Does Anyone Know Elsa Bannister?  Anyone at all?

Does Anyone Know Elsa Bannister? Anyone at all?

Posted on November 3, 2020 at 10:37 pm by Jatt Starr

:::SCENE:  The twenty-four hour diner across the street from a dive bar.  It will be his second visit in the span of four days.  It’s become a compulsion to visit.  Every week since his glorious and predictable victory over Kevin Capone.  The Ruler of Jattlantis walks through the glass doors from the foyer.  The myriad of smells permeates his nostrils.  Coffee, bacon, burgers, fried chicken.   The type of food you eat to help prevent the impending hangover after a night of drinking.  Not that he’s been drinking much.   Sektor has been dealing with his own personal issues since Max’s murder so there has not been much need for the Starrabian Knight to don his wingman cap.  

 

Oh that poor, daffy bastard, Max, murdered by his adopted brother.  Couldn’t have happened to a better guy.

 

Although, when it comes to Max, “execution” seems more appropriate. That’s what you do to criminals, isn’t it?

 

But the show must go on.

 

Jatt Starr hobbles (using his walking cane, Mister Whacky to help keep his balance) toward Milos, the owner/manager/host of this establishment.  He opens his mouth but the gray haired proprietor stops him with his slight Greek accent.:::

 

MILOS:  My guy!  No Ella Bannister here!

 

JATT STARR:  It was Elsa, actually.

 

MILOS:  Her neither. We have no woman dressed like cat, be we have woman dressed like server.

 

:::Milos grabs a ridiculously oversized menu and leads Jatt Starr to his usual booth.  There is obnoxious laughter coming from a table of six college guys.  All of which look like younger, blonder, and shockingly douchier versions of Hughie Freeman, Cancer Giles, Brian Hollywood and Darin Mathews.  Milos leads the King of Grapple from the Big Apple to his usual booth.  Jatt Starr takes a seat, places Mister Whacky next to him, and leaves the menu unopened as he looks out the window.

 

Jatt Starr is sporting khakis, black and white Vans, an unzipped purple hooded sweatshirt, and a black Metroid t-shirt.  Moments later, Megan, the server, arrives with a glass of ice water and cutlery wrapped in a white cloth napkin.::::

 

MEGAN:  Welcome back.  Before you ask, Elsa Bannister has not been back and even if she has she didn’t let me know.

 

JATT STARR:  Am I that predictable?

 

MEGAN:  It depends.  Are you going to have two cups of coffee, a coke, and cheese fries with a side of gravy?

 

JATT STARR:  Maybe.

 

MEGAN:  Then yes, you are that predictable.  I’ll be back with your drinks.

 

:::Megan walks off leaving Jatt Starr to flip through the mini jukebox at the booth with a twinge of disappointment that has become all too familiar.  As he has done a few times before, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out some quarters and places them in the coin slot.  He plays “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” by Starship.

 

The Adoptive Son of Starrkham looks out the window.  The evening is brisk, he happens upon two people holding hands, walking across the parking lot.  Probably to the dive bar across the street.  Megan returns and places two cups of coffee in front of him and a coke.  He turns to Megan.::::

 

JATT STARR:  Thank you.

 

::::The Jattsylvanian Count proceeds to fix his coffee with six sugars and half-and-half.  He takes a sip.  The sweetness of the sugar overpowers the bitter coffee taste.  Just as he turns to look out the window, a voice stops him.:::

 

VOICE:  Excuse me.

 

::::The voice is almost nasally and girlish.  He sees before him an incredibly (and artificially) tan woman who may or may not be in her late thirties to early forties.  There are signs of plastic surgery such as her thin, high arching eyebrows, most likely botox and some collagen in her lips (although, what does Jatt Starr know about plastic surgery?  He’s au natural).  Her platinum blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail.  She is removing her red leather overcoat revealing a low cut black top which accentuates her quite augmented breasts, blue tight fitting jeans, and white Nikes with a pink swoosh.:::

 

JATT STARR:   You’re not Elsa.

 

WOMAN:  No, I’m not.

 

:::The Jatt-i Master stares at the buxom blonde, her brown eyes staring back at him.  The silence becomes increasingly awkward as Jatt Starr expects the woman to continue speaking.  He breaks the silence.::::  

 

JATT STARR:  What’s up?

