Post by Lawnmower Jones on Oct 7, 2011 14:48:25 GMT -5
(The 2007 Chateau Ausone Bordeaux is generally considered one of the best wines on the market today. The finer points of the wine are its ability to hold its weight, its wood, and its ability to bury the acidities and berries. At retail, the wine is anywhere from $1,100.00 to $1,499.99. Sold privately, however, the wine can reach prices of up to $5,000.00.)
(The WCF, per company policy, send a bottle of this wine out to returning wrestlers. For the optimist, this is an act of appreciation. For the pessimist, a degradation that shows just how sick and twisted the WCF is.)
(The wine is a representation of WCF management’s ethics: the wine itself is a reflection of the vineyard, the effort, and the owner. This is why the WCF only sends this bottle out to returning wrestlers: “We made you,” they say. “You are our grapes. This is what you‘ll be with us.”)
(The scene opens in Lawnmower Jones filthy trailer in the middle of nowhere. Jones, who is a poor man-literally and figuratively-is well known to live in a trailer. He has three loves: alcohol, fighting, and lawn care. He had a fourth, but she passed away.)
(When Lawnmower Jones returned to the WCF, he was sent a bottle of the ‘07 Chateau Ausone. He was excited-not because it would pair well with a wonderful Braised Lamb Shanks and grilled zucchini. But because free alcohol is free alcohol. Tonight, Lawnmower Jones, wearing his traditional overalls, is going to open the wine and enjoy it. If only he can find that damn corkscrew.)
BRASSSSSSH!
(The sound of glass shattering is heard.)
LJ: (on the phone) Eh, sorrrry, Looogan. It’s just meh bottle of wine. Didn’t have a damn screw.
(Jones has shattered the neck of the bottle over the plastic counter in his trailer. He opens a cupboard and grabs a “2 Fast, 2 Furious” mug and pours the 95 rated wine into the 36 percent rated movie. The irony is not lost here.)
(Jones chugs the wine. He waits for it to settle in his stomach, burps, and pours another. Half the bottle of wine is gone in a matter of seconds.)
LJ: Don’t worry, Looogan. Balfore can’t hold the flicker of a flame to yer bull sack…(listening)…we sayin’ it in Scoootland all the time! It’s a sayin’! An expressssion.
(Jones takes a drink of the wine. He opens up the other cupboard and pulls out a Fruit by the Foot. Fruit by the Foot and an ‘07 Chateau Ausone in a Paul Walker mug: class dismissed.)
LJ: I knowww ye hate ‘Enry. That’s why Jonesy ‘ere’s gonn’ beat his brans in! First with me fist, then with me feet!
(Jones unrolls the Fruit by the Foot and places it on the outside of his pants, near his genitals. He’s comparing the delicious fruit snack to his penis. He nods in approval, then throws the snack in his mouth, washing it down with the rest of the wine. He pours another mug.)
LJ: Look, Looogan. Yev told meh everyting I needa knowww aboot ’’Enry. I don’t know no US histree, or what the ’ell the Confedrate, means. All Jones knowwws is two tings: ’e’s wearin’ a fake belt around, and ’e’s aboot to get ’is face basshed. Nobody messes with the Team of Trech-tree and gets away wit’ it!
(Jones takes a drink and listens to Logan talk.)
LJ: Okay, Looogan. Enjoy ’aving sex wit’ the laddie. Fill me in on the deeetails tomorrrrow!
(Jones shuts his phone off-it looks to be an early Nokia. He could probably play Snake on the badboy.)
(Jones looks at the clock on the stove: 11:39.)
LJ: Gah! I’ll be missin’ meh Friends!
(Jones grabs the bottle of wine and a nearby bottle of Jergens hand lotion, and runs off screen. Fade to black.)
(The WCF, per company policy, send a bottle of this wine out to returning wrestlers. For the optimist, this is an act of appreciation. For the pessimist, a degradation that shows just how sick and twisted the WCF is.)
(The wine is a representation of WCF management’s ethics: the wine itself is a reflection of the vineyard, the effort, and the owner. This is why the WCF only sends this bottle out to returning wrestlers: “We made you,” they say. “You are our grapes. This is what you‘ll be with us.”)
(The scene opens in Lawnmower Jones filthy trailer in the middle of nowhere. Jones, who is a poor man-literally and figuratively-is well known to live in a trailer. He has three loves: alcohol, fighting, and lawn care. He had a fourth, but she passed away.)
(When Lawnmower Jones returned to the WCF, he was sent a bottle of the ‘07 Chateau Ausone. He was excited-not because it would pair well with a wonderful Braised Lamb Shanks and grilled zucchini. But because free alcohol is free alcohol. Tonight, Lawnmower Jones, wearing his traditional overalls, is going to open the wine and enjoy it. If only he can find that damn corkscrew.)
BRASSSSSSH!
(The sound of glass shattering is heard.)
LJ: (on the phone) Eh, sorrrry, Looogan. It’s just meh bottle of wine. Didn’t have a damn screw.
(Jones has shattered the neck of the bottle over the plastic counter in his trailer. He opens a cupboard and grabs a “2 Fast, 2 Furious” mug and pours the 95 rated wine into the 36 percent rated movie. The irony is not lost here.)
(Jones chugs the wine. He waits for it to settle in his stomach, burps, and pours another. Half the bottle of wine is gone in a matter of seconds.)
LJ: Don’t worry, Looogan. Balfore can’t hold the flicker of a flame to yer bull sack…(listening)…we sayin’ it in Scoootland all the time! It’s a sayin’! An expressssion.
(Jones takes a drink of the wine. He opens up the other cupboard and pulls out a Fruit by the Foot. Fruit by the Foot and an ‘07 Chateau Ausone in a Paul Walker mug: class dismissed.)
LJ: I knowww ye hate ‘Enry. That’s why Jonesy ‘ere’s gonn’ beat his brans in! First with me fist, then with me feet!
(Jones unrolls the Fruit by the Foot and places it on the outside of his pants, near his genitals. He’s comparing the delicious fruit snack to his penis. He nods in approval, then throws the snack in his mouth, washing it down with the rest of the wine. He pours another mug.)
LJ: Look, Looogan. Yev told meh everyting I needa knowww aboot ’’Enry. I don’t know no US histree, or what the ’ell the Confedrate, means. All Jones knowwws is two tings: ’e’s wearin’ a fake belt around, and ’e’s aboot to get ’is face basshed. Nobody messes with the Team of Trech-tree and gets away wit’ it!
(Jones takes a drink and listens to Logan talk.)
LJ: Okay, Looogan. Enjoy ’aving sex wit’ the laddie. Fill me in on the deeetails tomorrrrow!
(Jones shuts his phone off-it looks to be an early Nokia. He could probably play Snake on the badboy.)
(Jones looks at the clock on the stove: 11:39.)
LJ: Gah! I’ll be missin’ meh Friends!
(Jones grabs the bottle of wine and a nearby bottle of Jergens hand lotion, and runs off screen. Fade to black.)
