Post by Zevon on Jun 14, 2007 11:27:06 GMT -6
(Scene opens to find Stephie Campbell and Lee Cash simultaneously converging on the hotel room door of the Eastern Heavyweight Champion, word travels quick when such a catch arrives. They knock and instantly the door opens and out steps JR Zevon in full white ring gear and Eastern Heavyweight Championship around his waist.)
Zevon: Another slow week?
Cash: Haven’t had a gig all week.
Stephie: Ditto.
Zevon: Quite sad indeed. Now, which one of you two should I choose? Hmmm…
(Zevon overacts as he looks Cash over top to bottom. Cash throws on his reporter smile as Zevon stares him in the eye.)
Cash: I had a wonderful time shadowing you last week.
Zevon: Bullshit.
(Zevon motions to Cash to zip it and turns to examine Stephie. Stephie is not pleased.)
Stephie: Up here!
(Zevon complies.)
Zevon: So very sorry Miss Campbell.
Cash: Pervert.
(Zevon turns and gives a cold stare to Cash.)
Zevon: You!
(Cash is excited as Zevon points him out.)
Cash: Wooo!
Zevon: Scram!
(Cash quickly turns to despair as he is poked hard in the chest by the champ. He sulks off defeated giving a mock Nixon victory salute.)
Zevon: Ass.
(Zevon quickly chippers up as he turns to Stephie.)
Zevon: Now, if you would be so kind Miss Campbell to commence the proceedings.
(Stephie is excited to land her first interview of the week, and even more excited that FDCM is nowhere near.)
Stephie: A few questions about Over in Dover to begin. First, you came up a bit short against Flying Diamond Cutter Man for the POW World Heavyweight Championship…
Zevon: Excuse me Miss Campbell, but I didn’t “come up a bit short.” I was victim of Power on Wrestling’s inability to hire quality staff.
Stephie: What I saw was FDCM out-cheating you to victory.
Zevon: Blasphemy my dear Stephie. I am the Eastern Heavyweight Champion. Mr. Cutter Man is the World Heavyweight Champion. We are both men of dignity and class. Neither one of us is prone to cheating.
Stephie: I must disagree. You are both wont to cheat.
Zevon: In a blasphemous mood today are we?
Stephie: No, I’m just speaking the truth.
Zevon: You speak blasphemous lies.
Stephie: How do you explain this?
(Stephie pulls out a photograph from the championship match showing FDCM, locked in Extra Crispy and feet on the ropes, pinning Zevon to the mat.)
Zevon: Is it not obvious Miss Campbell.
Stephie: It is. FDCM blatantly placed his feet on the middle rope to gain leverage.
Zevon: You have lovely eyes Miss Campbell but are you blind? This is but proof that Randall Lovejoy hires only the cheapest. As you can clearly see, the referee, what’s his face…
Stephie: George Chip.
Zevon: You know the bugger?
Stephie: He’s a very nice man.
Zevon: Incompetent is the word, Stephie. Anyway, Mr. Chip is out of position and doesn’t observe that Mr. Cutter Man has inadvertently become tangled in the ropes.
Stephie: Inadvertent?
Zevon: It happens to the best.
Stephie: You blame your loss on George Chip and not on FDCM’s illegal tactics?
Zevon: There you go again…blaspheming a great human being.
Stephie: I spent last week with that asshole…he’s no great human being. He’s an absolute pig.
Zevon: Here, here, Stephie. It’s not my fault that you are so visually pleasing.
Stephie: Don’t you start too.
Zevon: Most certainly not, Miss Campbell. Can we get back on topic now? George Chip…go.
Stephie: I’ll humor you, what about George Chip?
Zevon: He should be promptly removed from active duty and fully investigated for any links to John Anthony.
Stephie: John Anthony?
Zevon: Damn menace paid George Chip to feign further incompetence and cost me a fantastic match against the world’s best and the World Heavyweight Championship.
Stephie: Quite a dubious claim.
Zevon: Go find George, go find John, and find out for yourself.
Stephie: I have a feeling there is no meat to your story.
Zevon: He as a motive, doesn’t he?
Stephie: Not that I am aware, except he has been preparing to take your championship.
Zevon: Seriously? Come on. Dig deeper, every miscreant in this place wants the Eastern Heavyweight Championship.
Stephie: Please do tell then.
Zevon: Do you not remember two weeks ago, when Macros killed John Anthony?
Stephie: I do.
