Post by Dionysus on Nov 21, 2022 21:51:58 GMT -5
The scene opens with a view inside a high society banquet hall. Wait staff are scurrying around the floor, bringing around drinks and dishes while bus boys return dirty plates. The atmosphere is jovial, if a bit stuffy from the type of people residing in this hall. From the outside, the large figure of Dionysus looks in, seeing many people he has spoken to regarding his own philanthropies. He shook his head, chuckling at the irony as he crossed the street, where a soup kitchen's door was wide open, allowing all in need to find relief. If only those high society types knew where he was choosing to spend his day instead of having a fancy dinner with the fancy elite.
"Hello all," Dionysus projected as he walked in. The kitchen was busier than normal, as expected during the holiday week, so more heads turned to look over at Dionysus as he made his way to the kitchens, some stopping to shake his hand, others giving a polite nod and returning to their meal. The space was divided up as evenly as possible, given the limited space; the front area by the door was for seating, the middle was the line to get your food, and the back housed both the kitchen and private rooms, including one office. Primarily, these rooms were used for various meetings and interviews and to help those in need get back on their feet.
Dionysus hung his jacket on a peg board behind the kitchen door, waving to the coordinator and grabbing an apron. As he tied it around his waist, he took stock of the other people serving on the line; many of them were fresh faces, eager to lend a helping hand, but he took special note of Leslie handing out dinner rolls and silverware. She was a nice lady, old enough to be his own mother, and always had a kind thing to say, even when those that were disgruntled would try to worm more out of the kitchen's generosity. "Good morning, Leslie; how are the lines looking today?" Dionysus asked, taking in the aroma of the large vats of soup before him.
"Busy as always, D," Leslie replied warmly. She handed the person in front of her a roll and a spoon before wiping her hands on her apron, then turned to face Dionysus. "We have these lovely kids from the college up the street helpin' us out today, along with some fellas from the Knights of Columbus from the church off Grand making the chili. We have Chicken Noodle in this vat," she paused, pointing to the vat closest to her, "and in the other is Beef and Vegetable. Both my own recipies, if you can believe it!" she beamed.
Dionysus chuckled. "I can believe it; these soups smell divine. I still need to get the recipe from you when you-OUCH!" he exclaimed, being interrupted by Leslie's swat from a wooden spoon. It was not intended to hurt so much as it was to get his attention.
Leslie shook the spoon in Dionysus's face. "Now D," she instructed, "you know as well as I do that I keep these recipes a secret from everyone. They start it, I finish it with my own mix-ins. If they don't get to know," she stopped again to point the spoon at the cooks, "then neither do you," she finished, pointing the spoon at Dinoysus's chest. While her tone was serious, her cheeky smile was playful. She took pride in her volunteer work, and offering up her own recipes instead of ordering large containers of pre-made soup showed just how much she cared for the community.
Dionysus nodded, stirring the chicken noodle soup with one of the extra ladles hanging from the edge of the counter. "Oh I know, but hey, you can't fault me for trying, right?" he playfully retorted, as he started to sling soup with the rest of the line. While he would have spoken more, he noticed the line had moved beyond the front window. He would need to pour fast, and with great focus. An hour had passed in that time, each person pulling their weight to cater to everyone that came in. The college volunteers helped out with children primarily, while Leslie helped with the elderly and would step away on occasion to help them into their seats. Dionysus filled bowls as quickly as people would arrive, making sure each person had a warm meal in their bellies by the time they reached their seat. The cooks were diligent in preparing the next batch of soups.
Once the line died down, Dionysus took a step back to wipe his brow. Although this was not the hardest work he had ever done, the warmth of the vats, as well as the heat from the kitchen, caused him to work up a sweat. Leslie was seating an elderly man near the vats and was on her way back, stretching her back as she walked. “Hoo boy, that was a rush,” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together and rubbing them vigorously. “Glad things are dying down now, right D?”
“There’s truth in that,” Dionysus replied, washing his hands in a nearby sink. He shook them dry as best he could before finding a clean towel to finish the job, then turned to face Leslie. “So, what are your plans for Thanksgiving?”