 

::::The woman sits across from Jatt Starr, her back facing the diner douche squad.::::

 

WOMAN:  Can I, like, ask you for a favor?

 

JATT STARR:  Depends.  Does it involve you asking me for money?

 

WOMAN:  No.

 

JATT STARR:  Does it involve me signing a part of your or your significant other’s body?  Including but not limited to butts, boobs, penises, and/or bald head?

 

WOMAN:  EW!  NO!  People, like, ask you to do that?

 

JATT STARR:  Sadly, yes.  And no, I won’t do it.  Not since Fed-Con oh-nine.

 

WOMAN:  What happened?

 

JATT STARR:  Nothing.   What can I do for you?

 

WOMAN:  I’m, like, getting second thoughts asking….

 

JATT STARR:  It’s fine.  What’s up?

 

::::The Woman looks hesitant and she looks around for a moment.  She takes a deep breath and decides, she might as well ask.::::

 

WOMAN:  Can I just sit here?  Just until those guys leave.

 

:::The Mayor of ManJattan looks over his shoulder to see where the woman is pointing and it is directly at the table of douchey looking twentysomethings.  He turns back to her back to her.::::

 

JATT STARR:  Yeah, I guess.

 

:::The Woman looks at the drinks in front of Jatt Starr.:::

 

WOMAN:  I’m sorry, are you waiting for someone?

 

JATT STARR:  I am.

 

WOMAN:  Elsa?

 

JATT STARR:  You know her???

 

WOMAN:  No, you said her name before, so I assumed….

 

JATT STARR:  Yeah, well….

 

WOMAN:  A blind date?

 

JATT STARR:  No.

 

WOMAN:  Did you meet her online?

 

JATT STARR:  No.

 

WOMAN:  What does she look like?

 

JATT STARR:  I don’t know.

 

WOMAN:  Wait.  So, you don’t know what she looks like—

 

JATT STARR:  She was wearing a costume.

 

WOMAN:  So then…Wait.  How, like, how will you know when you see her?

 

JATT STARR:  She said she’d meet me here, I guess I was a sap for believing that she would honor her commitment.  I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?

 

WOMAN:  Holly.  

 

JATT STARR:  And me?  I go by a plethora of different names.  Forty-three to be exact.  Call me Jatt or Simon. 

 

::::Holly holds out her hand.  Jatt Starr shakes, her hand is cold and dry.::::

 

HOLLY:  I would have thought her name would be like Thaddius of, like, Thad.

 

::::Jatt Starr looks like he’s been punched in the gut as if “Thaddius” equates to being called an “asshole”.:::

 

JATT STARR:  Seriously?  THAD?

 

HOLLY:  You just have that vibe about you.  So, what time is your lady friend supposed to be here?

 

JATT STARR:  She was supposed to meet me here a couple of weeks ago.  She didn’t show.

 

HOLLY:  So, she said she would meet you and you keep coming back and she’s never here, why bother?

 

JATT STARR:  Compulsion.  I have this idea in my head that maybe if I show up, she’ll be here.  And if I don’t show up, I will question whether or not she was here when I wasn’t.  It’s a tragically infuriating cycle which causes both anxiety and insomnia.

 

HOLLY:  That’s pretty depressing.

 

JATT STARR:  Yep.

 

HOLLY:  I don’t get why you would, like, put yourself through that.

 

:::The Sovereign of Starrgentina takes a sip of coffee.  Megan approaches the booth her order pad in hand and a water which she places in front of Holly.:::

 

MEGAN:  I see you have a guest.  Is this Elsa?

 

JATT STARR:  No.

 

HOLLY:  Did you, like, tell everyone about her?

 

JATT STARR:  Not EVERYONE.

 

MEGAN:  What can I get you?

 

HOLLY:  Cheeseburger, no onions, with fries.

 

MEGAN:  To drink?

 

HOLLY:  I’ll just have water.

 

MEGAN:  Alrighty.

 

:::Megan walks away.:::

 

JATT STARR:  So, what’s up with you and those guys?

 

HOLLY:  They’re assholes.

 

JATT STARR:  Well, that’s obvious.

