Excuses

[Zevon]

JR Zevon in usual full ring attire is sitting with Horatio Haberdasher, in usual beret and walking stick combo. They are seated, watching a monitor displaying John Anthony’s recent words to the public.

Zevon: Minimal in-ring talent? I wrestled circles around John Anthony at Red, White, and Bruised. And he accuses me of being all talk and no talent? John Anthony is the one who engages in this noble profession as a side job… as a means by which to promote his criminal activities.

Haberdasher: He beat you with a roll-up, oh-hoh-hoh!

Zevon: Fluke! And he cheated!

Haberdasher: I watched the match, over and over again, it will never get old. It was a clean win. Clean as can be. Highly amusing to boot.

Zevon: I was thrown off my game. I wasn’t one-hundred percent.

Haberdasher: Your own fault. You were more concerned about Bleeping some troops than defending the Eastern Heavyweight Championship.

Zevon: Another victim of the conservative movement. Millions of dead Iraqis, destruction of the truth, and stealing my precious.

Haberdasher: What about your slave woman?

Zevon: Juana is a fairly compensated, top notch, one-of-a-kind Feline caretaker.

Haberdasher: Who entered this country illegally from Mexico.

Zevon: BLASHPEMY! She came by boat.

Haberdasher: Illegally.

Zevon: Just as legal as the white man, except she didn’t commit genocide when she arrived.

Haberdasher: Taming savages isn’t genocide.

Zevon: Xenophobe!

Haberdasher: Roll-up!

Zevon: David Hunter drugged me!

Haberdasher: Ha! Why would he do such a thing? He’s not the nicest guy, but he has enough common sense not to do anything that stupid. It’s not good business to have your first main event at the helm turn into a joke.

Zevon: Then why did he book himself as special guest referee for that match I skipped a few weeks back? Hmmmmm? He wanted to take another swipe at me didn’t he?

Haberdasher: He wanted to take a swipe at Mick Cormac.

Zevon: Mick Cormac? That drunk? Didn’t I dispose of him already?

Haberdasher: He’s back and better than ever.

Zevon: He’s insignificant. Although I do support his cause of ousting that vile Anglophile.

Haberdasher: You were distracted by that nonsense too. Anglophile. Brit-American hybrid Tito Capaci lapdog. Everything but concentrate on your actual match.

Zevon: I was more than ready. Buffy taught me well.

Haberdasher: Roll-up!

Zevon: Big Norm the Foot Long Midget urinated in my beverage.

Haberdasher: I highly doubt that.

Zevon: Well, that’s the kind of thing midgets do isn’t it? Little people and dwarfs have more class sure. But midgets…

Haberdasher: Aren’t the Chinese the ones that urinate in beverages?

Zevon: You Xenophobic bastard! The Chinese are a strong, noble people. I suppose you support colonizing China, murdering billions of natives, and establishing a national holiday to honor the white man that “discovered” a land populated by billions of people? Shame on you.

Haberdasher: And aren’t little people, dwarfs, and midgets interchangeable designations?

Zevon: Most certainly not.

Haberdasher: I beg to differ. What other silly excuses do you have in your arsenal?

Zevon: Silly? I defend myself with nothing but the honest truth. I am a being of upstanding moral value. I am a being of integrity and respect for this noble profession. And John Anthony, the scoundrel, is the one who gets all the media attention. Speaking of sensationalistic, mind-rotting, truth deprived media, wasn’t I supposed to appear on Nancy Grace today?

Haberdasher: Whatever gave you that idea?

Zevon: You.

Haberdasher: Oh, that. Pulling your chain.

Zevon: HABERDASHER!

Haberdasher: Oh-hoh-hoh.

Zevon: I had my thesaurus primed and ready to call her a bitch in eighteen unique ways.

Haberdasher: Oh-hoh-hoh.

Zevon: What’s left for me to do with the rest of my day? Pounce on John Anthony’s ridiculous fight club story? Fall right into one of his intricate lies designed to deceive innocent elderly folks into paying for his flashy suits and fancy alcoholic tonics?

Haberdasher: He’s a designer jean man now. Pity, the suits made him look distinguished, unlike a certain man who wears spandex briefs everywhere he goes.

Zevon: High-performance ring gear! But I do recommend against wearing the same pair for three weeks without showering. The chafing…

Haberdasher: Already making excuses for Ocean City Slam are we?

Zevon: Most certainly not!

Haberdasher: Good. I didn’t drag your pitiful carcass out of Philadelphia and book you in one of the most brutal matches ever crafted because I was bored.

Zevon: Why exactly are you here?

Haberdasher: Amusement.

Zevon: Yeah, yeah. You love watching me suffer.

Haberdasher: And revenge.

Zevon: Because you cannot stand that John Anthony succeeded where you have always failed. John Anthony broke JR Zevon.

Haberdasher: ANTHONY!

Zevon: Except he didn’t.

Haberdasher: Liar.

Zevon: I am not a mistruther, you blasphemous swine.

Haberdasher: Boo hoo, he stole my precious. I’m going to live on a lawn chair in the basement for three weeks. Boo hoo. Mr. Kitters misses me. Boo Hoo!

Zevon: Mr. Kitters understands my ways. He’s a noble creature. So full of life. So full of integrity.

Haberdasher: He’s a bloody cat!

Zevon: BLASPHEMY!

Haberdasher: A worm-infested, Latina slave loving CAT!

Zevon grabs Haberdasher’s walking stick and uses it to knock off Haberdasher beret. They stare down, two sets of eyes filled with hate.

Haberdasher: Nigel… restrain me!

Zevon: Nigel doesn’t exist.

Haberdasher: BLASPHEMY!

Haberdasher grabs his walking stick back and bangs Zevon in the thigh. Zevon responds with a light slap to the face.

Haberdasher: Direct your anger to John Anthony, not I. I’m not the one who stole your precious!

Zevon: HABERDASHER!

Haberdasher: ANTHONY!

Zevon: Revenge!

Haberdasher: Revenge!

Scene fade.