Post by Zevon on Jul 26, 2007 1:08:46 GMT -6
JR Zevon is sitting at an outdoor table next to the brick façade of a local Ocean City pizza shop. He is slowly sipping an ice cold beverage, casually observing the passers-by. Stephie Campbell calmly approaches, having been tipped off about Zevon’s arrival in town by her formerly stranded camera crew. She approaches the former Champ, who is wearing a fresh set of black spandex with his initials proudly displayed.
Zevon: Visually appealing one! Come! Sit! Marvel as I enjoy a delicious root beer!
Stephie: You seem awfully cheery for a man who was just recently plucked from a self-imposed exile in a Philadelphia arena’s basement.
Zevon: Plucked? I came willingly. A man can only pretend to be Gollum for so long.
Stephie: Three weeks is a long time to imagine yourself as a fictional creature.
Zevon: Gollum is real, he lives in all our hearts.
Stephie: So, you are feeling well then? Care to tell us the whole story?
Zevon: Us?
Zevon peers out at the camera crew.
Zevon: Oh, of course. Them. I hope I returned them to you in good working condition.
Stephie: Well, let’s just say they work just as poorly as when I left them with you.
Zevon: Ho! Miss Campbell! Comedy is humorous!
Stephie: Enough of the cheesy jokes. The story?
Zevon: Huh? My story? Okay. It was never easy for me. I was born a poor black child. I remember the days, sittin' on the porch with my family, singin' and dancin' down in Mississippi.
Stephie: Are you sure you’re alright?
Zevon: I am dandy! Thank you for asking visually appealing one.
Stephie: Well, how did Horatio Haberdasher convince you to rejoin the outside world?
Zevon: Veni. Vidi. Vici.
Stephie: I came. I saw. I conquered?
Zevon: He came. He saw. He conquered. I would have translated it for optimal effect but alas, I do not speak Latin. Dead language you know. Only insane Aussies speak it these days.
Stephie: How exactly did he accomplish the feat?
Zevon: He accomplished nothing. He thinks he did, but he didn’t.
Stephie: You just said he did!
Zevon: Doesn’t sound like something I would say.
Stephie: He went into the basement. He brought you out with him.
Zevon: Oh, that. Complicated story.
Stephie: Care to extrapolate?
Zevon: Oooh, fancy word. Kudos being of visual appeal. Anyhoo, he came in and gave some speech. I, of course, know his tactics well so I played along and lulled him into a trap. He, of course, knows me well, so he knew I would lull him into a trap. I, of course, know that he knows me well, therefore I allowed him to lull me into a trap by feigning to lull him into a trap thus lulling him into another trap to lull me into yet another trap so that I could pounce and trap him and accomplish my goal.
Short silence as Stephie.. and Zevon, ponder what was just said.
Stephie: What? That was quite incomprehensible.
Zevon: Speaking of incomprehensible plots, has John Anthony made his despicable face appear this week?
Stephie: I would really like to speak about you. We haven’t nearly reached the bottom yet.
Zevon: We must look forward to the future, not back to the past. The future is John Anthony in a steel cage.
Haberdasher peeks his head out the nearby door.
Haberdasher: Carbon fiber!
Zevon: Yes… lighter than aluminum, lighter than wood, yet extremely strong. It would make a superior cage.
Haberdasher pops his head back into the building. Stephie gives Zevon an awkward look.
Stephie: Who exactly is Horatio Haberdasher?
Zevon: Old friend. Absolutely loathe the flamboyant bastard.
Stephie: You hate your friend?
Zevon: The strongest bonds are built on hatred Stephie. Tangent end. John Anthony, has he discharged any asinine media this week?
Stephie: None that I am aware.
Zevon: Not even some trivial jaunt to an independent show to pander to the idiot peoples?
Stephie: No.
Zevon: A drab speech from atop a podium surrounded by jackals?
Stephie: No.
Zevon: A video clip of him wallowing in filth with his streetwalker?
Stephie: No.
Zevon: Hmmm…. where is he then?
Stephie: I haven’t the slightest.
Zevon: No grotesque display bragging about stealing money from innocent retired homemakers?
Stephie: No.
Zevon: Very unlike him.
