Post by Jonny Fly on Apr 27, 2014 11:49:52 GMT -5
“How dare you call into question my credentials as a scout. I have served since before you were a lascivious gleam in your father's eye. I achieved every rank and earned every honor the organization offers, including over 153 merit badges. There are no less than 11 pieces of memorabilia in the National Scouting Museum dedicated to my accomplishments. I am a three time winner of the Iowa Scoutmaster of the Year Award. For you to cast aspersions on my right to wear this uniform is ludicrous.”
-“Scoutmaster” Stuart Slane
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The following is a short film, brought to you by Jonny Fly Productions.
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“Scout’s Dishonor”
Directed By: Jonny Fly
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Fly appears in front of us, his face taking up the entire screen.
Jonny Fly: Earlier this week I revealed the real members of the “Gang of Fourteen,” the circumstances and people that could be blamed for what happened to Stuart Slane at Shoot to Thrill. That was just a warm up. I’ve been working on a much bigger presentation. Something that puts some substance behind my claims that Stuart Slane is not the man he portrays to be. Stuart Slane is a swindler, cheater, liar, and a crook…and I’ll show you…
The scene goes blank, but just for a moment.
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“The Real Slane Shady”
The scene begins with Jonny Fly lying in his bed with an unknown woman. Covers are pulled up just under the neck of Fly and his female companion so that naughty parts are unseen to those watching. The scene is being shot from a low quality hidden camera in Fly bedroom, so it’s coming through a tad bit grainy. Luckily, the audio is perfect. Now, you might be thinking, “HOLY SHIT IT’S A JONNY FLY SEX TAPE!” Not so fast, Flydophiles. There are much more important things afoot. In bed, Fly is positioned facing his companion. He offers her an affectionate kiss on the forehead and brings on finger to her cheek, stroking it.
Fly: Now then, to business?
WHOA. Nobody freak out. She’s not a hooker. The woman, who is out of breath (of course) from the previous festivities, manages an answer.
Woman: Fine.
She rolls over and slides her feet off the bed. She reaches down and retrieves her clothes from the ground, putting them on. Fly does the same on the other side of the bed. As the woman finishes dressing she retrieves a file from the night stand. She walks over and hands it to Fly.
Woman: You said you wanted the facts. They’re all in here, all of the pages from his journal. I ask only that you use this information to publically embarrass him. God knows, that’s exactly what he needs.
The woman begins to walk away. Fly spins around and calls back to her.
Fly: Hold on a second, that’s it?
The woman stops and turns back to Fly.
Woman: What else do you want?
Fly: Testimony. I want you to tell everyone yourself. It can’t come from me, it has to come from you.
Woman: I…I…can’t. I can’t even believe I let him live with me. I’m too embras….
Fly walks forward and puts his finger gently on the woman’s lips.
Fly: They should hear it from you.
Our scene slowly fades away. Moments later it reappears with the woman on screen in monologue-like fashion.
Woman: My name is Tasha Wright. I’m a certified physical therapist with Reading-Berks Physical Therapy in Wyomissing, Pennsylvania. My practice specializes in sports injuries and with the Wrestling Championship Federation headquarters being so close, we receive a good number of their wrestlers coming through while rehabbing injuries. In late 2012 an individual named Stuart Slane was referred to us by the company.
At this point the woman takes in a deep sigh. Almost reluctantly, she continues speaking.
Woman: We…actually became close. Looking back, I don’t know how, but we did. He just had a certain genuineness about him. He was different than most athletes. He ended up telling me that he wasn’t from Pennsylvania and was renting a one bedroom apartment in the area to keep up with his rehab. I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I ended up offering him to move in with me until he finished his rehab.
Another deep sigh. Painfully, Tasha continues.
Woman: A day later a truck showed up at my house with all of Slane’s belongings. He had fourteen, FOURTEEN model train sets, and he set each of them up in different rooms in the house and played with them for hours on end. Instead of sleeping in the guest bed, he set up a tent in the garage. For dinner he would never eat with me, he would just go out into the woods and catch something and cook it by fire in the garage. It made quite a mess. If I made any noise inside my own house after 7:00 PM he would come inside and chastise me for keeping him up at ‘unholy hours of the night.’
The woman scoffs and shakes her head, recalling the incidents that occurred with Slane a guest in her house. She looks into the camera and raises one finger.
Woman: But here’s the worst part…when he was social, when he was around and not playing with those trains or reading the bible, all he would ever talk about is this “Gang of Fourteen.” When asked, he would never elaborate on it. He would just shut down and only say that “it’s real, I promise you.” This went on for weeks. Well, one day I was sick and stayed home from work. When Stuart went in for his rehab, I took a trip out to the garage and looked around his tent. I found a notebook with a series of drawings that looked like his trains.
The woman reaches down out of the vantage point of the camera and returns holding several pieces of paper that were ripped out of Slane’s notebook. Our camera scans in on one of the pieces of paper with a series of train drawings on it. At the top of the page there’s a title reading “The Stuart Slane Train Gang.”
Woman: That’s when it hit me. Fourteen, that’s the number of model trains he had set up in my house! This “Gang of Fourteen” he was speaking of all the time was his model train collection! Other pages in the notebook were named after wrestlers, Steve Orbit, Eric Price, Corey Black, and many others. He had notes written underneath their names listing out all of their ‘bad deeds toward him.’ What was interesting was that he didn’t just have those names. He had others, like Hank Brown, God, and even me!
The woman shuffles through the papers in her hand until she finds the one labeled God. She holds it out so that the camera can see it. The paper is titled ‘GOD’ in big bold letters at the top. Underneath his name is a list of ‘Bad Deeds.’ The list includes such things as “allowed me to get hurt,” “created L.A. Johnny Stylez,” “created Justin Beiber,” “took the Scouts away from me,” “made rabbits taste too salty,” and “never responds to my questions.”
Woman: When Slane returned home after his rehab that day he was irate. He noticed that someone had gone through his notebook and torn out pages. When he confronted me about it, I told him I was in bed sick all day and that a raccoon must have got to it out in the garage. He seemed to believe that for a bit, telling me stories about how raccoons have always been out to get him and what a nuisance they are when he’s camping. Then he went and wrote in raccoons and their bad deeds in the notebook. When I pressed him on what the big deal with the notebook was, for once he actually answered. He told me that it included a list of the likely saboteurs that contributed to his injuries. I told him that I thought it was just a couple of people, and he agreed. But, he said, nobody can ever know that he was capable of being injured by such ‘dilettantes’ as the Misfits. He even made me swear to secrecy in some scout pledge that he said was legally binding to the National Council. Stuart Slane made up the “Gang of Fourteen.” The number comes from his model train collection. The people he identified within in it came from who he simply ‘wronged’ him the most at that time. It’s all a sham. All of it. I thought everyone should know.
