Post by Lawnmower Jones on Oct 17, 2006 22:48:48 GMT -5
(The scene opens up with Lawnmower Jones standing in the center of a room. The only light is spotted on Jones coming down in an omniscient kind of way. Jones seems to be pondering something, as he has his hands in his pocket and is breathing slowly, but taking large portions of breath. He has on his usual attire of blue overalls. Any attentive viewer should be wondering if he has anything else to wear.)
LJ VO: It's happened. I've lost the gold, but it concerns me none.
(Suddenly, the spotlight shifts to Jones' left as a small man, no larger than three and a half feet comes into the picture. He has on a brown fedora with a notepad stuck to it and is dressed in a brown suit.)
Midget: Mr. Jones, I'm Jack Charles Curtis from Third Tier Wrestling Magazine. I believe we spoke on the phone?
(Curtis extends his hand, and Jones politely accepts.)
LJ: I spoke with your boss, as well.
JCC: Nate Ken? Yea, he can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Hell, I don't even know where he is right now, he just shows up whenever.
(Both men give nervous laughs. The two share an awkward moment for a minute, but JCC seems to have had his eyes set on an opportunity for a big break.)
JCC: I almost forgot something!
(JCC pulls out a magazine folded from his back pocket. He hands it to Jones, who carefully examines it. After a moment, Jones' face turns to disgust. He throws it down and we see it's a Car and Driver.)
LJ: Car and Driver? That's like, the equivalent of Maxim! You want the goods-the hardcore-let me give you something.
(Jones pulls out a spare magazine. He hands it to the midget and it's a Craftsmen Sears Catalog. JCC looks up and sees Jones' smiling and perversely nodding head.)
LJ: That's the goods.
JCC: (Shaking head) Do you want to move on?
(Jones begins to walk off the scene. JCC just stands around, not knowing what is happening.)
JCC: Mr. Jones?
(LJ re-appears in the scene. He shows no change in expressions.)
JCC: What was that?
LJ: What was what?
JCC: You just walked off…
LJ: (Shrugs) Oh that? It doesn't matter; I'll be back when you need me.
JCC: Mr. Jones, I was told by you that you would give me a tell all interview about the WCF, a shoot, of sorts!
LJ: Hey, why are you bitching so much? All you do is bitch. You keep pestering me I'm going to be molestering your chances of this quizzical questioning.
(Jones flashes a quick "West Coast" sign with his fingers. The scene fades to black.)
(The scene re-appears with the same setting previously set. Jones is in a folding chair, wearing the same outfit. Directly across from him is JCC standing on a stool. On the bottom step of the stool is a white piece of tape with the name "Seth" written on it. JCC has his notepad and pen ready.)
LJ: I like your stool.
JCC: (Looks down) Oh, Seth? He just boosts me up when I need the help. He's reliable.
(Jones nods his head in approval.)
JCC: So, you lost your title. You bitter?
LJ: Bitter? Bitter? I'm pissed! Why, you ask? Not because I lost the title, but because I lost it to Creeping Death!
JCC: What's been going on backstage? There's been some internal affairs, so I've heard.
LJ: You know what? These backstage politics are pissing me off! I mean, fuck! I'm one of the top guys, and I've never been pinned here-which by the way is over five months-and I'm constantly being disrespected. I mean, hell if I ever get a say in what goes on around here, you dig? My new clothing company, which by the way hits stores in December of 06, making it a great Christmas or Hannadan gift for the Jewslums, is taking off and nobody will promote it. I mean, it's like Torture, Torture, Torture!
JCC: Side note: What's your clothing line called?
LJ: Lawnwear Inc.
(JCC nods in understandment.)
LJ: You know, I just feel like people are out to get me because I'm one of the top guys. Luckily I got my squad backing me up, which is the Team of Treachery. But at the end of the day, even they might not be able to stop me from doing the only thing that can save me and this fed: retiring.
JCC: Are you saying you're going to retire?
LJ: Depends on my internet connection.
(JCC scribbles down notes. Jones nervously taps his knee.)