Stephie: Well, he is a changed man.
Zevon: Poppycock! He’s a swindler, a criminal, a product of decadent American culture. He’s a disgrace to professional wrestling!
Zevon looks at Stephie quizzically.
Zevon: No phone calls?
Stephie: Nope.
Zevon: Well, visually appealing one, I must say I’m quite worried about his safety.
Stephie: That is a shock. You caring about John Anthony's health? You, JR Zevon, the man who claims to have paid Riley to have Macros severely injure John Anthony.
Zevon: A shock? Why the Reagan would you speak such nonsense? I’m an upstanding moral being. I care about the well-being of my fellow man. Unlike a certain Mr. Anthony.
Stephie: You have stated passionately in the past that you wish to quote “cleanse the world of the taint that is John Anthony.”
Zevon: Hmmm… are you certain I said that?
Stephie: I have the video to prove it.
Zevon: So you do. Anyhoo, back to the subject from which you so shrewdly led us astray. John Anthony hasn’t been heard from all week?
Stephie: Last I heard he was spotted entering a night club in New Jersey.
Zevon: A fitting location for a man such as he. Were Frank Zappa and the Mothers playing?
Stephie: Isn’t Zappa dead?
Zevon: Aye, he is quite deceased. Maybe the Undead Frank Zappa and the Mothers were playing.
Stephie: I doubt it.
Zevon: So we can rule out fire then. Hmmm….
Stephie: I think you’re putting too much thought into this.
Zevon: Not fire. Then what? Drunken stupor?
Stephie: John is wise when it comes to alcohol. Moderation.
Zevon: I trust your word. You are visually appealing of course.
Stephie: Okay…
Zevon: Maybe the club was attacked by an army of vampires.
Stephie: Not this again.
Zevon: I’m pretty sure Buffy still works out of California… so does Angel. Giles is English... So Jersey should be safe for the undead hordes. Vampires…. hmmm…. Logic tells us John Anthony was attacked by vampires in a New Jersey nightclub.
Stephie: That is absolutely ludicrous! Vampires in New Jersey?
Zevon: You make an astute observation visually appealing one… vampires have too much pride to feast on the blood of New Jersey. So, not fire and not vampires…
Stephie: Could he simply be preparing for the match?
Zevon: In a night club?
Stephie: Relieving stress?
Zevon: He has his own personal lady of the night and pool boy for such matters. There is something far more sinister at foot!
Stephie: You are indeed back to normal.
Zevon: Let’s gather the clues. John has not spoken to a POW interviewer all week. Stephie Campbell is a being of immense visual appeal. John was last seen entering a New Jersey nightclub. Frank Zappa is dead. Vampires have too much class to roam such a vile environment. What does all this mean Miss Campbell?
Stephie: That John Anthony simply doesn’t wish to be bothered before such a huge event?
Zevon: What this means Stephie Campbell, is that John Anthony… IS A VAMPIRE!
Stephie: What? Didn’t we…you already rule out vampires?
Zevon: No! We ruled out John being killed by vampires! It makes so much sense now! Calvin Ayre is a vampire king. He sent John Anthony, his number two, out into the world to amass an army. John woos the ignorant pissant masses by catering to their most heinous hidden desires. And when he gets tired, he retreats to the only place a truly depraved being can possibly love: New Jersey. John Anthony entered a New Jersey nightclub… proceeded to become intoxicated and has lost touch with the cycle of the sun. Thus, John Anthony has inadvertently secluded himself away in a dark, syphilis ridden New Jersey nest.
Zevon has a look of satisfaction on his face. Stephie stares back in awe.
Zevon: Brilliant!
Stephie: Rubbish!
Zevon: Rubbish? It’s the only logical explanation.
Stephie: There is nothing logical, at all, in what you just spoke.
Zevon: Illogical? What other explanation could there be? He was drugged and forced against his will to compete in an underground fight club? Now, THAT is ludicrous!
Just then, Horatio Haberdasher emerges from the pizza shop carrying a bag full of delicious sub sandwiches wrapped in foil. He greets Stephie with a tip of his beret and taps the leg of Zevon’s chair with his walking stick.
