Post by jasonbartles on Oct 1, 2011 17:53:11 GMT -5
(The scene begins where we left off last time: at the cubical of Gerald Schwartz: the young Jew aspiring journalist who handles calls at Hank Brown’s online wrestling magazine, The Slamsation. Gerald’s mundane existence has temporarily been penetrated by the thought of a former WCF wrestler returning. Gerald and his workmate, Rodney Mitchell, are mulling over the fax that came in, announcing the wrestler’s revival.)
Gerald: This is HUGE, Rodney! This is a lead story in it’s own right!
(We’ve established that Rodney is overweight. What we haven’t established is whether Rodney’s just “big-boned” or a heavy eater. Rodney picks up a Hostess treat from Gerald’s desk. We’ve found our answer.)
Rodney (unpeeling wrapper) I dunno, man. I barely remember the guy. I mean, he was always a little iffy, don’t you think?
(Rodney stuffs the delectable snack into his mouth and chews. Cream emerges from the corners of his lips.)
Gerald: Iffy? How? The guy was always a spot on technical wrestler, and he was a brawler. Not a pansy brawler, either. I remember hearing a story once, about him and another wrestler…Dake Ken, I think…anyways, they were at this shitty little Irish Pub, and some guy’s giving Ken the eye. Like, a gnarly eye. Anyways, Ken’s not gonna do anything, not as a contracted WCF wrestler, you know? Well, this guy surely wasn’t gonna let some asshole stare him down at a bar. So he goes to the pool table, picks up an 8 ball-might’ve been a 12-and, without warning, hit’s the motherfucker right in the eye. BLAM! WCF footed the guy’s Lasik surgery, yeah. But the guy lives to fight.
Rodney: I thought he lived to-
Gerald: Look, that wasn’t an act. That’s what makes the guy a legend. The personification of an era. These were some of the WCF’s golden years: a blend of consistent veterans headlining the shows, and the youngsters who were going to take their place eventually opening it. But even more than that competition was just how damn weird everything was. Look at some forums from those years: you’ll see threads with titles like “I think Logan and Linda just fucked in the back of my taxi cab!” Remember Linda, his blow-up doll? It was so fucking weird, that era.
(Just then, a smoking hot blonde chick with bosoms stretching out to the length of her feet walks into the cubicle. She has a stack full of papers in one hand, and is passing them out in the other. Her name is Lindsey, and she’s the office receptionist. She’s only doing the job to support herself through school, although stripping or prostitution-two enterprises she’d succeed in-are more lucrative. But Lindsey has dignity. Still, she’s beautiful, and dignity is no match for the sexual harassment she suffers on a daily basis.)
Lindsey: Meeting in 45 minutes. Hank wants to go over some bullshit interview with some Doc guy.
Gerald: Hey, Linds, check this out!
(Gerald hands Lindsey the fax. Although he’s worked with her long enough to know she doesn’t like wrestling, his general excitement can’t be contained.)
Lindsey: Who’s this?
Rodney: Bingo!
Gerald: He’s one of the most tragic figures of our generation! The guy was one of a kind! For a while there, he was a major player in WCF!
Lindsey: What happened to him, then?
Rodney: What didn’t? Alcoholism, legal problems, post-traumatic stress disorder-
Gerald: Hey, I know what happened hit the guy hard. He really loved her.
Rodney: How can you even say that without laughing?
Gerald: Because, Rod, it’s love. And love has no boundaries. No one thing has ever been loved more than he loved her. And then, she was gone. How could that not affect him? It’s a tragedy, really. Of Ancient Greek proportions.
Lindsey: Wait, what happened to her? Did she die?
Rodney: She wasn’t even-
Gerald: It all started-
(The scene fades to black with Gerald telling the story and Lindsey and Rodney listening.)
Gerald: This is HUGE, Rodney! This is a lead story in it’s own right!
(We’ve established that Rodney is overweight. What we haven’t established is whether Rodney’s just “big-boned” or a heavy eater. Rodney picks up a Hostess treat from Gerald’s desk. We’ve found our answer.)
Rodney (unpeeling wrapper) I dunno, man. I barely remember the guy. I mean, he was always a little iffy, don’t you think?
(Rodney stuffs the delectable snack into his mouth and chews. Cream emerges from the corners of his lips.)
Gerald: Iffy? How? The guy was always a spot on technical wrestler, and he was a brawler. Not a pansy brawler, either. I remember hearing a story once, about him and another wrestler…Dake Ken, I think…anyways, they were at this shitty little Irish Pub, and some guy’s giving Ken the eye. Like, a gnarly eye. Anyways, Ken’s not gonna do anything, not as a contracted WCF wrestler, you know? Well, this guy surely wasn’t gonna let some asshole stare him down at a bar. So he goes to the pool table, picks up an 8 ball-might’ve been a 12-and, without warning, hit’s the motherfucker right in the eye. BLAM! WCF footed the guy’s Lasik surgery, yeah. But the guy lives to fight.
Rodney: I thought he lived to-
Gerald: Look, that wasn’t an act. That’s what makes the guy a legend. The personification of an era. These were some of the WCF’s golden years: a blend of consistent veterans headlining the shows, and the youngsters who were going to take their place eventually opening it. But even more than that competition was just how damn weird everything was. Look at some forums from those years: you’ll see threads with titles like “I think Logan and Linda just fucked in the back of my taxi cab!” Remember Linda, his blow-up doll? It was so fucking weird, that era.
(Just then, a smoking hot blonde chick with bosoms stretching out to the length of her feet walks into the cubicle. She has a stack full of papers in one hand, and is passing them out in the other. Her name is Lindsey, and she’s the office receptionist. She’s only doing the job to support herself through school, although stripping or prostitution-two enterprises she’d succeed in-are more lucrative. But Lindsey has dignity. Still, she’s beautiful, and dignity is no match for the sexual harassment she suffers on a daily basis.)
Lindsey: Meeting in 45 minutes. Hank wants to go over some bullshit interview with some Doc guy.
Gerald: Hey, Linds, check this out!
(Gerald hands Lindsey the fax. Although he’s worked with her long enough to know she doesn’t like wrestling, his general excitement can’t be contained.)
Lindsey: Who’s this?
Rodney: Bingo!
Gerald: He’s one of the most tragic figures of our generation! The guy was one of a kind! For a while there, he was a major player in WCF!
Lindsey: What happened to him, then?
Rodney: What didn’t? Alcoholism, legal problems, post-traumatic stress disorder-
Gerald: Hey, I know what happened hit the guy hard. He really loved her.
Rodney: How can you even say that without laughing?
Gerald: Because, Rod, it’s love. And love has no boundaries. No one thing has ever been loved more than he loved her. And then, she was gone. How could that not affect him? It’s a tragedy, really. Of Ancient Greek proportions.
Lindsey: Wait, what happened to her? Did she die?
Rodney: She wasn’t even-
Gerald: It all started-
(The scene fades to black with Gerald telling the story and Lindsey and Rodney listening.)