Zevon: And do you remember who was behind all of this?
Stephie: Oh, please. Are you still insinuating that you paid off Riley to take out John Anthony?
Zevon: I am.
Stephie: I have been unable to confirm your claim.
Zevon: That’s too bad. It’s a great story.
Stephie: A great work of fiction.
Zevon: Here we go again with your blasphemy.
Stephie: Tell me this: if you and Riley and Macros are on the same page, then why are you facing Macros this week?
Zevon: I was kind enough to waive requirements one through four and move Macros straight to number five as a thank you.
Stephie: Randall Lovejoy was kind enough to book the match as a reward for Macros’ dominance.
Zevon: Silly little English girl, Randall Lovejoy is a fool. I am an upstanding moral being. Who do you believe?
Don’t answer, I’ve heard enough sacrilege for the day.
Stephie: Did you see Macros’ promo?
Zevon: I did, absolute rubbish. Can you believe all the unnecessary and grotesque production he put into it? Fancy camera shots, and a drab little poem to start it all off. Absolutely ludicrous.
Stephie: What about his words?
Zevon: Bloody awful. Droning on and on about his destiny, when we all know that fate is a load of bullshit. And then on and on about his skill and all the competitors he has faced before. About bringing all others up to his level. Bullshit.
Stephie: He had some harsh comments for you as well.
Zevon: Indeed he did offer up a line of bullshit concerning your noble Eastern Heavyweight Champion. Some crock about living in my own cocky little universe and overseeing the slow death of POW:NE. I go out of my way and offer the man the opportunity of a lifetime and he has nothing nice to say in return. Prick.
Stephie: I suggest you take him a bit more seriously, he’s a tough competitor.
Zevon: He’s a joke. Legion soldier? Come on, a grown man gallivanting about in a tunic pretending to be a Roman soldier? And to top it all off his speech is about as comprehensible as that ridiculous poem. I cannot believe a great man such as Riley would waste his time on this idiot. Ungrateful bastard.
(Zevon instantly brightens up as a telephone rings in the background.)
Zevon: Now Miss Campbell, it’s been lovely, but I have plans. I cannot keep Mr. Kitters waiting.
(Zevon returns to his hotel quarters leaving Stephie to witness the closing of the door. Stephie, pleased to grab an interview, pleased to be free of FDCM, pleased to be free of a ranting champion even though she failed to question him on Bleep the Troops.)
Zevon: Another slow week?
Cash: Haven’t had a gig all week.
Stephie: Ditto.
Zevon: Quite sad indeed. Now, which one of you two should I choose? Hmmm…
(Zevon overacts as he looks Cash over top to bottom. Cash throws on his reporter smile as Zevon stares him in the eye.)
Cash: I had a wonderful time shadowing you last week.
Zevon: Bullshit.
(Zevon motions to Cash to zip it and turns to examine Stephie. Stephie is not pleased.)
Stephie: Up here!
(Zevon complies.)
Zevon: So very sorry Miss Campbell.
Cash: Pervert.
(Zevon turns and gives a cold stare to Cash.)
Zevon: You!
(Cash is excited as Zevon points him out.)
Cash: Wooo!
Zevon: Scram!
(Cash quickly turns to despair as he is poked hard in the chest by the champ. He sulks off defeated giving a mock Nixon victory salute.)
Zevon: Ass.
(Zevon quickly chippers up as he turns to Stephie.)
Zevon: Now, if you would be so kind Miss Campbell to commence the proceedings.
(Stephie is excited to land her first interview of the week, and even more excited that FDCM is nowhere near.)
Stephie: A few questions about Over in Dover to begin. First, you came up a bit short against Flying Diamond Cutter Man for the POW World Heavyweight Championship…
Zevon: Excuse me Miss Campbell, but I didn’t “come up a bit short.” I was victim of Power on Wrestling’s inability to hire quality staff.
Stephie: What I saw was FDCM out-cheating you to victory.
Zevon: Blasphemy my dear Stephie. I am the Eastern Heavyweight Champion. Mr. Cutter Man is the World Heavyweight Champion. We are both men of dignity and class. Neither one of us is prone to cheating.
Stephie: I must disagree. You are both wont to cheat.
Zevon: In a blasphemous mood today are we?
Stephie: No, I’m just speaking the truth.
Zevon: You speak blasphemous lies.
Stephie: How do you explain this?
