Post by sportzsportzsportz on Jul 19, 2023 0:49:38 GMT -5
The skies are dark. The moon rests high, amidst a few clouds. In the distance, we catch sight of a decent sized boat resting out at sea. An impressive sight, one of luxurious serenity. The sound of a cheap motor struggling to keep up infects our peace.
A far smaller boat churns its way into view from the bottom of our screen, heading toward the far more impressive boat. An unnamed man sits in the back of the boat, steering their direction via the motor. Standing at the front of the boat is the back of a man who appears tuned in, focused, and ready for an adventure.
Words begin to scroll across the screen.
“It was a mission I never thought I’d complete. One of such precision it seemed impossible for a lowly novice, like myself, to achieve. It wasn’t without danger, either. I had to stay focused. Keep my nerves in check. As the temperature rose, so did the cries from my prize. I knew it was time to seize it. My trembling hand reached out for the metal handle and…wait! I’d forgotten my glove! I searched, frantically, concerned I’d left a vital piece of equipment out of this extraordinary adventure. Luckily, it was right in front of me. Whew. Placing it over my hand, I reached out, hoping to snare glory.”
The small boat reaches it’s destination. A ladder is tossed over the side of the larger ship and the man at the front begins his climb up. The words continue to scroll.
“The prize shook and trembled, inheriting the fear and anxiety that rushed through my veins. I clutched my wrist with my free hand to steady my grip. With a slow turn, I extended the cherished product and in one, smooth motion, flipped it over, dumping it out into a new container. I promptly took a seat and gripped the necessary equipment. Reaching in, I scooped some of it out and…tasted. I’d done it. I’d finally created the perfect plate of mom’s spaghetti.”
“Ahem,” A voice breaks in, eviscerating the scrolling words on the screen. Welsh turns, slapping what looks to be a journal shut.
“Leo! I told you to knock before interrupting. I was doing some very serious stuff in here.”
“Sorry, sir…but he’s here.”
“HE is here?”
“Yes, HE is here.”
“Well, send HIM in.”
Leo snaps his fingers and a couple of bodyguards that look like they might also be male strippers step into the lounge area of the boat. In between them is TRIAD reporter SID BUCKLEY! Sid’s hair is on point. His face, however, seems a little concerned. I mean, they dragged him all the way out here for an interview that could’ve probably been done over the phone or maybe via Google Docs.
“Sid,” Welsh greets. Behind him, we see Leo sneaking a peek inside Welsh’s journal. He licks his lips. Everybody loves Spaghetti.
“Mr. Welsh, I appreciate the invite. Mind if I - “ Sid moves to sit down but Welsh puts his hand up.
“Not so fast, we need to run a check for security purposes.”
The bodyguards pat Sid down. One clears his throat as he shows Welsh a Team TLS commemorative ball point pen. Welsh raises an eyebrow. Sid shrugs as if to say, “It’s just a pen.” It’s promptly thrown overboard.
They keep searching.
That same bodyguard finds a coaster that reads “Mr. Main Event LCP.” Welsh folds his arms. Sid extends his hands as if to say, “It’s just a coaster.” It, too, is thrown overboard.
More searching.
The other bodyguard sighs as he removes a box of Matt Knox endorsed condoms. He shakes them at Welsh. Welsh snatches them, “You do realize these don’t work, right? Their all perforated right at the tip.” Sid is like ‘it’s a gag, what do you want me to say?’ These are also thrown overboard.
The search continues. And it continues. It appears Sid is clean.
“Okay, come take a seat…” Welsh pats Sid’s coat while motioning for him to take a seat. He feels something. Welsh looks up right into Sid’s eyes. “What is THIS!” Welsh removes an official PIC Soccer Mom Halloween Wig.
Sid has no response. Welsh slings this thing overboard. The wind blows it back onboard…Welsh runs forward and soccer kicks it off the boat and into the water. He steps back inside, composing himself
“Sorry you all had to see that. I just can’t stand biased journalism. Sid, I hope from this point forward you’ll be nothing but fair and honest in this report.”
Welsh cuts Sid off from speaking, pointing for him to sit.
“Okay, well first off…”
Welsh cuts him off again, “Hold on. I’m not some neanderthal. I know how to treat my guests. I’ve got a few things for you.”
Sid’s curiosity is piqued.
