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| Unnamed Bastard Show Episode 8 HOUR ONE | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 13 2013, 10:52 AM (400 Views) | |
| MBCKyle | Mar 13 2013, 10:52 AM Post #1 |
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The Soda Dog Refreshment Squad
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NOW THE WORLD DON’T MOVE TO THE BEAT OF JUST ONE DRUM [The deep voice of Steve “Uatu” Jones welcomes you, beckons you, to our latest destination.] WHAT MIGHT BE RIGHT FOR YOU MAY NOT BE RIGHT FOR SOME [The words strike familiar to anyone born in the age of wars cold and the land of sausage and beer divided.] A MAN IS BORN HE’S A MAN OF MEANS THEN ALONG COME TWO THEY GOT NOTHING BUT THEIR JEANS [But most importantly, these words strike true for all generations. They strike a chord that resonates with two men we’ve followed for roughly a year. And again, we resume their journey across America, good, bad and ugly...] BUT THEY GOT DIFF’RENT STROKES IT TAKES DIFF’RENT STROKES IT TAKES DIFF’RENT STROKES TO MOVE THE WORLD [A moon lit sky illuminates the night, stars shining brightly over rural splendor. Light pollution is the farthest thing to touch this pure, this perfect night. The outline of a small, one story building sits along the road, its internal light pouring through windows, highlighting trucks, cars and the paved parking lot which sit at the side of a back country road.] EVERYBODY’S GOT A SPECIAL KIND OF STORY EVERYBODY FINDS A WAY TO SHINE IT DON’T MATTER THAT YOU GOT NOT A LOT SO WHAT [The sign reads “Roadside Diner” and the smell, though your senses are far removed, would be a rabid mixture of peach cobbler and pecan pie with a dash of hamburger grease. The taste would be the epitome of your cholesterol climbing. And on the jukebox plays a George Jones melody so obscure even his momma couldn’t identify the tune.] THEY’LL HAVE THIERS AND YOU’LL HAVE YOURS AND I’LL HAVE MINE AND TOGETHER WE’LL BE FINE... [Inside the diner there are truckers in trucker hats wearing puffy vests and waitresses in waitress bibs wearing their hair up in buns. There are other patrons, namely a man at the diner counter eating the aforementioned pie and sipping on a cup of coffee and a somewhat bookish girl who looks upon that dreamy hunk from afar.] BECAUSE IT TAKES DIFF’RENT STROKES TO MOVE THE WORLD YES IT DOES IT TAKES DIFF’RENT STROKES TO MOVE THE WORLD [Sitting in a booth by the front window are two individuals that need no introduction yet will get one simply because that’s how this show rolls. One wears an oversized novelty trucker hat as he looks over the menu.] Slush: You know... I’m appalled yet tempted by the premise of deep fried hamster. [And his companion, deep in thought, reads over piles and piles of scribbled paper and post it notes.] Pinhead: ... Slush: What even goes with fried hamster? Okra? Carrots? Skittles? [Despite Slush’s question, Pinhead remains silent, lost within his reading. Though the Bastadnomicon does not lay before him, the notes taken of the book known to be bound in the hide of armadillo and pecan are enough to lead a man to madness. What insanity would then be led to for those who read the text directly?] Slush: You know, I’m asking you a question here. Pinhead: … Slush: I don’t like being ignored. Pinhead: … Slush: I demand attention! Pinhead: … [One would expect Slush to explode into a fit of immaturity... ...and that’s exactly what you’re going to get.] Slush: Fine. [Slush sets his menu aside and clears his throat.] Slush: Since you have chosen to read rather than pay attention to the most important person in the universe I have no choice but to reenact the fake orgasm scene from “When Harry Met Sally.” [Slush gives Pinhead one more chance to pay attention but the redheaded reader continues on with his work. Slush sighs and takes a sip from his water before setting forth to do what Meg Ryan once made famous.] Slush: Ahem... … …. HEE-HAW! [Surely, these locals have heard the braying of a donkey before. But when they have, it’s come from a donkey. And while many could argue that Slush is the epitome of an ass, it’s an unusual noise to hear coming from a human inside the diner. All the patrons and employees turn to stare at Slush, who is suddenly aware that all eyes are upon him.] Slush: Ummm..... [Slush picks up a packet of saltine crackers, available at all the tables.] Slush: These are some [MEEP] damn good saltines! [Oddly, this makes sense to the diners in the establishment. Ever so shyly, they each reach for their own pack of saltines...] Pinhead: A donkey? Slush: Finally! I have your attention. What the Hell are you doing that has you too occupied to lavish me with the attention I so rightly deserve? Pinhead: We’re about to enter the final territory. Slush: Or “zone” if you will? Pinhead: Yeah, sure. This is the territory run by the referee union, RUTABEGA. They’re holding a lot of leverage and dealing with them is going to be tricky. Slush: Dangerous? Pinhead: I guess. Slush: So we’re in a zone of danger... Pinhead: I know where you’re going Kenny Loggins and I’m not going to enable it. Slush: Come on man! It’s not like the Pope is retiring! I can’t mine that gold for a few more years. Give me Kenny Loggins. You owe me Kenny Loggins! [Pinhead merely sighs, only to be disturbed by random donkey braying in the background.] Pinhead: We’ve got to deal with RUTABEGA here. Not only do they have to agree to be a part of the Bastardship of the Ring, we also need to resolve their union issues so real MBC referees can officiate. Their power supersedes territorial refs according to the book. Slush: Where is the book? Pinhead: You don’t worry about that. Slush: As opposed to what? Your unjust persecution of Kenny Loggins? Pinhead: Can we get back to the referees and RUTABEGA? Slush: Do we have to? Resolving old plot