“Well,” Leslie thought for a moment, “the cul-de-sac usually gets together for a big desert potluck. I’m makin’ all kinds of pie at home: apple, pumpkin, rhubarb, blueberry…I think there’s more than that, but those for sure.”
“Any family going to be joining you?”
Leslie’s bright expression became muted as she looked away from Dionysus, toward the counter they were working at. “Well…the family situation is still rough this time of year. They just don’t take the time to invite me anymore…”
Dionysus frowned; here was a lovely woman with a warm heart, and her family would leave her high and dry on Thanksgiving? He wouldn’t have it. “Well, I was planning on working here the morning of Thanksgiving. If you are also going to be here…why not join my family? Its plenty small and your company would be a breath of fresh air.”
Leslie looked up, astonished. “You mean it? B-but we hardly know each other; how-”
Dionysus held a hand up to stop her. “Think nothing of it. You are a wonderful person and deserve to be with people who want you around. If I can help bring warmth to your holiday, then it would be my pleasure.”
Dionysus placed his hand on Leslie’s shoulder, feeling her shake as she began to weep. She reached up her own hand to touch his, squeezing it gently. She looked into Dionysus’s eyes.“I…I don’t know what to say. You are a saint, D.”
Dionysus laughed, giving her a friendly hug and replying, “If I’m a saint, then you are the Mother Theresa!” The two friends laughed as they continued on their work for the day.
—-----------------
The scene transitioned to a dining table, complete with all the traditional plates you would find on a Thanksgiving table: mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, rolls, stuffing, and corn on the cob created a tapestry of taste. Sitting prominently at the head of the table was a large turkey, with Dionysus sitting behind it. While the table itself could seat eight people, he was sitting here alone, the only other people with him being a camera crew. “Greetings to you all,” Dionysus began. “You are no doubt aware of who I am, but if this is the first time you have seen me, my name is Dionysus. I wanted to take just a moment of your time away from the glitz and glamor of this World Series of Wrestling competition to talk about the importance of the holiday coming up; Thanksgiving.”
Dionysus stood up, smoothing out his suit as he did so, to retrieve a carving knife for the turkey. “As you know, many of us use this holiday to reflect on what we are truly thankful for in our lives. For some, it is our health; for others, family. Heck, there may even be people who are thankful for that one good or bad play call when football is playing,” Dionysus chuckled, his hands busy sharpening the carving knife. “We all have many reasons to be thankful, and can certainly spend more than one day being grateful for those reasons. But I also know that this can be a difficult holiday for many. Those who do not have a place to celebrate. Those who have been cast out by those they thought loved them. Those who go without, day after day, trying to simply survive what life throws at them.”
Dionysus returned to the table, the carving knife sharpened and ready to go. He retrieved a fork off the serving tray and began to carve. “That is why, for myself, one of the things I am most thankful for is community. There is strength in numbers, and a community can be as strong as we all make it to be. A strong community has people you can rely on. It can be family, it can be friends, it can be co-workers, neighbors, hell, it could even be some random strangers you meet on the bus or train. Anyone who you can rely on as a support network is also worthy of being thankful for. Communities help bring each other up, allow for all of us to participate in discourse to help find out who has the greatest need among us all, and what we can do to come together in aid. They can also come together to help educate and expand our world view.”
Dionysus continued to carve into the turkey, removing slices as he did so. “You see, my father was not around to teach me how he carved his own turkey. I had to learn how to do this on my own at first. It wasn’t until my oldest friend and father figure, Benjamin, saw that I was struggling one Thanksgiving and gave me a quick lesson on the spot. I kept that kindness in the back of my mind, and to this day, I offer a helping hand in my own community. I have helped many people with different things; paying it forward at the coffee shop, helping find a lost pet, chasing down a tire that fell off and rolled away. That was a weird one. I even volunteer my time, when I get the time, to aiding those in the most need. Those without homes, those suffering from addiction, those needing to be talked down lest they take their own lives. I don’t mean to say these things to brag; doing good is its own reward, after all. Rather, I’d like for all of us to look at the state of our communities and see where we can best help those in need.”