“Here, take a box of nutritious Alexander Ravens. They are raisins cut in the shape of Raven’s. Very nutritious snacks that will probably increase your life expectancy by 15%.”
Sid looks at the box. Before he can respond, Welsh has another gift.
“I’ve also got for you some Sarah Wolf costumed teeth. A great item to wear on Halloween or if, you know, you’re looking to strike fear into an enemy. A tremendous accessory to own.”
Welsh tosses this gift at Sid, who catches it.
“These are, um -”
Welsh isn’t done.
“Not so fast. I’ve got more for you. Here we have a soon to be best selling DVD titled “The Destruction of the Knox family.” It stars Stephen Stratford. Take it, watch it, become a better man by having done so.”
The look on Sid’s face indicates he doesn’t have a DVD player. But, he doesn’t say anything.
“And, finally,” Welsh pulls one final item out of what looks like a treasure chest. “This one is very, very precious.”
“It’s a box of Froot Loops.”
Welsh snaps his fingers at Sid, “It’s not A box of Froot Loops…it’s THE box of Froot Loops that Thad Duke ate from last week. Also, should be noted, it’s THE box of Froot Loops that Sahara served Thad. There has never been a more valuable box of cereal.”
“How did you get this?”
Welsh takes a seat across from Sid, folding his hands, “I have my ways.” He watches Sid, arms full of the four items, “Now, quit showing off your gifts like some kind of braggart and ask me the hard hitting questions. Let’s go. I don’t have all night.”
Sid sets his new loot down at his feet and nudges it a few inches away with his foot. Out of sight, out of mind. He clears his throat.
“So, as I was saying… One week into the trials, it seems to be a hit.”
Welsh nods, with a satisfied look.
“I covered the draft thoroughly. You of course had the distinction of holding the first overall pick in the draft. I don’t think I’m alone in expecting Team Welsh to be off to an early lead.” Sid looks across at Welsh, whose smile is fading. “So, what went wrong last week?”
Welsh stares at Sid. His stare turns into a glare. Footsteps of the giant, stripper looking men approaching Sid from behind create an uneasiness within the reporter. Welsh watches Sid squirm a bit before he makes a slight move with his hand to wave them off.
“Oh, I think you can think of a better question than that,” Welsh finally speaks, through a forced smile.
Sid takes a quick glimpse over each shoulder before flipping through a notepad.
"Mmhmm… Well, on draft night you selected Stephen Stratford first overall. He failed to get his hand raised in week one…" Sid checks his shoulder one more time. "Do you regret the pick?"
A slightly audible high pitched squeal manages to make it’s way from Welsh’s pursed lips. His cheeks slightly puffed, eyes strained. Behind him, a lighter is struck, revealing the face of Leo in a dark corner. He slowly reveals a pair of hair trimmers.
“You,” Welsh works hard to keep his voice under control, “you think you wanna rephrase that question?” He manages to get it out while producing a forced smile with painfully squinted eyes.
Sid adjusts his position in his chair, now very uncomfortable. He assesses his surroundings before glancing back down at his notepad. He flips to a blank page and pretends to read a question from it.
"Speaking of the draft… Let's discuss the genius strategy of scooping Stratford up first, and somehow still managing to get Thaddeus Duke on your team." Sid clears his throat. "It really seems like that will… Has… Set the stage for a successful run here."
Welsh relaxes. His breathing returns to normal. He crosses one leg over the other and brings a glass of Gin and Tonic to his lips, taking a sip. “Excellent question, Sid. You certainly know what you’re talking about. Taking Stratford was a gamble to some but only because I gave PIC and TLS the chance to nab Thad. Obviously, they weren’t smart enough to do so. Something I had pretty much figured. So, with those two in my pocket I was able to get Sarah Wolf along with Alexander Raven rounding out the perfect team. And, as you said…Night 1 of the Trials proved that. The decimation of teams PIC and TLS is all but guaranteed.”
Sid nods a half-hearted nod as he flips through pages further.
"Absolutely. We definitely agree on that. You know, I was just writing a feature on Team Welsh…" Sid rips a page out of his notebook and stuffs the balled up paper into his pocket. "And it's surefire future success. Why don't you take me through your, our, thoughts on week 2?"
Welsh leans forward, grabbing Sid’s knee, “I thought you’d never ask.” Leaning back, he places his drink down and pulls out a scroll from inside his seersucker jacket. He catches an odd look from Sid. “Keeping it in the theme, Sid,” he replies, shaking the scroll.
