Post by Jonny Fly on Jan 20, 2013 14:30:42 GMT -5
Jonny Fly lies on his stomach eating the pavement of a random Philadelphia alley. Well, not literally eating it because he’s currently passed out. It’s 3:32 AM the morning after (during?) Jay Price’s birthday party/extravaganza/city-wide drunken festival. A figure approaches in the distance walking toward us, and Fly. Sunlight hasn’t yet broken so all we’re left with to identify this shadowy figure is his voice. The person looks down at Fly and says…
What a little bitch.
It’s Corey Black. Black takes his foot and kicks Fly in the shoulder, trying to get him to wake up. Fly remains unmoving.
Black: You better not be dead. We have a match on Sunday.
Black kicks Fly again, this time quite a bit harder. Fly does nothing. Black draws in a deep sigh and leans down and grabs one of Fly’s arms and drags him toward the side of the alley, propping him up onto a building. The WCF Hall of Famer proceeds to smack Fly as hard as he can across the face. Fly wakes up.
Fly: What the fuck, asshole. I was napping.
Black: You were napping in the street?
Fly: I don’t know, was I?
Black: Yes. I’ve been looking for you for two hours.
Fly: Oh. Surprise!
Black: Surprise, what?
Fly: You found me.
Black: Jesus christ, are you still fucked up?
Fly: No. Yes. Wait, hold up a couple of fingers and I’ll let you know.
Black holds up one finger, his middle finger.
Fly: I see two fingers. They look angry.
Black: Aww, hell. Come on, get up. Let’s get you back to Price’s to sleep this off.
Fly: Sleep is for bitches. I’m Jonny Fly! I just need another drink and I’ll be back in the game.
Black: Hanging out with Jay Price hasn’t done you any good, Fly. You wander away from the party and two hours later I find you sleeping in the alley looking like you just got hit by a train. You’re not even wearing pants!
Fly: OH. Now it’s coming back to me. I left the party with a girl.
Black: Does she sleep in a box in this alley?
Fly: I don’t remember. I do remember she had a face…and tits. Big ones.
Black: A face and tits? I guess that rules out trannies.
Fly: OR DOES IT?
Black: …
Fly: Just kidding. I only know that because those are the two things I remember fucking.
Black: You don’t remember anything else?
Fly: My back hurts so chances are I was on bottom…on the street here.
Black: No, I’m talking about the entire night. What else do you remember?
Fly: Okay, I remember Price called his West Philly friends and we had that block party. I remember we were all singing the Fresh Prince theme song. Then Wayne Newton showed up, tried to perform, and instead I organized his murder. Then….oh shit.
Black: What?
Fly: I murdered Wayne Newton.
Black: No you didn’t. When I left he was hitting on some twenty year old.
Fly: Oh. Damn. Should have slept with her instead. Anyway, for the life of me, I have no idea how I got here or what happened during that party. Where is Price at?
Black: Partying.
Fly: Good for him. Let’s go catch up.
Black: No. You need to take it easy. You blacked out in an alley, man. We have a match in a couple of days. You need to get your head on straight.
Fly: Who are we facing?
Black: You say that like you’re not the person who books the cards.
Fly: Yep. Who are we facing?
Black: Odin Balfore and Benjamin Atreyu, the tag-team champions.
Fly: Never heard of them. Let’s go drink.
Black: Fine! Sheesh.
Black helps Fly to his feet and the two begin walking away down the alley, slowly, since Fly is unable to walk in a straight line at this point.
[Scene Ends]
[Scene Begins]
The Jay Price birthday celebration hasn’t ended yet. In the middle of the block party some ridiculously smart individual decided it would be a good idea to set up one of those inflatable gladiator jousting games. Upon seeing such a beautiful thing Jonny Fly decided to challenge Corey Black to a duel. So, now standing on adjacent stages just out of reach of one another are Jonny Fly and Corey Black surrounded by about a thousand cheering Philadelphians. The point of this game is for two competitors to try to knock each other off their podium with the padded sticks, all the while trying to keep their balance on the podium as it sways on top of the inflatable surface. It’s like fighting on a waterbed. Or having sex on a waterbed, same concept. Of course, Jonny Fly is fucked up right now and he can barely stand without being hit.
Black: You seriously want to do this Fly? I’m about to embarrass you in front of all of these people.
Fly: I don’t lose at anything, ever! Bring it on Viking man.
Somewhere a bell rings signaling the beginning of the battle. Fly fakes like he’s going to swing, but doesn’t. Black doesn’t even flinch.
Fly: That scared you didn’t it?
Black shakes his head no and then swings his stick. BAM! Fly gets destroyed in the side of the head and falls helplessly off of his podium to the ground. Black smiles and panders to the cheering crowd just a bit before jumping off his podium to help Fly back up.
Black: Looks like I win, jobber.
Fly: What just happened? Did someone push me?
Black: No, I knocked you off.
Fly: What? I didn’t even see you swing. I want a rematch!
Black: No.
Fly: Then I demand to be declared winner.
Black: No.
Fly: I hate you so much right now.
