Post by Zevon on Aug 18, 2007 19:53:01 GMT -6
JR Zevon is sitting, dressed in full ring gear as usual, at a table in a small hotel kitchenette. He is writing a message in a book when a woman approaches.
Zevon: Greetings mild mannered reporter I hired for twenty dollars because I could not find Miss Stephie Campbell. Your visual appeal leaves much to be desired, but your clipboard is of a fine mold. No need to thank me for my kind opening comments, begin with your line of questions.
Reporter Lady who deserves not a name: The ones you wrote?
Zevon: Yes poor journalist lacking in both talent and visual appeal. Begin by questioning my current activity.
Reporter Lady: Alright, why are you writing in that book?
Zevon: This book, my dear crack whore, is a relic of greatness; the finest piece of literature ever written by a two being human and feline team. A surefire bestseller. 101 Ways to Call Rich Morrison an Asshole by JR Zevon with Mr. Kitters.
Horatio Haberdasher waltzes through the background showing off a copy of the book to the camera, a huge Ron Popeil smile is on his face.
Reporter Lady: Why are you writing in it?
Zevon: This copy is being personalized to be sent as a gift to the new Power On Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion Mr. Kailus Holmes, as a token of friendship.
Haberdasher waltzes back through in the opposite direction doing his best Price is Right girl impersonation. Nameless reporter lady looks at him in confusion.
Reporter Lady: Who is that man in the beret?
Zevon: Straying from the script…. but I shall answer anyway because I am such a benevolent being. The man promoting my glorious book is none other than Mr. Horatio Haberdasher. Do not mind his eccentric ways, he means no harm. He seems to be under the false impression that his helping peddle my wares somehow entitles him to do the audio book.
Haberdasher wanders back through a third time, pausing momentarily to wink at the lady.
Zevon: Fake Frenchman, what can a paragon of integrity do?
Reporter Lady: Ummm…. aren’t I supposed to be asking the questions?
Zevon: No need to feign dimwittedness, this is no Flap Flanagan promo.
Reporter Lady: The women of wrestling are supposed to look pretty and be stupid are they not?
Zevon: Gypsy and Fire would flay you if they heard such drivel come from your third tier acting school mouth. You were hired for twenty dollars to read the script blasphemous woman lacking in visual appeal.
Reporter Lady: Do I have no creative input as an actress?
Zevon: No.
Nameless third tier acting school student reporter lady rolls her eyes and reads the next question in droning monotone.
Reporter Lady: Why are you autographing a copy of your fine piece of literature for Kailus Holmes?
Zevon: That you for that question. What is Kailus Holmes? A realtor? I am not at my humble Ohio abode often these days but I am not selling nor looking for new accommodations.
Reporter Lady currently speaking in droning monotone: He is not a realtor.
Zevon: Is it a constructor of fine, custom-built domestic enclosures?
Reporter Lady currently speaking in droning monotone: No, Kailus Holmes is the Power On Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion.
Zevon: Indeed he is young woman of less than stellar beauty, but I needed to get that out of my noble system before offering a truce. Kailus and I have had an exchange of a few unkind words over the preceding fortnight, but after consulting with Mr. Kitters I have determined that Kailus Holmes is a fine champion. He is JR Zevon approved. And I intend to send him this fine book…
Haberdasher struts through yet again showing off the fine book.
Zevon: as a token of friendship. Also, I was hoping that he would agree to perform the audio book. American’s do so love to hear the English read them their literature as they drive to work.
Haberdasher: What about me? Oh-hon-hon!
Zevon: You are a faux Frenchman, Mr. Haberdasher. Kailus Holmes is a bona-fide Englishman.
Haberdasher: NIGEL! My slapping glove!
A moment of awkward silence. Haberdasher breaks the calm by strutting through the scene holding the book. As he crosses behind Zevon a black glove strikes Zevon across the cheek. Haberdasher carries on without saying a word.
Zevon: This is no time for a duel! I have urgent business that needs attending!
Reporter Lady no longer speaking in monotone: You’ve been signing that book for over five minutes. Are you not done yet?
Zevon: Script!
