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Author Topic: It Is Time  (Read 247 times)

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dbrunk01

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It Is Time
« on: March 18, 2011, 11:57:41 am »

FADE IN.

Galveston, TX – The San Luis Resort Hotel & Spa

High up on the 16th floor, the VWF Intercontinental Champion, “The Ego Buster” Dan Ryan sits out on the balcony looking toward the beach, the Spring Break throngs making their usual noises down below, cars rushing by on the seawall, the sun shining high overhead. Ryan, sunglasses in place, glances over at the camera as we begin…


DAN RYAN:  “So, we’re finally down to crunch time aren’t we? After months of going through the melodrama of Jonny Cedrone and Scott DiBiase playing out their love-hate relationship before our eyes, after their epic showdown that resulted in Cedrone retaining his World Championship, FINALLY it’s down to…. “

“Jonny Cedrone vs. Scott DiBiase again.”

“Great.”

“Then again, a while back there was another match that I was involved in, the Brazilian Death Match that had the pimp spot in the Royal Rumble on the line. While Jack and Diane were quibbling over who should be World Champion, I snuck in and won. Go figure. And so now, the Royal Rumble arrives, and it’s go time.”

“Now naturally, there are quite a few other people in the match. You’ve got Mysterious, you’ve got Brandy Rose, you’ve got Allister Crowley, you’ve got Terry Hamrick, John Q. Public, Maxxxxxxxxxx Hardcore, Dr. Feelgood…. and the rest… here on Gilligan’s Isle. That’s right. You don’t even get the full version of the theme song treatment…”

“But, as always, you’ve mostly got a bunch of people jabbering on and on in the most boring, monotone fashion possible, hardly making me feel it’s necessary to raise my head up from the newspaper. Now, because it’s expected of me and because it is one of my joys in life to make a mockery of mediocre professional wrestlers, I am gonna raise my head up from the newspaper. I’ll raise it up, put the paper down, drink a Dasani and comment, because that’s what I do.”

“As someone who has great experience in being a World Champion, in behaving like a World Champion and in coming off as something more than a dude who moonlights as the Cardassian who imprisoned Major Kira from Deep Space 9 at the Star Trek Conventions, I feel it is my duty to comment on what has been said thus far.”

“I’ll begin with Mysterious. There should be lightning right now, and I wish I had a pipe to smoke in my study, but I’m at the beach, so let’s use our imagination, ok?”

“I pity you just a little bit. I like how you’re throwing all of this ethos behind your beloved Pan-Pacific Championship, which at best is a third-rate title. I like it a lot. And, by like it, I mean it makes me cringe. In a more direct and literal sense, I really DO like how you mentioned Brandy Rose and the phrase ‘horrible hooker’ so close together. Nice use of phrasing. Unfortunately, the rest was ‘kinda pitchy, dawg’.”

“The thing is, third rate guys like you don’t make momentous jumps into the big time. They just don’t, not without showing a little something more first. I’m here to bring the truth to you, so what I’m about to say might hurt just a little bit. Truth on the way. Ready? Here goes…”

“You’re entering in the five slot in the Rumble because they probably just don’t care very much about you. It’s a nice safe way of letting you participate without having to waste too much promotional time talking about your lame ass. OWWWW. OWWWWW. Momma, you got da migraine again? I won’t play da foosball no mo.”

“That’s right. You are lame. Alexia sitting on her Vigo the Carpathian throne of blood with her three headed stuffed dog toy was more intimidating than you, and that’s doing some serious work right there.”

“I don’t want to say these things to you, Mysterious, but you leave me no choice. I mean, you’re in the match, so you’re there to be talked about. Now.. you may counter by saying.. ‘But Dan, I’m entering fifth and you’re entering 32nd. I’ll be long gone by the time you come out to the ring.’”

“GOOD POINT.”