Fly tries to get up onto his feet in jest, but waterbed like motions from the inflatable surface cause his drunk ass to fall back down.
Fly: I think I just hurt my pelvis. Now I can’t wrestle this week.
Black: The only thing hurt is your ego. Get up.
Fly: Okay, but I’m not happy about this.
Black helps Fly off of the gladiator inflatable, but something catches Fly’s eye in the distance. He bolts, running through the crowd of people away from Black. Black chases after him catching up as Fly stops underneath a tree.
Fly: Steven!
That’s right; Steven Seagull is in the tree. He’s partying with the rest of Philadelphia. Corey Black is beside himself.
Black: I thought I killed that damn bird!
Fly scoffs at such a thing.
Fly: You can’t kill Steven Seagull, Black. Look at the pony tail. It’s so damn glorious. Speaking of which, do you know who Steven Seagull looks a lot like? Wayne Newton.
Black: Fly…wait…you might be on to something there. Holy shit, they actually do look alike.
Fly: What if this is some elaborate conspiracy against us? What if Newton has disguised himself as Steven Seagull to infiltrate Pantheon and steal all our secrets?!
Black: Uh…
Fly: You think if we give him a cracker he’ll come down and we can interrogate him? Birds like crackers, right?
Black: Fly. Why don’t you just let this one go? I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind to be trying to catch a bird.
Fly: No, no, I have an idea. Come with me.
The scene cuts and now we’re looking at Fly and Black as they’re strapped into harnesses by a very attractive bikini-clad Philadelphia skank. Apparently this party also has a rock climbing wall just randomly positioned in the street, so Jonny Fly has decided that it would be a really good idea if he and Corey Black climb it.
Black: Fly, this is a dumb idea. You’re in no condition to be climbing this.
Fly: Says who? You just don’t want to climb it yourself. You’re probably scared, seeing as Vikings are seafaring people and all. Climbing shit isn’t in your nature.
Black: Okay, fuck it, let’s climb.
Fly: That’s what I thought. The only way we can truly capture Steven Seagull AKA Wayne Newton AKA my biggest rival…
Black: Bigger than Eric Price?
Fly: He’s not a rival. Why would you think that? Hell, I invited him into Pantheon.
Black: YOU INVITED ERIC PRICE INTO PANTHEON?
Fly: …yeah. Like two months ago. How do you not remember this? WE’RE AT HIS PARTY.
Black: No, you drunk ass, that’s Jay Price. Eric Price is the guy who stole our World Title because he was butt hurt about you becoming owner of WCF.
Fly: Oh. Yeah. Fuck that guy. Anyway, like I was saying, to truly capture Steven we need to be like birds. We need to see what they see and do what they do. That’s why we need to climb this wall. We have to get at his level.
Black: *Sigh*
Fly: Let’s climb.
Black: Good luck.
Fly and Black begin to climb the wall. Black scales the nearly 30 foot wall in what is likely the fastest time ever recorded by man…or bird. Fly has made it about three feet.
Black: So, Fly, you coming or what?
Fly: For some reason I kept slipping. Be up there soon.
Black: I wonder why.
Fast forward about 15 minutes. Jonny Fly has just reached the top.
Black: Welcome. Good timing.
Fly: Do you see Steven?
Black: He’s over there in that tree, about one-hundred yards away.
Fly: Did you bring the worms?
Black: No. Obviously. What worms?
Fly: How are we going to get him to come over here without any worms?
Black: He’s a seagull. He likes fish, not worms.
Fly: Oh. Well fuck, we don’t have any fish!
Black: Just have some of the girls down there take out their vaginas.
Fly: No, no, that’s a ridiculous plan, Black.
Black: THAT’S ridiculous? We’re on top of a rock wall in the middle of the black party trying to trick a seagull that looks like Steven Seagal…
Fly: Also Wayne Newton.
Black: …into flying over here so that we can interrogate it about stealing Pantheon secrets. Again, I emphasize, interrogate a fucking seagull.
Fly: I’m glad you recapped for me. It helped me strategize a new plan. Let’s try to talk to Steven with a monotone voice using no emotion whatsoever. I’ve watched his movies, Steven Seagull loves that. You’re up, buddy.
Black: No. I’m done with this shit. I’m climbing back down.
Fly: Don’t leave me!
Black: Fuck you.
Corey Black climbs down the wall, leaving Fly by himself. Fly scowls as he watches Black reach the street below.
Fly: Okay, seriously, new plan. Snatch and grab. I’m going to jump from this rock wall, to that tree next to Steven’s tree, then jump to his tree and grab him. What do you think?
Black: I think you’re an idiot.
Fly: No, no, this plan is going to work. Watch.
Fly stands up onto his feet on top of the rock wall. He takes a few steps backwards and then runs, jumping off the edge of the rock wall in the direction of the closest tree. He doesn’t make it, instead falling nearly thirty feet down onto the road.
20 Minutes Later
Black: Was that worth it?
Fly: I was so close. I almost had him.
Corey Black and Jonny Fly are now sitting on the lawn of one of the block party houses. Partygoers are mingling all around them, music is playing from inside the house, and there appears to be some beer pong taking place on the roof…somehow. We ignore all that and focus on Fly and Black’s conversation.