points is like taking a donkey punch. [Pinhead has no response for it, to which, Slush eats a saltine...] Deep Voice: Mister Danza [...and nearly chokes on it.] Slush: ACK! [Suddenly standing nearby is a well dressed man, somewhere in his early forties. His hair is cut close, likely to hide a receding hairline. He sees Slush trying to clear the cracker from his throat and instead of helping the man, turns to Pinhead.] Deep Voice: Mister McAllister. Pinhead: Can I help you? Deep Voice: I’m from RUTABEGA. I’m to escort you to the arena proper. I believe you were told to expect me? Pinhead: Yeah, let me pay the tab... Deep Voice: Ah, your check has been paid for. Please follow me. [Slush, still choking on a cracker, gets up and throws himself into a wall, dislodging the obtrusive object.] Slush: I HATE YOU ALL! Pinhead: Lead the way. [Once Slush has gotten over his “spell” he joins Pinhead behind the deep voiced representative. He leads the two announcers out the front door and to the side of an unmarked white van. As they approach, two men dressed in black slide open the door and step out onto the gravel parking lot.] Slush: Are we getting kidnapped again? [The representative pulls out two black hoods.] Pinhead: Seriously? Deep Voice: Our leaders have requested you wear these to protect territorial secrets. Slush: Is one of you going to finger me? I swear, one of those Styx ninjas was trying to feel me up. Deep Voice: I assure you, you will be treated well. Slush: That’s almost disappointing. [Pinhead sighs again, realizing his lot in life will never change. He puts on the hood, followed quickly by Slush. The two are helped into the van and once the door shuts, the engine turns over. The van pulls to the edge of the parking lot...] THE MIGHTY BASTARD CHAMPIONSHIP PRESENTS THE UNNAMED BASTARD SHOW EPISODE EIGHT: "STAND BACK BURRITO! THAT’S MY MOMMA!" or "WHAT YOU TALKIN’ ‘BOUT PEYTON HILLIS!?" [...and drives across the highway to an old warehouse. The engine cuts off and the door opens.] Slush: That’s it? Really? You’re such kidnapping teases! [Pinhead and Slush are escorted out of the van and into the warehouse. The camera follow close... you know... territorial secrets and all don’t need to be protected from our ninja like cameramen.] Slush: Are we at least going to get to see some hot chicks? Last time we got kidnapped there was a hot chick at the end of the tunnel. Oh the sainted Holly Hotbody. How I worship her... Pinhead: SLUSH! Slush: I was going to say abs! You can grate cheese on those things! And cut glass with her... Pinhead: SLUSH! [Finally, the group reaches a T-bone intersection of halls where two security guards in striped attire await.] Slush: What’s with the refs? Deep Voice: They’re referees. Slush: Why do their badges say security? Deep Voice: They’re referees of security. Slush: Really? Deep Voice: We take our refereeing very seriously. Slush: Do you consume the flesh of zebras to imbue yourselves with the power and spirit of your totem? Pinhead: SLUSH! Slush: It’s a simple question. Deep Voice: And Mister McAllister, Mr. Ewich and Mr. Prevert are waiting for you in the boardroom. Pinhead: Sounds good. Deep Voice: Mr. Danza, if you would please go with these gentlemen, they’ll escort you to the arena. Slush: Oh, let me guess. I get to do commentary? Deep Voice: The local chapter of the Slush Fan Club planned a meet and greet with you but commentary works. Slush: [MEEP]! [The two ref/security guards take Slush by the arms and begin to drag him away.] Slush: I BLAME YOU FOR THIS PINHEAD! I BLAME YOU! [As Slush screams, the two guards drag him by an open door. Inside are numerous attractive ladies downing NyQuila with reckless abandon as they shout...] Slush Fan Club: I HATE TOM LANDIS! I HATE TOM LANDIS! I HATE TOM LANDIS! [Slush sees the harem of women who love him slip away. A tear forms in the corner of his eye…] Slush: DOUBLE [MEEP]! [And we fade to the arena... It’s not your standard arena, more like the factory at the end of Terminator 2. Steam blows from pipes that run the course of the building like veins from a beating heart. A wrestling ring sits as the focus of all in attendance. Though the first level has several rows setup around the ring, the levels above have a better view. If Fight Club had an arena, it’d be like this. And they wouldn’t talk about it. Because they couldn’t.] Man’s Voice: And we welcome the uninitiated to the RUTABEGA territory, home to freedom and order. Female’s Voice: And wrestling as it should be: under the watchful eyes of capable, competent officiating. [At a table situated ringside sit two figures. One is a man with dark blonde hair and a mustache that would make the 1980’s proud. He wears a tuxedo and somehow, he fits right into this scene right out of a bad Jean Claude Van Damme movie.] EC: I am your host for the evening’s events, Emmanuel Coleman. And to my right, is the gorgeous Lisa McKeon. [And as the man says, to his right is the glamorous Lisa McKeon, dressed to the nines in a sequined blouse that catches the lights just right. Somewhere, her image is on a poster plastered to the wall of prepubescent boys and 40 year old living with their mom hermits everywhere.] LM: Thank you as always. You certainly know how to treat a lady. EC: And joining us this week... [Two zebra striped security guards show up and plop Slush down into a third chair.] Slush: Every time I do this, I meet a new pair of jokers. At least one of them is decent looking. EC: Why thank you. Slush: Not you needle[MEEP]. I’m talking about Juggs here. LM: Such language! Slush: Get used to it. EC: It’s just for this week my dear. We shall overcome Slush: You know, you two remind me of a pair of lounge singers I used to swing with back in 87. Have you two ever been to Shreveport? EC: I... I don’t know what you’re talking about. Slush: Yeah, I think it’s coming back to me. EC: