Post by Deleted on Jan 19, 2014 15:56:53 GMT -5
[Following on from the last scene, our unknown YouTube browser is still perusing the latest videos of interest. He clicks onto the video entitled 'Babysitter Lassiter'. Its preview picture is of WCF newbie Michael Lassiter sitting on church steps from his 'Up on Main Street' promo. The video loads and is immediately switched to full screen mode.]
['The Shine' Brent Alpine, sitting in a stereotypical middle class living room, peers into a laptop webcam. He tilts his head as if trying to dissect the device with his eyes. In the background is the sound of a cartoon of some kind and the bubbling of laughter.]
Brent Alpine: G'day? Helllllllllloooo? Is this on? Hang on - just gonna get my IT specialist. Libby!
[A serene looking little girl, with blonde bobbed hair, crawls onto the settee. She grasps the laptop assertively and inspects the webcam settings.
Libby: It's filming!
Brent Alpine [startled]: Aw flip. Turn off the TV. I'm on!
[He straightens his hair and adopts a smoldering facial expression.]
Brent Alpine: Hello internet mates! Apparently I've gone viral which sounds a bit bloody uncomfortable but actually is kinda ripper. It means that BoobTube...
Libby [interrupting]: YouTube!
Brent Alpine: Thanks mate. It means that YouTube and many other streaming video sites have been inundated with uploads and shares of my debut promo. So a big thank you to all my BoobTube mates for drinking my stream like the pure amber nectar goodness that it is. The incredible viral viewing figures plus my win over Michael Lassiter and The Ultimate Destroyer later will guarantee that WCF put big bucks into my next promo. Clearly, I 'Shine' no matter the production budget but a king must wear his crown, a supermodel needs a catwalk and Brent Alpine needs a platform befitting his grandeur and razzmatazz. For now, though, we're going to have to do with what we got.
[At that moment, there is some commotion coming from outside the room. Alpine abandons the webcam and little Libby takes over. She steers the webcam to film the hallway. Three boys, barely into their teens, enter through the front door. They are chugging on cigarettes and have beer cans in their hands. Alpine apprehends them but is met with not even the slightest of fear.]
Brent Alpine: Tom, is that... GANJA?
[Alpine takes a puff.]
Brent Alpine: Do your parents know that you and your mates are meeting Mary Jane?
Tom: No way.
Brent Alpine: Well pack it in, ya great mongrel! I'm meant to be baby sitting you. You can't be doing that.
Tom [cunning]: I thought we were, err... mates.
Brent Alpine [excited]: Mates? Yeah course. Go ahead mate, have fun!
Libby [aghast]: That's not fair! You can't let him get away with that!
Brent Alpine: Don't be a prudish little bitch, Libby. Mates don't dob on mates.
Libby: First of all, I'm 6 and it's hugely inappropriate to call me a bitch. I am not a female dog. Secondly, Tom and his friends are 13 and Mum and Dad would kill him and you if they were here right now. Thirdly, you are not Tom's 'mate'. You are his babysitter and it is your duty to discipline him.
[Brent considers this momentarily but quickly changes topic.]
Brent Alpine: Lib, you're meant to be interviewing me for my match tonight on Slam.
Libby: Ok, ok. [Reading from script] Brent, with your much an... antik..
Brent Alpine: Anticipated.
Libby: Anticipated [read as it sounds] debutt only hours away, what is your state of mind?
Brent Alpine: The first words that come to mind are... Punctilious. Imperturbable. But most of all, equanimous.
Libby [confused]: Are you... in... intimidated by The Ultimate Destroyer's incredible feats of strength and... what does this say?
[She holds the script up to Brent.]
Brent Alpine: Callous.
Libby: Callous acts of malyyyce?
Brent Alpine: This isn't working for me, Libby. You're frankly a crap interviewer. Sorry my lovely little ankle biter. Go back to your toys. Let The Shine fly solo now.
[Libby slumps and slides out of shot in dejection.]
Brent Alpine: Just can't get the staff these days. No worries, on we go! So we were talking about The Ultimate Destroyer. Beating up cars, punching women, almost killing other wrestlers during his tryouts. Some might say he isn't a very nice bloke. I thoroughly disagree. You know, society can be incredibly judgmental about seven foot tall , 400 pound blokes who paint their faces black and white and attack inanimate objects. They tend to get labelled as psychopaths and monsters. Well, Brent Alpine doesn't label T.U.D. this way. All I see him as is another potential mate. In fact, it will be a great shame tonight when I chop him down like timber and vanquish him right in the middle of the ring. I hope he won't hold his crushing defeat against me and that we can hang out sometime.
Libby [off camera]: What about Michael Lassiter? His promo at the church was so epic! He's my favourite to win!
Brent Alpine [enraged]: Who asked you, bimbo?! [Composes himself] Libby, mate, can you be quiet while the grown up does grown up stuff? Thank you. Anyway, yeah Lassiter was impressive. Strong words. He bided his time, assessed the landscape of the match and gave little time to reply. The bloke is smart and would make a bonza mate I reckon. As a peace offering prior to my effortless victory tonight, I have prepared a rap in honour of Michael Lassiter. Libby, drop me a beat.
[Libby performs a cute but surprisingly funky beatbox pattern.]
Brent Alpine: Up on the Main Street, Johnson Boulevard, Michael Lassiter, wants to rule hard. Only values rulers, seize by force, no respect for saints, or holy source. You lurk in darkness, all melancholic, sips on gin, suspected alcoholic. You call me hollow, behind my black suit, think you want to fill me, coz you say I'm cute. But the garb's for the girls, I don't swing your way, you can be my mate, just no gay play. You diss my sparks, don't be a fool Lassiter, I got more buzz than an supercapacitor. So prepare to be charged, call your lawyer, you're going down, with Ultimate Destroyer. I'll see you tonight, don't be late, after I 'Slam' your career, I'll let ya be my mate.