Black: Close? You were about 90 feet off. How is your arm?
Fly holds up his arm, revealing it heavily bandaged.
Fly: My fingering fingers survived, so all is good.
Black: Wait until the morning when you’re not drunk and can actually feel it. I can’t believe you pulled this shit with a match coming up. Now I’m going to have to carry your ass.
Fly: I’ll be fine.
Black: Like hell you will. Your hand is all busted up.
Fly: …but, dude, it’s me. We just wrestled against Balfore and Atreyu in that Cibernetico match. They weren’t so hot. Who won that match by the way?
Black: All Balfore has to do is sit on that hand and you won’t be able to do anything with it for weeks. It’s fine, I’ll just do Hall of Famer stuff to them and you can sit on the apron and watch a professional work.
Fly: Now hold on a damn minute…
Black: Oh, did that piss you off?
Fly: No, I need a drink. I’m starting to feel pain.
Fly gets up from the lawn and walks into the house behind where he was sitting and reemerges a few seconds later with two solo cups filled with delicious alcohol in his hand. Fly sits back down next to Black.
Black: One of those for me?
Fly: Uh…I mean…no…
Black scowls.
Fly: I mean, yes.
Black snatches one of the drinks from Fly’s hand almost before Fly says yes.
Fly: Now what were you saying again?
Black: I was saying you need to get your act together for Sunday. What are your plans the rest of the week?
Fly: Well I had Price’s party tonight, another party tomorrow, a marketing meeting on some new initiatives I want to start Sunday morning, I have to do some training with Seth Cretary on his new job right before the show, then I…
Black: Alright, enough. Something needs to give. You can’t run the business, wrestle, and party like you’re used to doing. Those things conflict with one another way too much.
Fly: OH. That reminds me. I sold Jonny Fly’s International House of Skanks. That should free up some time, right?
Black: What? Are you serious? Who did you sell it to?
Fly: Uh…don’t remember. It was earlier today.
Black: Wow. I didn’t see that coming. How much did you make?
Fly: I made…a lifetime supply of hot fries. So fuckin’ delicious.
Black: You sold an international chain of strip clubs for a lifetime supply of hot fries. For god sake Fly, you have enough money to purchase your own life time supply of hot fries without needing to trade your business for it.
Fly: I thought it might send a bad message to our fans if the owner of WCF also owns strip clubs. WCF is the only business I need, plus…hot fries. I have all the money I need, who gives a fuck?
Black: You should. You just pissed away well over a hundred million dollars.
Fly: But. Hot Fries. I just don’t want that image anymore. I need to take on a more presidential public face with the exposure that WCF gets. Not the arrogant party boy who hangs out with all his awesome friends, has sex with a lot of skanks, and is an insanely good professional wrestler.
Black: Are you even listening to yourself right. Look around. What are you doing right this second?
Fly: Drinking. Partying. Talking with you.
Black: Doesn’t that seem like a contradiction to what you just said?
Fly: Yeah, you’re right. This is going to be hard for me to do. Damn. Well anyway, I’m never going to give up wrestling. I’m too good at it and I haven’t accomplished all of the things that I want to do. I don’t know why you’re worried about me on Sunday. I’ll be good. Aren’t I always?
Black: I’ve never even seen you drunk, so, I don’t know?
Fly: I could beat Atreyu and Balfore by myself, drunk, with my hands tied behind my back and Seth Cretary as the special guest referee.
Black: Decent point.
Fly: Plus, don’t you remember what item my foolproof victory plan consists of?
Black: Showing up.
Fly: Yep! I just have to show up, which I plan on doing. No sweat! I have decided, however, that I like Odin Balfore now.
Black: The drinks talking, no doubt.
Fly: No. Well, I don’t know. He seems like a nice wholesome guy.
Black: No he doesn’t.
Fly: I mean he made it his mission to revive the tag-team titles from relative purgatory. As the owner of WCF now, that was pretty cool to see.
Black: *Clears throat*
Fly: What?
Black: You dumb fuck, I was the previous tag-team champions.
Fly: Oh, right. Ignore everything I just said. Have I mentioned I’ve been drinking?
Black: Ah, whatever. I just wanted the titles to get them off Doc Henry. I hate that motherfucker. Still, Odin is Odin. He is not a ‘nice wholesome guy.’
Fly: I may have been drunk when I heard this, which is likely, or maybe he was drunk, but I thought I did hear him basically say that beating you and I would cement him and Atreyu as the best tag team in the history of WCF. I would have to agree with that. If any team actually did beat us then they might just be the best tag team ever.
Black: Not if one half of our team is hurt or drunk.
Fly: Man, you’re a real buzzkill tonight.
Black: I’m just saying. You really want to hear Odin Balfore running around for the next six months talking about beating us in a tag team match?
Fly: Yeah, that’s a negative.
Black: Then you better bring the full ‘Jonny Fly experience’ or whatever the hell you call it.
Fly: Corey…
Black: What?
