Roger
I’ve got to say, there are definitely some talented folks on the internet.
In the three days since I last saw Natalie, the videos of her whooping Weasel’s ass have taken on a life of their own. One user has posted a slow motion version set to an 80s love ballad. Someone else did a deep fake, exchanging Natalie and Weasel’s faces for two loathsome New York politicians. There’s even one intercut with some action scenes from recent superhero movies.
My personal favorite though, is the one where Japanese anime effects have been added. There are lightning bolts and energy blasts, and things like that, as well as some sound effects from one of the popular cartoons. I watched that one several times in a row.
The one I keep coming back to, however, is the original video of her wailing on Weasel. I’ve got to say, as impressive as it was to watch in real life, on video, it takes on an even more glamorous appeal. Even a slightly erotic one.
It’s not that I’m turned on by the sight of a woman hitting the Weasel, but more that it’sherdoing thehitting.
Natalie... In that tight skirt, holding her own. Taking care of business. So strong. So… well, sounlikethe women in my circle.
It is highly possible that the video has been the catalyst for some self-servicing being done by males in the city.
On the other hand, less impressive and inspiring in any way is the video of her slappingme. It’s gotten the same sort of treatment. Some genius has actually put together a twenty-four-hour loop of Natalie’s hand connecting with my face. It’s titled, “Roger Zane Gets Hit All Day Long & Ur Welcome, Ladies.” The lack of originality in the title is disappointing.
More disappointing is the number of views it’s garnered.
Apparently, Jared Barron has seen that video as well. “Oh, man, I mean, just over and over again!”
I’m sitting with my lawyer, Gerald Harris, in Jared’s office. He’s standing behind an oak desk that I swear is the size of a queen-sized bed. Behind him, floor-to-ceiling windows provide us with a view of the city. Jared’s three lawyers, all of whom look like cardboard cutouts from a Yale Law School ad, lounge on a couch off to the side of the room.
Jared starts imitating me getting slapped. “I mean, just —Whap!” He jerks his head to the side over and over, saying, “Again,whap!And again, whap!Hee hee!”
“Glad it brought you such amusement, Jared,” I say through a forced smile.
“You always do, bud. You always do!”
These are supposed to be the final negotiations for 755 Park Avenue. My purchase of this building will set up all my future ventures. It is the first step in my plans to create greener, more sustainable multi-use high rises. I’ve been working out my ideas for a building like this for the last ten years. We identified 755 as the perfect spot to finally put those ideas into practice.
Negotiations for the building have taken two and a half years because Jared Barron is the king of dicks. On Wikipedia, under the entry for ‘smarmy, greasy NYC real estate moguls’, there’s a picture of him. He’s ten pounds of refuse in a five-pound bag. I’ve put up with this short, slim-fit-suit-wearing, smirking son-of-a-bitch for way too long.
Today’s the day I finally seal the deal on 755 and get Jared Barron out of my life.
But the prick won’t shut up about Natalie.
“I saw those photos in the paper, too,” he goes on. He looks at his lawyers. “You guys see it?” They grin. “Course you have. Gotta say, Roge, she certainly is a fine piece of ass. I mean, it doesn’t hurt your image any having you associated with her, am I right?”
I look at my fingernails nonchalantly, like this isn’t getting to me. But, inside, I want to dig those nails into his skull and gouge out his eyeballs.Don’t blow this,I tell myself. So, I say, “Aw, Jared, it takes a lot to ruin my image.”
“Not much image to ruin!” Jared bursts out laughing. “Tell me though, she worth it? Nice and tight, huh? Ya give her a good going over?” He bites his lower lip and makes some lewd gestures. “You musta got her good to get her so riled up, she slaps you like that.”
I force another smile. “What can I say?”
“Whatcanyou say, you dog!” He literally ‘ruffs’ at me.
My lawyer can see my jaw muscles clenching. He leans forward in his chair and says, “Why don’t we get back to the deal?” He taps a large stack of papers – the contracts for 755 – sitting on Jared’s desk. “We’ve all been working long and hard on this, after all.”
“’Long and hard’ is Roge’s speciality, huh, buddy?” Jared holds his forearm and fist down by his groin in what I guess is supposed to be a representation of a cock. He uppercuts the fist a few times and makes little grunting noises. His lawyers giggle like little boys.
“OK, OK,” Jared says. “Let’s get down to business.” He sits in his chair.
I take a deep breath. Gerald pats my arm reassuringly. A few signatures and I’m out of the woods.
Then that fucker opens his mouth again. “Tell me though, buddy. You going to see her again? Because if not, can I get her number? I got some things I’d like to do to that ass of hers.”
OK, that’s it. I launch out of my seat. “Fuck you, Jared.”