The Hangover (Slam RP#1)

[Deleted]

{{An explosion of a thunder bolt meshing with lightning creates our scene. BADA--BOOM like a Sopranos hit as Phillip Baines and Bobby Cairo are spotted in a living room inside of an obviously expensive and exquisitely decorated home. Could this be Phillip Baines's recently purchased townhouse nestled in the throes of Farmington, Connecticut? Yes, between you and I it is.

Paintings hang upon the walls. Sculptures line the stone mantel place. A home entertainment system (featuring a flat-screen TV, Blu-ray player and a stereo along with giant concert speakers) is set up for the viewing and listening pleasure of the occupants of the room, though it is currently not in use. Baines and Cairo are tending to more pressing matters. A fine, hardwood coffee table plays host to the WCF Hardcore Championship belt that Baines can still call his after the events that transpired on Monday Night Slam. Baines is seated upon a brown leather sofa while Cairo sits across from him in a matching leather loveseat. Baines is dressed in black jeans and a black button-up shirt while Cairo is wearing a purple crushed velvet track suit, looking like the pimp that only he can be. Cairo grins at Baines with a knowing, devious gleam in his eyes.}}

Bobby Cairo: "I have to hand it to you, Phil. That was quite a coup that you guys pulled off on Monday night. I know that I told you to let me in on all of your secret plans, but this is one time when I'm glad that you kept it to yourself."

{{Phil smiles at Bobby. Phil is a man who knows that he has much left to learn about this business, but he's also smart enough to know when he's hoodwinked all, including the veterans in the locker room.}}

Phillip Baines: "Bobby, I could not have accomplished what I've accomplished without you. You are the man who laid the game plan for what transpired on Slam. You are more than my mentor. You are a diabolical genius. The entire world believed that the United States, Television and Hardcore Championships would be unified on Slam, but Ryan Blake, Odin Balfore and Phillip Baines knew better than that. I will curse Creeping Death's name for so long as I have a breath in my body. He tried to take what is mine and that will never suffice. Creeping Death is a depraved man with contemptible values. Creeps is jealous of what I have accomplished. I defeated Creeping Death in the WCF Classic and instead of congratulating me and passing the torch to me, CD has decided to lay claim to a systematic plot of vengeance designed to eliminate yours truly. How did that work out on Slam, CD? But how did that work out for you!"

{{Cairo and Baines share diabolical laughter.}}

Bobby: "Hahahahahahaha!!"

Phil: "Ahahahahahahaha!! Yes, indeed. Here I sit in my luxurious layer of comfort and security as the reigning Hardcore Champion of Wrestling Championship Federation. Creeps tried to take it from me through schemes and deceptions but obviously Ragnarök was one step ahead of him. Did you see the way that Donald Deruty was left lying in pain and defeat when it was all said and done?"

Bobby: "I did. You left him in a mass of frayed nerves and broken bones. You and Blake played your roles perfectly, allowing Deruty to fall into your trap so that Odin could place the final pieces of devastation upon D-Day."

Phil: "Yes, Bobby. That was it. You understand this, but the entire world needs to know. What we did on Slam was not a mere act of petty vengeance. We were making a statement. I have earned my place as Hardcore Champion. In my first match ever I beat the greatest Hardcore Champion that WCF had ever seen, Greenfever. Then I went on to become the greatest Hardcore Champion in my own right by beating Creeping Death in the Classic, beating Greenie again at XIII and claiming his life, beating the likes of Oblivion and Reckless Jack at Blast and even beating one of my new friends, the reigning Television Champion Ryan Blake at Ultimate Showdown. And furthermore I defeated the likes of Jason Kash and Mr. FPV in non-Hardcore Title match competition during the WCF Classic. I have sown my oats and proven myself to be a top superstar in WCF. I feel as though in many ways I have inherited the legacy of Bobby Cairo in WCF."

Bobby: "Well let's not go crazy, Phil. You have yet to capture the WCF World Championship that I held."

Phil: "Yes, but don't you see, Bobby? You were a World Champion but you held the title for what, one month before losing it in your very first defense to JJ Biggs? You were the equivalent of D-Day during your time as champion."

{{Bobby rises from his seat in an obvious furor, looking as if he wants to rip Phil's heart out.}}

Phil: "Sit down, Bobby. I am not attacking you. You are a Hall of Famer and as such you are beyond impunity."

Bobby: "Well that is true."