“Let’s see,” he removes the seal on the scroll letting it fall to the ground. It hits the ground and rolls and rolls and rolls all the way onto the deck and overboard. Sid turns, looking over his chair at the length of this thing. Welsh calmly puts some glasses on and clears his throat, “An ode to Week 2 by Team Welsh leader Marcus Welsh…”
30 minutes later.
“And as the nefarious Helena attempted to regain some respect by joining forces with the horrible Catalina Cortes, the hero, Thad Duke had to stand firm in the face of such evil. But he wasn’t without that bravery and courage we’d all come to know…the bravery and courage nobody else in this business…”
30 minutes later.
“And it was at that moment when Thad Duke knew victory was within his grasp…”
Rubbing his temples, Sid lets out a heavy sigh that grabs the attention of the others in the room. He looks around, realizing his mistake.
"Phew, this is intense. Had to catch my breath there. I may have to incorporate some of this into the feature." Sid fumbles with his notebook. "Let me read that back to you."
Sid smirks, but he's the only one in the room to do so. "Just a… Joke… We can probably count on the other three matches to be that epic too huh? Sounds like quite the night. Hey, thanks for having me out!..."
“Mhm,” Welsh slowly rolls his scroll back up. It takes awhile. But he never allows his eyes to leave Sid. Once intact, he slides the scroll back into his coat. “I shouldn’t reveal the juicy details of what happens next to a blabbermouth journalist such as yourself. Would spoil the surprise of Night 2. You just need to keep one thing in mind…Team Welsh: 4-0.”
Sid nods long, wishing Welsh had led with that prediction an hour ago.
"You could have led with that an hour ago."
Uh oh. Sid accidentally thinks out loud. "You know, so we could have had more time to chat," he backtracks.
Sid reaches down to his side and retrieves the box of raven-shaped raisins and quickly shoves a couple in his mouth. "Mmm, tasty!"
“Yea, you enjoy those. Just like OG Raven is going to enjoy sweet, healthy victory on Night 2. I can trust what you’re going to print, right Sid?.” Welsh runs his hands through his hair, “Let me ask you something, Sid. How much do you value…that hair.”
"This hair?" Sid swallows hard. "Well, I am the only on-air talent left at SportzSportzSportz. I need to look presentable… I- I'd say I value it quite a bit."
Sid looks around at the room once more as he feels everyone inch a little closer to him.
"Listen, you can trust me. I print what I see… And a see a strong team under very, very, VERY stable leadership!"
Welsh extends his arms, calling off the overly buff and tanned security team. “I think you’ve got the right idea. A title along the lines of ‘Team Welsh set for total domination’ with maybe a secondary headline saying something like ‘LOL and the other teams thought they had a shot!’ Also, I have a few headshots you can use for the cover.”
Sid is handed three headshots. One featuring Welsh seated, cross-legged in front of a fireplace, drink in hand, looking very sophisticated. Another with Welsh dressed in all white, a sweatshirt tied around his neck. He’s sporting a tight polo and really, really tight white shorts. He leans up against a tennis racket next to a tennis net. In the background someone who looks like TLS is on the ground with a broken racket and several loose tennis balls. The third and final headshot features Welsh in the famous Muhammad Ali pose, shirtless, covered in sweat, yelling in triumph as someone who looks like PIC is down on the mat, knocked out.
“Feel free to use one of these for the cover.”
Sid blinks a few times as he holds the photos in his hands. "Well these are just… I was thinking we'd feature the team members in that spot."
Sid glances up at Welsh, who is staring right back at him.
"But obviously I did not foresee such quality images to fall into my hands. Of course, I'll use one of these. I should really get going though. Deadlines, yuck. They're the worst, am I right?"
Sid stands up and begins to collect his Team Welsh merchandise.
"Really can't thank you enough for the opportunity. Can't wait for you to read it. SportzSportzSportz+++, do you have a subscription?.. Tell you what, you've been so welcoming, I'll gift you one."
Welsh stares at Sid while grabbing a pair of scissors. He starts to cut away at long strands for fur belonging to a coat he has for some reason. While doing this, he just continues to stare at Sid.
"Nice coat…"
Sid instinctively checks the top of his head with his free hand. Upon feeling the hair on top of his head, Sid begins to back pedal toward the exit.