Fly: I’m intrinsically motivated. This isn’t the drinks talking. I’m motivated by the look in the eyes of my opponents when they see me hit the ring. I’m motivated by doing things people say I can’t do or things that seem impossible. I’m motivated by money, endorsements, and female companionship. You know what doesn’t motivate me? Al Pacino speeches.
Black: What does that even mean?
Fly: Motivational speeches. Al Pacino. Any Given Sunday. How do you not understand that reference?
Black: Because I wasn’t giving you a motivational speech, dumbass.
Fly: Oh.
Black: I don’t wrestle in WCF to lose to people like Odin. I don’t even know anything about Benjamin Atreyu but a quick scan through the title history leaves me underwhelmed. Dude lost to Sarah Twilight. Who does that?
Fly: NOT ME.
Black: Balfore wants to bring back the tag-team title division, that’s fine. All the power to him. That doesn’t mean he’s still not going to be my personal on-call jobber.
Fly: FINE. I promise not to like Odin or his tag team title run. By beating him and Atreyu we’ll prove it’s a farce just like Doc and Synn’s. My hand will be fine.
Black: Good. Now next thing I need to know, why isn’t this match for the titles?
Fly: Do you miss the tag-team titles?
Black: Yes.
Fly: Oh. I didn’t know. I didn’t figure booking myself in a title match the first time I wrestled as owner was a good idea. That would set off some alarm bells. I figure we could beat them in a non-title match and prove ourselves against others before we get that opportunity. Part of the platform of my ownership I’ve sold the roster on is that people get only what they deserve. Despite how awesome we are, I don’t think we can sell that we deserve a Tag Titles shot.
Black: Okay, but neither did Balfore and Atreyu when they got their shot.
Fly: Seth Cretary did that. Maybe you shouldn’t have given the belts up like you did?
Black: I thought it was the right move, you know, since they were in ‘purgatory’ and all.
Fly: I SAID I’M SORRY.
Black: Go get me another drink, asshole.
Fly: I was just thinking the same thing.
Fly gets up and walks back into the house. This time he appears carrying three drinks and plops back down on the lawn next to Black. He hands him his drink, downs one of his completely, and then begins to sip on the second one.
Black: Not slowing down, are you?
Fly: I have to stay fresh, my man. I just put our names down for beer pong on the roof.
Black: That’s going to end badly.
Fly: …I mean, yeah, for our opponents!
Black: Speaking of which, can you tell me what Benjamin Atreyu’s deal is?
Fly: He’s alright, I guess. He’s not teaming with Odin by choice, so he has that going for him. Most people who team up with Odin by choice are weak individuals who he’s brainwashed into thinking it’s still 2011. Their tag-team is one of circumstance and convenience. Atreyu is a decent wrestler. Better than Odin.
Black: That’s not hard.
Fly: I’m still waiting for the fallout between these two. Their alliance won’t last forever. Atreyu has called Odin out for his insecurities and Balfore prances around as if he’s the only reason they have gold. That shit is going to blow up sooner or later. Those two don’t mesh. Losing to us will just further the divide between them.
Black: On another note, what is your plan to get the World Title back from Eric Price?
Fly: Take the clock back a year. I’m going to murder someone and frame him for it. I’ve done that before. Ask Seth.
Black: What?
Fly: Nothing.
Black: …
Fly: I guess that’s probably not the best course of action. Price was nothing before WCF, he was nothing for a long time within WCF, and right now after all this he’s not going to be shit without WCF. He’s completely reliant on that title and this company for the publicity and prestige he seeks. He can’t do it without WCF. He’ll either come back with his tail tucked under his ass or he won’t, and I’ll retrieve our title from him using whatever methods I see fit, and carry on as if the motherfucker never existed.
Black: I see.
Fly: Eric Price is garbage. He’s a low-end World Champion who just six months ago was card filler. He’s carrying on like he just didn’t watch me mentally, emotionally, and physically destroy Seth Cretary for the things he did to me. This act he’s pulling, it only ends one way. It’s the same way it ended for many others in this company; complete and utter destruction. I’m a vengeful motherfucker and if I say someone is going to pay for their actions, they better fuckin’ believe it. Eric Price will pay.
Black: Glad to see the alcohol hasn’t caused you to lose your edge.
Fly: Yeah, no more being serious. Let me just say that we’ll be fine on Sunday. Atreyu is just a guy and Balfore is, well, Balfore. When it’s over and done with they can keep their belts and be happy with themselves. Once again, though, people will know that Pantheon not only runs this company, but we’re still the people to beat. Putting on the suit and tie doesn’t change the fact that for the last year nobody out there has even come close to doing what we’ve done as individuals or as a group. Nothing has changed.
Black: Well, Fly, you finally got something right today.
Fly: I think it’s time for some pong buddy. It’s only 5:00 AM. A lot more party left to go.
Black: *Sigh* Alright, let’s do this. Just don’t fall off the roof and hurt your other arm.
Fly: I, uh, I can’t promise that.