Nope. Not ringing any bells. Let’s move on. Slush: You must have had some work done Juggs. You haven’t aged a day up top. LM: Thanks? Slush: That ass still tight as ever? Back then, we could bounce squirrels off it. I would know. We did! EC: Here at RUTABEGA, we do things a little different. There is a zero tolerance policy in place for referee abuse and needless shenanigans. And to enforce that, we have our special ringside enforcer referee. [A quick shot to an extremely tall, extremely muscular mountain of a man wearing a referee shirt.] EC: Norman “The Obliterator” Clavin. LM: I call him Fluffy. Slush: Hmmm... I wonder if he was in Reno in 93. EC: I wouldn’t know. LM: I’ll find out later. Slush: Yeah, you do that. By that point I’ll be bored. EC: On tonight’s show, we have two debuts to the territory. Evan Sails makes his first appearance here in RUTABEGA, taking on Jed Snedley, the Man of 1,000 Faces. LM: And our most recent signee “The Rebel” Melinda Rhodes debuts against The Nut Cutter of The Great North, Alejandra McKraken. Slush: I know her. I once saw her wrestle a bear with one arm tied behind her back. LM: This during your time in the Russian Circus? Slush: Well, his name was Ivan but I don’t think he was in a circus. LM: … Slush: At least, not in any legal ones. You know that wacky underground circus circuit... it’s... LM: … EC: … Slush: It doesn’t exist. You didn’t hear me talk about it or the cocaine smuggling midget clowns. EC: Right, also on the card... Slush: CLOWN CARS MAKE THE ULTIMATE COCAINE MULE! EC: MBC Women’s Champion Jan Delgado defends her title for the first time under RUTABEGA rules against Tomoko Honda of Perfect Girl Evolution. Slush: Finally! Something positive! My harem girls will be here! LM: Aren’t harem’s illegal? Slush: Ever hear of “sister wives”? LM: Isn’t that illegal too? Slush: How could it be? It’s on television! The television, much like the internet, is America’s last bastion of truth and legality. Why would television lie? LM: Because it’s wrong. Slush: Bitch! Take that back! LM: Are you going to let him talk to me like that? EC: He’s just like your poodle. LM: Oh? Really? [McKeon reaches under the table and pulls out the local newspaper. She rolls it up and promptly swats Slush on the nose.] Slush: DAMNIT! EC: And in the main event, X and Y, together known as the Chromosomes, defend the MBC Team Bastard Championship Titles against Wolf Jager and Justin Davidson, known to us all as International Incident. LM: You going to be a good boy? Slush: Yes. LM: Good. Slush: Until you’re not home, then I’m totally going to poop in your favorite shoes. [We cut backstage, where a lone man sits in a lone reclining chair in an otherwise empty room. The man is well-proportioned physically, a little overweight but in otherwise good shape, with a face that could have gone into modeling had he weighed about 100 fewer pounds and been through a few less wars. He has long, straight, bleach-blonde hair that hangs loose and is starting to thin slightly. Just visible through his unbuttoned red Hawaiian shirt is a tattoo of a school bell right at the base of his throat. The man holds a guitar across his lap, casually strumming away while singing to himself.] Man: #... seen a rich man beg, I've seen a good man sin, I've seen a tough man cry... seen a loser win, and a sad man grin, I heard an honest man lie...# [He continues to strum, humming along with the next few words for a moment... before slowly letting both his play and his humming fade.] Man: Y'know... people say nice guys finish last. [The man slowly sets his guitar off to his side, an unsettling smile on his square, clean-shaven jaw.] Man: But doesn't every rule have exceptions? [He sits up slightly, his long, blond hair falling over his ears and masking the side of his face.] Man: I mean, y'don't really _have_ to be ruthless and cruel to succeed, do ya? [He stops and contemplates his own question thoughtfully before continuing.] Man: Oh, I know... y'all will want to disagree with me. And I can't blame ya. This business favors men who like hurting people. Men who will go to any length, even the sacrifice of their very soul, just to... hurt people. [He shrugs, never losing his calm yet disconcerting grin.] Man: Truly good men are rare... and most end up no more than a victim for the evil ones. [He reaches up with his free hand to brush his hair back over his ear, revealing the letters "L-O-V-E" tattooed onto each finger of his left hand.] Man: But why must it be that way? Can't a good, honest man succeed amongst the traitors and animals? [He looks down at his feet, and for the first time his grin fades ever so slightly.] Man: Don't get me wrong. I hurt people... [He pauses.] Man: ... a lot. [He looks up, a sadness in his cold blue eyes but the grin still on his face.] Man: But I don't like to. I don't enjoy it. [He leans back in his chair once again in relaxation, obviously bothered but never losing his calming demeanor.] Man: I do it because I must. Lessons have to be learned. And seems Evan Sails must be the one to teach them. [He nods in agreement with himself.] ES: But I truly won't enjoy myself. I don't want to hurt any of y'all. I just want ya to... understand. To learn from the experience. To become better people... [He sighs slightly to himself.] ES: ... even if pain is the only approach y'all can comprehend. [He lowers his head, closing his eyes.] ES: Jed Snedley, my first opponent in my journey into the land of Bastards, I have but one thing I must say... [He looks up, opening his eyes and looking straight through the camera.] ES: I'm sorry. [He nods respectfully, his grin remaining ever constant but his eyes seeming to display legitimate sorrow. He picks up the guitar from beside his chair and resumes playing as we fade to black.] =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ EVAN SAILS versus