(Stephie pulls out a photograph from the championship match showing FDCM, locked in Extra Crispy and feet on the ropes, pinning Zevon to the mat.)
Zevon: Is it not obvious Miss Campbell.
Stephie: It is. FDCM blatantly placed his feet on the middle rope to gain leverage.
Zevon: You have lovely eyes Miss Campbell but are you blind? This is but proof that Randall Lovejoy hires only the cheapest. As you can clearly see, the referee, what’s his face…
Stephie: George Chip.
Zevon: You know the bugger?
Stephie: He’s a very nice man.
Zevon: Incompetent is the word, Stephie. Anyway, Mr. Chip is out of position and doesn’t observe that Mr. Cutter Man has inadvertently become tangled in the ropes.
Stephie: Inadvertent?
Zevon: It happens to the best.
Stephie: You blame your loss on George Chip and not on FDCM’s illegal tactics?
Zevon: There you go again…blaspheming a great human being.
Stephie: I spent last week with that asshole…he’s no great human being. He’s an absolute pig.
Zevon: Here, here, Stephie. It’s not my fault that you are so visually pleasing.
Stephie: Don’t you start too.
Zevon: Most certainly not, Miss Campbell. Can we get back on topic now? George Chip…go.
Stephie: I’ll humor you, what about George Chip?
Zevon: He should be promptly removed from active duty and fully investigated for any links to John Anthony.
Stephie: John Anthony?
Zevon: Damn menace paid George Chip to feign further incompetence and cost me a fantastic match against the world’s best and the World Heavyweight Championship.
Stephie: Quite a dubious claim.
Zevon: Go find George, go find John, and find out for yourself.
Stephie: I have a feeling there is no meat to your story.
Zevon: He as a motive, doesn’t he?
Stephie: Not that I am aware, except he has been preparing to take your championship.
Zevon: Seriously? Come on. Dig deeper, every miscreant in this place wants the Eastern Heavyweight Championship.
Stephie: Please do tell then.
Zevon: Do you not remember two weeks ago, when Macros killed John Anthony?
Stephie: I do.
Zevon: And do you remember who was behind all of this?
Stephie: Oh, please. Are you still insinuating that you paid off Riley to take out John Anthony?
Zevon: I am.
Stephie: I have been unable to confirm your claim.
Zevon: That’s too bad. It’s a great story.
Stephie: A great work of fiction.
Zevon: Here we go again with your blasphemy.
Stephie: Tell me this: if you and Riley and Macros are on the same page, then why are you facing Macros this week?
Zevon: I was kind enough to waive requirements one through four and move Macros straight to number five as a thank you.
Stephie: Randall Lovejoy was kind enough to book the match as a reward for Macros’ dominance.
Zevon: Silly little English girl, Randall Lovejoy is a fool. I am an upstanding moral being. Who do you believe?
Don’t answer, I’ve heard enough sacrilege for the day.
Stephie: Did you see Macros’ promo?
Zevon: I did, absolute rubbish. Can you believe all the unnecessary and grotesque production he put into it? Fancy camera shots, and a drab little poem to start it all off. Absolutely ludicrous.
Stephie: What about his words?
Zevon: Bloody awful. Droning on and on about his destiny, when we all know that fate is a load of bullshit. And then on and on about his skill and all the competitors he has faced before. About bringing all others up to his level. Bullshit.
Stephie: He had some harsh comments for you as well.
Zevon: Indeed he did offer up a line of bullshit concerning your noble Eastern Heavyweight Champion. Some crock about living in my own cocky little universe and overseeing the slow death of POW:NE. I go out of my way and offer the man the opportunity of a lifetime and he has nothing nice to say in return. Prick.
Stephie: I suggest you take him a bit more seriously, he’s a tough competitor.
Zevon: He’s a joke. Legion soldier? Come on, a grown man gallivanting about in a tunic pretending to be a Roman soldier? And to top it all off his speech is about as comprehensible as that ridiculous poem. I cannot believe a great man such as Riley would waste his time on this idiot. Ungrateful bastard.
(Zevon instantly brightens up as a telephone rings in the background.)
Zevon: Now Miss Campbell, it’s been lovely, but I have plans. I cannot keep Mr. Kitters waiting.
(Zevon returns to his hotel quarters leaving Stephie to witness the closing of the door. Stephie, pleased to grab an interview, pleased to be free of FDCM, pleased to be free of a ranting champion even though she failed to question him on Bleep the Troops.)