 

HOLLY:  I’ve been here a couple of times and they’re assholes.  Like, just because I have these…

 

::::Holly points to her bust.:::

 

HOLLY:  …they think they can accost me.  Like, I have a Masters degree in Sociology with honors.  I’m published.   But, you know, hey, I’ve got a big chest and thin waist, so, I must be, like, a sex starved slut.

 

JATT STARR:  Graphic.  Especially for someone you just met.

 

HOLLY:  I’m sorry.  It just pisses me the fuck off that I can’t have a burger without some asshole trying to like, sleep with me or making rude, disgusting comments.

 

JATT STARR:  That sucks.

 

::::Holly nods as she takes a sip of water.:::

 

HOLLY:  No one ever takes the time to get to know me.

 

JATT STARR:  Men are pigs and such?

 

HOLLY:  Not all men, but basically, yeah.

 

JATT STARR:  Ouch.

 

HOLLY:  Let’s be fair here.  Aside from your claims of having, like, a bunch of names, I don’t really know you.

 

JATT STARR:  I’m awesome.  That’s all you need to know.

 

HOLLY:  You’re not very modest, are you?

 

JATT STARR:  Modesty is overrated.

 

HOLLY:  At least you’re not staring at my chest, so you’ve got that in your favor.

 

JATT STARR:  I’m older and wiser. If this were fifteen years ago I would be screaming “Boobies” while giggling like a lunatic.  Full disclosure, there may or may not have been “honking” noises whilst mimicking a squeezing action with my hands.

 

HOLLY:  I appreciate your maturity. 

 

JATT STARR:  I appreciate your appreciation.

 

HOLLY:  It’s still disturbing you had done that.

 

JATT STARR:  I had problems back then.

 

HOLLY:  Lucky for you, I believe people can change.

 

JATT STARR:  Even leopard people?

 

::::Holly is taken aback by this question.  As out of the blue and absurd the question is, she cannot help but chuckle slightly.::::

 

HOLLY:  When you, like, find a leopard person, you let me know.

 

JATT STARR:  Next time I go Bigfoot hunting.

 

HOLLY:  You believe in Bigfoot?

 

JATT STARR:  Doesn’t everyone?

 

HOLLY:  No.

 

JATT STARR:  Those are the same people who don’t believe “Die Hard” is a Christmas movie.  It totally is.

 

HOLLY:  That’s something we can agree on.

 

JATT STARR:  That’s because we know what’s what.

 

HOLLY:  About “Die Hard”.

 

JATT STARR:  It is the greatest debate in cinematic history.  Did you say you were a writer? 

 

HOLLY:  I’ve been published.

 

JATT STARR:  What did you write?

 

HOLLY:  You wouldn’t be interested.

 

JATT STARR:  Oh, so just because I’m a wrestler, I must be a dimwitted simpleton.  You got  a fancy degree in Socialism and us peons are incapable of understanding.

 

HOLLY:  Sociology.  I have a Masters in Sociology.

 

JATT STARR:  I was close.

 

HOLLY:  Not even.  I didn’t know you were a wrestler.

 

JATT STARR:  That’s no excuse for thinking I am incapable of understanding.

 

HOLLY:  Fine.  One of them was about Hollywood’s history of mistreating women.

 

JATT STARR:  Finally!  Someone is in agreement with me.  Hollywood is a giant pile of sleaze and depravity. I have been saying it for weeks now!

 

HOLLY:  Really?

 

JATT STARR:  Absolutely.

 

HOLLY:  My paper goes into how Hollywood has spent years preying on women’s self-esteem and insecurities, in some cases making fame and the adulation of strangers an addiction and how once Hollywood is through with these actresses, their lives negatively impacted.  

 

JATT STARR:  I knew Hollywood had a dark side!  I just knew it!  I didn’t think it was THAT dark.  

 

HOLLY:  Yeah.  Hollywood not only abuses women, but men, as well.   I don’t, like, wanna just put women into this, but my study was primarily on—-

 

JATT STARR:  Men too?

 

HOLLY:  Oh yeah. 

 

JATT STARR:  Unbelievable.

