Title: Them Glass Ceilings.
Featuring: "Big Rig" Clyde Walker
Date: 2.9.19
Location: Broken Arrow, Oklahoma
Show: Modern Warfare 2019



 

[Smash shot to a television set; static, noise, then darkness. The reception hums back on and we see an older man - hair parted to the side, scruffy mustache that’s noticeably uneven, and a brown trenchcoat partially covering his striped buttoned down shirt and black tie. He has a microphone in his hand.] 

“Good morning Sacramento - and Good morning to you WALB supporters. Long John Sanders here again to bring you the hottest of the hot in the city that always sweats.” 

[The camera pans, while Sanders, points at a building. The Golden 1 Center.] 

“Last night, the Championship Wrestling Federation brought their touring bloody knuckle rebellion of sorts here - and to think there was a conclusion to the events on the inside. This event didn’t seem to want to end, guys.” 

[Sanders seems to be speaking back to the anchors that transitioned to him in the first place.] 

“Once the show got out, a brand of person flooded the streets unlike anything that Sacramento has ever seen - and the chaos eventually forced the authorities to take action.” 

[The channel flickers, and now we see tons - and I mean - tons of drunken rednecks, with their trucker hats, sleeveless flannel shirts, and holey jean short - running amock into the streets, toting beer coolers, screaming at the top of their lungs and, ultimately, bringing forth seemingly unnecessary destruction.] 

“As you can see, a gang of fans - described as Snake Nation - turned Sacramento upside down; smashing storefront windows, defacing parked vehicles, spray painting walls that are going to take the city weeks - if not months - to get back in order. Dan and Nancy, there were even reports of men - and women - defecating and urinating into the street wastebins. An unimaginably long and headache-inducing night for our men in uniform - but things are starting to quiet down now. I think it goes without question that whoever - whatever - the Snake Nation is - they’ve certainly left their mark.” 

[We turn back to the two anchors - Nancy and Dan - who are speechless. Dan clears his throat, stacks his papers, and tries to continue.] 

“And what a night it appears to have been. Thank you so much Long John and be sure to keep us posted on what becomes of----” 

[And the television’s reception goes out again. Instead, the flick of a lighter can be heard, which is followed by a serene glow in an otherwise dark backdrop. It’s none other than Big Rig himself, Clyde Walker, swinging side to side on a hammock - in the middle of a beautiful Oklahoma meadow that overlooks a pond. In his hand? The biggest joint you’ve ever seen - laughable even. But, as you should know by now, Clyde does it big - no questions asked. He looks at the sky, taking a huge hit and then hacking it out of his lungs. He sniffles back, rubs his eyes, and giggles a bit.] 

“Fuckin’ glass ceilings man.” 

[About ten feet to his left is Rollins - spread eagle on his bag, staring up at the sky. He wasn’t a fan of the weed though. No sir. He was loaded up on mushrooms and liquor, and the smile on his face was absolutely priceless.] 

“Glass ceilings? Oh. Wait, I know. Those fuckin’ OccupyNow bastards in whereever the hell we were.”

“No, brother. I mean glass ceilings. Like the glass ceilings.” 

“Like wood ceilings that are made out of glass?” 

[Clyde doesn’t affirm. He just keeps going.] 

“I thought about it and you know what? It’d be absolutely bad to the ass to have a glass ceiling. I mean, the fuckin’ rain - like the drops of rain? You could see them as they hit. And, you could watch, like, the sun rising up and - serenity, man. We get so used to these walls, you know what I’m saying, Rollins? These fuckin’ walls blind us, and prevent us from seeing the best moments that happen on the outside. We’re too God-damn busy with our inside lives.” 

[Clyde takes another hit of his massive spliff and then turns his head towards Rollins.] 

“You know what I mean?” 

“Yeah, Yeah - Like, being able to have that neverending glimpse of the sky. The stars.” 

“The fuckin’ stars…” [Clyde puts his head back and stares back at the sky.] “Neverending elevation for the eyeballs - seeing out for miles, and miles, and miles. I was thinkin’ about that glass ceiling for a while earlier, you know? And then I started thinkin’ about the cost. How much do you think a damn glass ceiling would go for, you know? Does it depend upon the type of glass? Are there different types of glass? What if I wanted - like - tinted fuckin’ glass - could they make that happen, or is that shit just for cars? As I keep going, I’m thinking…” 

[Rollins with the assist.] 

“Shit’s gon’ be expensive as a toucan-feathered dildo.” 

[Clyde raises his hands out in frustration.] 

“Exactly! So then I’m thinkin - is it worth it? What the hell else can I buy with that kind of deniro? I could probably buy an entire jacuzzi tub with two semi-decent looking bitches already in there for that kind of dough. I mean, that’s just as much multi-purpose. Wash your balls, destressify your… well…” 

“Your stresses?” 

[Rollins with another save.] 