With that Fly and Black get up from their seated positions and begin to make their way into the house. The scene begins to fade on one last image, Jay Price, spotted for the first time this evening, with Cameraman Bob having a handle race with one another while being cheered on by over a hundred of Philadelphia finest looking ladies. The scene goes dark just as Price finishes off his handle first to the delight of the masses.
Oh, did I mention he was wearing a banana suit?
[Scene Ends]
What a little bitch.
It’s Corey Black. Black takes his foot and kicks Fly in the shoulder, trying to get him to wake up. Fly remains unmoving.
Black: You better not be dead. We have a match on Sunday.
Black kicks Fly again, this time quite a bit harder. Fly does nothing. Black draws in a deep sigh and leans down and grabs one of Fly’s arms and drags him toward the side of the alley, propping him up onto a building. The WCF Hall of Famer proceeds to smack Fly as hard as he can across the face. Fly wakes up.
Fly: What the fuck, asshole. I was napping.
Black: You were napping in the street?
Fly: I don’t know, was I?
Black: Yes. I’ve been looking for you for two hours.
Fly: Oh. Surprise!
Black: Surprise, what?
Fly: You found me.
Black: Jesus christ, are you still fucked up?
Fly: No. Yes. Wait, hold up a couple of fingers and I’ll let you know.
Black holds up one finger, his middle finger.
Fly: I see two fingers. They look angry.
Black: Aww, hell. Come on, get up. Let’s get you back to Price’s to sleep this off.
Fly: Sleep is for bitches. I’m Jonny Fly! I just need another drink and I’ll be back in the game.
Black: Hanging out with Jay Price hasn’t done you any good, Fly. You wander away from the party and two hours later I find you sleeping in the alley looking like you just got hit by a train. You’re not even wearing pants!
Fly: OH. Now it’s coming back to me. I left the party with a girl.
Black: Does she sleep in a box in this alley?
Fly: I don’t remember. I do remember she had a face…and tits. Big ones.
Black: A face and tits? I guess that rules out trannies.
Fly: OR DOES IT?
Black: …
Fly: Just kidding. I only know that because those are the two things I remember fucking.
Black: You don’t remember anything else?
Fly: My back hurts so chances are I was on bottom…on the street here.
Black: No, I’m talking about the entire night. What else do you remember?
Fly: Okay, I remember Price called his West Philly friends and we had that block party. I remember we were all singing the Fresh Prince theme song. Then Wayne Newton showed up, tried to perform, and instead I organized his murder. Then….oh shit.
Black: What?
Fly: I murdered Wayne Newton.
Black: No you didn’t. When I left he was hitting on some twenty year old.
Fly: Oh. Damn. Should have slept with her instead. Anyway, for the life of me, I have no idea how I got here or what happened during that party. Where is Price at?
Black: Partying.
Fly: Good for him. Let’s go catch up.
Black: No. You need to take it easy. You blacked out in an alley, man. We have a match in a couple of days. You need to get your head on straight.
Fly: Who are we facing?
Black: You say that like you’re not the person who books the cards.
Fly: Yep. Who are we facing?
Black: Odin Balfore and Benjamin Atreyu, the tag-team champions.
Fly: Never heard of them. Let’s go drink.
Black: Fine! Sheesh.
Black helps Fly to his feet and the two begin walking away down the alley, slowly, since Fly is unable to walk in a straight line at this point.
[Scene Ends]
[Scene Begins]
The Jay Price birthday celebration hasn’t ended yet. In the middle of the block party some ridiculously smart individual decided it would be a good idea to set up one of those inflatable gladiator jousting games. Upon seeing such a beautiful thing Jonny Fly decided to challenge Corey Black to a duel. So, now standing on adjacent stages just out of reach of one another are Jonny Fly and Corey Black surrounded by about a thousand cheering Philadelphians. The point of this game is for two competitors to try to knock each other off their podium with the padded sticks, all the while trying to keep their balance on the podium as it sways on top of the inflatable surface. It’s like fighting on a waterbed. Or having sex on a waterbed, same concept. Of course, Jonny Fly is fucked up right now and he can barely stand without being hit.
Black: You seriously want to do this Fly? I’m about to embarrass you in front of all of these people.
Fly: I don’t lose at anything, ever! Bring it on Viking man.
Somewhere a bell rings signaling the beginning of the battle. Fly fakes like he’s going to swing, but doesn’t. Black doesn’t even flinch.
Fly: That scared you didn’t it?
Black shakes his head no and then swings his stick. BAM! Fly gets destroyed in the side of the head and falls helplessly off of his podium to the ground. Black smiles and panders to the cheering crowd just a bit before jumping off his podium to help Fly back up.
Black: Looks like I win, jobber.
Fly: What just happened? Did someone push me?
Black: No, I knocked you off.
Fly: What? I didn’t even see you swing. I want a rematch!
Black: No.
Fly: Then I demand to be declared winner.
Black: No.
Fly: I hate you so much right now.
Fly tries to get up onto his feet in jest, but waterbed like motions from the inflatable surface cause his drunk ass to fall back down.
Fly: I think I just hurt my pelvis. Now I can’t wrestle this week.
Black: The only thing hurt is your ego. Get up.
Fly: Okay, but I’m not happy about this.