{{Bobby hops a squat once again upon the loveseat.}}

Phil: "I am not meaning to demean you, Bobby. I am not even meaning to demean D-Day for that matter. I have always felt like D-Day is a man who could represent WCF with honor and integrity. It just so happens that along came a man with more honor and integrity than he. Odin Balfore is the truth. He is a storied part of pro wrestling history, but yet he is clearly the present and future here in WCF. People talk about Odin's age as if it's a detriment, but since when has experience ever been considered a detriment in pro wrestling? Men like Flair and Hogan were able to capture championships well into the latter stages of their lives and careers. It's unfortunate that so many misguided souls have criticized Odin time and time again instead of learning from him and following his example. I've even heard chatter that Odin is afraid of Baines, or Baines is afraid of Odin for that matter, and that's why our partnership has come about."

{{Bobby shakes his head in the negatory.}}

Bobby: "Do not let this distract you, Phil. It is obvious nonsense from jealous people."

Phil: "Oh believe me I understand that. Take for example the newly dubbed Gods of Wrestling."

{{Phil snickers as those words emanate from his mouth.}}

Phil: "Doc Henry and Oblivion are making nonsensical claims of superiority, celebrating their new-found partnership while slamming Odin and I for coming together. It is a bunch of horseshit. The truth is that Odin and I have joined forces for the simple fact that we share a philosophy: If you are going to claim greatness in WCF then you have go out there and earn it rather than expecting it to be handed to you. Can you believe--"

{{Phil busts his gut while laughing. He is doubled over in laughter while Bobby rushes to his side with concern.}}

Phil: "No, it's ok, Bobby. Can you believe that Doc Henry is claiming ownership of the longest title reign in WCF?"

{{Now Bobby is doubled over in laughter.}}

Bobby: "That is some uproarious bullshit, Phil."

Phil: "I know! This is a man who created his own championship belt so that he could call himself a champion. He must have paid--what's the going rate for a credible-looking pro wrestling championship belt? Fifteen grand?"

{{Bobby bites his bottom lip while doing some quick math in his head.}}

Bobby: "More or less, yes."

Phil: "This fool paid at least fifteen grand for a fictitious championship belt known as the Confederate Championship just so he could call himself a champion in WCF. Can you believe his audacity, Bobby?"

Bobby: "As a man who has held actual championships in WCF, I cannot."

Phil: "That's because what he's claiming is preposterous. I'm not going to take a political side and either support or condemn the Confederacy, but there is no way that Doc can seriously claim to be a champion. If he's a champion then your boy Buzzsaw Bundy might as well be a champion, Bobby."

{{Bobby looks at Phil as if he's looking for a fight.}}

Bobby: "Do not disrespect Buzzsaw Bundy, Phil. He is a work in progress."

Phil: "Listen I know that, Bobby. I like Buzzsaw now that you have shown me the light, I'm simply trying to make a point. What I truly cannot understand is Doc's current behavior. I have praised this man--"

Bobby: "It does feel bad when a man that you have praised takes up arms against you, does it not?"

{{Phil's eyes light up.}}

Phil: "Yes! It does! It's not like I've been anti-Doc. I remember some time ago when we were placed on opposite sides of an eight-man tag match on Slam. During my promo that week I ripped on nearly everyone in the match, including my partners. Doc was one of the only men that I praised. I even went so far as to proclaim Gone With The Wind as the greatest film AND novel in American history as a good faith show of solidarity."

Bobby: "Do you wish to retract that statement at the present time, Phil?"

{{Phil strokes his smooth, clean-shaven chin.}}

Phil "I do not, Bobby. If a better film or novel has ever been created courtesy of America, then I am not aware of it."

Bobby: "You are not a man who retracts his words. I have noticed that about you during our time together."

Phil: "You are correct, Roberto. That's easy for me because I do not bullshit. I don't contradict myself with lies and empty rhetoric. I still have a shred of respect for Doc because I know that he is a tough customer, but his recent performances have exposed him as a flawed member of the WCF roster. He has lost to Roy Speede on more than one occasion, which is quite simply unfathomable. That damages Doc's credibility more than walking around with a fake title belt damages Doc's credibility."

Bobby: "But he has now joined forces with Oblivion. Surely this improves his chances of victory?"

{{Phil looks at Bobby like he's retarded.}}

Phil: "Really? How does that work? Two men who have lost more matches than they've won during their careers join forces and suddenly they turn into the Steiner Brothers? Kaylyn's tits form a more imposing duo than those clowns, Bobby."