Zevon: Impeccable timing! It’s as if your arrival is some sort of deux ex machina meant to end this promo!
Zevon rises, gives Stephie a quick flash of Nixon victory salute and follows Haberdasher away to a waiting VW Bus hauling a Ford Taurus.
Zevon: Visually appealing one! Come! Sit! Marvel as I enjoy a delicious root beer!
Stephie: You seem awfully cheery for a man who was just recently plucked from a self-imposed exile in a Philadelphia arena’s basement.
Zevon: Plucked? I came willingly. A man can only pretend to be Gollum for so long.
Stephie: Three weeks is a long time to imagine yourself as a fictional creature.
Zevon: Gollum is real, he lives in all our hearts.
Stephie: So, you are feeling well then? Care to tell us the whole story?
Zevon: Us?
Zevon peers out at the camera crew.
Zevon: Oh, of course. Them. I hope I returned them to you in good working condition.
Stephie: Well, let’s just say they work just as poorly as when I left them with you.
Zevon: Ho! Miss Campbell! Comedy is humorous!
Stephie: Enough of the cheesy jokes. The story?
Zevon: Huh? My story? Okay. It was never easy for me. I was born a poor black child. I remember the days, sittin' on the porch with my family, singin' and dancin' down in Mississippi.
Stephie: Are you sure you’re alright?
Zevon: I am dandy! Thank you for asking visually appealing one.
Stephie: Well, how did Horatio Haberdasher convince you to rejoin the outside world?
Zevon: Veni. Vidi. Vici.
Stephie: I came. I saw. I conquered?
Zevon: He came. He saw. He conquered. I would have translated it for optimal effect but alas, I do not speak Latin. Dead language you know. Only insane Aussies speak it these days.
Stephie: How exactly did he accomplish the feat?
Zevon: He accomplished nothing. He thinks he did, but he didn’t.
Stephie: You just said he did!
Zevon: Doesn’t sound like something I would say.
Stephie: He went into the basement. He brought you out with him.
Zevon: Oh, that. Complicated story.
Stephie: Care to extrapolate?
Zevon: Oooh, fancy word. Kudos being of visual appeal. Anyhoo, he came in and gave some speech. I, of course, know his tactics well so I played along and lulled him into a trap. He, of course, knows me well, so he knew I would lull him into a trap. I, of course, know that he knows me well, therefore I allowed him to lull me into a trap by feigning to lull him into a trap thus lulling him into another trap to lull me into yet another trap so that I could pounce and trap him and accomplish my goal.
Short silence as Stephie.. and Zevon, ponder what was just said.
Stephie: What? That was quite incomprehensible.
Zevon: Speaking of incomprehensible plots, has John Anthony made his despicable face appear this week?
Stephie: I would really like to speak about you. We haven’t nearly reached the bottom yet.
Zevon: We must look forward to the future, not back to the past. The future is John Anthony in a steel cage.
Haberdasher peeks his head out the nearby door.
Haberdasher: Carbon fiber!
Zevon: Yes… lighter than aluminum, lighter than wood, yet extremely strong. It would make a superior cage.
Haberdasher pops his head back into the building. Stephie gives Zevon an awkward look.
Stephie: Who exactly is Horatio Haberdasher?
Zevon: Old friend. Absolutely loathe the flamboyant bastard.
Stephie: You hate your friend?
Zevon: The strongest bonds are built on hatred Stephie. Tangent end. John Anthony, has he discharged any asinine media this week?
Stephie: None that I am aware.
Zevon: Not even some trivial jaunt to an independent show to pander to the idiot peoples?
Stephie: No.
Zevon: A drab speech from atop a podium surrounded by jackals?
Stephie: No.
Zevon: A video clip of him wallowing in filth with his streetwalker?
Stephie: No.
Zevon: Hmmm…. where is he then?
Stephie: I haven’t the slightest.
Zevon: No grotesque display bragging about stealing money from innocent retired homemakers?
Stephie: No.
Zevon: Very unlike him.
Stephie: Well, he is a changed man.
Zevon: Poppycock! He’s a swindler, a criminal, a product of decadent American culture. He’s a disgrace to professional wrestling!
Zevon looks at Stephie quizzically.
