the walls of the small room, not a single piece of furniture or doors remains entact. The graveyard of bones looks as though it's doubled in size. Mr.McBrides frail voice breaks the silence.}


Robert McBride: "Boy... It's dinner time!


{The outline of a massive figure slowly begins to reveal it's self from the darkness of the kitchen door way. As the light from a few remaining burning cadles aid the viewers and vistors alike, the full horrific image of Patolomai exhibits it's self. Patolomai's demenor is much difftent then weeks past. Normaly well kept only half of his hair is braided and beaded. There is an unmistakble aura of rage permeating from the goliath. Blood smeared on his face and chest. The hands of the beast are bloodied and raw from fits of rage dispensed on the unfortunate walls and furniture of the room. Patolomai sniffs the air similar to a dog or a wolf, slaps his chest in succession left then a right befor letting out a roar the resonates for what seems like hours.




{The giant samoan storms towards Robert McBride with an outstretched dinner plate of a hand, drooling in antcipation of the the contents of the brown bag. With a quick thud Mr.McBride raps on the samoans cranium with three blows in succession. Patolomai can only stare and blink now wide eyed and some what more controlled}


Robert McBride: "Silence! What have I told u about your temper boy. I brought you from that god forsaken island to make me money (raps the mammoth again). You can't be so concerend only with what your going to eat. White meat dark meat, they'll be no meat if you don't make my money boy!" (one final rap of the cane draws a trickle of blood on Patolomai's brow)


Robert McBride: (Now in a kind fatherly tone, McBride caresses the massive Samoans head) "Pato, i do have good news... I'm bringing you some where just like home.. It's a island, called Hawaii. You know what else boy, I brought you an hors d'oeuver. It remindes me of your main corse... Aaron Walker.


{The old man can not control his laughter oviously amused by his own comedics. The laughter turns into a cough and weez as the old man struggles with his breath. As he composes himself he begins to unroll the brown bag clutched to his side. The slender fingers still posses the dextrity needed for the task. As the old mans hand emerges from the bag there is a massive chunk of raw meat. After closer inspection the meat reveals it's orgins, a enormous cow tounge.}


{Robert McBride, tosses the tounge to the ground in front of Patolomai. Within moments the devouring has began. With each bite the camera zooms closer and closer in on Patolomai's mouth. Gold teeth serrating flesh is thr last image as the camera fades to black}


Samoan Translation

"Aiga" Feast

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ah, this is very very interesting. disturbing, but interesting. good stuff.

"You either die a hero or live long enough to become Nate Ortiz" - Drago Cesar


"Let me make myself clear: you work for me. If I tell you to fight Blaine, you fight Blaine. Hell, if I tell you to fight a lion, you WILL fight a lion and still thank me afterwards for giving you a job." - Mr. Sensation

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