JCC: Do you have any interest in-
(Jones stands up and walks away. A few minutes later, he returns, but from behind of the midget, and sits back down.)
JCC: Uh, what?
LJ: Heh, Cena. (wink)
JCC: Jones! How long is your attention span?
LJ: You know what? Fuck it. I'm retiring from WCF.
(Jones stands off and walks off. He turns around instantly and walks back to his chair.)
LJ: Yea, so I'm back again. Decided it wasn't right.
JCC: Jones, I got to ask you something: Do you really fuck lawnmowers?
LJ: No.
JCC: So it's all a gimmick?
LJ: No. I only fuck one lawnmower, and I fuck her helplessly. Her name is Lonnie Jones, and she's stolen my heart. Luckily, she's holding it hostage for some quality time.
JCC: Have you ever thought about maybe staying away from the fumes? I mean, all that time with mowers, your probably catch a whiff of some bad stuff.
LJ: Correction. I don't. You're just bitching. You've never tried to be with a lawnmower, and maybe you should. You're bitching. So stop being a n00b bitch and do the damn article.
JCC: Jones, I fail to-
LJ: Jobber kill!
JCC: Wha-
(Jones leaps out of his chair and jumps on top of JCC. The scene fades to black, but quickly comes back in, with composure and all.)
JCC: Anything else you want to talk about?
LJ: We have some good young talent here in WCF. If they keep at it, they can be something big. Vice, Striker, Thunder, all of them. They're tough as nails, but they haven't been hyped enough to go against us. Only time will tell.
JCC: Jones, I thank you for a rather alarming shoot.
(The two shake hands and the scene cuts.)
Later that day
(We see Jones and JCC in a room with a computer on. This one seems to take after the SportsCenter commercials. Jones is hovering over JCC (who is in a booster seat) pointing out things on the computer.)
LJ: No, change that.
JCC: Here?
LJ: Yea, that's better. I think that will help. Oh, and you did this wrong.
(Jones points to the PC screen.)
JCC:[/color] (Pointing) Here?
LJ: No here. Change that around. No, forget about that and let's focus more on Logan.
(The scene slowly fades to black. We hear these words as a voiceover.)
LJ: And this…fuck it. We don't need to promote Vice and them, focus on Lawnwear Inc.
(The screen is entirely black now. These words follow)
LJ VO: It's happened. I've lost the gold, but it concerns me none.
(Suddenly, the spotlight shifts to Jones' left as a small man, no larger than three and a half feet comes into the picture. He has on a brown fedora with a notepad stuck to it and is dressed in a brown suit.)
Midget: Mr. Jones, I'm Jack Charles Curtis from Third Tier Wrestling Magazine. I believe we spoke on the phone?
(Curtis extends his hand, and Jones politely accepts.)
LJ: I spoke with your boss, as well.
JCC: Nate Ken? Yea, he can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Hell, I don't even know where he is right now, he just shows up whenever.
(Both men give nervous laughs. The two share an awkward moment for a minute, but JCC seems to have had his eyes set on an opportunity for a big break.)
JCC: I almost forgot something!
(JCC pulls out a magazine folded from his back pocket. He hands it to Jones, who carefully examines it. After a moment, Jones' face turns to disgust. He throws it down and we see it's a Car and Driver.)
LJ: Car and Driver? That's like, the equivalent of Maxim! You want the goods-the hardcore-let me give you something.
(Jones pulls out a spare magazine. He hands it to the midget and it's a Craftsmen Sears Catalog. JCC looks up and sees Jones' smiling and perversely nodding head.)
LJ: That's the goods.
JCC: (Shaking head) Do you want to move on?
(Jones begins to walk off the scene. JCC just stands around, not knowing what is happening.)
JCC: Mr. Jones?
(LJ re-appears in the scene. He shows no change in expressions.)
JCC: What was that?
LJ: What was what?
JCC: You just walked off…
LJ: (Shrugs) Oh that? It doesn't matter; I'll be back when you need me.
JCC: Mr. Jones, I was told by you that you would give me a tell all interview about the WCF, a shoot, of sorts!