JED SNEDLEY, “MAN OF 1000 FACES” =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ [Though early in the show, it became obvious to any outsider that the crowd wasn't going to like anyone except the referees. The first official for the evening, Harry "Bull" Fielding, was welcomed warmly, even being embraced by a trio of grandmotherly looking women in the front row. Did Jed Snedley receive the same reception? Hardly. The Man of 1,000 faces wiped grandmotherly spit from his face, returning a pair of dentures that hit him square in the nose. No Matlock impression nor tribute to Murder She Wrote could turn the elder set towards Jed's favor. And as things went with the old, so went the new.] Slush: Some "Prairie Home Companion" may work. EC: You listen to NPR? LM: You don't strike me the type to listen to something so wholesome. Slush: Wholesome? Sister let me insert some informational seed into your brain vagina via my education penis. If it exists, there is a porn of it. LM: Eww... on so many fronts... [Evan Sails made his entrance, much to the same reception. The man wasn't fazed by it, merely waving and offering to shake hands with the willing. At least for his gentlemanly ways, the elderly crowd opted not to spit on him. Once in the ring, Sails offered up a hand in a sign of good sportsmanship. Snedley accepted, and the two shook until the ringing of the bell. Then the switch went on. Gone was the gentlemanly fellow, instead a monster replacing him. Sails leveled Snedley with a short clothesline and beat every single one of his 1,000 faces.] EC: Sails is manhandling Snedley early. Slush: Maybe he saw the same version of Prairie Home Companion I did. LM: Again, eeeew. [Snedley rarely if at all put up any defense. Jed caught the occasional reprieve when the referee inserted himself to break up chokes and closed fists. Sails switch flipped for a short moment, showing good will to the ref in their work. But at the ref giving the go ahead, Sails was right back to work.] EC: Bull keeping a close eye here. Sails not giving him too much trouble. Slush: Is Fluffy over there going to do something other than look like Mount Everest? LM: He will when the time comes. But right now he just flexes to sell more copies of the "Men of RUTABEGA" calendar. [Sails maintained his offensive barrage, so much so he backed Snedley to the ropes. After one hell of a hay maker, Jed tumbled through the ropes and to the arena floor. Though dazed, Snedley hopped to his feet. He stumbled wildly for a moment before running right into the brick wall that was Fluffy. Having a secondary referee at ringside should have been useful and with this thinking, Jed took a moment to vent his frustration about Bull to Norm Clavin. The large referee nodded his head as he listened to the appeal. Once Snedley was done, Fluffy gave his verdict... ...via cattle prod.] Slush: Holy Holly bras! Where'd he pull that out of? EC: All RUTABEGA refs are equipped. And they don't take kindly to their judgment and work being questioned. LM: They are the law. [With a gentle smile and polite nod, Sails exited the ring to gather his opponent. Evan yanked Jed up and rolled him in the ring. Though Sails could have covered, the Hawaiian shirt clad wrestler felt an additional point needed to be made. Two consecutive pile drivers later, the only face Jed could make was that of unconsciousness. To go with that, Evan covered and three seconds later, the match was done.] WINNER BY PINFALL: Evan Sails =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ Slush: So are you guys armed as well? EC: Not everybody can have a cattle prod. LM: That's would just be crazy. EC: Evan Sails picks up the first victory of his MBC career in impressive fashion. Too bad Jed Snedley felt the need to bad mouth the referee. Slush: I'm thinking he just had bad breath. LM: Did your cell phone just go off? Slush: Maybe. Why? Does my ringtone get your ovaries all worked up? LM: Vomit. [We cut back to a very familiar setting: The Roadside Diner! Folks are eating, chatting and generally just hanging around when the doors open dramatically and in walks a Caucasian man with light brown hair styled to look slightly spiky wearing a black "Grand Empire" t-shirt, blue jeans and white Adidas sneakers with gold colored trim and logo on them. Next to him is a Caucasian woman with light brown hair dressed in a cherry colored dress with a purple jacket over it and a very large and expensive looking cherry colored purse. Oh yeah, you recognize them! "Up All Night" Pablo O'Connor and his wife and manager, Stephanie Delacroix!] POC: I have travelled the world and conquered all before me! [Pablo and Stephanie walk in with dramatic poses, seemingly not paying any attention to their surroundings.] POC: In Japan I grabbed glory at the Tokyo Dome! The ten year undefeated streak of one man ended because of me and with his downfall came gold glory all in front of a sea of people in one of our sport's hallowed grounds! [At the mention of "gold glory" Delacroix whips out her MBC Olympics gold medal from her purse and begins to caress it while her husband continues on.] POC: In Mexico I laid waste to an IDOL and held aloft the trophies of their country in Arena Mexico! In New York City I walked into Madison Square Garden and I stood triumphant over a man with a Cajun name with more gold glory in my grasp! [O'Connor raises his arms up in the air.] POC: And on the last night of it's existence, the WWA held a TWO HUNDRED MAN RUMBLE and when it was all said and done.. The ONLY MAN ALIVE WALKING THE FACE OF THE PLANET to win such a thing... Was me! [Pablo's eyes become almost crazed but not as much as his wife's who is feeding off the speech as she stares harder and harder at her MBC Olympic Gold Medal!] POC: Ignorant voices such as the guy named after a Ramones song may crow about Crimson, Titus, Osawa and