Dionysus set the carving knife down as crew members started pulling away the dishes and chairs, eventually getting to the dining room table itself. Dionysus watched as he wiped his hands clean with a towel before setting it aside on one of the plates. “But of course, Thanksgiving also heralds the holiday shopping season, with Black Friday being infamous for trampling into big box stores to fight over five televisions and one microwave oven that you already have. That is why I tend to avoid shopping on those days, instead choosing to further reflect on the things I am most thankful for.” Dionysus adjusted his suit coat. “That being said, what if I told you that there could easily be a way for any of you to get your hands on a one-of-a-kind vehicle?”
At the clap of Dionysus’s hands, the floor where the dining table once sat started to slide open. As the opening grew wider, a second whirring could be heard, as a gloriously blue and purple hued sports utility vehicle rose from the ground. Several spotlights illuminated the vehicle, as the platform finally shuttered to a stop. “Viewers everywhere, I present to you, The Kayfabe Axtgriff. The first, and presumably only, of its kind. All-wheel drive, power steering, two sets of headlights, towing capability in the front and the back, and just look at this fantastic color. Come, lets look at the inside,” he invited, waving the cameraman to get in closer. Dionysus opened both the driver’s side doors, each one swinging open toward the front and back, respectively. “The interior has plenty of leg room for both the driver and passengers, and each passenger seat is equipped with its own air vent control. You can even turn it off if you’re getting too hot or too cold. And my favorite part…” Dionysus climbed into the driver’s back seat, grabbing a lever on the side of the chair and sliding to the bed of the vehicle. “Outdoor seating. There’s a panel attachment underneath if you want to block out the back entirely. I would show you, but…well, I only have a limited amount of time in this vehicle.” Dionysus pointed toward the front. “The front seats also swivel around, so you can turn the Axtgriff into a little lounge area. And if memory serves…” He slid the seat back to its position, then moved to the driver’s seat. He pressed a button in the middle, and a door slid open, revealing a James Bond-esque wine bottle cooler. “Handy if you want to keep your beverages cold. Don’t drink and drive, of course, but there’s enough room in here for at most a six pack.”
Dionysus stepped out of the vehicle, closing both doors and leaning against the side. “I’m not going to lie to you. This is a wonderful car. Great gas mileage, hybrid electric on top of that, and you can have it made up however you want. Sure, this is the final product, but it isn’t as though the body can’t be changed, right?” Dionysus leaned into the camera. “A car like this would make it much easier for me to commute around. I can go on and on about the many different reasons why I deserve to win such a vehicle. That being said…I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Come closer.” The camera zooms in closer, as Dionysus cups one hand toward the lens.
“I don’t want to win this for myself.”
The camera panned back, and Dionysus chuckled. “I know, a car that has everything I could ever want, and I DON’T want it for myself? How foolish could I be? This is a once-in-a-lifetime vehicle!” Dionysus shook his head, standing up properly while placing a hand on the hood of the car. “Well to start, I already own a car that does what I need it to do. Plus, as much as I like this car…what I propose might be more enticing to everyone. So this message goes out to everyone. Yes, even you, World Series of Wrestling participants. My intention with this vehicle, should I be the one to win it…is to place it up for auction.”
Dionysus nodded, grinning from ear to ear. “Surprising, isn’t it? But don’t fret; it isn’t as though you all won’t have a part to play in this auction. I would ask every participant to sign on the hood of the car, as well as on a commemorative photo with all of us around the vehicle. The intent? To donate all proceeds to Feeding America, an organization I have worked with in the past to provide food, shelter, and warmth during the most difficult time of the year for the downtrodden. I am sure there is someone out there that could either really use this vehicle or simply wants to hold onto an iconic artifact from the first ever World Series of Wrestling. This is the kind of good that we can do together, to not only bring joy to a lucky individual for the vehicle, but also to provide for those in the greatest need.” Dionysus clapped his hands. “So, fellow challengers, that is my request to you. Let us unite together so that this holiday season, people can be thankful for the World Series of Wrestling.”