“But, like I said, you’re there, and as a study in lameness, you are very interesting in a clinical sense. If I ever open a wrestling school, I fully intend to pay you royalties when I use your image and speaking skills as the cornerstone lesson on how not to embarrass yourself on television while simultaneously setting your chosen profession back twenty years in the process. So don’t worry. I’d never infringe upon your copyright to rainy nights and lightning…”

“Although, you really should do something about Raid dripping off your arms and neck. I get the pest control problem, but that can’t be good for the skin. Setting out a few traps in your kitchen and bathroom should probably do well enough.”

“Next up… Brandy fricken Rose.”

“Hiya.”

“So here’s the deal.”

“It’s one thing to fight a woman. There are some tough women in this world, some highly skilled women in this sport and I would never disrespect a female competitor by talking down to her on the basis on her gender. However, it’s quite another thing altogether to be asked to fight an illiterate crack whore with a vocabulary that makes Jethro Bodine look like Noam Chomsky.”

“Right now, Brandy, it’s not determination that’s setting you apart from the rest of the field.”

“What’s setting you apart from the rest of the field is that the only reason you’re involved in this at all is that you have a set of tits and no redeeming morals whatsoever. I’m pretty sure you’ve blown more than one dude for a hit of smack, and I’m fairly sure with the mental midgets populating our cast of wrestlers, you’ve gotten through quite a few doors based on these guys having no problem with cut marks on a woman’s wrist, tattoos or stained crackhead teeth.”

“Determination with me will get you a stay at the hospital, this time for something other than a stomach pump or an abortion.”

“Allister Crowley.”

“Allister, you almost had me. You ALMOST had me. I started listening to you talk and I thought, ‘this guy sounds reasonable enough’. I mean, you had the basics down. You’re in the ring, you’re chatting about the match. It was harmless enough. I figured, it’s gonna get really good in a minute.”

“But it never did.”

“Allister, did you think that maybe, just maybe, if you’re competing against thirty-one people for a shot at the most prestigious championship in the company, you might want to put a little effort into what you’re saying? Just a little? I’m not looking for the Gettysburg Address here, Allister. I don’t want you to set the mark too high. But is this what we’re reduced to around here?”

“You know, anyone can come out here, sit in a ring, tell everyone what they’re here for, tell em what you’re here for, throw a couple of mixed up analogies mashed up like a 50 Cent song mashed with a Celine Dion ballad out there since they made about as much sense, then say ‘see ya at the Rumble’ and call it a day.”

“Tell you what, Allister – how about next time instead of making us sit through five minutes of that generic shit, just stand in place on a street somewhere like INXS in the ‘Mediate’ video and hold up signs that say ‘I’ ‘AM’ ‘FILLER’.”

“It’s like the Royal Rumble is General Tso’s Chicken and you’re the MSG.”

“I would prefer, if you’re not gonna take this more seriously, that you simply go ahead and eliminate yourself from the match before I get out to it. That way, it’s like you’re paying me back for the five minutes of my life that I lost listening to you talk. Furthermore, it would make it much easier for you to hop a train to your next generic stop in your generic little life, which I’m sure is either a Starbucks for a latte or a Plain White Ts concert.”

“Having friends is irrelevant.”

“What’s relevant is what you bring to the table, Allister. So far, what you bring to the table is mediocrity and a smile. Neither puts you in line for a World Title shot and neither puts you remotely in my league. Now, I’ve got the pedigree to back up what I’m saying. What do you have? You have a key, a keystone and Humpty Dumpty. It’s like we’re sitting on a psychiatrist’s couch doing free associations.”

“Well, here’s a few for you…”

“Allister Crowley…. Allister…. Stairs… climbing… falling….the Fall…. Legends of the Fall…. Legends… Dan Ryan is a Legend. Allister Crowley is embarrassed by a legend. I’ll waive my usual fee, Allister. All I care about is that you get the help you need.”

“YOU’RE WELCOME.”

“Maxxxxxxxx Hardcore. Okay, so I held the ‘X’ sound because I’m not sure how many Xs belong in your first name. I think three, maybe four. Probably going for originality with the triple X thing. Cute.”