"Thanks again!" Sid offers a wave as he heads out the door, dropping his new DVD as he does. Sid Buckley disappears into the night.
A far smaller boat churns its way into view from the bottom of our screen, heading toward the far more impressive boat. An unnamed man sits in the back of the boat, steering their direction via the motor. Standing at the front of the boat is the back of a man who appears tuned in, focused, and ready for an adventure.
Words begin to scroll across the screen.
“It was a mission I never thought I’d complete. One of such precision it seemed impossible for a lowly novice, like myself, to achieve. It wasn’t without danger, either. I had to stay focused. Keep my nerves in check. As the temperature rose, so did the cries from my prize. I knew it was time to seize it. My trembling hand reached out for the metal handle and…wait! I’d forgotten my glove! I searched, frantically, concerned I’d left a vital piece of equipment out of this extraordinary adventure. Luckily, it was right in front of me. Whew. Placing it over my hand, I reached out, hoping to snare glory.”
The small boat reaches it’s destination. A ladder is tossed over the side of the larger ship and the man at the front begins his climb up. The words continue to scroll.
“The prize shook and trembled, inheriting the fear and anxiety that rushed through my veins. I clutched my wrist with my free hand to steady my grip. With a slow turn, I extended the cherished product and in one, smooth motion, flipped it over, dumping it out into a new container. I promptly took a seat and gripped the necessary equipment. Reaching in, I scooped some of it out and…tasted. I’d done it. I’d finally created the perfect plate of mom’s spaghetti.”
“Ahem,” A voice breaks in, eviscerating the scrolling words on the screen. Welsh turns, slapping what looks to be a journal shut.
“Leo! I told you to knock before interrupting. I was doing some very serious stuff in here.”
“Sorry, sir…but he’s here.”
“HE is here?”
“Yes, HE is here.”
“Well, send HIM in.”
Leo snaps his fingers and a couple of bodyguards that look like they might also be male strippers step into the lounge area of the boat. In between them is TRIAD reporter SID BUCKLEY! Sid’s hair is on point. His face, however, seems a little concerned. I mean, they dragged him all the way out here for an interview that could’ve probably been done over the phone or maybe via Google Docs.
“Sid,” Welsh greets. Behind him, we see Leo sneaking a peek inside Welsh’s journal. He licks his lips. Everybody loves Spaghetti.
“Mr. Welsh, I appreciate the invite. Mind if I - “ Sid moves to sit down but Welsh puts his hand up.
“Not so fast, we need to run a check for security purposes.”
The bodyguards pat Sid down. One clears his throat as he shows Welsh a Team TLS commemorative ball point pen. Welsh raises an eyebrow. Sid shrugs as if to say, “It’s just a pen.” It’s promptly thrown overboard.
They keep searching.
That same bodyguard finds a coaster that reads “Mr. Main Event LCP.” Welsh folds his arms. Sid extends his hands as if to say, “It’s just a coaster.” It, too, is thrown overboard.
More searching.
The other bodyguard sighs as he removes a box of Matt Knox endorsed condoms. He shakes them at Welsh. Welsh snatches them, “You do realize these don’t work, right? Their all perforated right at the tip.” Sid is like ‘it’s a gag, what do you want me to say?’ These are also thrown overboard.
The search continues. And it continues. It appears Sid is clean.
“Okay, come take a seat…” Welsh pats Sid’s coat while motioning for him to take a seat. He feels something. Welsh looks up right into Sid’s eyes. “What is THIS!” Welsh removes an official PIC Soccer Mom Halloween Wig.
Sid has no response. Welsh slings this thing overboard. The wind blows it back onboard…Welsh runs forward and soccer kicks it off the boat and into the water. He steps back inside, composing himself
“Sorry you all had to see that. I just can’t stand biased journalism. Sid, I hope from this point forward you’ll be nothing but fair and honest in this report.”
Welsh cuts Sid off from speaking, pointing for him to sit.
“Okay, well first off…”
Welsh cuts him off again, “Hold on. I’m not some neanderthal. I know how to treat my guests. I’ve got a few things for you.”
Sid’s curiosity is piqued.
“Here, take a box of nutritious Alexander Ravens. They are raisins cut in the shape of Raven’s. Very nutritious snacks that will probably increase your life expectancy by 15%.”
