Post by Zevon on Jun 7, 2007 13:21:01 GMT -6
(On an overcast Dover day Lee Cash is strolling through the parking lot at the Dover Air Force Base. Cash’s duty for the day: interview the Eastern Heavyweight Champion. As always, Cash is optimistic to get the scoop that finally propels him past Stephie Campbell establishing himself as POW:NE’s top journalist. Cash takes one last minute review of his notes as he approaches a familiar black 1998 Ford Taurus. The POW Eastern Heavyweight Championship sits upon the lap of JR Zevon resting comfortably in a cheap lawn chair at the side of the car. Zevon greets Cash with a much more polite smile than usual.)
Zevon: Lee Cash! How long has it been? Ten…fifteen minutes?
Cash: Two days.
Zevon: My how time flies when you are sitting in a drab parking lot on a morally deprived air base waiting patiently for an esteemed journalist to arrive…. without the requested hot, delicious Arby’s.
(Lee Cash remembers not a request to bring hot, delicious Arby’s. He ignores and moves to his task for the day. Cash looks for a place to sit but finds none. He stands awkwardly over the seated champ.)
Zevon: There’s an extra chair in the trunk Mr. Cash, but unfortunately for you I have locked the keys in my horseless carriage.
Cash: Do you need a locksmith?
Zevon: Indeed I do, but I also seem to have never gotten around to actually purchasing a cellular telephone. And I do not fell like reentering that piss poor excuse for an arena until I absolutely must.
Cash: I will call for assistance at the conclusion of this interview.
Zevon: Ah, well played Mr. Cash. Leave the stranded and hot delicious Arby’s deprived Eastern Heavyweight Champion to the whims of the journalist. Brilliant.
(The situation has become ever more awkward for Lee Cash. Cash looks about for a more comfortable position and settles on a lean against the car door.)
Zevon: You are lucky that my security system has been conveniently incapacitated. Now, since you are comfortable Mr. Cash it would be your honor to commence the journalism.
Cash: You seem awful calm today despite the circumstances.
Zevon: Keeping this conversational today I see? Very well, we shall banter. How ‘bout that Stephie Campbell?
Cash: On duty with the POW World Heavyweight Champion this week.
Zevon: Lucky, visually pleasing lady she is.
Cash: On assignment at a strip joint, who wouldn’t love that?
Zevon: I for one, and I hope you as well.
Cash: Well, can you blame a man for enjoying a little T&A?
Zevon: Yes.
Cash: Are you saying you don’t enjoy the curves of a woman?
Zevon: Certain ladies.
Cash: What do you mean? Are you a little fruity?
Zevon: Most certainly not, Lee Cash. There are ladies, such as Stephie Campbell, and then there are whores. And apparently you are a whore man.
Cash: A woman is a woman.
Zevon: I disagree, Mr. Cash. Now if you would kindly direct us onto a tangent.
Cash: Why didn’t you meet FDCM for lunch?
Zevon: I attempted to make arrangements but was unable to speak directly with Mr. Cutter Man. At first I was directed to some sort of Flying Diamond Cutter dietician, had a rather humorous name.
Cash: Was it a number?
Zevon: It did indeed resemble a numerical value. Any who, she and I were unable to assemble suitable conditions. She then directed me to some lawyer, whose credentials I question.
Cash: Ken Rosenberg?
Zevon: Yes, him. Doesn’t his name sound like the stereotypical sleazy Jewish attorney straight out of an 80s themed media production?
Cash: Well, I guess it does.
Zevon: Long story short, Rosenberg is an ass and recommended that I meet Mr. Cutter Man at the “Crazy Beaver.” Can you believe that?
Cash: Knowing FDCM and his posse I sure can.
Zevon: Quite disgusting, Rosenberg dragging noble souls like FDCM into such houses of debauchery.
Cash: I think your grasp on FDCM’s character is a little skewed.
Zevon: BLASPHEMY! My observations are never skewed. Unless I say they are, but that doesn’t happen very often.
Cash: Speaking of FDCM’s foray into a strip club, did you catch what he said about you.
Zevon: Please jog my hot delicious Arby’s deprived memory.
(Cash checks his notebook as Zevon continues to sit peacefully in his lawn chair.)
Cash: He said that he knows your act. That you pull the and I quote “May the best man win bullshit.” Also that you are quote “full of it” and bitter and jealous because he is more successful than you.
Zevon: That doesn’t sound like Mr. Cutter Man at all.
Cash: I assure you these are all things that he has said, among others.
Zevon: Please continue with the paraphrasing Mr. Cash.
Cash: FDCM claims you fancy yourself quote “a crusader of the old-school. A hero of yesterday. He aspires to be a champion, a TRUE champion, in the same vein as the Ric Flairs, the Bruno Sammartinos, the Lou Theszes.”
Zevon: Are you certain he said that? Because that doesn’t sound like me at all. Old school? I’m new school all around. I’m about ushering in a new age.
Cash: He says that you must evolve or die. That what made a champion in 1975 does not make one now.
Zevon: You are certain he said this?
Cash: It was broadcast all-over the Northeast.