Reporter Lady in bitchy woman tone: The script doesn’t call for a fake Frenchman either!
Zevon: Indeed is does not, student crack whore.
Reporter Lady still in bitchy woman tone: CRACK WHORE! YOU f**kING PIG!
Zevon: Calm down Miss plain and bitchy!
Reporter Lady stands and makes a dramatic show of her exit. She strips on a gnarled walking stick on the way.
Haberdasher: Nigel! How very inconsiderate!
Zevon: I gave you TWENTY DOLLARS! Come back here!
Reporter Lady: CHEAP PIG!
She dusts off and leaves POW forever. You will never see her again…. probably.
Zevon: Ron Simmons! My significant, meandering promo thwarted! And I have not even spoken of Buddy Love….. HABERDASHER! Conduct these proceedings!
Haberdasher wanders back on screen.
Haberdasher: Do I get the audio book gig?
Zevon: Most certainly not.
Haberdasher: Nigel! Conduct these proceedings! Oh-hon-hon-hon!
Zevon: Nixon! I shall go solo!
Haberdasher: Oh-hon-hon-hon! Nigel! How bloody inappropriate! Innuendo. Amusing!
Zevon slams shut the book and moves to the refrigerator. He pulls out a four foot long loaf of French bread and a variety of meats and cheeses. Zevon pulls out a chef’s knife as Haberdasher walks through pimping 101 Ways to Call Rich Morrison an Asshole. He spots the knife and quickly scurries off never to be seen again in this promo. Zevon slices open the bread and thus begins the Buddy Love portion of this show.
Zevon: At Legendaria, I humbled the “Duke of Douchebaggery” Rich Morrison and rescued the Television Championship from a long line of miscreant champions. Unfortunately, Nick Pickles went all loophole and immediately stripped the TV Championship from the possession of a brave and noble being. He then offered a shot at the Mid-Atlantic Championship as a consolation prize. Very well Mr. Pickles, rules are indeed rules or they would not be known as rules. Flap Flanagan’s match this week for the Northeast’s Openweight Championship perplexes me however. Why would Pickles want another title vacant? Not a question of my concern.
Zevon begins layering meats and cheeses on the bread.
So I leave the Television Championship behind and become the Mid-Atlantic Champion, which of course will soon become the Wales Championship or the Sussex Champioship or some such nonsense. Anyhoo, the opportunity presents itself to strip yet another piece of gold from a delinquent competitor. The Mardi Gras party boy Buddy Love. My problems with him are apparent from past conversations, so I shall spare you all, out of the kindness of my heart, further elaboration.
Zevon throws some romaine lettuce on top.
Let us not dwell on the ugliness. Why insult the man when he’s such easy pickings anyway? Buddy Love is no match for such a brave, noble defender of this fine art. So we move to a more pleasant topic: sandwiches.
Zevon places the crown upon the enormous culinary delight. I lied, Haberdasher returns to make entertaining comments and twirl his villainous moustache.
Haberdasher: Sandwich.
Zevon: An offering of condolence and friendship to Mr. the Foot-Long Midget.
Haberdasher: You pity the fool.
Zevon: He does his best
Trapped in a Winnebago with a drunkard
Oh short of stature enjoyer of sandwiches
From high upon a mountain of truth
comes a token of appreciation for your suffering
Enjoy this extremely large sandwich
Haberdasher: Lackluster poem.
Zevon: My verses do lack in elegance, for I am but a humble being. A brave, noble, majestic, paragon of integrity. A defender of the fine art of professional wrestling. Champion. Yet humble.
Haberdasher: Are you certain this is not a Flap promo? Oh-hon-hon-hon!
Zevon: Silence, walking stick wielding twirler of villainous moustache.
Haberdasher: That sandwich is bigger than Big Norm.
Zevon: Midgets have the natural ability to unhinge their lower mandible and consume objects of great size.
Haberdasher: That is snakes, pitiful failure.
Zevon: Perhaps I am mistaken, it has been a long day and I grow weary. Have Nigel transport this enormous sandwich to Big Norm… and the literature to Mr. Holmes.
Haberdasher: Are you ill?
Zevon: Twenty dollars ill.