Black helps Fly off of the gladiator inflatable, but something catches Fly’s eye in the distance. He bolts, running through the crowd of people away from Black. Black chases after him catching up as Fly stops underneath a tree.
Fly: Steven!
That’s right; Steven Seagull is in the tree. He’s partying with the rest of Philadelphia. Corey Black is beside himself.
Black: I thought I killed that damn bird!
Fly scoffs at such a thing.
Fly: You can’t kill Steven Seagull, Black. Look at the pony tail. It’s so damn glorious. Speaking of which, do you know who Steven Seagull looks a lot like? Wayne Newton.
Black: Fly…wait…you might be on to something there. Holy shit, they actually do look alike.
Fly: What if this is some elaborate conspiracy against us? What if Newton has disguised himself as Steven Seagull to infiltrate Pantheon and steal all our secrets?!
Black: Uh…
Fly: You think if we give him a cracker he’ll come down and we can interrogate him? Birds like crackers, right?
Black: Fly. Why don’t you just let this one go? I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind to be trying to catch a bird.
Fly: No, no, I have an idea. Come with me.
The scene cuts and now we’re looking at Fly and Black as they’re strapped into harnesses by a very attractive bikini-clad Philadelphia skank. Apparently this party also has a rock climbing wall just randomly positioned in the street, so Jonny Fly has decided that it would be a really good idea if he and Corey Black climb it.
Black: Fly, this is a dumb idea. You’re in no condition to be climbing this.
Fly: Says who? You just don’t want to climb it yourself. You’re probably scared, seeing as Vikings are seafaring people and all. Climbing shit isn’t in your nature.
Black: Okay, fuck it, let’s climb.
Fly: That’s what I thought. The only way we can truly capture Steven Seagull AKA Wayne Newton AKA my biggest rival…
Black: Bigger than Eric Price?
Fly: He’s not a rival. Why would you think that? Hell, I invited him into Pantheon.
Black: YOU INVITED ERIC PRICE INTO PANTHEON?
Fly: …yeah. Like two months ago. How do you not remember this? WE’RE AT HIS PARTY.
Black: No, you drunk ass, that’s Jay Price. Eric Price is the guy who stole our World Title because he was butt hurt about you becoming owner of WCF.
Fly: Oh. Yeah. Fuck that guy. Anyway, like I was saying, to truly capture Steven we need to be like birds. We need to see what they see and do what they do. That’s why we need to climb this wall. We have to get at his level.
Black: *Sigh*
Fly: Let’s climb.
Black: Good luck.
Fly and Black begin to climb the wall. Black scales the nearly 30 foot wall in what is likely the fastest time ever recorded by man…or bird. Fly has made it about three feet.
Black: So, Fly, you coming or what?
Fly: For some reason I kept slipping. Be up there soon.
Black: I wonder why.
Fast forward about 15 minutes. Jonny Fly has just reached the top.
Black: Welcome. Good timing.
Fly: Do you see Steven?
Black: He’s over there in that tree, about one-hundred yards away.
Fly: Did you bring the worms?
Black: No. Obviously. What worms?
Fly: How are we going to get him to come over here without any worms?
Black: He’s a seagull. He likes fish, not worms.
Fly: Oh. Well fuck, we don’t have any fish!
Black: Just have some of the girls down there take out their vaginas.
Fly: No, no, that’s a ridiculous plan, Black.
Black: THAT’S ridiculous? We’re on top of a rock wall in the middle of the black party trying to trick a seagull that looks like Steven Seagal…
Fly: Also Wayne Newton.
Black: …into flying over here so that we can interrogate it about stealing Pantheon secrets. Again, I emphasize, interrogate a fucking seagull.
Fly: I’m glad you recapped for me. It helped me strategize a new plan. Let’s try to talk to Steven with a monotone voice using no emotion whatsoever. I’ve watched his movies, Steven Seagull loves that. You’re up, buddy.
Black: No. I’m done with this shit. I’m climbing back down.
Fly: Don’t leave me!
Black: Fuck you.
Corey Black climbs down the wall, leaving Fly by himself. Fly scowls as he watches Black reach the street below.
Fly: Okay, seriously, new plan. Snatch and grab. I’m going to jump from this rock wall, to that tree next to Steven’s tree, then jump to his tree and grab him. What do you think?
Black: I think you’re an idiot.
Fly: No, no, this plan is going to work. Watch.
Fly stands up onto his feet on top of the rock wall. He takes a few steps backwards and then runs, jumping off the edge of the rock wall in the direction of the closest tree. He doesn’t make it, instead falling nearly thirty feet down onto the road.
20 Minutes Later
Black: Was that worth it?
Fly: I was so close. I almost had him.
Corey Black and Jonny Fly are now sitting on the lawn of one of the block party houses. Partygoers are mingling all around them, music is playing from inside the house, and there appears to be some beer pong taking place on the roof…somehow. We ignore all that and focus on Fly and Black’s conversation.
Black: Close? You were about 90 feet off. How is your arm?
Fly holds up his arm, revealing it heavily bandaged.