“Well, I don’t know why you’re wasting all of your time on Maximus and Devan Nox, and I don’t know why I had to listen to you talk to Master Splinter about the evil Shredder for the first half of that, but at least you tried, right? If I’m gonna get on to Allister Crowley about his grade school generic shit, I should at least have the decency to recognize that you at least give a damn.”

“Ironic that you were actually IN a grade school.”

“Some of what you said made my head hurt. I don’t know if that’s an affectation or an accent, but I found myself wishing you sounded more like Shane Helms so I could understand you better.”

“Still, despite that you seem to be setting your sights spectacularly low, you’re claiming your territory, marking it like a good boy, and I respect that. Maximus is, indeed a simplistic dolt, and you let him know that, didn’t you?”

“The problem though, is Maximus is no threat to anyone. Devan Nox is no threat to anyone. You’re wasting your time, and time is not something that any of us have in abundance. We have two days until what should be the most important thing you’re concerned with right now. You should be concerning yourself with who stands in your way and instead you’re walking into the Special Ed class at the end of the hall and laughing at the drool.”

“Maxx… errr… Maxxx…. let me help, as a veteran to someone who hasn’t been doing this very long. Our business is heavily populated with imbeciles. It just is. More and more, you’ll come across some trained monkey like Maximus who will try your patience because not only is he stupid, he’s so stupid that he doesn’t realize how stupid he is, and thus, he thinks YOU are stupid.”

“Hear this, and hear this well…”

“You don’t have to respond to all of them.”

“What you’re doing is known as stepping down to the competition. It’s a tricky business, but when you fight with pigs, all it does is get you dirty and make you look just like the pig. Now, this is good advice. I understand I’m risking not practicing what I preach by talking to YOU right now, but you don’t see me addressing Maximus do you? I’m just trying to help.”

“I promise you, let the children play on their playground and if you’re really as witty and smart as you think you are, it will be shown to be true in the end. You don’t have to hit a retarded kid to make him fall down, Maxxx. Eventually, he’ll just fall down on his own. Get it?”

“Alexander Cage. Ohhhhhh, Alexander Cage how you entertain me so. Truly, you probably are the most entertaining man to have said a word all week, and I mean that, truly, in the most unflattering way possible.”

“Alexander, it seems to me that you may have just… a smidgen of an identity crisis. You’re the former MMA fighter right? One might think you’re a tough guy, probably very skilled in at least one fighting discipline. I myself am skilled in several, so I respect that… “

“On the other hand, you’re the MOST ELECTRIFYING MAN IN CYBER-SPORTS ENTERTAINMENT!!!!OMGI’MCUMMING!!!..”

“Soooooo, you could be a Hollywood type, looking to entertain everyone, toss off some funny catchphrases (we later learn this is impossible)… and make a million dollars in the movies before making a triumphant return and spiking ratings.”

“On yet ANOTHER hand, your catchphrase… ‘What Would Alex Do?’ lights your engine, causes your pistons to pump, your blood to boil and builds up until you explode into a single being of energy that takes off every single roof in a six mile radius. Well, first of all, the Japanese nuclear issue is ongoing dude. It’s just too soon…” (Ryan smiles) “Secondly, when you ask what would so and so do, isn’t it usually because you look up to someone and want to act in a way that they would act? You know, what would Jesus do, The Jacksons might say what would Michael do, Brandy Rose might say what would Jenna do, that sort of thing? But you’re asking YOURSELF… what would… YOU do?”

“Dude, that’s fucking stupid as shit.”

“You’re asking what you would do? Well, you would do whatever you would do, you fucknut. Literally ANYTHING you do is what you would do. It’s the most nonsensical thing I’ve ever heard, and THAT is what gets you off?”

“Okay.”

“So you’re the badass cage fighter, you’re THE MOST ELECTRIFYING…. Blah blah blah… You’re a being of light, no doubt shaking the ropes with your arm tassles flailing around and working on your next comic book…..”

“And finally… you’re Bilbo trying to get the One Ring from Smaug? You’re Bilbo and I guess… Jonny Cedrone is Smaug or something? and you’re a… I dunno…  Persian army conquering Sparta??”

