Post by Corey Black on Jul 7, 2007 11:08:49 GMT -5
Our scene opens up to Creeping Death, amazingly enough, sitting at a desk, filling out paperwork. The office is familiar looking, but nothing that would be very distinguishable can be seen.
Creeping Death: Good god I hate paperwork. All this bullshit just to put on a show in Tokyo? Insurance, medical, transportation, crowd control ... all this? Ridiculous.
Just then, Hank Brown comes in the door, panting and breathing heavily, drenched in sweat.
Hank Brown: I've been up and down this arena looking for you, and you're in Seth's office?!
Creeping Death: ... yeah, what do you need, Hank?
Hank Brown: Seth sent me to find you!
CD drops his pen and looks up at Hank.
Creeping Death: Yeah, I'm a little busy here. Can you get him to call me?
Hank Brown: On his own phone? SIGH alright.
Hank runs out of the room, leaving CD to laugh to himself. CD picks up the pen and continues to fill out paperwork until the phone rings. CD picks it up with a smile.
Creeping Death: Seth Lerch's palace of homosexual sexy time, we specialize in romance explosions, how may I help you?
Oh hi Seth!
I'm filling out the paperwork for Thirteen (XIII)...
Well technically you're supposed to do it, but since you're pushing everything on me, I am.
Yeah, I know it is my pay per view, but you're the one making money off it.
Shut up.
No.
No.
No.
No.
Yes.
No.
Maybe.
I think so.
Red.
This is all trivial crap, Seth. Don't you have a wrestler to fly out here to Pennsylvania to wrestle Dehart in a day?
Oh, he's here?
... now?
Well ok then.
...
Whatever you say, fucker.
CD slams the phone down, hanging it up, and almost breaking the thing.
Creeping Death: Fucking bullshit, I have a match this week and then it's off to Japan, there is no way in hell I need to do this promotional crap. So much to do, so little time. Gah!
CD stands up, launching the chair back into the wall, and jumps up on the desk, stepping off it on the other side and going out the door. The scene fades out.
Creeping Death: Good god I hate paperwork. All this bullshit just to put on a show in Tokyo? Insurance, medical, transportation, crowd control ... all this? Ridiculous.
Just then, Hank Brown comes in the door, panting and breathing heavily, drenched in sweat.
Hank Brown: I've been up and down this arena looking for you, and you're in Seth's office?!
Creeping Death: ... yeah, what do you need, Hank?
Hank Brown: Seth sent me to find you!
CD drops his pen and looks up at Hank.
Creeping Death: Yeah, I'm a little busy here. Can you get him to call me?
Hank Brown: On his own phone? SIGH alright.
Hank runs out of the room, leaving CD to laugh to himself. CD picks up the pen and continues to fill out paperwork until the phone rings. CD picks it up with a smile.
Creeping Death: Seth Lerch's palace of homosexual sexy time, we specialize in romance explosions, how may I help you?
Oh hi Seth!
I'm filling out the paperwork for Thirteen (XIII)...
Well technically you're supposed to do it, but since you're pushing everything on me, I am.
Yeah, I know it is my pay per view, but you're the one making money off it.
Shut up.
No.
No.
No.
No.
Yes.
No.
Maybe.
I think so.
Red.
This is all trivial crap, Seth. Don't you have a wrestler to fly out here to Pennsylvania to wrestle Dehart in a day?
Oh, he's here?
... now?
Well ok then.
...
Whatever you say, fucker.
CD slams the phone down, hanging it up, and almost breaking the thing.
Creeping Death: Fucking bullshit, I have a match this week and then it's off to Japan, there is no way in hell I need to do this promotional crap. So much to do, so little time. Gah!
CD stands up, launching the chair back into the wall, and jumps up on the desk, stepping off it on the other side and going out the door. The scene fades out.