[Fade out. The YouTube window is closed. Cut.]
['The Shine' Brent Alpine, sitting in a stereotypical middle class living room, peers into a laptop webcam. He tilts his head as if trying to dissect the device with his eyes. In the background is the sound of a cartoon of some kind and the bubbling of laughter.]
Brent Alpine: G'day? Helllllllllloooo? Is this on? Hang on - just gonna get my IT specialist. Libby!
[A serene looking little girl, with blonde bobbed hair, crawls onto the settee. She grasps the laptop assertively and inspects the webcam settings.
Libby: It's filming!
Brent Alpine [startled]: Aw flip. Turn off the TV. I'm on!
[He straightens his hair and adopts a smoldering facial expression.]
Brent Alpine: Hello internet mates! Apparently I've gone viral which sounds a bit bloody uncomfortable but actually is kinda ripper. It means that BoobTube...
Libby [interrupting]: YouTube!
Brent Alpine: Thanks mate. It means that YouTube and many other streaming video sites have been inundated with uploads and shares of my debut promo. So a big thank you to all my BoobTube mates for drinking my stream like the pure amber nectar goodness that it is. The incredible viral viewing figures plus my win over Michael Lassiter and The Ultimate Destroyer later will guarantee that WCF put big bucks into my next promo. Clearly, I 'Shine' no matter the production budget but a king must wear his crown, a supermodel needs a catwalk and Brent Alpine needs a platform befitting his grandeur and razzmatazz. For now, though, we're going to have to do with what we got.
[At that moment, there is some commotion coming from outside the room. Alpine abandons the webcam and little Libby takes over. She steers the webcam to film the hallway. Three boys, barely into their teens, enter through the front door. They are chugging on cigarettes and have beer cans in their hands. Alpine apprehends them but is met with not even the slightest of fear.]
Brent Alpine: Tom, is that... GANJA?
[Alpine takes a puff.]
Brent Alpine: Do your parents know that you and your mates are meeting Mary Jane?
Tom: No way.
Brent Alpine: Well pack it in, ya great mongrel! I'm meant to be baby sitting you. You can't be doing that.
Tom [cunning]: I thought we were, err... mates.
Brent Alpine [excited]: Mates? Yeah course. Go ahead mate, have fun!
Libby [aghast]: That's not fair! You can't let him get away with that!
Brent Alpine: Don't be a prudish little bitch, Libby. Mates don't dob on mates.
Libby: First of all, I'm 6 and it's hugely inappropriate to call me a bitch. I am not a female dog. Secondly, Tom and his friends are 13 and Mum and Dad would kill him and you if they were here right now. Thirdly, you are not Tom's 'mate'. You are his babysitter and it is your duty to discipline him.
[Brent considers this momentarily but quickly changes topic.]
Brent Alpine: Lib, you're meant to be interviewing me for my match tonight on Slam.
Libby: Ok, ok. [Reading from script] Brent, with your much an... antik..
Brent Alpine: Anticipated.
Libby: Anticipated [read as it sounds] debutt only hours away, what is your state of mind?
Brent Alpine: The first words that come to mind are... Punctilious. Imperturbable. But most of all, equanimous.
Libby [confused]: Are you... in... intimidated by The Ultimate Destroyer's incredible feats of strength and... what does this say?
[She holds the script up to Brent.]
Brent Alpine: Callous.
Libby: Callous acts of malyyyce?
Brent Alpine: This isn't working for me, Libby. You're frankly a crap interviewer. Sorry my lovely little ankle biter. Go back to your toys. Let The Shine fly solo now.
[Libby slumps and slides out of shot in dejection.]
Brent Alpine: Just can't get the staff these days. No worries, on we go! So we were talking about The Ultimate Destroyer. Beating up cars, punching women, almost killing other wrestlers during his tryouts. Some might say he isn't a very nice bloke. I thoroughly disagree. You know, society can be incredibly judgmental about seven foot tall , 400 pound blokes who paint their faces black and white and attack inanimate objects. They tend to get labelled as psychopaths and monsters. Well, Brent Alpine doesn't label T.U.D. this way. All I see him as is another potential mate. In fact, it will be a great shame tonight when I chop him down like timber and vanquish him right in the middle of the ring. I hope he won't hold his crushing defeat against me and that we can hang out sometime.
Libby [off camera]: What about Michael Lassiter? His promo at the church was so epic! He's my favourite to win!
Brent Alpine [enraged]: Who asked you, bimbo?! [Composes himself] Libby, mate, can you be quiet while the grown up does grown up stuff? Thank you. Anyway, yeah Lassiter was impressive. Strong words. He bided his time, assessed the landscape of the match and gave little time to reply. The bloke is smart and would make a bonza mate I reckon. As a peace offering prior to my effortless victory tonight, I have prepared a rap in honour of Michael Lassiter. Libby, drop me a beat.
[Libby performs a cute but surprisingly funky beatbox pattern.]
Brent Alpine: Up on the Main Street, Johnson Boulevard, Michael Lassiter, wants to rule hard. Only values rulers, seize by force, no respect for saints, or holy source. You lurk in darkness, all melancholic, sips on gin, suspected alcoholic. You call me hollow, behind my black suit, think you want to fill me, coz you say I'm cute. But the garb's for the girls, I don't swing your way, you can be my mate, just no gay play. You diss my sparks, don't be a fool Lassiter, I got more buzz than an supercapacitor. So prepare to be charged, call your lawyer, you're going down, with Ultimate Destroyer. I'll see you tonight, don't be late, after I 'Slam' your career, I'll let ya be my mate.
[Fade out. The YouTube window is closed. Cut.]
