[The now famed Defiance Booth had seen its share of abuse; either from spilt liquor stains from Pete Whealdon or cigarette burns from some of the more prolific smokers on the roster, but today was different, in the booth was three feet by four foot picture of Claira St. Sure, roses decorating the sides and a memorial plaque, prematurely dated to August 30th.]

[On the right was Edward White, dressed more casually than normally, wearing a plain black shirt and a pair of khakis (the sort of type that Jimmy Kort coudn’t buy, because he’s soooo poor). Cigar clenched between his index and middle finger and a full forehead bandage to hide the stitches and other brutalities withstanded in the War Games match.]

[On the left, was the smooth twalking, perfect hair having, sunglasses from hell wearing, easy come -- easy go King Doctor of COOL. He wore a silk shirt imported from the unknown depths of the yucatan, which had the collar popped towards his ears. He also had on a pair of cloth pants and sandals bedazzled with blood diamonds.]

[That’s right.]

[Money is still nothing.]

[AND COOL will always be free.]

Edward White:
We gather here today, in what could have been a perfectly good wake for Miss St Sure. It saddens me to see that you’re still amongst the living, after my best intentions. I had this picture personally enlarged at kinkos in your memorial. These plastic flowers, they came from Michaels. And this stand holding up the entire eulogy, I found a college student who flunked out of art school and was looking to sell all her possessions.

CCJ:
… you really pulled out all the stops didn’t you?

Edward White:
Absolutely. You see Cancer, Claira St. Sure is what I like to think of as a mule.

CCJ:
On accounts of her horse face?

[Cancer throws out his fist for a bump, White obliges him.]

Edward White:
She’s a worker. She’s a part of the working dead. She’ll work and work and work and work for her goals but they will be forever out of reach, forever just a millimeter away from grasps, forever unattainable.

CCJ:
Yeah? Then how come she won?

[He shrugs.]

Edward White:
That doesn’t matter to me. What does is the fact that I accomplished what I set out to do. I won in my very own right. I defeated Christian Light, made Jimmy Kort do what I wanted him to do and spat in the face of an organization that is unfit to conduct proper business. Miss Sure’s victory is as hollow and soulless as her dreams and aspirations. She’s just a workhorse.

CCJ:
Jeez... Ed. Tell them how you really feel.

[Edward takes a long drag from his Billion Dollar Cigar.]

CCJ: [taking the hint]
No. I’m glad you won when you did win. It’s not often you get a chance to laugh at the establishment. In fact, it’s kind of what I’m doing right now.

[Cancer stops. He looks at Ed, who calmly moves his way out of the shot.]

CCJ:
I have nothing. I am sorry, to those who care. Edward White for president.

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