As those words reverberate, the scene cuts away.
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“The Emoticon Oppressor”
We open to a voiceover over a black screen.
Narrator: After ascending to the throne of Internet Champion in 2012, Stuart Slane sought to reform the online environment of the WCF. After a meeting with the WCF’s Vice President of Digital Media Content, Lisl Anne, Slane was permitted the opportunity to ban one emoticon from use by WCF wrestlers. Of course, such a privilege came with a caveat. He must seek the approval from an ad hoc committee formed by Anne to investigate the matter. The committee included just two individuals, Markus Jayson and Kelvin Staylor, The 8th Wonder. The following is secret video tape from their one, and only, meeting.
The scene slowly fades in at WCF headquarters where Stuart Slane is holding court with Markus Jayson and Kelvin Staylor (wearing batman costumes) in a conference room. Jayson and Staylor have just taken their seats.
Staylor: I still don’t know why you’re so upset. You’re in costume, we’re in costume, what’s the problem? Do you not like Batman? He’s a hero!
Slane grits his teeth and draws in a deep breath.
Slane: How many times must I tell people this is a uniform?
Jayson: You look like a Boy Scout.
Slane: I am a Boy Scout.
Staylor: Oh. Wait, I thought you were fired or whatever?
Slane: It’s not called being fired. I’ve never been fired in my life.
Jayson: So are you still a Boy Scout?
Slane: No.
Staylor: I’m not very smart, but if you’re not a Boy Scout, wouldn’t that make what you’re wearing a costume?
Slane doesn’t respond. He simply folds his hands in front of him and in a calm but stern voice, switches to another subject.
Slane: As you both know, I have put forth the proposal to discontinue the double middle finger salute emoticon from use by all WCF employees. Its usage is an egregious violation of my Seven Point Plan. I would call on you both to unilaterally endorse my proposal and report back such agreement to Ms. Anne at once. There’s no time to waste.
Markus and Kelvin look confused.
Jayson: What does unolatrically mean?
Staylor: No dummy, he said onolatry. It’s the worship of donkeys.
Jayson: OH. That makes sense. So I’m supposed to go talk to Ms. Anne and tell her I love donkeys?
Slane: No. Let me be clearer so that you two can understand this. We have a mission.
Staylor: I LOVE MISSIONS!
Slane: Your mission is to go tell Ms. Lisl Anne than your committee and I have agreed that usage of the double middle finger emoticon should be banned immediately. Your mission is complete when you deliver that message to her. Now, go!
Markus Jayson and Kelvin Staylor JUMP out of their seats. They race to the door rushing to deliver the message. Suddenly, as his half-brother Kelvin opens the door Markus stops and turns back to Slane.
Jayson: Hey, wait just one minute mister. Why are we banning emoticons again?
Slane: They’re an admonishment to the English Language.
Jayson: Well Mr. Scouty Scout, the English language and I have never been on good speaking terms. People love smiley faces and winky faces and when they’re sad they love to show it with crying faces and depressing faces. It’s how people communicate feelings with one another. Who are we to change that?
Slane slowly gets to his feet. He stares across the table at Markus Jayson.
Slane: If it were up to me, all emoticons would be banned. Unfortunately, my supervisors thing it best to test my resolve. You two are not my supervisors, and would be best to NOT test my resolve. We are banning that emoticon. Eventually, they shall all be removed from use. Do you understand?
There’s a silence in the room. Not for too long, as Kelvin Staylor steps away from the open door and back toward the table where his brother is standing.
Staylor: No, actually. We never understand.
Slane: Of course. Whether you like it or not Misters Staylor and Jayson, I am getting rid of emoticons. You may be too naïve to realize it, but we are at war. The online behavior of Wrestling Championship Federation employees is out of control. It’s an embarrassment. As the company’s moral guardian, I cannot sit idly by and allow this to continue. As such, I cannot also sit idly by and allow the likes of you two buffoons to thwart my plan.
Slane slowly walks around the table and toward the door. He closes and locks it behind him. Turning back to Jayson and Staylor he smirks and begins rolling up his sleeves.
Slane: So, what shall it be gentlemen? The easy way or the hard way?
Jayson and Staylor stare at Slane, mouths slightly agape, not really processing the gravity of their situation.
Jayson: I’m confused.
Staylor: Yeah, me too. Could you maybe write it down? I’m lost.
Slane takes two steps forward and looms over the lovable losers.
Slane: How about I choose for you?
Jayson: Yeah, sure! That’ll be easier for us!
Slane: I choose the hard way.
Slane reaches back and cocks his fist. Just as he’s about to strike, the scene fades away.
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“Seven Point Scam”
The next scene begins at Jonny Fly’s New York City mansion. We’re in the living room where an unknown man in a suit is sitting. Fly has taken a spot on a love seat while his guest sits on the couch. He looks toward the camera and begins.
Fly: Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce you to Jeff Thompson. Jeff works with the Consumer Protection Division under the Attorney General of Iowa. Jeff has agreed to join me today to tell you more about Stuart Slane.
Fly turns from looking at the camera to looking toward his guest.
Fly: Now Jeff, tell us what your connection is to Stuart Slane.
Jeff: My office investigated Stuart Slane after reports of fraudulent business practices dealing with his “Slane’s Scouts” organization.
Fly: Would you be kind enough to share what type of fraudulent practices Slane was accused of?
Jeff: First off, I’ll have it know that these allegations have gone through court and are a matter of public record. I am permitted to speak of them, as is anyone. To your question, the allegations against Slane were that he wasn’t teaching the children in his troop the skills, ideals, and values that he had advertised.
Fly: Shocking. Can you elaborate on that?
Jeff: Yes, I can. Slane’s organization was supposed to be a carbon copy of the Boy Scouts program. He reached out to parents across the state of Iowa and told them that he could mold their sons into well-rounded men with his Seven Point Plan.
At hearing those last three words, Fly smiles.
Fly: Seven point plan, huh?
Jeff: Yes. That’s what he was selling to parents. His seven point plan promised to teach the importance of academics, physical fitness, religion, proper language usage, diversity, family, and friendships all within a positive atmosphere that would foster self-confidence.
Fly: That sounds like what any parent would want for their son.
