Post by hk on Aug 15, 2007 0:51:50 GMT -6
I sat in the passenger seat of Stoned Raider’s van. Blake drove while Rex was in the back, sorting something in a cardboard box. We were on our way to Des Moines for Legendaria. The dark sky hovered over us; the late night must have explained our solitude on the highway. I couldn’t get the exact time, due to their van being a big hunk of metal shit.
Blake Ryder: “Mayne, Rex, yo busta ass done yet?”
Rex Vinkle: “Hold da f**k up, I’m countin…”
Scott Lanegan: “What’s he doing?”
Blake Ryder: “We got a huge ass shipment da other day. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to make sum mo mo at da pay-per-view, know what I mean?”
Rex Vinkle: “Yo Scott, you hear wut Night said?”
Scott Lanegan: “Uhh…no.”
Rex Vinkle: “Did you want to hear wut Night said?”
Scott Lanegan: “Not usually, no.”
Blake Ryder: “Yea yea, get dis, he had actors portrayin yo ass.”
Scott Lanegan: “What? He paid someone else to look like me and talk like me?”
Blake Ryder: “Yea nigga, you ain’t even famous, but you got imposters already! You like…da next Elvis or sum shit!”
We continued to drive down the road. Blake whispered to me. [/color]
Blake Ryder: “Hey man…does Night know you narrate your promos?”
Scott Lanegan: “What? He doesn’t know I do voice-overs?”
Blake Ryder: “Yeah man, fo sho.”
Scott Lanegan: “That’s weird.”
Blake Ryder: “Yeah, and then…his promo aired inside his lawyer’s office. I mean, how da f**k we suppose to see that? Weird shit this wrestlin thang iz. By the way, you should voice-over what we be doin now…”
Scott Lanegan: “Why, dude?”
Rex Vinkle: “Cuz da SR is in da house!”
Blake Ryder: “We make ratings go high, fo sho!”
I guess I did just that.
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][]
We arrived at the arena. It wasn’t packed at all; very few vehicles were in the parking lot. The large and rusty van we were in pulled up to the front entrance. I got out and closed the door behind me. I turned around and looked inside the van.
Scott Lanegan: “You’ll be near the arena, right?”
Blake Ryder: “Chyea man, we gonna deal right round hurr. You go on inside and get yoself prepared n shit. Train or whatever it be called.”
They skidded through the parking lot, missing the lone vehicles by inches. I entered the lobby and it was empty. Nobody was in sight at the time.
Scott Lanegan: “Like a graveyard in here…without the grass and the stones and the undertakers and graves…”
No pun intended…again. I attempted to find my locker room, but no luck. I then attempted to find a staff member to help me out, but no luck. I somehow found myself in a small hallway. There was a lone door to the right. I heard someone chattering so I decided to let myself in. I opened the door and inside was a neatly designed office; quite unusual for an arena like this. In the chair behind the desk was Jay T. Nitro himself. He was yelling into his office phone.
Jay T. Nitro: “Listen, 10 bucks should be just fine if people want to stand!”
He slammed the phone down. He rubbed his eyes in exhaustion; looked like another hard-at-work dude. He slowly lifted his hands away from his face to look at me.
Jay T. Nitro: “…what now?”
Scott Lanegan: “Dude, this place is a maze. I can’t find my locker room.”
Jay T. Nitro: “Why don’t you ask a staff member or something? Why come in here and bother me?”
Scott Lanegan: “I can’t even find any. Besides, you have a nice office…”
I spotted a small black chair at the wall. I walked over.
Scott Lanegan: “Look at this place; you got pictures, a nice desk, an expensive chair…”
I started to sit down.
Jay T. Nitro: “Don’t! Your jeans are dirty as hell!”
I slowly got up and looked down at myself.
Jay T. Nitro: “I’ve got an idea…I’m calling Greg. Meet him at the refreshments lounge and do an interview or something…then I’ll call James and tell him to help you train for the match…hell, I’ll go and call a limo so you can have dinner. Just. Get. Out. Of. Here!”