Crawford but the ONLY true contender for domination and glory is this man who conquers all! THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE BASTARD OF BASTARD AND THAT MAN WILL BE... [O'Connor stops because suddenly he realizes that he is screaming and cutting a dramatic promo in the middle of a diner and that EVERYONE there has stopped what they are doing and are watching him with all of their attention.] POC: .... I.. I'm just saying! [Everyone in the diner begins to whisper and gossip while Pablo's face turns red from humiliation and he looks over at his wife, lost in the GRIP of her bauble!] POC: Mujer! [Delacroix wakes up and looks up surprised.] SD: Are we there yet? [O'Connor grabs her by the hand and leads her to a table where they sit down.] POC: Why did you let me go on like that in front of all of these plebeians?! SD: I don't recall telling you to start giving a speech as you walked through the doors of this establishment! POC: I was working out my thoughts! People need to know that I am THE man who is going to become the BASTARD OF BASTARDS! I mean did you see that Hentai jerkoff in Fighting Spirit?! We had to team with him and Meathead for the GLORY AND HONOR of Mighty BASTARD Championship, the standard bearer of our home state, and he's more concerned on lecturing ME about how to be a BASTARD?! SD: Well it wasn't him who grabbed that glory and honor for our MBC was it? POC: That's right! [Pablo shoots up out of his seat and looks around at everyone.] POC: I DID THAT! You hear me?! I AM THE ONE WHO CLAIMED VICTORY FOR MIGHTY BASTARD CHAMPIONSHIP! YO! YO SOY PABLO O'CONNOR! [The gossiping erupts all over as Pablo sits down and Delacroix shakes her head.] SD: They probably thought you were rapping with the "yo" stuff. POC: Should I cut a rap? Do you have the hat and chain stuff for the DJ Kwanza Sexy thing? SD: No one is going to remember that outside of WWA fans and maybe a handful of NEO fans! You need to FOCUS, viejo! [Pablo nods his head.] POC: That's right! Focus. We didn't come here to wherever the hell this is to shower the filthy masses with our awesomeness! You have a plan! SD: Yes! I put together a damned good plan! Now what is it we want to do? POC: We want to find the Rutabega show so we can find whatever loser is added to this tournament and get our licks in, injuring them and making our path to the crown jewel in what will be our third coming of the GRAND EMPIRE all the easier! SD: Exactly! [Delacroix reaches into her purse and pulls out a cell phone.] SD: That is why I have Anna's cell phone! POC: Your niece is SO stupid! [Delacroix nods her head with shame.] SD: Yes, I know. But in this instance it helps us! We text Slush with her phone, he thinks some young idiot female wrestler from Girl Fight wants to hook up with him and he gives us accurate directions, because he's not going to miss out on such an opportunity! POC: Then we show up... SD: And we crack a bottle or a pipe over some sucker's leg! POC: Let's do this! SD: I'll start texting, you get us some food! I'M HUNGRY! [Pablo motions to the waitress as we cut away to…] LM: So are you going to fall for that? Slush: Fall for what? LM: What we just saw? Slush: There is no “we” here girlfriend. Unless, you want to go somewhere and... EC: You didn’t watch the segment? Slush: Why would I? I’m too important to have my eyes dirtied with the affairs of unimportant people. LM: I would say they’re all important. Slush: Who are you? Their mom? LM: No. Slush: Too bad, you’re super MILFy. [The words "Earlier Today" flash across the screen.] [The scene opens to the compound, hours before the night's show. Our attention is drawn to the erected wrestling ring, where current MBC Women’s Champion Jan Delgado is performing warm-up stretches. The diminutive brunette wears a white tank, dark sweats, and tennis shoes, her hair falling down her back. As she notes the camera getting closer, she grins and stops what she’s doing to give us her full attention.] Jan: I’ve been wrestling all over Japan and defending my championship against some of the toughest women around. But I can’t even begin to describe how exciting it is to get to do it back here in the MBC! [She places her hands on her hips.] Jan: See, this is where it all started, where I was finally allowed to make my mark and went from a nobody to a somebody. So, I’ll always consider MBC a special place for me. [She pauses and takes a wary look at her surroundings.] Jan: Even if it is a little different from how I last remembered it! [She shakes her head.] Jan: Anyway, Tomoko’s my opponent tonight and I guess I should apologize now for what’s about to happen. See, there are going to be a lot of sad faces in the Perfect Girl Evolution locker room, because she’s not walking out of here with my title. Oh sure, she’ll put up a fight. Hell, she might even get close a time or two to taking me out. But actually getting the job done? [She shakes her head again and wags her finger, just brimming with sass~!] Jan: Uh-uh. Ain’t happenin’, Captain. I didn’t endure years of [MEEP] from my slutastic cousin and her crappy friends, in order to finally win the women’s title in the first place, just to drop it like that! [She snaps her fingers for emphasis.] Jan: That’s why I’ve been working and continuing to train even while the MBC’s been in...transition. That belt isn’t just about being the best female wrestler in this company. It’s also a symbol of what real hard work, effort, and continuing to fight, even when everyone else doesn’t think you stand a chance in Hell, can get you. So, I’m sorry, Tomoko. This is not gonna be your night, because the only way you’ll get my title is by snatching it from my cold, dead hands. And if your PGE buddies stick their noses in this match and decide to turn it into a gang fight, well, I’ve taken precautions for that too. [She nods towards the entrance