Jeff: Right. Unfortunately, the complaints started rolling in almost as soon as the program was launched. Reports were that instead of teaching his campers those items, he was practicing his wrestling moves on them and taught them how to hurt other people. Instead of going on adventures, fishing, hiking, camping, and those sort of things, he made the kids stay at the organization’s headquarters and build model trains or sew together new uniforms for him.
Fly interrupts.
Fly: I believe it’s called a costume.
Fly takes a quick second to look into the camera and wink. He returns his attention to Jeff as he continues speaking.
Jeff: If any of the kids did something wrong, Slane would verbally berate them. If any of the kids asked for help with their school work, Slane would make fun of them for not being smart enough to figure it out on their own. There’s more to it than that, but we really got involved when Slane refused to refund for his services. Parents would pull their kids out of the program and ask for their money back. However, Slane contended that ‘Slane’s Scouts’ is a way of life. Kids would be charged monthly until they died because the wisdom and knowledge he shared would be with them forever…no refunds.
Fly: What was the monthly charge to be in “Slane’s Scouts?”
Jeff: $4,000. Basically a $1,000 a week.
Fly: WHAT!? That’s crack prices.
Jeff: I…uh…I wouldn’t know.
Fly: Oh, right, yeah. Me neither.
Jeff: It was high though, yes. Parents can be a little crazy when it comes to what’s best for their children these days. They wanted their kids to grow up with strong values and they saw Slane as a leader. They justified the cost because some of it would be offset with the costs of sending them to other after school programs, or babysitters.
Fly: When you launched your investigation and approached Slane about the complaints, how did he react?
Jeff: He was irate and completely uncooperative. We would come to find out that he didn’t have a formal membership application, and the ‘lifetime charge’ was not listed on any sort of organizational bylaws, or the application itself. He didn’t keep bank records. He just sent invoices to the parents every month with a note to pay the bill within three business days or services would be cancelled and the bill sent to his legal representation.
Fly: He had legal representation?
Jeff: Himself. When this eventually went to court, he defended himself.
Fly: What was the final verdict of the court?
Jeff: ‘Slane’s Scouts’ was shut down. He was forced to pay back all money accrued from services rendered and publically apologize to each of the kids for his actions. The parents were really worried about the long-term effects their son was going to have for being associated with Slane. Lastly, Slane would not be permitted to start another business in Iowa without first publically admitting to his previous crimes to any bank lenders, stakeholders, and customers.
Fly: So what did he end up doing?
Jeff: He declared bankruptcy to avoid paying the settlement and then moved out of the state to Pennsylvania.
Fly: None of the parents have received any money back?
Jeff: No, and worse yet, a bill still shows up in their mailbox every week from Slane for $4,000. That man is completely out of touch with the world. Let’s just say that I’m glad he’s no longer in my state.
Fly: Thank you, Jeff. I appreciate you agreeing to come forward and share this information with all of us.
Jeff: Thank you for opportunity.
Fly rises out of his seat and walks over to the couch where Jeff is still sitting. The two men exchange a hand shake as the scene comes to a close.
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“The Great Hot Fry Hoax”
We’re in Plano, Texas following a man in a mustache as he walks toward the front entrance of the Frito Lay North American Headquarters. BUT WAIT. It’s not a random man with a mustache; it’s the flyest of Jonny’s. Super Fly is in disguise to try and infiltrate the enemy’s defenses. Why is Frito Lay the enemy? Well, because they ripped of Andy Capp’s Hot Fries and currently produces the detestable Chester’s Hot Fries. Gross. Fly has reached the front door. Moment or truth…
…he slowly opens one of the doors…
…he peeks in…
…being closer to the enemy than ever before…
…and then he’s greeted by a lady sitting behind the front desk.
Random Skank: Sir? Can I help you with something?
Fly looks around. People are staring at him. He looks like a crazy person leaning halfway into the building and looking around. Fly quickly shakes it off and fully enters the building. He walks up to the front desk where he’s been greeted.
Fly: Sorry about that, I was…meditating. I’m here for a meeting with Mr. Tom Greco.
Random Skank looks confused.
Random Skank: Mr. Greco? Is he expecting you?
Fly: I’d hope not. He’s a man. He shouldn’t be bearing children, especially not a fully grown one with a Burt Reynolds mustache like me.
Fly smiles. Random Skank does not.
Random Skank: I’ll need to call up to confirm that you have a meeting scheduled with him. What was your name again?
Fly: I’m…
Fly pauses to think of what alias to use. He settles on a name that’s not an alias at all, but more of a fall guy if things don’t go as planned.
Fly: …Stuart Slane.
Random Skank: Wait, YOU’RE Stuart Slane?
Fly: Of course. Headmaster of the Slaniacs. Renowned Troop Leader. Righteous Douchebag. That’s me, Stuart Slane, in the flesh!
Random Skank: It’s like…an HONOR to meet you. This place has been buzzing about the work you’ve been doing for us.
Fly: The…work…I’ve been doing?
Random Skank: Oh my god, you’re like so humble too. It’s adorable.
Fly stands motionless, not knowing what the hell is going on. Also, he’s trying to think of something to say that includes big words so as to not ruin his cover. Fly is self-educated, without a day of schooling past eleventh grade. Though it’s misguided, Stuart Slane is one of the more intellectual wresters to ever compete in the Wrestling Championship Federation.
Fly: Well, why don’t you just…uh, apprise…Mr. Greco as to my presence so that I may…uh...coalesce with him for our…conclave.
Random Skank: Your vocabulary is like, so hot. OH MY GOD. Let me go call Mr. Greco for you.
Random Skank disappears through a doorway behind the desk. About thirty second later she reappears.
Randon Skank: He said he wasn’t expecting you till tomorrow, but he said he has a few minutes. He’s on the tenth floor. Feel free to go up.
Fly: Thank you for your help.
Fly turns away from the desk and walks about ten yards to the left where there is a set of elevators. One of the doors is open, so he walks inside and presses the button for floor ten. The door closes and elevator begins to ascend. A few moments later the doors spring open and Fly walks out. He’s let out in a hallway. In front of Fly is a sign with about a dozen or so names on it. Fly finds Greco’s name on the directory and sees an arrow pointing to the left. Fly follows the arrow down all the way to the end of the hall. On the door of the large corner office is a nameplate reading “Greco – CEO.” Fly is able to walk through the doorway where he’s greeted by Greco’s personal assistant. She looks up from her desk to notice Fly standing there.
Personal Assistant Skank: Can I help you?
Fly: I’m Stuart Slane. I’m here to see Mr. Greco.
Personal Assistant Skank: Um, you’re not Stuart Slane. I know Stuart Slane. We’re fellow beekeepers.