With a nod and a polite bow, Dionysus said, “Habere felix gratiarum actio. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving,” as the screen fades to black.
"Hello all," Dionysus projected as he walked in. The kitchen was busier than normal, as expected during the holiday week, so more heads turned to look over at Dionysus as he made his way to the kitchens, some stopping to shake his hand, others giving a polite nod and returning to their meal. The space was divided up as evenly as possible, given the limited space; the front area by the door was for seating, the middle was the line to get your food, and the back housed both the kitchen and private rooms, including one office. Primarily, these rooms were used for various meetings and interviews and to help those in need get back on their feet.
Dionysus hung his jacket on a peg board behind the kitchen door, waving to the coordinator and grabbing an apron. As he tied it around his waist, he took stock of the other people serving on the line; many of them were fresh faces, eager to lend a helping hand, but he took special note of Leslie handing out dinner rolls and silverware. She was a nice lady, old enough to be his own mother, and always had a kind thing to say, even when those that were disgruntled would try to worm more out of the kitchen's generosity. "Good morning, Leslie; how are the lines looking today?" Dionysus asked, taking in the aroma of the large vats of soup before him.
"Busy as always, D," Leslie replied warmly. She handed the person in front of her a roll and a spoon before wiping her hands on her apron, then turned to face Dionysus. "We have these lovely kids from the college up the street helpin' us out today, along with some fellas from the Knights of Columbus from the church off Grand making the chili. We have Chicken Noodle in this vat," she paused, pointing to the vat closest to her, "and in the other is Beef and Vegetable. Both my own recipies, if you can believe it!" she beamed.
Dionysus chuckled. "I can believe it; these soups smell divine. I still need to get the recipe from you when you-OUCH!" he exclaimed, being interrupted by Leslie's swat from a wooden spoon. It was not intended to hurt so much as it was to get his attention.
Leslie shook the spoon in Dionysus's face. "Now D," she instructed, "you know as well as I do that I keep these recipes a secret from everyone. They start it, I finish it with my own mix-ins. If they don't get to know," she stopped again to point the spoon at the cooks, "then neither do you," she finished, pointing the spoon at Dinoysus's chest. While her tone was serious, her cheeky smile was playful. She took pride in her volunteer work, and offering up her own recipes instead of ordering large containers of pre-made soup showed just how much she cared for the community.
Dionysus nodded, stirring the chicken noodle soup with one of the extra ladles hanging from the edge of the counter. "Oh I know, but hey, you can't fault me for trying, right?" he playfully retorted, as he started to sling soup with the rest of the line. While he would have spoken more, he noticed the line had moved beyond the front window. He would need to pour fast, and with great focus. An hour had passed in that time, each person pulling their weight to cater to everyone that came in. The college volunteers helped out with children primarily, while Leslie helped with the elderly and would step away on occasion to help them into their seats. Dionysus filled bowls as quickly as people would arrive, making sure each person had a warm meal in their bellies by the time they reached their seat. The cooks were diligent in preparing the next batch of soups.
Once the line died down, Dionysus took a step back to wipe his brow. Although this was not the hardest work he had ever done, the warmth of the vats, as well as the heat from the kitchen, caused him to work up a sweat. Leslie was seating an elderly man near the vats and was on her way back, stretching her back as she walked. “Hoo boy, that was a rush,” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together and rubbing them vigorously. “Glad things are dying down now, right D?”
“There’s truth in that,” Dionysus replied, washing his hands in a nearby sink. He shook them dry as best he could before finding a clean towel to finish the job, then turned to face Leslie. “So, what are your plans for Thanksgiving?”
“Well,” Leslie thought for a moment, “the cul-de-sac usually gets together for a big desert potluck. I’m makin’ all kinds of pie at home: apple, pumpkin, rhubarb, blueberry…I think there’s more than that, but those for sure.”