where three female figures suddenly emerge from the shadows. As the camera zooms in on them, we recognize them as three of the members of wrestling promotion Beauty Angels Japan, who competed at the MBC Olympics: sinewy and strong Suki Hamada, a snarling Mika Kato, and striking her best supermodel pose and withering glare Naima Ito, all three women in BAJ T-shirts and sweats. The camera returns to Jan, standing in the ring, arms folded confidently across her chest.] Jan: I grew up in the hood, girl. I know a thing or two about a posse. [Fade.] Slush: GLEE! GANGWAR! LM: So that segment you paid attention to? Slush: More like... skimmed. But I got the key words. Gangwar and slut. LM: Don’t you mean slutastic? Slush: In every sense of the word. LM: Is it a real word? Slush: It is now in my slutty, slutastic lexicon of slutitude. LM: Slutitude? Slush: Let the words caress your ear and melt your brain with slutarific slutness. LM: I hope Jan Delgado is somewhere praying for you. Slush: That’d be nice. God knows Pinhead never does. EC: Do you ask? Slush: Pinhead once pushed me down a flight of stairs. LM: Really? That’s horrible. Slush: Wow, you’ll believe anything. If I told you I had a lollipop in my pants, would you... EC: Speaking of Pinhead, let’s check in on negotiations... [Somewhere within the confines of the RUTABEGA compound is a nameless room, built, designed and decorated like many others. But what makes this room different, makes it wholly unique are the occupants within. At a circular table sit men of power. On one side is Pinhead, holder if the Bastardnomicon and de facto king of all things bastardly.] Pinhead: Trust me guys. I totally get it. In the past the referees got treated like [MEEP]. But that's the case in just about every fed out there. And that's been the case as long as I remember. I'm not saying its right by any means. But why are you punishing the MBC for the industry's sins? [And on the other side are the men in power, the leaders of the Referees Union Taking Action Before Everyone Gets Ahead. Bartholomew Prevert and Les Ewich are dressed in matching black and white striped suit coats over white button-down shirts plus black slacks. Clearly these are the type of men who feel quite confident with the leverage they have, even if their choice of suits suggests they may be lacking a bit in terms of style.] Ewich: The MBC just happened to be the right place to do it... especially given how the referees have gotten attention here. And besides, if it wasn't happening here, who knows where it would have happened... or whether it would have had the right impact. Prevert: And we aren't asking for anything unreasonable. Just a request that our authority be recognized and that we receive fair treatment. Besides, how you can say we don't have some good ideas? Pinhead: Most of them are simple. But some of them are straight out of a Simon O'Neal fever dream. Ewich: Surely you jest... we aren't asking for a secret referee fund or anything like that. What could possibly be... Pinhead: The monthly bikini car wash to raise money for referee pensions. Prevert: You think it's unreasonable to ask for an appropriate pension fund? And why not be honest about how the funds will be raised... especially when it would certainly do good money. Pinhead: One, Saran wrap does not count as bikini material and two... have you seen the details here? I'm sure what you call a "car wash" violates health codes, city ordinances and even a few commandments. Ewich: Oh, come on, you just don't understand how the wording works. Pinhead: I understand it fine. What you guys seem not to understand is the gravity of what's coming. Ewich: Really? Because I really don't see why we need to be part of this unification. Pinhead: The territories need to be united, including _this_ territory. And included within this territory is the referee union yes? Prevert: Correct Pinhead: So it would certainly appear that to get this territory in line with the rest, I need you guys on the ball. Ewich: We know. Pinhead: So in the event that I don't get you guys on board... Ewich: Yes we know. "Something bad" will happen. Prevert: Even if you don't know what that something is. Ewich: Sounds like it's your problem, not ours. [Prevert and Ewich sit on their side of the desk smiling, confident in their bargaining position.] Pinhead: Here's what you're not grasping. The "Bad" isn't just going to affect the super show. It will affect all territories, all things with the taint of the MBC on it. [The smiles drop.] Pinhead: You can play ball with the rest of us or you can busy fending for yourselves. Ewich: OK, fine. So we all have to be on board or bad things will happen. Then we're in. But at least allow the referees to be recognized as the final authority. Certainly some things could be recognized as appropriate. Prevert: And we aren't going to back off on asking for respect. Are we at least clear on that? Pinhead: Crystal. I’m not saying the referees don’t deserve respect. You do. And I’ll do what I can to help achieve that. I’m just asking you to meet me in the middle. Ewich: Fair enough. You will get your answer about our representative by the end of the night. Prevert: Just remember, though, that it will be our choice. No negotiating on that point. Pinhead: That’s fair. I can only hope its not going to eventually bite you, and more importantly me, in the ass. [Fade.] Slush: Easy... perhaps.... too easy. EC: Perhaps but it’s good news that RUTABEGA will be joining the other territories. LM: Who could our representative be? EC: We have any number of possible candidates on our roster. Slush: Name them. LM: Nice try. You can buy a program like everyone else. Slush: You have programs? How about hot dogs? Do you have hot dogs? I would kill for a hot dog. And when I say kill, I’m looking at you. You look the type who would stop me from getting