Fly: I am Stuart Slane. I, uh, love bees too. You just can’t tell because I grew a mustache and lost 40 pounds.
The personal assistant gets up from her desk and walks to a doorway behind her. She knocks on the door and enters a few seconds later. We hear two voices arguing back and forth for a few moments until the assistant comes back out.
Personal Assistant Skank: Mr. Greco has agreed to see you.
Fly: Splendid!
Fly brushes past the woman and enters Greco’s office. Inside, the CEO is standing behind his desk with his hands on his hips.
Greco: You’re not Stuart Slane.
Fly casually nods his head. He walks forward and takes a seat across from Greco’s desk. He props his feet up on the desk and leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his neck.
Fly: Take a seat. We need to chat.
Greco: Why? Why don’t I just call security and have you removed?
Fly: Because…I won’t go quietly, and with that understood, what exactly would you do from the time you make that phone call until the time they arrive?
Greco’s eyes narrow. He sizes up Fly, wondering if he’s being serious or not. He decides to take a seat.
Fly: Good. Now, to the matter at hand. You wouldn’t happen to know how Stuart Slane got his hands on 20,000 bags of Chester’s Hot Fries, would you?
Greco: No.
…he says, way too fast.
Fly: Sure. And why exactly is it that everyone in this building knows Stuart Slane?
Greco: Slane is a fan of our delicious snack foods.
Fly scoffs before leaning forward in his chair. He removes his feet from the desk and stares across at Greco.
Fly: Stuart Slane eats only food that he’s caught himself. He’s like a caveman. If he didn’t have to, to try and get over on me, he wouldn’t touch a Frito Lay product.
Greco: I don’t think you know Mr. Slane very well.
Fly nods his head in agreement.
Fly: I wish that was the case. You might know him more, though, I’m sure of it. I came here to get to the bottom of how Slane managed to get 20,000 bags of your Hot Fries. I know what he makes; it’s not enough to support such largess. He had to have it donated to him. So I thought to myself, who could make that sort of donation…any why? That led me here. Now I find out that even the hooker working the welcome desk downstairs knows Slane, and may even want to bear his children. So, what’s the deal? Is he just the fuckin’ mascot around here, or are you two working together?
Greco stares coldly across the desk. He doesn’t return an answer immediately. He just continues to stare at Fly, almost trying to read him. Finally, the silence is broken.
Greco: I know who you are.
Fly: That makes two of us. I know who I am too.
Greco: You’re half the reason we’re in this damn predicament.
Fly: Explain.
Greco: Ever since you started bandying around on television eating Andy Capps’ Hot Fries all the time, our market share has plummeted. You’re giving them free exposure to millions of people every single week. How can we compete with that?
Fly: By…having a better product? I’d start with that.
Greco: It’s a matter of taste, Jonny. People are different. We produce a slightly different Hot Fry to reach the demographic of people who don’t care for ConAgra’s Hot Fries.
Fly: Slightly different? Nobody likes Chester’s. Nobody.
Greco: Before you, our market share was 45% and growing. Now, it’s barely 20% and falling. I wouldn’t call that nobody, Mr. Fly. We know there’s a large population of people who like Chester’s Hot Fries and all we’re trying to do is reconnect with them.
Fly: By…what? Having a certified nutbag like Stuart Slane pass them out during shows and trying to embarrass me?
Greco: That and other stuff.
Fly cocks his head. He quickly comes to a harrowing realization.
Fly: No. Tell me…no. You didn’t?
Greco: The quote, “Business is War, arm yourself,” rings true here, Mr. Fly. People’s livelihood is at stake. Less market share equal less profit. Less profit equals cuts. I armed myself for battle, for the sake of my employees.
Fly: You hired Slane. You masterminded the Hot Fry embargo.
Greco: That’s not true.
Fly: What is the truth?
Greco: I…can’t say.
Fly gets to his feet and violently slams his hands on the desk.
Fly: Don’t make this between you and me. This is personal between me and Stuart Slane. Give me the information I want and I’ll leave here peacefully. Hell, I won’t even tell anyone.
Greco puts his hand to his chin, pondering the proposal.
Greco: I tell you what. I’ll make you a deal. Do one commercial for me promoting Chester’s Hot Fries and I’ll give you the information you’re looking for.
Fly immediately extends his hand across the desk.
Fly: That’s easy. Deal.
Greco: You’ll do the commercial?
Fly: Scout’s Honor. There’s no more unbreakable oath.
Tom Greco reaches across the desk and shakes Fly’s hand.
Greco: Slane approached me, not the other way around. He told me of his plans of the Hot Fry embargo. All he needed was some financial backing, and that’s where I came in. Getting Hot Fries out of stores in key markets was an opportunity that we couldn’t pass up. Sales of Chester’s have risen dramatically in the last month. We’re reaching old customers and new customers alike. It was a great plan.
Fly rises from his seat, smiling. He looks at Greco and remarks…
Fly: There was only one problem with it.
Greco: What would that be?
Fly turns and walks back toward the door. Just as he’s about to leave he turns half his body back toward Greco.
Fly: You just got caught on tape saying all of that. Scout's Honor means nothing. Stuart Slane taught me that.
With that, Fly disappears from the office. The scene slowly fades to black.
THIS VIDEO BROUGHT TO YOU BY ANDY CAPPS HOT FRIES. THE HONORABLE CHOICE IN SPICY AND DELICIOUS SNACK FOODS.
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We return to Jonny Fly on our screen.
Fly: I hope you’ve enjoyed the movie. I can personally vouch for the validity of each of the short clips I’ve just shown. They show Stuart Slane in his true form. This is a man who thinks he has it all figured out. But, there’s still one last riddle he has to crack for his revenge to be complete, and it’s the hardest riddle of all.
Crafting the Hot Fry embargo, getting financing, and carrying out the plan was easy. The rest won’t be. The riddle of defeating Jonny Fly, wrestling’s ultimate achievement, is something that very few people have ever solved. This isn’t a hunt for a squirrel. This isn’t hiking up a mountain. This isn’t putting together a fuckin’ model train. This isn’t scheming people out of thousands of dollars, bullying two helpless simpletons, or aligning with a desperate businessman. This is going toe to toe with the motherfucker 95% of the WCF roster has been trying to find a way to beat for YEARS. The four-time World Champion. Reigning War winner. Leader of Pantheon.
I’m going to win this match. I’m going to do much more than that, though. I’m going to annihilate this motherfucker. I’m going to take Stuart Slane, and all his bravado, and hang him from the top of a fuckin’ flag pole. It’ll serve as a message to the rest of the roster of EXACTLY what happens when you piss off Jonny Fly. That’s it. That’s all there is left to say. To Slane, this is two years in the making. Your time of reckoning is here.