Fly: My fingering fingers survived, so all is good.
Black: Wait until the morning when you’re not drunk and can actually feel it. I can’t believe you pulled this shit with a match coming up. Now I’m going to have to carry your ass.
Fly: I’ll be fine.
Black: Like hell you will. Your hand is all busted up.
Fly: …but, dude, it’s me. We just wrestled against Balfore and Atreyu in that Cibernetico match. They weren’t so hot. Who won that match by the way?
Black: All Balfore has to do is sit on that hand and you won’t be able to do anything with it for weeks. It’s fine, I’ll just do Hall of Famer stuff to them and you can sit on the apron and watch a professional work.
Fly: Now hold on a damn minute…
Black: Oh, did that piss you off?
Fly: No, I need a drink. I’m starting to feel pain.
Fly gets up from the lawn and walks into the house behind where he was sitting and reemerges a few seconds later with two solo cups filled with delicious alcohol in his hand. Fly sits back down next to Black.
Black: One of those for me?
Fly: Uh…I mean…no…
Black scowls.
Fly: I mean, yes.
Black snatches one of the drinks from Fly’s hand almost before Fly says yes.
Fly: Now what were you saying again?
Black: I was saying you need to get your act together for Sunday. What are your plans the rest of the week?
Fly: Well I had Price’s party tonight, another party tomorrow, a marketing meeting on some new initiatives I want to start Sunday morning, I have to do some training with Seth Cretary on his new job right before the show, then I…
Black: Alright, enough. Something needs to give. You can’t run the business, wrestle, and party like you’re used to doing. Those things conflict with one another way too much.
Fly: OH. That reminds me. I sold Jonny Fly’s International House of Skanks. That should free up some time, right?
Black: What? Are you serious? Who did you sell it to?
Fly: Uh…don’t remember. It was earlier today.
Black: Wow. I didn’t see that coming. How much did you make?
Fly: I made…a lifetime supply of hot fries. So fuckin’ delicious.
Black: You sold an international chain of strip clubs for a lifetime supply of hot fries. For god sake Fly, you have enough money to purchase your own life time supply of hot fries without needing to trade your business for it.
Fly: I thought it might send a bad message to our fans if the owner of WCF also owns strip clubs. WCF is the only business I need, plus…hot fries. I have all the money I need, who gives a fuck?
Black: You should. You just pissed away well over a hundred million dollars.
Fly: But. Hot Fries. I just don’t want that image anymore. I need to take on a more presidential public face with the exposure that WCF gets. Not the arrogant party boy who hangs out with all his awesome friends, has sex with a lot of skanks, and is an insanely good professional wrestler.
Black: Are you even listening to yourself right. Look around. What are you doing right this second?
Fly: Drinking. Partying. Talking with you.
Black: Doesn’t that seem like a contradiction to what you just said?
Fly: Yeah, you’re right. This is going to be hard for me to do. Damn. Well anyway, I’m never going to give up wrestling. I’m too good at it and I haven’t accomplished all of the things that I want to do. I don’t know why you’re worried about me on Sunday. I’ll be good. Aren’t I always?
Black: I’ve never even seen you drunk, so, I don’t know?
Fly: I could beat Atreyu and Balfore by myself, drunk, with my hands tied behind my back and Seth Cretary as the special guest referee.
Black: Decent point.
Fly: Plus, don’t you remember what item my foolproof victory plan consists of?
Black: Showing up.
Fly: Yep! I just have to show up, which I plan on doing. No sweat! I have decided, however, that I like Odin Balfore now.
Black: The drinks talking, no doubt.
Fly: No. Well, I don’t know. He seems like a nice wholesome guy.
Black: No he doesn’t.
Fly: I mean he made it his mission to revive the tag-team titles from relative purgatory. As the owner of WCF now, that was pretty cool to see.
Black: *Clears throat*
Fly: What?
Black: You dumb fuck, I was the previous tag-team champions.
Fly: Oh, right. Ignore everything I just said. Have I mentioned I’ve been drinking?
Black: Ah, whatever. I just wanted the titles to get them off Doc Henry. I hate that motherfucker. Still, Odin is Odin. He is not a ‘nice wholesome guy.’
Fly: I may have been drunk when I heard this, which is likely, or maybe he was drunk, but I thought I did hear him basically say that beating you and I would cement him and Atreyu as the best tag team in the history of WCF. I would have to agree with that. If any team actually did beat us then they might just be the best tag team ever.
Black: Not if one half of our team is hurt or drunk.
Fly: Man, you’re a real buzzkill tonight.
Black: I’m just saying. You really want to hear Odin Balfore running around for the next six months talking about beating us in a tag team match?
Fly: Yeah, that’s a negative.
Black: Then you better bring the full ‘Jonny Fly experience’ or whatever the hell you call it.
Fly: Corey…
Black: What?
Fly: I’m intrinsically motivated. This isn’t the drinks talking. I’m motivated by the look in the eyes of my opponents when they see me hit the ring. I’m motivated by doing things people say I can’t do or things that seem impossible. I’m motivated by money, endorsements, and female companionship. You know what doesn’t motivate me? Al Pacino speeches.