He obviously didn’t seem too happy, so I shrugged and walked out of the door. He leaned back in his chair, but I decided to barge right back in. He nearly fell out yet caught himself with the desk.
Scott Lanegan: “Listen, can you order me something real quick?”
Jay T. Nitro: “If it’ll get you out of my office…what!?”
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][]
I arrived at the refreshments lounge. It had various chairs, buffet tables, vending machines and round tables inside. And sitting at one of the tables were Greg Kilgreen. He looked like hell; messed up hair, old clothes and tons of notebooks. He must’ve been working hard. This time, though, another wrestler stood at the table; Lestat.
Lestat: “Greg, if you’d pay attention…you would realize I already talked about Shadow.”
Greg Kilgreen: “Umm…”
Lestat: “What the hell is it now?”
Greg pointed over his shoulder. Lestat turned around and saw me, crossing my arms. He gave out a prepared-to-fight grin.
Scott Lanegan: “Lestat, good to see ya. I hear you have a match against Shadow. How’s it going for you?”
He calmed down a little.
Lestat: “Well, the only time he has the upper hand on me…is when we’re not in a match.”
Scott Lanegan: “Must be annoying?”
Lestat: “Yeah…damn Scott, you only been here a few seconds and you’re already a better interview than this excuse!”
He looked over at Greg Kilgreen and shook his head. He walked out of the room to the outside. Greg sighed and I sat down.
Greg Kilgreen: “I hate that guy. I really hate that guy. Damn, I’m tired…”
Scott Lanegan: “If JTN would go and hire another interviewer for Midwest, you wouldn’t be so exhausted. You should try asking him for a partner or a trainee or something…”
Greg Kilgrenn: “Damn Scott, you only been here a few seconds and you’re already a Doctor Phil…”
Scott Lanegan: “I just want an interview, man, no compliments.”
Greg Kilgreen: “Umm…alright. What do you think about Night so far? He’s spoken a few words about you.”
Scott Lanegan: “I’ve been told that he’s been bitching and moaning about losing that AAA thing. He should just stop crying and start to get it back. But then again, I’m in the match, as are 5 other people better than him, so that’ll be hard.”
Greg Kilgreen: “He said that he’ll be fighting anyway. Thoughts?”
Scott Lanegan: “He can throw out as many slaps as he wants, but it won’t help. If he wants to go ahead and read my mind in the process, so be it. Because Night…should get ready for his close-up! He’ll get an ever bigger loss, just like what happened when he faced Stoned Raiders.”
I grinned and patted Greg’s back.
Greg Kilgreen: “Last question…it sounded weird at first, but Jay said he called in something for you. What is it?”
Scott Lanegan: “Yeah, Night wanted to host his own little show with his own little guests…I’ve decided to do the same!”
Greg Kilgreen: “…what?”
Scott Lanegan: “Come on in!”
At that moment, a guy in an all-tan outfit entered the room. In one hand he held a leash. The leash was wrapped around a male donkey’s head. They slowly walked into the room. Greg got startled.
Greg Kilgreen: “Scott…”
I looked into the camera.
Scott Lanegan: “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Scott’s Spot! Tonight, I have one of my very own opponents. I’ll be interviewing him, so he can express his anger. Please welcome…Night!”
The camera shifted towards the male donkey. It just stood there.
Scott Lanegan: “Night, first question, why do you call people generic?”
It didn’t reply.
Scott Lanegan: “Oh, I see, because you don’t know what it means. Right, uhh, alright, next question…what are your chances in winning this match?”
No reply.
Scott Lanegan: “Ah, I get it, loss of words. It’s alright dude, we’re all in this together. Anyway, we need to cut it short…any final thoughts?”
Nothing.
Scott Lanegan: “Answer me! What’s wrong with you, man? You’re such a jackass, Night.”
At that moment, Jay T. Nitro rushed into the room. He had a look of panic on his face, along with some anger mixed in.