And thusly this less than excellent promo comes to an end. And sandwich and a book are headed for greener pastures. You can go to bed now.
Zevon: Greetings mild mannered reporter I hired for twenty dollars because I could not find Miss Stephie Campbell. Your visual appeal leaves much to be desired, but your clipboard is of a fine mold. No need to thank me for my kind opening comments, begin with your line of questions.
Reporter Lady who deserves not a name: The ones you wrote?
Zevon: Yes poor journalist lacking in both talent and visual appeal. Begin by questioning my current activity.
Reporter Lady: Alright, why are you writing in that book?
Zevon: This book, my dear crack whore, is a relic of greatness; the finest piece of literature ever written by a two being human and feline team. A surefire bestseller. 101 Ways to Call Rich Morrison an Asshole by JR Zevon with Mr. Kitters.
Horatio Haberdasher waltzes through the background showing off a copy of the book to the camera, a huge Ron Popeil smile is on his face.
Reporter Lady: Why are you writing in it?
Zevon: This copy is being personalized to be sent as a gift to the new Power On Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion Mr. Kailus Holmes, as a token of friendship.
Haberdasher waltzes back through in the opposite direction doing his best Price is Right girl impersonation. Nameless reporter lady looks at him in confusion.
Reporter Lady: Who is that man in the beret?
Zevon: Straying from the script…. but I shall answer anyway because I am such a benevolent being. The man promoting my glorious book is none other than Mr. Horatio Haberdasher. Do not mind his eccentric ways, he means no harm. He seems to be under the false impression that his helping peddle my wares somehow entitles him to do the audio book.
Haberdasher wanders back through a third time, pausing momentarily to wink at the lady.
Zevon: Fake Frenchman, what can a paragon of integrity do?
Reporter Lady: Ummm…. aren’t I supposed to be asking the questions?
Zevon: No need to feign dimwittedness, this is no Flap Flanagan promo.
Reporter Lady: The women of wrestling are supposed to look pretty and be stupid are they not?
Zevon: Gypsy and Fire would flay you if they heard such drivel come from your third tier acting school mouth. You were hired for twenty dollars to read the script blasphemous woman lacking in visual appeal.
Reporter Lady: Do I have no creative input as an actress?
Zevon: No.
Nameless third tier acting school student reporter lady rolls her eyes and reads the next question in droning monotone.
Reporter Lady: Why are you autographing a copy of your fine piece of literature for Kailus Holmes?
Zevon: That you for that question. What is Kailus Holmes? A realtor? I am not at my humble Ohio abode often these days but I am not selling nor looking for new accommodations.
Reporter Lady currently speaking in droning monotone: He is not a realtor.
Zevon: Is it a constructor of fine, custom-built domestic enclosures?
Reporter Lady currently speaking in droning monotone: No, Kailus Holmes is the Power On Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion.
Zevon: Indeed he is young woman of less than stellar beauty, but I needed to get that out of my noble system before offering a truce. Kailus and I have had an exchange of a few unkind words over the preceding fortnight, but after consulting with Mr. Kitters I have determined that Kailus Holmes is a fine champion. He is JR Zevon approved. And I intend to send him this fine book…
Haberdasher struts through yet again showing off the fine book.
Zevon: as a token of friendship. Also, I was hoping that he would agree to perform the audio book. American’s do so love to hear the English read them their literature as they drive to work.
Haberdasher: What about me? Oh-hon-hon!
Zevon: You are a faux Frenchman, Mr. Haberdasher. Kailus Holmes is a bona-fide Englishman.
Haberdasher: NIGEL! My slapping glove!
A moment of awkward silence. Haberdasher breaks the calm by strutting through the scene holding the book. As he crosses behind Zevon a black glove strikes Zevon across the cheek. Haberdasher carries on without saying a word.
Zevon: This is no time for a duel! I have urgent business that needs attending!
Reporter Lady no longer speaking in monotone: You’ve been signing that book for over five minutes. Are you not done yet?
Zevon: Script!
Reporter Lady in bitchy woman tone: The script doesn’t call for a fake Frenchman either!
Zevon: Indeed is does not, student crack whore.