Sid looks at the box. Before he can respond, Welsh has another gift.
“I’ve also got for you some Sarah Wolf costumed teeth. A great item to wear on Halloween or if, you know, you’re looking to strike fear into an enemy. A tremendous accessory to own.”
Welsh tosses this gift at Sid, who catches it.
“These are, um -”
Welsh isn’t done.
“Not so fast. I’ve got more for you. Here we have a soon to be best selling DVD titled “The Destruction of the Knox family.” It stars Stephen Stratford. Take it, watch it, become a better man by having done so.”
The look on Sid’s face indicates he doesn’t have a DVD player. But, he doesn’t say anything.
“And, finally,” Welsh pulls one final item out of what looks like a treasure chest. “This one is very, very precious.”
“It’s a box of Froot Loops.”
Welsh snaps his fingers at Sid, “It’s not A box of Froot Loops…it’s THE box of Froot Loops that Thad Duke ate from last week. Also, should be noted, it’s THE box of Froot Loops that Sahara served Thad. There has never been a more valuable box of cereal.”
“How did you get this?”
Welsh takes a seat across from Sid, folding his hands, “I have my ways.” He watches Sid, arms full of the four items, “Now, quit showing off your gifts like some kind of braggart and ask me the hard hitting questions. Let’s go. I don’t have all night.”
Sid sets his new loot down at his feet and nudges it a few inches away with his foot. Out of sight, out of mind. He clears his throat.
“So, as I was saying… One week into the trials, it seems to be a hit.”
Welsh nods, with a satisfied look.
“I covered the draft thoroughly. You of course had the distinction of holding the first overall pick in the draft. I don’t think I’m alone in expecting Team Welsh to be off to an early lead.” Sid looks across at Welsh, whose smile is fading. “So, what went wrong last week?”
Welsh stares at Sid. His stare turns into a glare. Footsteps of the giant, stripper looking men approaching Sid from behind create an uneasiness within the reporter. Welsh watches Sid squirm a bit before he makes a slight move with his hand to wave them off.
“Oh, I think you can think of a better question than that,” Welsh finally speaks, through a forced smile.
Sid takes a quick glimpse over each shoulder before flipping through a notepad.
"Mmhmm… Well, on draft night you selected Stephen Stratford first overall. He failed to get his hand raised in week one…" Sid checks his shoulder one more time. "Do you regret the pick?"
A slightly audible high pitched squeal manages to make it’s way from Welsh’s pursed lips. His cheeks slightly puffed, eyes strained. Behind him, a lighter is struck, revealing the face of Leo in a dark corner. He slowly reveals a pair of hair trimmers.
“You,” Welsh works hard to keep his voice under control, “you think you wanna rephrase that question?” He manages to get it out while producing a forced smile with painfully squinted eyes.
Sid adjusts his position in his chair, now very uncomfortable. He assesses his surroundings before glancing back down at his notepad. He flips to a blank page and pretends to read a question from it.
"Speaking of the draft… Let's discuss the genius strategy of scooping Stratford up first, and somehow still managing to get Thaddeus Duke on your team." Sid clears his throat. "It really seems like that will… Has… Set the stage for a successful run here."
Welsh relaxes. His breathing returns to normal. He crosses one leg over the other and brings a glass of Gin and Tonic to his lips, taking a sip. “Excellent question, Sid. You certainly know what you’re talking about. Taking Stratford was a gamble to some but only because I gave PIC and TLS the chance to nab Thad. Obviously, they weren’t smart enough to do so. Something I had pretty much figured. So, with those two in my pocket I was able to get Sarah Wolf along with Alexander Raven rounding out the perfect team. And, as you said…Night 1 of the Trials proved that. The decimation of teams PIC and TLS is all but guaranteed.”
Sid nods a half-hearted nod as he flips through pages further.
"Absolutely. We definitely agree on that. You know, I was just writing a feature on Team Welsh…" Sid rips a page out of his notebook and stuffs the balled up paper into his pocket. "And it's surefire future success. Why don't you take me through your, our, thoughts on week 2?"
Welsh leans forward, grabbing Sid’s knee, “I thought you’d never ask.” Leaning back, he places his drink down and pulls out a scroll from inside his seersucker jacket. He catches an odd look from Sid. “Keeping it in the theme, Sid,” he replies, shaking the scroll.
