Pure Catharsis
Pure Catharsis | |
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Date of Cutscene: | 15 May 2022 |
Location: | Luchadores NYC, South Street, Manhattan |
Synopsis: | Ezekiel Sims gets to do what so many of us have always wanted to do. |
Cast of Characters: | Ezekiel Sims |
The young executive slams the counter with a palm. "I asked for no salt! No salt!"
The cashier clasps her hands, her eyes wide. The man continues. "There are /huge grains/ of salt on this margarita! I have high blood pressure! I should sue you!" Heads turn to watch the commotion in Luchadores, a treasure of the Financial District serving fast-casual Mexican cuisine. The man in the business suit rages on. "You have no idea what you're doing, do you? Do you belong here? Do you even speak English??"
"Ahem," the silver-haired man behind him enunciates, with no pretense whatsoever of clearing his throat. The disgruntled customer spins around, sneering. "Oh, what, you want to be..." And then he sees who it is, and the blood drains from his face.
Ezekiel Sims, dressed in a crisp suit, stands patiently in line for his favorite lunch. The young executive starts. "Mr. Sims," he explains, jabbing a thumb at the cashier. "I was just having a..."
"You were having a racist meltdown on a service worker." He looks at the man's ID badge, his lips curling. "While your boss stood right behind you." Ezekiel simmers. "Mr. Plackett, I appreciate that you've cut out the social media middleman, but I won't brook this behavior from a representative of my company. Give me your badge."
Plackett glances down at the WebCorps ID clipped to his lapel. "Mr. Sims, please," he reasons. But Ezekiel cuts him off. "You are terminated, effective immediately. Your things will be shipped to the address we have on file. Now, Plackett," he presents, in the manner of a salesman, "on the back of your badge, it says, 'property of Sims Holding International." He leans in, menacing. "What is my name?"
Mr. Plackett regards Ezekiel with a morose expression, then slowly unclips the badge, and hands it over. Ezekiel Sims regards the man with a stoney face as he turns to flee the restaurant, and then pockets the ID badge as the door clicks shut behind him. Ezekiel approaches the counter.
"Hi, Katie," he reassures. "Some peoples' kids, huh?"
Katie laughs, shrugging. "Honestly, Mr. Sims," she confides, "it's pretty normal." She presses a button on her register. "You want the usual?"
"Yes," he replies, taking out his billfold and gilding the tip jar. "Please."