Jay T. Nitro: “What the f**k? Scott, get that thing out of here now!”
Scott Lanegan: “Sorry boss. Anyway, see ya later Night. I hope you enjoy that load of bullshit you’re gonna keep producing.”
Blake Ryder: “Mayne, Rex, yo busta ass done yet?”
Rex Vinkle: “Hold da f**k up, I’m countin…”
Scott Lanegan: “What’s he doing?”
Blake Ryder: “We got a huge ass shipment da other day. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to make sum mo mo at da pay-per-view, know what I mean?”
Rex Vinkle: “Yo Scott, you hear wut Night said?”
Scott Lanegan: “Uhh…no.”
Rex Vinkle: “Did you want to hear wut Night said?”
Scott Lanegan: “Not usually, no.”
Blake Ryder: “Yea yea, get dis, he had actors portrayin yo ass.”
Scott Lanegan: “What? He paid someone else to look like me and talk like me?”
Blake Ryder: “Yea nigga, you ain’t even famous, but you got imposters already! You like…da next Elvis or sum shit!”
We continued to drive down the road. Blake whispered to me. [/color]
Blake Ryder: “Hey man…does Night know you narrate your promos?”
Scott Lanegan: “What? He doesn’t know I do voice-overs?”
Blake Ryder: “Yeah man, fo sho.”
Scott Lanegan: “That’s weird.”
Blake Ryder: “Yeah, and then…his promo aired inside his lawyer’s office. I mean, how da f**k we suppose to see that? Weird shit this wrestlin thang iz. By the way, you should voice-over what we be doin now…”
Scott Lanegan: “Why, dude?”
Rex Vinkle: “Cuz da SR is in da house!”
Blake Ryder: “We make ratings go high, fo sho!”
I guess I did just that.
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][]
We arrived at the arena. It wasn’t packed at all; very few vehicles were in the parking lot. The large and rusty van we were in pulled up to the front entrance. I got out and closed the door behind me. I turned around and looked inside the van.
Scott Lanegan: “You’ll be near the arena, right?”
Blake Ryder: “Chyea man, we gonna deal right round hurr. You go on inside and get yoself prepared n shit. Train or whatever it be called.”
They skidded through the parking lot, missing the lone vehicles by inches. I entered the lobby and it was empty. Nobody was in sight at the time.
Scott Lanegan: “Like a graveyard in here…without the grass and the stones and the undertakers and graves…”
No pun intended…again. I attempted to find my locker room, but no luck. I then attempted to find a staff member to help me out, but no luck. I somehow found myself in a small hallway. There was a lone door to the right. I heard someone chattering so I decided to let myself in. I opened the door and inside was a neatly designed office; quite unusual for an arena like this. In the chair behind the desk was Jay T. Nitro himself. He was yelling into his office phone.
Jay T. Nitro: “Listen, 10 bucks should be just fine if people want to stand!”
He slammed the phone down. He rubbed his eyes in exhaustion; looked like another hard-at-work dude. He slowly lifted his hands away from his face to look at me.
Jay T. Nitro: “…what now?”
Scott Lanegan: “Dude, this place is a maze. I can’t find my locker room.”
Jay T. Nitro: “Why don’t you ask a staff member or something? Why come in here and bother me?”
Scott Lanegan: “I can’t even find any. Besides, you have a nice office…”
I spotted a small black chair at the wall. I walked over.
Scott Lanegan: “Look at this place; you got pictures, a nice desk, an expensive chair…”
I started to sit down.
Jay T. Nitro: “Don’t! Your jeans are dirty as hell!”
I slowly got up and looked down at myself.
Jay T. Nitro: “I’ve got an idea…I’m calling Greg. Meet him at the refreshments lounge and do an interview or something…then I’ll call James and tell him to help you train for the match…hell, I’ll go and call a limo so you can have dinner. Just. Get. Out. Of. Here!”
He obviously didn’t seem too happy, so I shrugged and walked out of the door. He leaned back in his chair, but I decided to barge right back in. He nearly fell out yet caught himself with the desk.