“Bro, I’ve seen some tangents in my day, but you take the cake. You are a walking case of attention deficit disorder of the highest degree. It’s truly impressive how little sense one person can make at one moment in time. It’s like all of the planets aligned just right and the cosmos was prepared just for this one moment where JUST ONE MAN could come on television, talk like a raving lunatic and then wander off into the woods, defend against a wild tornado and start some sort of weird ‘wild man of the woods’ sub-culture.”

“Alexander, the whispers that you hear are no doubt in your head, and no matter what they say to you, you have NOT been abducted by aliens and taken to see Nibiru, they did not do… sexual… things to you, and despite the fact that you are now doing all of this ridiculous shit while pretending to be a professional wrestler, you do not have the slightest chance in hell of winning the Royal Rumble.”

“Now what I need you to do is take yourself to the nearest health care facility and have some tests run on your immune system and perhaps on your circulatory system, so you can find out why after two hours you still have blood trickling down your face instead of the crust of dried blood that most human beings would have. Also, PLEASE let me know how you’re able to pull off the trick where it stops dripping until just the right dramatic moment at the end of an interview, then drips again, because I’d really like to know how you managed that.”

“Now Enigma… “

“Can I ask you a question, from one adult to what I assume is another?”

“Why do you think it’s necessary to prove to everyone on camera that you’re sexually active? That’s my first question. Who around here is listening to your girl moan and thinking ‘holy shit, this dude is fucking, oh hell motherfucker he means BIZNASS!’? Who? Anyone? Show of hands? You know, statistically speaking, the average American male begins having sex around seventeen years old. Some sooner, some a little later. The bottom line is, after that, it’s kind of taken for granted that dudes are bangin’ chicks. How come, in preparation for this match, you think anyone gives a rat shit damn about the fact that you’re bangin’ some Rihanna stunt double? And WHY in the hell is that relevant? I’m fairly certain that Charlie Sheen gets more hot poon than you do, but I’m also fairly certain I can whoop Charlie Sheen’s ass in about five seconds, with or without tiger’s blood.”

“Furthermore, you are the most annoyingly multi-tasking motherfucker I’ve ever seen. What the hell are you doing talking about the Royal Rumble during sex? Any real woman would’ve kicked your chatty ass out of bed five minutes in, but there you are railing away about wrestling while pluggin’ away at this bimbo to the soothing sounds of some soft R&B.”

“And then, if that weren’t contrived enough, you subject me to this two hour movie straight out of a bad pulp novel with spurned love, a freakin’ sniper shooting a security guard and hell, I was half expecting Christopher Walken or Steve Buscemi to step into frame and set up a mob killing. Truthfully, by about half way in, I was hoping maybe I was the one to die in the story, so I could save my sanity.”

“And all of this melodrama, all it does is raise even more questions because of how ridiculous and meaningless it all is. You’re jumping to two years ago. Why?”

“By the way, Mr. Riddles is a name reserved for cats in Meow Mix commercials. And just so you know, if you had finished the whole story by simply saying ‘Meow meow meow meow, meow meow meow meow’, it would have probably made just as much sense. I’d rather watch a cat lick his ass for two hours than ever have to be forced to watch your film school reject buuuuuullllshit… EVER…. AGAIN.”

“And then… FINALLY…..”

“Terry Hamrick and John Q. Public.”

“I’m lumping you two together for one reason. Out of all of the nonsense, after all of the amateurish, pathetic attempts that people make at promoting themselves, there are the two of you – and all you want to do is get across how much you want it, how much you love the sport and how much it means to you to be the best professional wrestlers you can be. No pretense. No wasted time with sound effects or… gag… onscreen porn. Just straightforward, honest to goodness love for the game.”

“I can’t disrespect that, and I won’t.”

“That’s what I’m all about. That’s what it’s been all about since I had my first training class in Japan twenty years ago, and it’s what it’s all about now.”