LJ: Hey, why are you bitching so much? All you do is bitch. You keep pestering me I'm going to be molestering your chances of this quizzical questioning.
(Jones flashes a quick "West Coast" sign with his fingers. The scene fades to black.)
(The scene re-appears with the same setting previously set. Jones is in a folding chair, wearing the same outfit. Directly across from him is JCC standing on a stool. On the bottom step of the stool is a white piece of tape with the name "Seth" written on it. JCC has his notepad and pen ready.)
LJ: I like your stool.
JCC: (Looks down) Oh, Seth? He just boosts me up when I need the help. He's reliable.
(Jones nods his head in approval.)
JCC: So, you lost your title. You bitter?
LJ: Bitter? Bitter? I'm pissed! Why, you ask? Not because I lost the title, but because I lost it to Creeping Death!
JCC: What's been going on backstage? There's been some internal affairs, so I've heard.
LJ: You know what? These backstage politics are pissing me off! I mean, fuck! I'm one of the top guys, and I've never been pinned here-which by the way is over five months-and I'm constantly being disrespected. I mean, hell if I ever get a say in what goes on around here, you dig? My new clothing company, which by the way hits stores in December of 06, making it a great Christmas or Hannadan gift for the Jewslums, is taking off and nobody will promote it. I mean, it's like Torture, Torture, Torture!
JCC: Side note: What's your clothing line called?
LJ: Lawnwear Inc.
(JCC nods in understandment.)
LJ: You know, I just feel like people are out to get me because I'm one of the top guys. Luckily I got my squad backing me up, which is the Team of Treachery. But at the end of the day, even they might not be able to stop me from doing the only thing that can save me and this fed: retiring.
JCC: Are you saying you're going to retire?
LJ: Depends on my internet connection.
(JCC scribbles down notes. Jones nervously taps his knee.)
JCC: Do you have any interest in-
(Jones stands up and walks away. A few minutes later, he returns, but from behind of the midget, and sits back down.)
JCC: Uh, what?
LJ: Heh, Cena. (wink)
JCC: Jones! How long is your attention span?
LJ: You know what? Fuck it. I'm retiring from WCF.
(Jones stands off and walks off. He turns around instantly and walks back to his chair.)
LJ: Yea, so I'm back again. Decided it wasn't right.
JCC: Jones, I got to ask you something: Do you really fuck lawnmowers?
LJ: No.
JCC: So it's all a gimmick?
LJ: No. I only fuck one lawnmower, and I fuck her helplessly. Her name is Lonnie Jones, and she's stolen my heart. Luckily, she's holding it hostage for some quality time.
JCC: Have you ever thought about maybe staying away from the fumes? I mean, all that time with mowers, your probably catch a whiff of some bad stuff.
LJ: Correction. I don't. You're just bitching. You've never tried to be with a lawnmower, and maybe you should. You're bitching. So stop being a n00b bitch and do the damn article.
JCC: Jones, I fail to-
LJ: Jobber kill!
JCC: Wha-
(Jones leaps out of his chair and jumps on top of JCC. The scene fades to black, but quickly comes back in, with composure and all.)
JCC: Anything else you want to talk about?
LJ: We have some good young talent here in WCF. If they keep at it, they can be something big. Vice, Striker, Thunder, all of them. They're tough as nails, but they haven't been hyped enough to go against us. Only time will tell.
JCC: Jones, I thank you for a rather alarming shoot.
(The two shake hands and the scene cuts.)
Later that day
(We see Jones and JCC in a room with a computer on. This one seems to take after the SportsCenter commercials. Jones is hovering over JCC (who is in a booster seat) pointing out things on the computer.)
LJ: No, change that.
JCC: Here?
LJ: Yea, that's better. I think that will help. Oh, and you did this wrong.
(Jones points to the PC screen.)
JCC:[/color] (Pointing) Here?
LJ: No here. Change that around. No, forget about that and let's focus more on Logan.
(The scene slowly fades to black. We hear these words as a voiceover.)
LJ: And this…fuck it. We don't need to promote Vice and them, focus on Lawnwear Inc.
(The screen is entirely black now. These words follow)
This is WCF.