Black: What does that even mean?
Fly: Motivational speeches. Al Pacino. Any Given Sunday. How do you not understand that reference?
Black: Because I wasn’t giving you a motivational speech, dumbass.
Fly: Oh.
Black: I don’t wrestle in WCF to lose to people like Odin. I don’t even know anything about Benjamin Atreyu but a quick scan through the title history leaves me underwhelmed. Dude lost to Sarah Twilight. Who does that?
Fly: NOT ME.
Black: Balfore wants to bring back the tag-team title division, that’s fine. All the power to him. That doesn’t mean he’s still not going to be my personal on-call jobber.
Fly: FINE. I promise not to like Odin or his tag team title run. By beating him and Atreyu we’ll prove it’s a farce just like Doc and Synn’s. My hand will be fine.
Black: Good. Now next thing I need to know, why isn’t this match for the titles?
Fly: Do you miss the tag-team titles?
Black: Yes.
Fly: Oh. I didn’t know. I didn’t figure booking myself in a title match the first time I wrestled as owner was a good idea. That would set off some alarm bells. I figure we could beat them in a non-title match and prove ourselves against others before we get that opportunity. Part of the platform of my ownership I’ve sold the roster on is that people get only what they deserve. Despite how awesome we are, I don’t think we can sell that we deserve a Tag Titles shot.
Black: Okay, but neither did Balfore and Atreyu when they got their shot.
Fly: Seth Cretary did that. Maybe you shouldn’t have given the belts up like you did?
Black: I thought it was the right move, you know, since they were in ‘purgatory’ and all.
Fly: I SAID I’M SORRY.
Black: Go get me another drink, asshole.
Fly: I was just thinking the same thing.
Fly gets up and walks back into the house. This time he appears carrying three drinks and plops back down on the lawn next to Black. He hands him his drink, downs one of his completely, and then begins to sip on the second one.
Black: Not slowing down, are you?
Fly: I have to stay fresh, my man. I just put our names down for beer pong on the roof.
Black: That’s going to end badly.
Fly: …I mean, yeah, for our opponents!
Black: Speaking of which, can you tell me what Benjamin Atreyu’s deal is?
Fly: He’s alright, I guess. He’s not teaming with Odin by choice, so he has that going for him. Most people who team up with Odin by choice are weak individuals who he’s brainwashed into thinking it’s still 2011. Their tag-team is one of circumstance and convenience. Atreyu is a decent wrestler. Better than Odin.
Black: That’s not hard.
Fly: I’m still waiting for the fallout between these two. Their alliance won’t last forever. Atreyu has called Odin out for his insecurities and Balfore prances around as if he’s the only reason they have gold. That shit is going to blow up sooner or later. Those two don’t mesh. Losing to us will just further the divide between them.
Black: On another note, what is your plan to get the World Title back from Eric Price?
Fly: Take the clock back a year. I’m going to murder someone and frame him for it. I’ve done that before. Ask Seth.
Black: What?
Fly: Nothing.
Black: …
Fly: I guess that’s probably not the best course of action. Price was nothing before WCF, he was nothing for a long time within WCF, and right now after all this he’s not going to be shit without WCF. He’s completely reliant on that title and this company for the publicity and prestige he seeks. He can’t do it without WCF. He’ll either come back with his tail tucked under his ass or he won’t, and I’ll retrieve our title from him using whatever methods I see fit, and carry on as if the motherfucker never existed.
Black: I see.
Fly: Eric Price is garbage. He’s a low-end World Champion who just six months ago was card filler. He’s carrying on like he just didn’t watch me mentally, emotionally, and physically destroy Seth Cretary for the things he did to me. This act he’s pulling, it only ends one way. It’s the same way it ended for many others in this company; complete and utter destruction. I’m a vengeful motherfucker and if I say someone is going to pay for their actions, they better fuckin’ believe it. Eric Price will pay.
Black: Glad to see the alcohol hasn’t caused you to lose your edge.
Fly: Yeah, no more being serious. Let me just say that we’ll be fine on Sunday. Atreyu is just a guy and Balfore is, well, Balfore. When it’s over and done with they can keep their belts and be happy with themselves. Once again, though, people will know that Pantheon not only runs this company, but we’re still the people to beat. Putting on the suit and tie doesn’t change the fact that for the last year nobody out there has even come close to doing what we’ve done as individuals or as a group. Nothing has changed.
Black: Well, Fly, you finally got something right today.
Fly: I think it’s time for some pong buddy. It’s only 5:00 AM. A lot more party left to go.
Black: *Sigh* Alright, let’s do this. Just don’t fall off the roof and hurt your other arm.
Fly: I, uh, I can’t promise that.
With that Fly and Black get up from their seated positions and begin to make their way into the house. The scene begins to fade on one last image, Jay Price, spotted for the first time this evening, with Cameraman Bob having a handle race with one another while being cheered on by over a hundred of Philadelphia finest looking ladies. The scene goes dark just as Price finishes off his handle first to the delight of the masses.
Oh, did I mention he was wearing a banana suit?
[Scene Ends]