“I don’t know why you two aren’t more celebrated around here, and if it was up to me, I’d clone guys like you and be happy with my roster, because when it comes right down to it, I know that the two of you will fight tooth and nail, no bullshit, until you can’t fight anymore. As much as I despise foolishness, I respect an honest, hardworking man in this business, because it’s so fucking rare.”

“Now, having said that… I will do absolutely whatever is within my power to beat you, because hey, that’s the way the game is played. I’m not in it to play around and I’m not in it to make friends, so the nice talk starts and ends here. If I can break you in half, I will. If I have to cripple you to win and am able, I will. No fronting, no protestations to the contrary. I am a mean son of a bitch, so I’m telling you man to man, if there’s an ounce of energy left in me, I’ll keep comin’ until there’s nothing left to fight for. Respect for this business means to me that you fight to be the best, period. You don’t fight to make fans happy, you don’t fight to be a good guy or a bad guy. You fight to be the best.”

“At least I know…. there at least two other people out there that get that.”

“And last but not least… Dr. Feelgood.”

“I’m savin’ the best for last, eh Doc? Savin’ the best for last. Yup, that’s how you do it right? And you get addressed last because BY GOD, Doc… you’re a certified legend around these parts, ain’t ya Doc? You’re the big shit three time, three time, THREE TIIIIIIME VWF World Heavyweight Champion.”

“You know, we’ve got a few things in common, Doc.”

“You say every time you come back here, you win the World Championship. You do it every single time without fail, don’t you Doc? Every… single… time. It’s right there in the record books, right there on DVD, and you’ve got a big bronze sculpture of your noggin in the VWF Hall of Fame to prove it.”

“Well I have to say, Doc – I’m impressed as shit. IM-PRESSED… as SHIT, Doc.”

“Now I don’t know if you know a thing about me, Doc. I don’t know if you could’ve picked me out of a lineup before you made your return and I imagine you couldn’t. Hell, I’ve never been anywhere near the VWF before signing a contract and I’d never heard of you either. Now… how can I be such a big deal everywhere I’ve ever been and you’ve never heard of me? How is that? How can YOU be such a big deal here and yet I’d never heard of YOU?”

“Ah, it’s a quandary.”

“But see, every time I’ve gone just about anywhere in the wrestling world, I’ve won the World Championship. That’s a fact. I’d say that damn near makes us like brothers, Doc. What are we if not two wrestling legends laying siege to the wrestling landscape without even trying very hard? Why I bet Alexander Cage would say we damn near kill everyone within a ten mile radius, right before he explodes into a being of pure energy and floats off back to Alpha Centauri or wherever the hell he came from.”

“So here’s the deal, Doc. Even though on the surface we’re a hell of a lot alike, and even though you think showing up means you’re gonna run over everyone right up until the office hands you the World Title because it’s your birthright? I’m here for more than a little itch. If you’ve got a problem with an itch, go get you some Desitin. Me, I’m here for people JUSTLIKEYOU.”

“I don’t know what you’ve done in your free time. I don’t know if you took up collecting stamps or commemorative inauguration coins… I don’t care if you opened a little boutique in your spare time and I don’t care about your cute little bungalow up in the Hollywood Hills….”

“Because THIS TIME, you came back… and you found…. ME.”

Ryan smiles…

“And just so you know, Doc – I’m world class, too. And Doc? People like you provide me all the motivation I need. I look at you, a legend of the VWF ring and I can’t WAIT to get to the ring. I can’t WAIT to get a taste of the legend firsthand. And the legend? Well… the legend is gonna find things just a little bit more difficult than the last time he waltzed in and claimed his prize.”

“This time, the legend has some work to do.”

“And believe you me, I’m gonna give you all you can handle, Doc.”

“Now I don’t have a fancy catchphrase for the fans to chant along with, but I do have a reputation for knocking someone’s teeth down their throat. So I don’t know what your area of expertise is, Doc… I don’t know what kind of medicine you practice, but I will tell you this…“

“I hope you got dental.”

FADE OUT.
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