Reporter Lady still in bitchy woman tone: CRACK WHORE! YOU f**kING PIG!
Zevon: Calm down Miss plain and bitchy!
Reporter Lady stands and makes a dramatic show of her exit. She strips on a gnarled walking stick on the way.
Haberdasher: Nigel! How very inconsiderate!
Zevon: I gave you TWENTY DOLLARS! Come back here!
Reporter Lady: CHEAP PIG!
She dusts off and leaves POW forever. You will never see her again…. probably.
Zevon: Ron Simmons! My significant, meandering promo thwarted! And I have not even spoken of Buddy Love….. HABERDASHER! Conduct these proceedings!
Haberdasher wanders back on screen.
Haberdasher: Do I get the audio book gig?
Zevon: Most certainly not.
Haberdasher: Nigel! Conduct these proceedings! Oh-hon-hon-hon!
Zevon: Nixon! I shall go solo!
Haberdasher: Oh-hon-hon-hon! Nigel! How bloody inappropriate! Innuendo. Amusing!
Zevon slams shut the book and moves to the refrigerator. He pulls out a four foot long loaf of French bread and a variety of meats and cheeses. Zevon pulls out a chef’s knife as Haberdasher walks through pimping 101 Ways to Call Rich Morrison an Asshole. He spots the knife and quickly scurries off never to be seen again in this promo. Zevon slices open the bread and thus begins the Buddy Love portion of this show.
Zevon: At Legendaria, I humbled the “Duke of Douchebaggery” Rich Morrison and rescued the Television Championship from a long line of miscreant champions. Unfortunately, Nick Pickles went all loophole and immediately stripped the TV Championship from the possession of a brave and noble being. He then offered a shot at the Mid-Atlantic Championship as a consolation prize. Very well Mr. Pickles, rules are indeed rules or they would not be known as rules. Flap Flanagan’s match this week for the Northeast’s Openweight Championship perplexes me however. Why would Pickles want another title vacant? Not a question of my concern.
Zevon begins layering meats and cheeses on the bread.
So I leave the Television Championship behind and become the Mid-Atlantic Champion, which of course will soon become the Wales Championship or the Sussex Champioship or some such nonsense. Anyhoo, the opportunity presents itself to strip yet another piece of gold from a delinquent competitor. The Mardi Gras party boy Buddy Love. My problems with him are apparent from past conversations, so I shall spare you all, out of the kindness of my heart, further elaboration.
Zevon throws some romaine lettuce on top.
Let us not dwell on the ugliness. Why insult the man when he’s such easy pickings anyway? Buddy Love is no match for such a brave, noble defender of this fine art. So we move to a more pleasant topic: sandwiches.
Zevon places the crown upon the enormous culinary delight. I lied, Haberdasher returns to make entertaining comments and twirl his villainous moustache.
Haberdasher: Sandwich.
Zevon: An offering of condolence and friendship to Mr. the Foot-Long Midget.
Haberdasher: You pity the fool.
Zevon: He does his best
Trapped in a Winnebago with a drunkard
Oh short of stature enjoyer of sandwiches
From high upon a mountain of truth
comes a token of appreciation for your suffering
Enjoy this extremely large sandwich
Haberdasher: Lackluster poem.
Zevon: My verses do lack in elegance, for I am but a humble being. A brave, noble, majestic, paragon of integrity. A defender of the fine art of professional wrestling. Champion. Yet humble.
Haberdasher: Are you certain this is not a Flap promo? Oh-hon-hon-hon!
Zevon: Silence, walking stick wielding twirler of villainous moustache.
Haberdasher: That sandwich is bigger than Big Norm.
Zevon: Midgets have the natural ability to unhinge their lower mandible and consume objects of great size.
Haberdasher: That is snakes, pitiful failure.
Zevon: Perhaps I am mistaken, it has been a long day and I grow weary. Have Nigel transport this enormous sandwich to Big Norm… and the literature to Mr. Holmes.
Haberdasher: Are you ill?
Zevon: Twenty dollars ill.
And thusly this less than excellent promo comes to an end. And sandwich and a book are headed for greener pastures. You can go to bed now.