Hey Slane…Be Prepared!
…to become my new favorite Flyjobber.
Fly smirks and winks at the screen. The scene slowly goes to black.
-“Scoutmaster” Stuart Slane
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The following is a short film, brought to you by Jonny Fly Productions.
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“Scout’s Dishonor”
Directed By: Jonny Fly
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Fly appears in front of us, his face taking up the entire screen.
Jonny Fly: Earlier this week I revealed the real members of the “Gang of Fourteen,” the circumstances and people that could be blamed for what happened to Stuart Slane at Shoot to Thrill. That was just a warm up. I’ve been working on a much bigger presentation. Something that puts some substance behind my claims that Stuart Slane is not the man he portrays to be. Stuart Slane is a swindler, cheater, liar, and a crook…and I’ll show you…
The scene goes blank, but just for a moment.
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“The Real Slane Shady”
The scene begins with Jonny Fly lying in his bed with an unknown woman. Covers are pulled up just under the neck of Fly and his female companion so that naughty parts are unseen to those watching. The scene is being shot from a low quality hidden camera in Fly bedroom, so it’s coming through a tad bit grainy. Luckily, the audio is perfect. Now, you might be thinking, “HOLY SHIT IT’S A JONNY FLY SEX TAPE!” Not so fast, Flydophiles. There are much more important things afoot. In bed, Fly is positioned facing his companion. He offers her an affectionate kiss on the forehead and brings on finger to her cheek, stroking it.
Fly: Now then, to business?
WHOA. Nobody freak out. She’s not a hooker. The woman, who is out of breath (of course) from the previous festivities, manages an answer.
Woman: Fine.
She rolls over and slides her feet off the bed. She reaches down and retrieves her clothes from the ground, putting them on. Fly does the same on the other side of the bed. As the woman finishes dressing she retrieves a file from the night stand. She walks over and hands it to Fly.
Woman: You said you wanted the facts. They’re all in here, all of the pages from his journal. I ask only that you use this information to publically embarrass him. God knows, that’s exactly what he needs.
The woman begins to walk away. Fly spins around and calls back to her.
Fly: Hold on a second, that’s it?
The woman stops and turns back to Fly.
Woman: What else do you want?
Fly: Testimony. I want you to tell everyone yourself. It can’t come from me, it has to come from you.
Woman: I…I…can’t. I can’t even believe I let him live with me. I’m too embras….
Fly walks forward and puts his finger gently on the woman’s lips.
Fly: They should hear it from you.
Our scene slowly fades away. Moments later it reappears with the woman on screen in monologue-like fashion.
Woman: My name is Tasha Wright. I’m a certified physical therapist with Reading-Berks Physical Therapy in Wyomissing, Pennsylvania. My practice specializes in sports injuries and with the Wrestling Championship Federation headquarters being so close, we receive a good number of their wrestlers coming through while rehabbing injuries. In late 2012 an individual named Stuart Slane was referred to us by the company.
At this point the woman takes in a deep sigh. Almost reluctantly, she continues speaking.
Woman: We…actually became close. Looking back, I don’t know how, but we did. He just had a certain genuineness about him. He was different than most athletes. He ended up telling me that he wasn’t from Pennsylvania and was renting a one bedroom apartment in the area to keep up with his rehab. I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I ended up offering him to move in with me until he finished his rehab.
Another deep sigh. Painfully, Tasha continues.
Woman: A day later a truck showed up at my house with all of Slane’s belongings. He had fourteen, FOURTEEN model train sets, and he set each of them up in different rooms in the house and played with them for hours on end. Instead of sleeping in the guest bed, he set up a tent in the garage. For dinner he would never eat with me, he would just go out into the woods and catch something and cook it by fire in the garage. It made quite a mess. If I made any noise inside my own house after 7:00 PM he would come inside and chastise me for keeping him up at ‘unholy hours of the night.’
The woman scoffs and shakes her head, recalling the incidents that occurred with Slane a guest in her house. She looks into the camera and raises one finger.
Woman: But here’s the worst part…when he was social, when he was around and not playing with those trains or reading the bible, all he would ever talk about is this “Gang of Fourteen.” When asked, he would never elaborate on it. He would just shut down and only say that “it’s real, I promise you.” This went on for weeks. Well, one day I was sick and stayed home from work. When Stuart went in for his rehab, I took a trip out to the garage and looked around his tent. I found a notebook with a series of drawings that looked like his trains.
The woman reaches down out of the vantage point of the camera and returns holding several pieces of paper that were ripped out of Slane’s notebook. Our camera scans in on one of the pieces of paper with a series of train drawings on it. At the top of the page there’s a title reading “The Stuart Slane Train Gang.”
Woman: That’s when it hit me. Fourteen, that’s the number of model trains he had set up in my house! This “Gang of Fourteen” he was speaking of all the time was his model train collection! Other pages in the notebook were named after wrestlers, Steve Orbit, Eric Price, Corey Black, and many others. He had notes written underneath their names listing out all of their ‘bad deeds toward him.’ What was interesting was that he didn’t just have those names. He had others, like Hank Brown, God, and even me!
The woman shuffles through the papers in her hand until she finds the one labeled God. She holds it out so that the camera can see it. The paper is titled ‘GOD’ in big bold letters at the top. Underneath his name is a list of ‘Bad Deeds.’ The list includes such things as “allowed me to get hurt,” “created L.A. Johnny Stylez,” “created Justin Beiber,” “took the Scouts away from me,” “made rabbits taste too salty,” and “never responds to my questions.”
Woman: When Slane returned home after his rehab that day he was irate. He noticed that someone had gone through his notebook and torn out pages. When he confronted me about it, I told him I was in bed sick all day and that a raccoon must have got to it out in the garage. He seemed to believe that for a bit, telling me stories about how raccoons have always been out to get him and what a nuisance they are when he’s camping. Then he went and wrote in raccoons and their bad deeds in the notebook. When I pressed him on what the big deal with the notebook was, for once he actually answered. He told me that it included a list of the likely saboteurs that contributed to his injuries. I told him that I thought it was just a couple of people, and he agreed. But, he said, nobody can ever know that he was capable of being injured by such ‘dilettantes’ as the Misfits. He even made me swear to secrecy in some scout pledge that he said was legally binding to the National Council. Stuart Slane made up the “Gang of Fourteen.” The number comes from his model train collection. The people he identified within in it came from who he simply ‘wronged’ him the most at that time. It’s all a sham. All of it. I thought everyone should know.