“Any family going to be joining you?”
Leslie’s bright expression became muted as she looked away from Dionysus, toward the counter they were working at. “Well…the family situation is still rough this time of year. They just don’t take the time to invite me anymore…”
Dionysus frowned; here was a lovely woman with a warm heart, and her family would leave her high and dry on Thanksgiving? He wouldn’t have it. “Well, I was planning on working here the morning of Thanksgiving. If you are also going to be here…why not join my family? Its plenty small and your company would be a breath of fresh air.”
Leslie looked up, astonished. “You mean it? B-but we hardly know each other; how-”
Dionysus held a hand up to stop her. “Think nothing of it. You are a wonderful person and deserve to be with people who want you around. If I can help bring warmth to your holiday, then it would be my pleasure.”
Dionysus placed his hand on Leslie’s shoulder, feeling her shake as she began to weep. She reached up her own hand to touch his, squeezing it gently. She looked into Dionysus’s eyes.“I…I don’t know what to say. You are a saint, D.”
Dionysus laughed, giving her a friendly hug and replying, “If I’m a saint, then you are the Mother Theresa!” The two friends laughed as they continued on their work for the day.
—-----------------
The scene transitioned to a dining table, complete with all the traditional plates you would find on a Thanksgiving table: mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, rolls, stuffing, and corn on the cob created a tapestry of taste. Sitting prominently at the head of the table was a large turkey, with Dionysus sitting behind it. While the table itself could seat eight people, he was sitting here alone, the only other people with him being a camera crew. “Greetings to you all,” Dionysus began. “You are no doubt aware of who I am, but if this is the first time you have seen me, my name is Dionysus. I wanted to take just a moment of your time away from the glitz and glamor of this World Series of Wrestling competition to talk about the importance of the holiday coming up; Thanksgiving.”
Dionysus stood up, smoothing out his suit as he did so, to retrieve a carving knife for the turkey. “As you know, many of us use this holiday to reflect on what we are truly thankful for in our lives. For some, it is our health; for others, family. Heck, there may even be people who are thankful for that one good or bad play call when football is playing,” Dionysus chuckled, his hands busy sharpening the carving knife. “We all have many reasons to be thankful, and can certainly spend more than one day being grateful for those reasons. But I also know that this can be a difficult holiday for many. Those who do not have a place to celebrate. Those who have been cast out by those they thought loved them. Those who go without, day after day, trying to simply survive what life throws at them.”
Dionysus returned to the table, the carving knife sharpened and ready to go. He retrieved a fork off the serving tray and began to carve. “That is why, for myself, one of the things I am most thankful for is community. There is strength in numbers, and a community can be as strong as we all make it to be. A strong community has people you can rely on. It can be family, it can be friends, it can be co-workers, neighbors, hell, it could even be some random strangers you meet on the bus or train. Anyone who you can rely on as a support network is also worthy of being thankful for. Communities help bring each other up, allow for all of us to participate in discourse to help find out who has the greatest need among us all, and what we can do to come together in aid. They can also come together to help educate and expand our world view.”
Dionysus continued to carve into the turkey, removing slices as he did so. “You see, my father was not around to teach me how he carved his own turkey. I had to learn how to do this on my own at first. It wasn’t until my oldest friend and father figure, Benjamin, saw that I was struggling one Thanksgiving and gave me a quick lesson on the spot. I kept that kindness in the back of my mind, and to this day, I offer a helping hand in my own community. I have helped many people with different things; paying it forward at the coffee shop, helping find a lost pet, chasing down a tire that fell off and rolled away. That was a weird one. I even volunteer my time, when I get the time, to aiding those in the most need. Those without homes, those suffering from addiction, those needing to be talked down lest they take their own lives. I don’t mean to say these things to brag; doing good is its own reward, after all. Rather, I’d like for all of us to look at the state of our communities and see where we can best help those in need.”