 

HOLLY:   My research showed how Hollywood has enforced that women should be objectified to the point where some aspiring actresses used to go through very dangerous procedures to alter their appearance.  Some became anorexic and bulimic.  There was at least one actress that actually ingested a tapeworm in order to lose weight.  These practices go back to, like, the Golden Age of Hollywood.

 

JATT STARR:  This is worse than I could have imagined.  Although, did Hollywood really have a Golden Age?  Hollywood has always kinda sucked.  

 

HOLLY:  There were some—

 

JATT STARR:  Don’t worry, Holly. I am making this vow to you and every single man and woman that Hollywood has offended, violated, and/or abused that I will personally make Hollywood pay for these atrocities.  

 

HOLLY:  Change is happening.  We’re nowhere near where it needs to be but progress is being made.  And every person matters.

 

JATT STARR:  And to think, I thought Hollywood was becoming obsolete.  As it turns out, Hollywood is clearly an evil mastermind.  A demented, deviant, sociopath!

 

HOLLY:  Um, like, I don’t know about all of that.  Like, I’m starting to think you’re personifying Hollywood—

 

JATT STARR:  You’re right.  Hollywood is anything but smart.  How is Hollywood able to manipulate otherwise intelligent people?

 

HOLLY:  People are desperate to become famous or they’re looking to, like, fill a void, maybe they want to feel wanted and sometimes they’re coerced and sometimes they’re, like, charmed into making poor choices.  Hollywood has been doing this for like ninety years.

 

JATT STARR:  He NINETY?!  Is he a Highlander?  And to think, all this time, I thought he was just another cumberworld when in fact he is evil incarnate.  Do you think his tag team partner is in on it?  I figure he must be.

 

:::Holly suddenly looks as confused as Jatt Starr being asked to solve a complicated trigonometry equation.::: 

 

HOLLY:  What?!

 

JATT STARR:  All the more reason that StarrSek Industries must acquire those tag team championships by any means necessary.  He must be stopped.  And the Ruler of Jattlantis is the one that will stop him.

 

HOLLY:  I don’t think we’re talking about the same—-

 

JATT STARR:  You, Holly, have opened my eyes.  I was blinded by my own ambition to prove that Brian Hollywood and his Little Nameless Friend were obsolete when in fact, he is an immortal monster like a vampire or a demon or a Scientologist.

 

HOLLY:  Are you, like, mental or something?

 

JATT STARR: What?  Oh!  Are you into Scientology?  I don’t mean to offend you.

 

HOLLY:  No.  It’s not that.  It’s, like, you seem—, you’re like—.  Words escape me.  I feel like I’m in a David Lynch film.  Excuse me, I have to powder my nose.

 

JATT STARR:  I don’t approve of cocaine use.

 

HOLLY:  I have to use the bathroom.  Can you watch my stuff?

 

JATT STARR:  Of course.

 

::::Holly gets out of the booth, muttering to herself, probably kicking herself for not going into one of the empty booths closer to the door.  As Jatt Starr puts quarters in the slot, he inadvertently chooses “We Built This City” by Starship as two of the diner douchebags get up — the douchier, younger Cancer Giles lookalike sits across from Jatt Starr, wearing aviator glasses and the younger, blonder, and douchier Brian Hollywood sits next to Jatt Starr.:::

 

JATT STARR:  What the hell is this?

 

DOUCHIER CANCER:  Bro!  You gonna fuck that, man? 

 

DOUCHIER BRIAN:  Up high!

 

::::The Douchier Brian Hollywood seeks a high five from Jatt Starr but is left hanging.:::

 

DOUCHIER CANCER:  You know who that is, bro?  

 

JATT STARR:  Who?

 

DOUCHIER BRIAN:  He don’t know who that bae is!

 

DOUCHIER CANCER:  That’s Chi-Town Avery!

 

JATT STARR:  Excuse me?

 

DOUCHIER CANCER:  Chi-Town Avery!

 

DOUCHIER BRIAN:  That girl is a local legend.  She can suck a watermelon through a fuckin’ hose.

 

DOUCHIER CANCER:   She did “Avery Gets Gangbanged One, Two, Three, Four, and Six”.  She was in “Gangbangs of New York”, “Snatch Adams Four: Here Cums the Nurse”, “Cum After Reading”…. 

 

JATT STARR:  You’re clearly mistaken.  She’s not in porn.  She has a Masters degree.