As those words reverberate, the scene cuts away.
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“The Emoticon Oppressor”
We open to a voiceover over a black screen.
Narrator: After ascending to the throne of Internet Champion in 2012, Stuart Slane sought to reform the online environment of the WCF. After a meeting with the WCF’s Vice President of Digital Media Content, Lisl Anne, Slane was permitted the opportunity to ban one emoticon from use by WCF wrestlers. Of course, such a privilege came with a caveat. He must seek the approval from an ad hoc committee formed by Anne to investigate the matter. The committee included just two individuals, Markus Jayson and Kelvin Staylor, The 8th Wonder. The following is secret video tape from their one, and only, meeting.
The scene slowly fades in at WCF headquarters where Stuart Slane is holding court with Markus Jayson and Kelvin Staylor (wearing batman costumes) in a conference room. Jayson and Staylor have just taken their seats.
Staylor: I still don’t know why you’re so upset. You’re in costume, we’re in costume, what’s the problem? Do you not like Batman? He’s a hero!
Slane grits his teeth and draws in a deep breath.
Slane: How many times must I tell people this is a uniform?
Jayson: You look like a Boy Scout.
Slane: I am a Boy Scout.
Staylor: Oh. Wait, I thought you were fired or whatever?
Slane: It’s not called being fired. I’ve never been fired in my life.
Jayson: So are you still a Boy Scout?
Slane: No.
Staylor: I’m not very smart, but if you’re not a Boy Scout, wouldn’t that make what you’re wearing a costume?
Slane doesn’t respond. He simply folds his hands in front of him and in a calm but stern voice, switches to another subject.
Slane: As you both know, I have put forth the proposal to discontinue the double middle finger salute emoticon from use by all WCF employees. Its usage is an egregious violation of my Seven Point Plan. I would call on you both to unilaterally endorse my proposal and report back such agreement to Ms. Anne at once. There’s no time to waste.
Markus and Kelvin look confused.
Jayson: What does unolatrically mean?
Staylor: No dummy, he said onolatry. It’s the worship of donkeys.
Jayson: OH. That makes sense. So I’m supposed to go talk to Ms. Anne and tell her I love donkeys?
Slane: No. Let me be clearer so that you two can understand this. We have a mission.
Staylor: I LOVE MISSIONS!
Slane: Your mission is to go tell Ms. Lisl Anne than your committee and I have agreed that usage of the double middle finger emoticon should be banned immediately. Your mission is complete when you deliver that message to her. Now, go!
Markus Jayson and Kelvin Staylor JUMP out of their seats. They race to the door rushing to deliver the message. Suddenly, as his half-brother Kelvin opens the door Markus stops and turns back to Slane.
Jayson: Hey, wait just one minute mister. Why are we banning emoticons again?
Slane: They’re an admonishment to the English Language.
Jayson: Well Mr. Scouty Scout, the English language and I have never been on good speaking terms. People love smiley faces and winky faces and when they’re sad they love to show it with crying faces and depressing faces. It’s how people communicate feelings with one another. Who are we to change that?
Slane slowly gets to his feet. He stares across the table at Markus Jayson.
Slane: If it were up to me, all emoticons would be banned. Unfortunately, my supervisors thing it best to test my resolve. You two are not my supervisors, and would be best to NOT test my resolve. We are banning that emoticon. Eventually, they shall all be removed from use. Do you understand?
There’s a silence in the room. Not for too long, as Kelvin Staylor steps away from the open door and back toward the table where his brother is standing.
Staylor: No, actually. We never understand.
Slane: Of course. Whether you like it or not Misters Staylor and Jayson, I am getting rid of emoticons. You may be too naïve to realize it, but we are at war. The online behavior of Wrestling Championship Federation employees is out of control. It’s an embarrassment. As the company’s moral guardian, I cannot sit idly by and allow this to continue. As such, I cannot also sit idly by and allow the likes of you two buffoons to thwart my plan.
Slane slowly walks around the table and toward the door. He closes and locks it behind him. Turning back to Jayson and Staylor he smirks and begins rolling up his sleeves.
Slane: So, what shall it be gentlemen? The easy way or the hard way?
Jayson and Staylor stare at Slane, mouths slightly agape, not really processing the gravity of their situation.
Jayson: I’m confused.
Staylor: Yeah, me too. Could you maybe write it down? I’m lost.
Slane takes two steps forward and looms over the lovable losers.
Slane: How about I choose for you?
Jayson: Yeah, sure! That’ll be easier for us!
Slane: I choose the hard way.
Slane reaches back and cocks his fist. Just as he’s about to strike, the scene fades away.
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“Seven Point Scam”
The next scene begins at Jonny Fly’s New York City mansion. We’re in the living room where an unknown man in a suit is sitting. Fly has taken a spot on a love seat while his guest sits on the couch. He looks toward the camera and begins.
Fly: Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce you to Jeff Thompson. Jeff works with the Consumer Protection Division under the Attorney General of Iowa. Jeff has agreed to join me today to tell you more about Stuart Slane.
Fly turns from looking at the camera to looking toward his guest.
Fly: Now Jeff, tell us what your connection is to Stuart Slane.
Jeff: My office investigated Stuart Slane after reports of fraudulent business practices dealing with his “Slane’s Scouts” organization.
Fly: Would you be kind enough to share what type of fraudulent practices Slane was accused of?
Jeff: First off, I’ll have it know that these allegations have gone through court and are a matter of public record. I am permitted to speak of them, as is anyone. To your question, the allegations against Slane were that he wasn’t teaching the children in his troop the skills, ideals, and values that he had advertised.
Fly: Shocking. Can you elaborate on that?
Jeff: Yes, I can. Slane’s organization was supposed to be a carbon copy of the Boy Scouts program. He reached out to parents across the state of Iowa and told them that he could mold their sons into well-rounded men with his Seven Point Plan.
At hearing those last three words, Fly smiles.
Fly: Seven point plan, huh?
Jeff: Yes. That’s what he was selling to parents. His seven point plan promised to teach the importance of academics, physical fitness, religion, proper language usage, diversity, family, and friendships all within a positive atmosphere that would foster self-confidence.
Fly: That sounds like what any parent would want for their son.
Jeff: Right. Unfortunately, the complaints started rolling in almost as soon as the program was launched. Reports were that instead of teaching his campers those items, he was practicing his wrestling moves on them and taught them how to hurt other people. Instead of going on adventures, fishing, hiking, camping, and those sort of things, he made the kids stay at the organization’s headquarters and build model trains or sew together new uniforms for him.
Fly interrupts.
Fly: I believe it’s called a costume.