Dionysus set the carving knife down as crew members started pulling away the dishes and chairs, eventually getting to the dining room table itself. Dionysus watched as he wiped his hands clean with a towel before setting it aside on one of the plates. “But of course, Thanksgiving also heralds the holiday shopping season, with Black Friday being infamous for trampling into big box stores to fight over five televisions and one microwave oven that you already have. That is why I tend to avoid shopping on those days, instead choosing to further reflect on the things I am most thankful for.” Dionysus adjusted his suit coat. “That being said, what if I told you that there could easily be a way for any of you to get your hands on a one-of-a-kind vehicle?”
At the clap of Dionysus’s hands, the floor where the dining table once sat started to slide open. As the opening grew wider, a second whirring could be heard, as a gloriously blue and purple hued sports utility vehicle rose from the ground. Several spotlights illuminated the vehicle, as the platform finally shuttered to a stop. “Viewers everywhere, I present to you, The Kayfabe Axtgriff. The first, and presumably only, of its kind. All-wheel drive, power steering, two sets of headlights, towing capability in the front and the back, and just look at this fantastic color. Come, lets look at the inside,” he invited, waving the cameraman to get in closer. Dionysus opened both the driver’s side doors, each one swinging open toward the front and back, respectively. “The interior has plenty of leg room for both the driver and passengers, and each passenger seat is equipped with its own air vent control. You can even turn it off if you’re getting too hot or too cold. And my favorite part…” Dionysus climbed into the driver’s back seat, grabbing a lever on the side of the chair and sliding to the bed of the vehicle. “Outdoor seating. There’s a panel attachment underneath if you want to block out the back entirely. I would show you, but…well, I only have a limited amount of time in this vehicle.” Dionysus pointed toward the front. “The front seats also swivel around, so you can turn the Axtgriff into a little lounge area. And if memory serves…” He slid the seat back to its position, then moved to the driver’s seat. He pressed a button in the middle, and a door slid open, revealing a James Bond-esque wine bottle cooler. “Handy if you want to keep your beverages cold. Don’t drink and drive, of course, but there’s enough room in here for at most a six pack.”
Dionysus stepped out of the vehicle, closing both doors and leaning against the side. “I’m not going to lie to you. This is a wonderful car. Great gas mileage, hybrid electric on top of that, and you can have it made up however you want. Sure, this is the final product, but it isn’t as though the body can’t be changed, right?” Dionysus leaned into the camera. “A car like this would make it much easier for me to commute around. I can go on and on about the many different reasons why I deserve to win such a vehicle. That being said…I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Come closer.” The camera zooms in closer, as Dionysus cups one hand toward the lens.
“I don’t want to win this for myself.”
The camera panned back, and Dionysus chuckled. “I know, a car that has everything I could ever want, and I DON’T want it for myself? How foolish could I be? This is a once-in-a-lifetime vehicle!” Dionysus shook his head, standing up properly while placing a hand on the hood of the car. “Well to start, I already own a car that does what I need it to do. Plus, as much as I like this car…what I propose might be more enticing to everyone. So this message goes out to everyone. Yes, even you, World Series of Wrestling participants. My intention with this vehicle, should I be the one to win it…is to place it up for auction.”
Dionysus nodded, grinning from ear to ear. “Surprising, isn’t it? But don’t fret; it isn’t as though you all won’t have a part to play in this auction. I would ask every participant to sign on the hood of the car, as well as on a commemorative photo with all of us around the vehicle. The intent? To donate all proceeds to Feeding America, an organization I have worked with in the past to provide food, shelter, and warmth during the most difficult time of the year for the downtrodden. I am sure there is someone out there that could either really use this vehicle or simply wants to hold onto an iconic artifact from the first ever World Series of Wrestling. This is the kind of good that we can do together, to not only bring joy to a lucky individual for the vehicle, but also to provide for those in the greatest need.” Dionysus clapped his hands. “So, fellow challengers, that is my request to you. Let us unite together so that this holiday season, people can be thankful for the World Series of Wrestling.”
With a nod and a polite bow, Dionysus said, “Habere felix gratiarum actio. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving,” as the screen fades to black.