 

DOUCHIER BRIAN:  You gotta show’im, bro.

 

::::The Douchier Cancer begins pulling out his phone with every intention of finding a video to prove that Holly is in fact Chi-Town Avery, local pornographic legend.:::

 

DOUCHIER CANCER:  Aw yeah….let’s see, oh this one, this dude’s fucking cock—-

 

::::Jatt Starr, clearly fed up takes the Douchier Brian Hollywood by his golden locks and slams his head down on the table.  He takes Mister Whacky and shoves the weighted head into Doucier Cancer’s throat.  The impact of the head hitting the table causes his water to nearly tip over, the sound of his coffee cup clinks against the table.  The Douchier Brian begins grimacing in pain as the Douchier Cancer’s eyes grow as wide as globes in surprise.::::

 

DOUCHIER BRIAN:  Aw shit, bro!

 

JATT STARR:  I told you.  You’re mistaken.

 

DOUCHIER CANCER:  Motherfucker!  You know who your messin’ with?

 

JATT STARR:  I’m a civil guy.  I like to be reasonable.  I don’t necessarily want to hurt people, it’s just that I’m pretty good at it, and sometimes, stuff needs to get done.  So, here’s a choice, you two little ninnyhammers can go back to your table and leave me and Avery or whatever you think her name is alone.  Or, I call my friends John, Steve, and THE DOOOOOZE.  John and I will beat your irrelevant ass until you and the Elephant Man become twins, The Dooze will do whatever it is the Dooze does, and Steve?  Well, Steve will find your mothers and beat the crap out of them because he is one screwed up dude.  I don’t condone it, but he is who he is.  I think he’s got that PMSD.  So, I ask you, “bro”, does it really look like I give a rat’s rectum who you are? 

 

DOUCHIER BRIAN:  No.

 

JATT STARR:  Do you wanna know why?  Because you’re nobodys.  Now, repeat after me “She is not in porn, I am mistaken”.

 

DOUCHIER BRIAN:  She is not in porn, I am mistaken.

 

JATT STARR:  You too, Giles.

 

DOUCHIER CANCER:   Who—?

 

JATT STARR:  Don’t make me do this.

 

DOUCHIER CANCER:  She’s not in porn and we’ll leave her the fuck alone, okay???

 

JATT STARR:  Very good, now get the hell out of my booth.

 

::::The Douchier Brian Hollywood can’t get out of the booth fast enough as he falls out onto the floor nearly tripping Megan who is coming back with a tray of food.  As the Douchier Brian Hollywood scrambles back to his table, the Douchier Cancer Giles, his eyes obscured by the sunglasses, just stares at Jatt Starr.::::

 

JATT STARR:  Oh, by the way, do either one of you know an Elsa Bannister?

 

::::The Douchier Cancer Giles flips off Jatt Starr and returns to his seat as Megan places the plate of cheese fries with a small bowl of brown gravy in front of the Baron of Boca Jatton and the cheeseburger across from him.:::

 

JATT STARR:  That was uncalled for.

 

MEGAN:  Thank you.  Milos was thinking about kicking you out, but those fuckers are shitty tippers.

 

::::Megan gives Jatt a wink before leaving as he removes the paper encasing the straw and puts into his soda.  He dips a rather cheesy fry into the gravy and puts into his mouth.  Holly returns to the booth.::::

 

HOLLY:  No offense, but I think I’ll move to another booth.

 

JATT STARR:  Cool.  Whatever.  I’ll keep those ass-turds in check.

 

::::Holly rolls her eyes.  For a moment, Jatt Starr feels the need to ask Holly about her past.  The idea begins to fester in his mind.  He knows that if he does not ask her, it will just continue to plague his mind.  However, asking the question will likely just embarrass her or worse.   He opens his mouth and brings up a finger.:::

 

HOLLY:  What?  What is it?

 

JATT STARR:   Nothing.  Forget it.  It’s not important. 

 

HOLLY:  Jesus.  It’s either assholes or freaks.  Everywhere I go….

 

:::Holly moves her plate to the next booth over and then grabs her overcoat and water and moves them to her new table.  Jatt Starr pulls out his phone and starts looking through his newsfeed as the scene comes to an end.:::