Fly takes a quick second to look into the camera and wink. He returns his attention to Jeff as he continues speaking.
Jeff: If any of the kids did something wrong, Slane would verbally berate them. If any of the kids asked for help with their school work, Slane would make fun of them for not being smart enough to figure it out on their own. There’s more to it than that, but we really got involved when Slane refused to refund for his services. Parents would pull their kids out of the program and ask for their money back. However, Slane contended that ‘Slane’s Scouts’ is a way of life. Kids would be charged monthly until they died because the wisdom and knowledge he shared would be with them forever…no refunds.
Fly: What was the monthly charge to be in “Slane’s Scouts?”
Jeff: $4,000. Basically a $1,000 a week.
Fly: WHAT!? That’s crack prices.
Jeff: I…uh…I wouldn’t know.
Fly: Oh, right, yeah. Me neither.
Jeff: It was high though, yes. Parents can be a little crazy when it comes to what’s best for their children these days. They wanted their kids to grow up with strong values and they saw Slane as a leader. They justified the cost because some of it would be offset with the costs of sending them to other after school programs, or babysitters.
Fly: When you launched your investigation and approached Slane about the complaints, how did he react?
Jeff: He was irate and completely uncooperative. We would come to find out that he didn’t have a formal membership application, and the ‘lifetime charge’ was not listed on any sort of organizational bylaws, or the application itself. He didn’t keep bank records. He just sent invoices to the parents every month with a note to pay the bill within three business days or services would be cancelled and the bill sent to his legal representation.
Fly: He had legal representation?
Jeff: Himself. When this eventually went to court, he defended himself.
Fly: What was the final verdict of the court?
Jeff: ‘Slane’s Scouts’ was shut down. He was forced to pay back all money accrued from services rendered and publically apologize to each of the kids for his actions. The parents were really worried about the long-term effects their son was going to have for being associated with Slane. Lastly, Slane would not be permitted to start another business in Iowa without first publically admitting to his previous crimes to any bank lenders, stakeholders, and customers.
Fly: So what did he end up doing?
Jeff: He declared bankruptcy to avoid paying the settlement and then moved out of the state to Pennsylvania.
Fly: None of the parents have received any money back?
Jeff: No, and worse yet, a bill still shows up in their mailbox every week from Slane for $4,000. That man is completely out of touch with the world. Let’s just say that I’m glad he’s no longer in my state.
Fly: Thank you, Jeff. I appreciate you agreeing to come forward and share this information with all of us.
Jeff: Thank you for opportunity.
Fly rises out of his seat and walks over to the couch where Jeff is still sitting. The two men exchange a hand shake as the scene comes to a close.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
“The Great Hot Fry Hoax”
We’re in Plano, Texas following a man in a mustache as he walks toward the front entrance of the Frito Lay North American Headquarters. BUT WAIT. It’s not a random man with a mustache; it’s the flyest of Jonny’s. Super Fly is in disguise to try and infiltrate the enemy’s defenses. Why is Frito Lay the enemy? Well, because they ripped of Andy Capp’s Hot Fries and currently produces the detestable Chester’s Hot Fries. Gross. Fly has reached the front door. Moment or truth…
…he slowly opens one of the doors…
…he peeks in…
…being closer to the enemy than ever before…
…and then he’s greeted by a lady sitting behind the front desk.
Random Skank: Sir? Can I help you with something?
Fly looks around. People are staring at him. He looks like a crazy person leaning halfway into the building and looking around. Fly quickly shakes it off and fully enters the building. He walks up to the front desk where he’s been greeted.
Fly: Sorry about that, I was…meditating. I’m here for a meeting with Mr. Tom Greco.
Random Skank looks confused.
Random Skank: Mr. Greco? Is he expecting you?
Fly: I’d hope not. He’s a man. He shouldn’t be bearing children, especially not a fully grown one with a Burt Reynolds mustache like me.
Fly smiles. Random Skank does not.
Random Skank: I’ll need to call up to confirm that you have a meeting scheduled with him. What was your name again?
Fly: I’m…
Fly pauses to think of what alias to use. He settles on a name that’s not an alias at all, but more of a fall guy if things don’t go as planned.
Fly: …Stuart Slane.
Random Skank: Wait, YOU’RE Stuart Slane?
Fly: Of course. Headmaster of the Slaniacs. Renowned Troop Leader. Righteous Douchebag. That’s me, Stuart Slane, in the flesh!
Random Skank: It’s like…an HONOR to meet you. This place has been buzzing about the work you’ve been doing for us.
Fly: The…work…I’ve been doing?
Random Skank: Oh my god, you’re like so humble too. It’s adorable.
Fly stands motionless, not knowing what the hell is going on. Also, he’s trying to think of something to say that includes big words so as to not ruin his cover. Fly is self-educated, without a day of schooling past eleventh grade. Though it’s misguided, Stuart Slane is one of the more intellectual wresters to ever compete in the Wrestling Championship Federation.
Fly: Well, why don’t you just…uh, apprise…Mr. Greco as to my presence so that I may…uh...coalesce with him for our…conclave.
Random Skank: Your vocabulary is like, so hot. OH MY GOD. Let me go call Mr. Greco for you.
Random Skank disappears through a doorway behind the desk. About thirty second later she reappears.
Randon Skank: He said he wasn’t expecting you till tomorrow, but he said he has a few minutes. He’s on the tenth floor. Feel free to go up.
Fly: Thank you for your help.
Fly turns away from the desk and walks about ten yards to the left where there is a set of elevators. One of the doors is open, so he walks inside and presses the button for floor ten. The door closes and elevator begins to ascend. A few moments later the doors spring open and Fly walks out. He’s let out in a hallway. In front of Fly is a sign with about a dozen or so names on it. Fly finds Greco’s name on the directory and sees an arrow pointing to the left. Fly follows the arrow down all the way to the end of the hall. On the door of the large corner office is a nameplate reading “Greco – CEO.” Fly is able to walk through the doorway where he’s greeted by Greco’s personal assistant. She looks up from her desk to notice Fly standing there.
Personal Assistant Skank: Can I help you?
Fly: I’m Stuart Slane. I’m here to see Mr. Greco.
Personal Assistant Skank: Um, you’re not Stuart Slane. I know Stuart Slane. We’re fellow beekeepers.
Fly: I am Stuart Slane. I, uh, love bees too. You just can’t tell because I grew a mustache and lost 40 pounds.
The personal assistant gets up from her desk and walks to a doorway behind her. She knocks on the door and enters a few seconds later. We hear two voices arguing back and forth for a few moments until the assistant comes back out.