Zevon: No phone calls?
Stephie: Nope.
Zevon: Well, visually appealing one, I must say I’m quite worried about his safety.
Stephie: That is a shock. You caring about John Anthony's health? You, JR Zevon, the man who claims to have paid Riley to have Macros severely injure John Anthony.
Zevon: A shock? Why the Reagan would you speak such nonsense? I’m an upstanding moral being. I care about the well-being of my fellow man. Unlike a certain Mr. Anthony.
Stephie: You have stated passionately in the past that you wish to quote “cleanse the world of the taint that is John Anthony.”
Zevon: Hmmm… are you certain I said that?
Stephie: I have the video to prove it.
Zevon: So you do. Anyhoo, back to the subject from which you so shrewdly led us astray. John Anthony hasn’t been heard from all week?
Stephie: Last I heard he was spotted entering a night club in New Jersey.
Zevon: A fitting location for a man such as he. Were Frank Zappa and the Mothers playing?
Stephie: Isn’t Zappa dead?
Zevon: Aye, he is quite deceased. Maybe the Undead Frank Zappa and the Mothers were playing.
Stephie: I doubt it.
Zevon: So we can rule out fire then. Hmmm….
Stephie: I think you’re putting too much thought into this.
Zevon: Not fire. Then what? Drunken stupor?
Stephie: John is wise when it comes to alcohol. Moderation.
Zevon: I trust your word. You are visually appealing of course.
Stephie: Okay…
Zevon: Maybe the club was attacked by an army of vampires.
Stephie: Not this again.
Zevon: I’m pretty sure Buffy still works out of California… so does Angel. Giles is English... So Jersey should be safe for the undead hordes. Vampires…. hmmm…. Logic tells us John Anthony was attacked by vampires in a New Jersey nightclub.
Stephie: That is absolutely ludicrous! Vampires in New Jersey?
Zevon: You make an astute observation visually appealing one… vampires have too much pride to feast on the blood of New Jersey. So, not fire and not vampires…
Stephie: Could he simply be preparing for the match?
Zevon: In a night club?
Stephie: Relieving stress?
Zevon: He has his own personal lady of the night and pool boy for such matters. There is something far more sinister at foot!
Stephie: You are indeed back to normal.
Zevon: Let’s gather the clues. John has not spoken to a POW interviewer all week. Stephie Campbell is a being of immense visual appeal. John was last seen entering a New Jersey nightclub. Frank Zappa is dead. Vampires have too much class to roam such a vile environment. What does all this mean Miss Campbell?
Stephie: That John Anthony simply doesn’t wish to be bothered before such a huge event?
Zevon: What this means Stephie Campbell, is that John Anthony… IS A VAMPIRE!
Stephie: What? Didn’t we…you already rule out vampires?
Zevon: No! We ruled out John being killed by vampires! It makes so much sense now! Calvin Ayre is a vampire king. He sent John Anthony, his number two, out into the world to amass an army. John woos the ignorant pissant masses by catering to their most heinous hidden desires. And when he gets tired, he retreats to the only place a truly depraved being can possibly love: New Jersey. John Anthony entered a New Jersey nightclub… proceeded to become intoxicated and has lost touch with the cycle of the sun. Thus, John Anthony has inadvertently secluded himself away in a dark, syphilis ridden New Jersey nest.
Zevon has a look of satisfaction on his face. Stephie stares back in awe.
Zevon: Brilliant!
Stephie: Rubbish!
Zevon: Rubbish? It’s the only logical explanation.
Stephie: There is nothing logical, at all, in what you just spoke.
Zevon: Illogical? What other explanation could there be? He was drugged and forced against his will to compete in an underground fight club? Now, THAT is ludicrous!
Just then, Horatio Haberdasher emerges from the pizza shop carrying a bag full of delicious sub sandwiches wrapped in foil. He greets Stephie with a tip of his beret and taps the leg of Zevon’s chair with his walking stick.
Zevon: Impeccable timing! It’s as if your arrival is some sort of deux ex machina meant to end this promo!
Zevon rises, gives Stephie a quick flash of Nixon victory salute and follows Haberdasher away to a waiting VW Bus hauling a Ford Taurus.