{{The leather of the loveseat that Bobby is sitting on squeaks as he adjusts the position of his body. That squeak is how you know that it's premium leather.}}

Bobby: "I'm not saying that they're automatically going to be world-beaters, Phil, but they're clearly motivated and reinvigorated. They ran roughshod over the entire roster last week on Slam. That has to count for something."

Phil: "Yeah, here's what it counts for: They're good at being cheap shot artists. I don't have a problem with them doing what they did on Slam. It's all good in the neighborhood. The problem is that they don't have the bones to back it up with substance. Doc and Obi made their presence felt last week. They split some heads and they barked at the moon like a couple of rabid hounds, but those hounds lack teeth. They lack bite. They're not nearly so scary when you look them in the eye and stand toe-to-toe with them as they are when they're ambushing you from behind. I have defeated Oblivion more times than one man should ever be allowed to defeat another man.

"Sure he can claim to have shaved a few years off of my life expectancy thanks to the damage done during our matches, but I can claim to have done the same to him. The truth is that Obi failed to defeat me for the Hardcore Championship and he failed to gain revenge for Greenfever. Obi's career has gone into a tailspin in no small part due to my dominance over him, and now he's so desperate to regain his old championship form that he's partnering with the only man on the roster with a longer losing streak than him."

{{Bobby strokes his fingers through his neatly trimmed beard.}}

Bobby: "I still don't think you should underestimate them, Phil. You know what happens to guys who get cocky."

Phil: "Guys who get cocky get laid by babes who like guys with big cocks."

{{Bobby rolls his eyes.}}

Bobby: "You know what I mean. Doc and Oblivion are both decorated former champions. Hell, they've both held the Tag Team Titles before. I know that you and Blake are two of the best and brightest young studs in WCF, but tag team wrestling is not exactly your forte."

Phil: "Doc and Obi were weak links on their championship teams. Johnny Reb was always better than Doc, even though I personally never cared for Reb's bland persona and drab clothing. Reb is a two-time World Champion and a probable Hall of Famer, while Doc is everybody's favorite Confederate job boy. Greenfever was unquestionably the stronger half of The Shadow Conspiracy. He carried that team to the championships. That's why I can't take these cats seriously when they call themselves the Gods of Wrestling.

"They're not gods of wrestling, they're the modern day equivalent of guys like Marty Jannetty and Jim "The Anvil" Neidhart. They rode other people's coattails to become Tag Team Champions, people who were much more talented than them. Blake and I don't have to ride anyone's coattails. We're the kind of dudes that have chumps trying to ride OUR coattails, but we don't go for that. We're champions in the singles ranks for a reason, and soon enough we'll be Tag Team Champions if the opportunity presents itself."

{{As Phil finishes his sentence, his girlfriend Gina saunters into the room wearing only a pink silk nightie, showing an abundance of cleavage. Gina's long brown hair flows down her back as she struts one long, toned, tanned leg in front of the other and approaches the area where Phil and Bobby are seated.}}

Gina De Carlo: "I was wondering if either of you boys would care for a drink?"

Phil: "Oh sure, babe. I could go for some grape juice right about now. My throat is a tad parched after all this chit-chat."

Bobby: "That sounds good. I'll have grape juice as well. Thank you, Gina."

{{Gina winks at the guys and then turns on her heel and walks away, shaking her booty to tease them with each step that she takes. Bobby seems to be particularly transfixed before Phil's voice interrupts his train of thought.}}

Phil: "You're going to love this grape juice, Bobby. It's home-made. Gina squashes the grapes herself using her bare feet!"

{{Bobby raises an eyebrow, a look of intrigue upon his face, as he nods his head.}}

Phil [whispering]: "If you don't mind though, I'd appreciate if you drink it up quickly and then hit the road, because Gina looks like she's all ready for bed, and I don't mean the sleeping kind of bed if you catch my drift."

Bobby: "Yes, I think I can take such an obvious hint. In fact I think I'll mosey into the kitchen and grab my ass--sorry, I mean glass to go."

{{Bobby checks the time on his gold Rolex wrist watch.}}

Bobby: "It is getting late and we have to head out to Boston for the show tomorrow. You need your, uh, bed with Gina and I need my bed with Emily, and then we all need to get some actual sleep."

Phil: "I hear that, bruddah. Good talk tonight, man. Thanks for stopping by. It felt good to get some shit off my chest."

{{Phil and Bobby rise from their seats, tap bro-fists and then make their way down the same hallway that Gina walked down moments earlier. The last image that we see is the WCF Hardcore Championship sitting all by its lonesome on the living room coffee table.}}