“Let’s see,” he removes the seal on the scroll letting it fall to the ground. It hits the ground and rolls and rolls and rolls all the way onto the deck and overboard. Sid turns, looking over his chair at the length of this thing. Welsh calmly puts some glasses on and clears his throat, “An ode to Week 2 by Team Welsh leader Marcus Welsh…”
30 minutes later.
“And as the nefarious Helena attempted to regain some respect by joining forces with the horrible Catalina Cortes, the hero, Thad Duke had to stand firm in the face of such evil. But he wasn’t without that bravery and courage we’d all come to know…the bravery and courage nobody else in this business…”
30 minutes later.
“And it was at that moment when Thad Duke knew victory was within his grasp…”
Rubbing his temples, Sid lets out a heavy sigh that grabs the attention of the others in the room. He looks around, realizing his mistake.
"Phew, this is intense. Had to catch my breath there. I may have to incorporate some of this into the feature." Sid fumbles with his notebook. "Let me read that back to you."
Sid smirks, but he's the only one in the room to do so. "Just a… Joke… We can probably count on the other three matches to be that epic too huh? Sounds like quite the night. Hey, thanks for having me out!..."
“Mhm,” Welsh slowly rolls his scroll back up. It takes awhile. But he never allows his eyes to leave Sid. Once intact, he slides the scroll back into his coat. “I shouldn’t reveal the juicy details of what happens next to a blabbermouth journalist such as yourself. Would spoil the surprise of Night 2. You just need to keep one thing in mind…Team Welsh: 4-0.”
Sid nods long, wishing Welsh had led with that prediction an hour ago.
"You could have led with that an hour ago."
Uh oh. Sid accidentally thinks out loud. "You know, so we could have had more time to chat," he backtracks.
Sid reaches down to his side and retrieves the box of raven-shaped raisins and quickly shoves a couple in his mouth. "Mmm, tasty!"
“Yea, you enjoy those. Just like OG Raven is going to enjoy sweet, healthy victory on Night 2. I can trust what you’re going to print, right Sid?.” Welsh runs his hands through his hair, “Let me ask you something, Sid. How much do you value…that hair.”
"This hair?" Sid swallows hard. "Well, I am the only on-air talent left at SportzSportzSportz. I need to look presentable… I- I'd say I value it quite a bit."
Sid looks around at the room once more as he feels everyone inch a little closer to him.
"Listen, you can trust me. I print what I see… And a see a strong team under very, very, VERY stable leadership!"
Welsh extends his arms, calling off the overly buff and tanned security team. “I think you’ve got the right idea. A title along the lines of ‘Team Welsh set for total domination’ with maybe a secondary headline saying something like ‘LOL and the other teams thought they had a shot!’ Also, I have a few headshots you can use for the cover.”
Sid is handed three headshots. One featuring Welsh seated, cross-legged in front of a fireplace, drink in hand, looking very sophisticated. Another with Welsh dressed in all white, a sweatshirt tied around his neck. He’s sporting a tight polo and really, really tight white shorts. He leans up against a tennis racket next to a tennis net. In the background someone who looks like TLS is on the ground with a broken racket and several loose tennis balls. The third and final headshot features Welsh in the famous Muhammad Ali pose, shirtless, covered in sweat, yelling in triumph as someone who looks like PIC is down on the mat, knocked out.
“Feel free to use one of these for the cover.”
Sid blinks a few times as he holds the photos in his hands. "Well these are just… I was thinking we'd feature the team members in that spot."
Sid glances up at Welsh, who is staring right back at him.
"But obviously I did not foresee such quality images to fall into my hands. Of course, I'll use one of these. I should really get going though. Deadlines, yuck. They're the worst, am I right?"
Sid stands up and begins to collect his Team Welsh merchandise.
"Really can't thank you enough for the opportunity. Can't wait for you to read it. SportzSportzSportz+++, do you have a subscription?.. Tell you what, you've been so welcoming, I'll gift you one."
Welsh stares at Sid while grabbing a pair of scissors. He starts to cut away at long strands for fur belonging to a coat he has for some reason. While doing this, he just continues to stare at Sid.
"Nice coat…"
Sid instinctively checks the top of his head with his free hand. Upon feeling the hair on top of his head, Sid begins to back pedal toward the exit.
"Thanks again!" Sid offers a wave as he heads out the door, dropping his new DVD as he does. Sid Buckley disappears into the night.