a hot dog. EC: While you two settle then, let’s gets ready for our next match. LM: I don’t want to be involved in this. Slush: Too late! You’re mine! EC: RUTABEGA scouts are constantly on the move trying to find the best talent out there. Melinda Rhodes, formerly of ACE, signed with the Styx territory not too long ago but that territory... has issues. Slush: Amen! Preach it! Testify! EC: Luckily for us, she was willing to hop on board. LM: Have you seen her opponent? EC: Yes... the Nutcutter. Slush: I find her being... strangely hot in a serial killer kind of way. EC: Melinda Rhodes is an immense talent but does she have enough to get past the beast that is the Nutcutter? LM: I wonder how she got that name... Slush: She’s obvious a legume who hates herself and plays with knives. Duh. [What we open up with is a simple scene- A camera focused directly on a red brick wall, the letters MBC spray painted across the front of it. A single source of light shines at a slightly elevated angle from the floor to the right, off camera, against the wall. A voice sounds from the left of the camera, husky and feminine and decidedly familiar. There is a slight tone of anger hinted with each syllable...] Voice: ...It's been awhile. [Stepping into view with toned and heavily tattooed arms bared, wearing a low cut black tanktop, tight blue jeans, and thigh high boots, is the raven haired Rebel, Melinda Rhodes. Her arms are crossed over her ample chest, her hypnotic brown eyes looking to the camera as she turns and leans with her back to the wall. Her brow is furrowed and jaw set, her face flushed with the heat of a foul mood.] Mel: You know, I don't get it. I went from being one of the top female talents in the industry to suddenly having to claw and scrape for bookings at a small time territorial promotion. What... The... [MEEP], guys? [Her lip twists with a frown.] I was the best wrestler in Atlantic City Entertainment for [MEEP]'s sake! I held every belt the company had to offer short of the Tag Belts! [She points her finger at herself, her voice raising steadily.] Why in the hell am I NOT BEING BOOKED?!!! [With a sad shake of her head, she drops her arms down at her side and pushes off the wall.] It's bad enough it takes you a month and a half to get one damn show out, but Jesus Christ, I could be main eventing somewhere else by now and dominating the scene like I was before September of last year!!! [Her fists clench tightly, tattooed arms trembling as her lip quivers.] I am Championship material [MEEP]damnit, and I'm not about to let you sons of bitches sweep me under the [MEEP]ing rug. DO YOU HEAR ME, MIGHTY BASTARDS? THIS BITCH ISN'T GOING DOWN WITHOUT A FIGHT!!!! [She starts to walk off, only to stop, whipping her head back to the camera.] Oh... and while I'm here, Alejandra, I have only this to say... [The Rebel lifts her hand up right in front of the camera and flips it off with an extended middle finger, pinky, and thumb.] …[MEEP] you too. [Dropping the hand, she heads off camera in such a huff her hair whips behind her. Fade to black.] =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ “THE REBEL” MELINDA RHODES versus ALEJANDRA "NUTCUTTER" MCKRAKEN! =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ [Melinda Rhodes had heard boos before. It was simply the nature of the business, a business that had little left to surprise her with. So to come down and be showered with boos did little to concern her. Her eyebrow raised at the fact that her opponent Alejandra McKraken was booed as well, a matter the Nutcutter ignored. The only person to receive any adulation was the referee.] EC: And we welcome the official for this contest, Michael J. Cameron. Slush: He looks a little lost... like he got... left behind... while trying to get... back to the future. LM: He may be the shortest of our referees but he sure does know how to play some b-ball. Kind of hairy though EC: Cameron calling McKraken and Rhodes forward. [Standing across from one another, the size difference was staggering. Rhodes looked up at McKraken, and though not intimidated, the gears turned inside her mind as how to take the beast of a woman down. Meanwhile, that beast looked at Rhodes in a way that could be interpreted in one of two ways. Either McKraken was about to break out some cannibalistic tendencies or she was channeling some Ivan Drago style "I will break you" machismo. Cameron signaled for the bell, setting McKraken off with frightening speed. Rhodes barely dodged the attack which would have likely taken her head clean off.] EC: The Rebel playing it smart here. She needs to keep out of the Nutcutter's reach. Slush: Or what? Have her nuts cut? LM: It’s a figurative thing. Slush: Meaning what? Are ovaries suddenly in the nut family? Are they like walnuts? Or Brazil nuts? LM: What is wrong with you? Slush: So.... coconuts then. [Despite the fact Slush hadn't a clue to a woman's anatomy nor what was going on inside the ring, the action carried on. McKraken's surprising speed put Rhodes down or in the corner quite often. Alejandra hammered away relentlessly, chipping away at Rhodes' reserves. But the Rebel was never to be discounted, never underestimated. She could take a punch, internalize it and return that ferocity with the same fire it came with. Just as the Nutcutter gained her greatest momentum, Melinda found her spot. A crippling strike to the neck staggered Alejandra enough to allow Melinda to take out the back of McKraken's knee. The beast did not fall but she was slowed and kneeling. The crack in the damn had formed and Melinda now knew how to make it bigger.] EC: Rhodes has found her point of attack! She may have held back this entire match just to find that one spot! Slush: So Lisa, you're a woman right? LM: [Sound of head thunking on table.] Slush: Supposedly men keep searching for "the spot" but never find it. But