Scott Lanegan: “Listen, can you order me something real quick?”
Jay T. Nitro: “If it’ll get you out of my office…what!?”
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][]
I arrived at the refreshments lounge. It had various chairs, buffet tables, vending machines and round tables inside. And sitting at one of the tables were Greg Kilgreen. He looked like hell; messed up hair, old clothes and tons of notebooks. He must’ve been working hard. This time, though, another wrestler stood at the table; Lestat.
Lestat: “Greg, if you’d pay attention…you would realize I already talked about Shadow.”
Greg Kilgreen: “Umm…”
Lestat: “What the hell is it now?”
Greg pointed over his shoulder. Lestat turned around and saw me, crossing my arms. He gave out a prepared-to-fight grin.
Scott Lanegan: “Lestat, good to see ya. I hear you have a match against Shadow. How’s it going for you?”
He calmed down a little.
Lestat: “Well, the only time he has the upper hand on me…is when we’re not in a match.”
Scott Lanegan: “Must be annoying?”
Lestat: “Yeah…damn Scott, you only been here a few seconds and you’re already a better interview than this excuse!”
He looked over at Greg Kilgreen and shook his head. He walked out of the room to the outside. Greg sighed and I sat down.
Greg Kilgreen: “I hate that guy. I really hate that guy. Damn, I’m tired…”
Scott Lanegan: “If JTN would go and hire another interviewer for Midwest, you wouldn’t be so exhausted. You should try asking him for a partner or a trainee or something…”
Greg Kilgrenn: “Damn Scott, you only been here a few seconds and you’re already a Doctor Phil…”
Scott Lanegan: “I just want an interview, man, no compliments.”
Greg Kilgreen: “Umm…alright. What do you think about Night so far? He’s spoken a few words about you.”
Scott Lanegan: “I’ve been told that he’s been bitching and moaning about losing that AAA thing. He should just stop crying and start to get it back. But then again, I’m in the match, as are 5 other people better than him, so that’ll be hard.”
Greg Kilgreen: “He said that he’ll be fighting anyway. Thoughts?”
Scott Lanegan: “He can throw out as many slaps as he wants, but it won’t help. If he wants to go ahead and read my mind in the process, so be it. Because Night…should get ready for his close-up! He’ll get an ever bigger loss, just like what happened when he faced Stoned Raiders.”
I grinned and patted Greg’s back.
Greg Kilgreen: “Last question…it sounded weird at first, but Jay said he called in something for you. What is it?”
Scott Lanegan: “Yeah, Night wanted to host his own little show with his own little guests…I’ve decided to do the same!”
Greg Kilgreen: “…what?”
Scott Lanegan: “Come on in!”
At that moment, a guy in an all-tan outfit entered the room. In one hand he held a leash. The leash was wrapped around a male donkey’s head. They slowly walked into the room. Greg got startled.
Greg Kilgreen: “Scott…”
I looked into the camera.
Scott Lanegan: “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Scott’s Spot! Tonight, I have one of my very own opponents. I’ll be interviewing him, so he can express his anger. Please welcome…Night!”
The camera shifted towards the male donkey. It just stood there.
Scott Lanegan: “Night, first question, why do you call people generic?”
It didn’t reply.
Scott Lanegan: “Oh, I see, because you don’t know what it means. Right, uhh, alright, next question…what are your chances in winning this match?”
No reply.
Scott Lanegan: “Ah, I get it, loss of words. It’s alright dude, we’re all in this together. Anyway, we need to cut it short…any final thoughts?”
Nothing.
Scott Lanegan: “Answer me! What’s wrong with you, man? You’re such a jackass, Night.”
At that moment, Jay T. Nitro rushed into the room. He had a look of panic on his face, along with some anger mixed in.
Jay T. Nitro: “What the f**k? Scott, get that thing out of here now!”
Scott Lanegan: “Sorry boss. Anyway, see ya later Night. I hope you enjoy that load of bullshit you’re gonna keep producing.”