Personal Assistant Skank: Mr. Greco has agreed to see you.
Fly: Splendid!
Fly brushes past the woman and enters Greco’s office. Inside, the CEO is standing behind his desk with his hands on his hips.
Greco: You’re not Stuart Slane.
Fly casually nods his head. He walks forward and takes a seat across from Greco’s desk. He props his feet up on the desk and leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his neck.
Fly: Take a seat. We need to chat.
Greco: Why? Why don’t I just call security and have you removed?
Fly: Because…I won’t go quietly, and with that understood, what exactly would you do from the time you make that phone call until the time they arrive?
Greco’s eyes narrow. He sizes up Fly, wondering if he’s being serious or not. He decides to take a seat.
Fly: Good. Now, to the matter at hand. You wouldn’t happen to know how Stuart Slane got his hands on 20,000 bags of Chester’s Hot Fries, would you?
Greco: No.
…he says, way too fast.
Fly: Sure. And why exactly is it that everyone in this building knows Stuart Slane?
Greco: Slane is a fan of our delicious snack foods.
Fly scoffs before leaning forward in his chair. He removes his feet from the desk and stares across at Greco.
Fly: Stuart Slane eats only food that he’s caught himself. He’s like a caveman. If he didn’t have to, to try and get over on me, he wouldn’t touch a Frito Lay product.
Greco: I don’t think you know Mr. Slane very well.
Fly nods his head in agreement.
Fly: I wish that was the case. You might know him more, though, I’m sure of it. I came here to get to the bottom of how Slane managed to get 20,000 bags of your Hot Fries. I know what he makes; it’s not enough to support such largess. He had to have it donated to him. So I thought to myself, who could make that sort of donation…any why? That led me here. Now I find out that even the hooker working the welcome desk downstairs knows Slane, and may even want to bear his children. So, what’s the deal? Is he just the fuckin’ mascot around here, or are you two working together?
Greco stares coldly across the desk. He doesn’t return an answer immediately. He just continues to stare at Fly, almost trying to read him. Finally, the silence is broken.
Greco: I know who you are.
Fly: That makes two of us. I know who I am too.
Greco: You’re half the reason we’re in this damn predicament.
Fly: Explain.
Greco: Ever since you started bandying around on television eating Andy Capps’ Hot Fries all the time, our market share has plummeted. You’re giving them free exposure to millions of people every single week. How can we compete with that?
Fly: By…having a better product? I’d start with that.
Greco: It’s a matter of taste, Jonny. People are different. We produce a slightly different Hot Fry to reach the demographic of people who don’t care for ConAgra’s Hot Fries.
Fly: Slightly different? Nobody likes Chester’s. Nobody.
Greco: Before you, our market share was 45% and growing. Now, it’s barely 20% and falling. I wouldn’t call that nobody, Mr. Fly. We know there’s a large population of people who like Chester’s Hot Fries and all we’re trying to do is reconnect with them.
Fly: By…what? Having a certified nutbag like Stuart Slane pass them out during shows and trying to embarrass me?
Greco: That and other stuff.
Fly cocks his head. He quickly comes to a harrowing realization.
Fly: No. Tell me…no. You didn’t?
Greco: The quote, “Business is War, arm yourself,” rings true here, Mr. Fly. People’s livelihood is at stake. Less market share equal less profit. Less profit equals cuts. I armed myself for battle, for the sake of my employees.
Fly: You hired Slane. You masterminded the Hot Fry embargo.
Greco: That’s not true.
Fly: What is the truth?
Greco: I…can’t say.
Fly gets to his feet and violently slams his hands on the desk.
Fly: Don’t make this between you and me. This is personal between me and Stuart Slane. Give me the information I want and I’ll leave here peacefully. Hell, I won’t even tell anyone.
Greco puts his hand to his chin, pondering the proposal.
Greco: I tell you what. I’ll make you a deal. Do one commercial for me promoting Chester’s Hot Fries and I’ll give you the information you’re looking for.
Fly immediately extends his hand across the desk.
Fly: That’s easy. Deal.
Greco: You’ll do the commercial?
Fly: Scout’s Honor. There’s no more unbreakable oath.
Tom Greco reaches across the desk and shakes Fly’s hand.
Greco: Slane approached me, not the other way around. He told me of his plans of the Hot Fry embargo. All he needed was some financial backing, and that’s where I came in. Getting Hot Fries out of stores in key markets was an opportunity that we couldn’t pass up. Sales of Chester’s have risen dramatically in the last month. We’re reaching old customers and new customers alike. It was a great plan.
Fly rises from his seat, smiling. He looks at Greco and remarks…
Fly: There was only one problem with it.
Greco: What would that be?
Fly turns and walks back toward the door. Just as he’s about to leave he turns half his body back toward Greco.
Fly: You just got caught on tape saying all of that. Scout's Honor means nothing. Stuart Slane taught me that.
With that, Fly disappears from the office. The scene slowly fades to black.
THIS VIDEO BROUGHT TO YOU BY ANDY CAPPS HOT FRIES. THE HONORABLE CHOICE IN SPICY AND DELICIOUS SNACK FOODS.
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We return to Jonny Fly on our screen.
Fly: I hope you’ve enjoyed the movie. I can personally vouch for the validity of each of the short clips I’ve just shown. They show Stuart Slane in his true form. This is a man who thinks he has it all figured out. But, there’s still one last riddle he has to crack for his revenge to be complete, and it’s the hardest riddle of all.
Crafting the Hot Fry embargo, getting financing, and carrying out the plan was easy. The rest won’t be. The riddle of defeating Jonny Fly, wrestling’s ultimate achievement, is something that very few people have ever solved. This isn’t a hunt for a squirrel. This isn’t hiking up a mountain. This isn’t putting together a fuckin’ model train. This isn’t scheming people out of thousands of dollars, bullying two helpless simpletons, or aligning with a desperate businessman. This is going toe to toe with the motherfucker 95% of the WCF roster has been trying to find a way to beat for YEARS. The four-time World Champion. Reigning War winner. Leader of Pantheon.
I’m going to win this match. I’m going to do much more than that, though. I’m going to annihilate this motherfucker. I’m going to take Stuart Slane, and all his bravado, and hang him from the top of a fuckin’ flag pole. It’ll serve as a message to the rest of the roster of EXACTLY what happens when you piss off Jonny Fly. That’s it. That’s all there is left to say. To Slane, this is two years in the making. Your time of reckoning is here.
Hey Slane…Be Prepared!
…to become my new favorite Flyjobber.
Fly smirks and winks at the screen. The scene slowly goes to black.