“Hell yeah, your stress. And then you can also sling some soapy dick - all for the price of one thang’. And I’m thinkin’, that shit is tough to pass up. That might even be more tough to pass up than a glass ceiling. I sling dick anyways - and with some of the most half-decent ladies in “The Arrow”, so I kind of leaned back into the idea of getting this glass ceiling. And then you know what happened, Rollins? It hit me, man. It fuckin’ hit me.” 

[Rollins sits up and presses his legs against his chest.] 

“Yeah?” 

“You know what I started to think about?” [Clyde takes another massive hit and then blows out quickly - the smoke still poofing out while he talks.] “Glass ceilings? They dangerous.” 

“Dangerous?” 

“Oh hell yes. Just think about the possibilities with havin’ a glass ceiling. I mean, for one, you got asteroids. And you just don’t fuckin’ play with asteroids. Remember that time in Russian?” 

“Rig…” [Rollins confesses.] “I barely remember yesterday, dude.” 

“A damn asteroid flew like Superman across Russian skies and nobody knew nothin’ about it. Imagine if I was the asshole in Russia with the only God damn glass ceiling and that asteroid even so much as farted near it. Bye bye glass ceiling. How about them hailstorms? And what if you lived near pine trees and a few of them pine cones landed on it? What about lightning? If the glass is held together by metal that ain’t grounded, I could electrify my entire abode and its lights out before I have a chance to react.” 

[There’s silence for a moment. It’s unclear if Rollins has reached the fourth dimension in his trip and is no longer consciously present, or if he’s dead. Clyde isn’t all that concerned with that. Instead, he looks back up at the stars.] 

“With a glass ceiling, there’s no such thing as protection. You’ve left yourself fuckin’ elements of which you can’t control - but if you’ve got yourself a fancy glass ceiling, the last thing you worried about is some dangerous elements. If you got yourself a damn glass ceiling, you stuck on yourself, boy. And if you stuck on yourself, then you’re far to distracted to understand the what-ifs and what-might-bes. Them what-ifs and what-might-bes are a son of a bitch, especially when they’re able to take advantage of your distractions by blindsiding and turning you ass end up. And then I started thinking about those fucks…” 

[Rollins wakes up. Revived by the authorized exit from the fourth dimension.] 

“The ceilings?” 

“No, the bastards that like to use it as their fortified namesake. Freddie - and the rest of them. I don’t remember their names. It don’t matter. Names don’t matter at all, bubba, you feel me? You know why? I’ll tell you why. Because their glass ceiling ain’t fortified. It’s some as-seen-on-TV scammer bullshit, and they’re lookin’ to profit off of the weakside - the grannies and grampapas that ain’t got nothing else to do but be shanked by these greasy-handed cobknobs. Well, we ain’t weak, God damn it. We the Snake Nation - and we took Sacramento for a ride and left with people that were once too scared to stray away from the beach. They’re part of our family now - on our semi - ridin’ around through crossroads Amurica with their dicks slung over their shoulders like continental soldiers. They tryin’ to play games with the men that built the games. We got plenty of time, but none of that time will be reserved to coddle them.” 

[Rollins starts laughing - like a psycho. A completely unorthodox laugh that only the hypersensitive would understand.] 

“We from Oklahoma.” [Clyde tosses the rest of his spliff and then sits up. He turns his body so that he’s now sitting on the edge of the hammock, with his bare feet planted against the meadow’s ground. The crickets dance for a moment in the silence as Clyde cycles through his thoughts, clasping his hands together and furrowing his eyebrows.] 

“But Oklahoma is just the beginning. We gon’ take California, Nevada, Utah, fuckin’ Wyoming - and Snake Nation will live in all parts of this beautiful country of ours. We will build solid walls that make this glass ceiling look like the outcast it deserves to be. You know why bubba?” 

[Rollins nods his head.] 

“We the lightning, boss.” 

[Clyde smiles and nods.] 

“We ain’t just the lightning. We’re the pine cones, the high winds, the forces of nature that you cower under your class desks from - you know what we are? We’re the motherfuckin’ asteroids - sent from the Gods of the universe to fly through the sky like the man of steel - with one specific, strict, exclusive objective; to blast through their vulnerable glass ceiling at the speed of light and end any concept of superiority that was in their little minds. Freddie wants to sit in his house of glass, then so be it. So fuckin’ be it, Rollins, but we ain’t gon’ sit like cancerous growths on the spine. We ain’t waitin’ for our ride, you see, because you know what? We are the ride. We’re the God damn sun, the moon, the stars, and everything in between. If you doubt us, then flick on the news - because the world is startin’ to understand what we’re all about.” 

[Rollins punches the ground and screams into the air.] 

“WE’RE SNAKE NATION, BITCH.” 

[Clyde laughs, opting to lay back down on the hammock - which starts to swing back and forth again. He puts his hands behind his head and lets out a satisfying sigh.]

“And we just getting started, boy. We just gettin’ started.” 



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