one of your fellow female species just found it? Is it true that only a woman knows how to please a woman? LM: [Sound of Lisa forcibly thunking Slush's head on the desk.] Slush: DAMNIT! [Rhodes’ approach was both methodical and efficient but McKraken being the beast she was roared back, knocking Melinda down with headbutt followed by a nasty scoop slam. A leg dropped across her throat found Melinda pinned and at McKraken's mercy. But the Rebel knew her way around the ring, getting her foot on the ropes by the referee's count of two.] Slush: That hurt woman! I'm going to get the Nutcutter after you! LM: Oh yeah? Then what? Slush: Release the McKraken! [McKraken yanked Rhodes up like pulling a Frisbee out of the grass. The Nutcutter's toss of her opponent into the corner was much the same. Rhodes collided hard with the turnbuckle at an awkward angle, made worse by the cross body splash brought forth by Alejandra. McKraken stood dominate and in control, hammering and hammering Rhodes into a near bloody mess. Though roughed up and a hint of blood coming from her lip, Rhodes only looked up with a glint of defiance in her eye. One haymaker had no effect on the monstrous woman but Rhodes kept firing, one after another until finally, McKraken stepped back. It was only a small amount of ground to give but it was all Rhodes needed. She took for the ropes and upon the return she hit the mother of all spears.] EC: Rhodes Kill! That'll take the wind out of you! Slush: And your soul! LM: I don't know if it’s that good. Slush: I've been hit by this woman. Trust me, she could take out your soul if she wanted. EC: McKraken is somehow getting back to her feet! Even Rhodes is finding it hard to believe! But she still has the upper hand! LM: McKraken is charging! Rhodes is just standing there! EC: Too close! Too close! NO! SHOT IN THE DARK! LM: Down goes McKraken! Slush: Say goodbye to your soul! EC: Melinda with the cover! One... Two... Three! This match is done! WINNER BY PINFALL: Melinda Rhodes =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ EC: Incredibly gutsy performance by Melinda Rhodes, so gutsy it got her the win. LM: This is the reputation that preceded her. She’s incredibly hard to put down, even against opponents with the... girth of Alejandra McKraken. Slush: Girth? Can you really describe a woman with that word? LM: When they’re like the Nutcutter you can. Slush: I’m going to be smart for once and let you do that. LM: Am I being set up for something? EC: Not that I know of, why? LM: I’m feeling a cold wind, as if over my grave. [Both Lisa and Emmanuel look at Slush, the lighting striking him in such a way to make him evilly sinister and foreboding.] Slush: What the Hell are you looking at? Haven’t you seen a dude sexting before? [We cut back to the Roadside Diner where Pablo O'Connor and Stephanie Delacroix are sitting at a booth and monitoring a cellphone in her hands with disgusted looks on their faces.] POC: What is he even talking about?! SD: I don't even know what that could be! POC: Your niece is an idiot but I don't want to besmirch her name with whatever deviant act he is asking if she will do! [Shivers go down their spine.] SD: I just cannot even fathom what it entails from the name! POC: Maldito! I still need to DECK him for that picture... SD: Focus! What if I reply with.. [She starts texting and reading out loud what she's typing.] SD: "Maybe. We'll have to meet to find out what could be in store." [Pablo shrugs.] POC: Whatever. [Stephanie shrugs and pushes send.] SD: Alright. Let's see if THAT gets the directions out of him! [The waitress shows up with their food.] Waitress: Alright folks, I have a Chicken Strip Dinner basket.. SD: That's mine! [She hands it to Delacroix and then the waitress makes a flabbergasted expression.] Waitress: And I have half a grilled cheese sandwich with a glass of water. POC: That's mine. [The beehived hairdo owning waitress stares at Pablo for a little bit with a "Really?" expression then gives him the food and walks off.] SD: You can't even order the WHOLE cheese sandwich?! POC: I'm saving money! SD: Did you forget the part where we made all kinds of money?! POC: You know how the rich stay rich? [Stephanie rolls her eyes.] SD: "By saving their money" POC: Exactly! Besides... [Pablo grabs a packet of crackers that are on the table with the salt and pepper.] POC: There are these crackers if I need more. [Stephanie grabs a packet of crackers herself while shaking her head.] SD: (in bird chirping imitation) Cheap! Cheap! Cheap! POC: .... ["Jungle Love" starts playing on the cellphone.] SD: He replied back! POC: Did he give directions? SD: Ah... YES! YES HE DID! [An evil smile grows on Pablo's face.] POC: Excellent! We shall feast twice! First on this dinner and then on the meal that is opportunity as we whittle down the competition in our road to being crowned the BASTARD OF BASTARDS! [Stephanie shrugs then opens the crackers, takes one out and begins eating it when..] SD: HEE HAW! [Pablo looks up at her with alarm.] POC: You OK? You choking? SD: HEEE HAWWWW! POC: What's the matter?! [She drinks some Dr. Pepper and shakes her head.] SD: I.. HEE HAW... Just crumbs caught... HEE HAW.. In my throat... HEE HAW! [The gossiping commences yet again as we fade to the end of hour one.] END OF HOUR ONE |
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Everything I learned about soccer, I learned from Dro. You are to refer to Katie as "The Duchess of Der Basterdmusen" as of June 2014. She'll get angry if you don't. You've been warned. | |
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| texanspaniard | Mar 13 2013, 11:04 AM Post #2 |
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The Luther Burger
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MARKING OUT LIKE A NUT!!!!! |
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7:19 PM Jul 10