Zevon: So he really thinks I’m some crybaby 1970s throwback like George Duke?
Cash: I wouldn’t call George Duke a crybaby, but…yeah.
Zevon: Don’t question my observations again Lee.
Cash: Sorry.
Zevon: Have anything else interesting on that notebook of yours?
Cash: Indeed I do. FDCM stated quote “take your vitamins, say your prayers, drink your milk. Or whatever other antiquated training methods you continue to subscribe to.” Prepare “just like your idols would have.”
Zevon: What idols?
Cash: In FDCM’s world, washed up wrestlers from decades ago.
Zevon: Like?
Cash: Bruno Sammartino.
Zevon: I don’t idolize Bruno Sammartino. In fact, I’m pretty sure he idolizes me.
Cash: Okay…He also says that he’s going to end your mediocrity and boredom and replace it with his new age of excitement.
Zevon: Are you absolutely sure that he said all of this?
Cash: Yes, I am.
Zevon: Hmmm… Mr. Cutter Man seems to be greatly misinformed about my person. Would you agree?
Cash: Somewhat?
Zevon: And do you know why he is thusly information deprived?
Cash: Because he’s an egotistical, drunken maniac?
Zevon: BLASHPEMY! Mr. Cutter Man is a noble soul. He merely suffers from lack of information.
(Zevon coolly glances over at Cash.)
Cash: What?
Zevon: If Mr. Cutter Man had access to quality journalism…
(Zevon gives another cold glare of insinuation to Cash.)
Zevon: he wouldn’t misjudge the Eastern Heavyweight Champion in such a grave manner.
Cash: Are you saying that I don’t do my job properly?
Zevon: Apparently, if all this you say of Mr. Cutter Man is accurate.
Cash: I assure you that all my work is accurate and of the highest quality.
Zevon: I do not concur.
Cash: Am I going to have to sit through this crap now?
Zevon: Absolutely not, you are standing my inadequate friend from the fifth estate.
(Cash jerks up from his car lean as he is met by a poke in the thigh from the champ.)
Cash: Dammit, I don’t have to take this shit!
Zevon: Well, then good-day! And where is my hot delicious Arby’s?
(Cash storms off as Zevon remains calmly seated in his lawn chair next to a Taurus under a cloudy New England sky. With Cash in the distance, Zevon remembers why he is sitting in a lawn chair next to a Ford Taurus under a cloudy sky.)
Zevon: LEEEEEEEEE! LOCKSMITH!
(Cash continues to walk straight forward as he shoots the bird to the stranded Eastern Heavyweight Champion.)
Zevon: The nerve, what have I ever done to him?
(Zevon sits in contemplation for a few seconds before emitting a big sigh and prepare for a nap filled with pleasant dreams of Mr. Kitters. Zevon knows that it will only be a matter of time before his slumber is interrupted by Stephie Campbell, always eager to pounce on any unsuspecting POW competitor.)
Zevon: Lee Cash! How long has it been? Ten…fifteen minutes?
Cash: Two days.
Zevon: My how time flies when you are sitting in a drab parking lot on a morally deprived air base waiting patiently for an esteemed journalist to arrive…. without the requested hot, delicious Arby’s.
(Lee Cash remembers not a request to bring hot, delicious Arby’s. He ignores and moves to his task for the day. Cash looks for a place to sit but finds none. He stands awkwardly over the seated champ.)
Zevon: There’s an extra chair in the trunk Mr. Cash, but unfortunately for you I have locked the keys in my horseless carriage.
Cash: Do you need a locksmith?
Zevon: Indeed I do, but I also seem to have never gotten around to actually purchasing a cellular telephone. And I do not fell like reentering that piss poor excuse for an arena until I absolutely must.
Cash: I will call for assistance at the conclusion of this interview.
Zevon: Ah, well played Mr. Cash. Leave the stranded and hot delicious Arby’s deprived Eastern Heavyweight Champion to the whims of the journalist. Brilliant.
(The situation has become ever more awkward for Lee Cash. Cash looks about for a more comfortable position and settles on a lean against the car door.)
Zevon: You are lucky that my security system has been conveniently incapacitated. Now, since you are comfortable Mr. Cash it would be your honor to commence the journalism.
Cash: You seem awful calm today despite the circumstances.
Zevon: Keeping this conversational today I see? Very well, we shall banter. How ‘bout that Stephie Campbell?
Cash: On duty with the POW World Heavyweight Champion this week.
Zevon: Lucky, visually pleasing lady she is.
Cash: On assignment at a strip joint, who wouldn’t love that?
Zevon: I for one, and I hope you as well.
Cash: Well, can you blame a man for enjoying a little T&A?
Zevon: Yes.
Cash: Are you saying you don’t enjoy the curves of a woman?
Zevon: Certain ladies.
Cash: What do you mean? Are you a little fruity?
Zevon: Most certainly not, Lee Cash. There are ladies, such as Stephie Campbell, and then there are whores. And apparently you are a whore man.
Cash: A woman is a woman.
Zevon: I disagree, Mr. Cash. Now if you would kindly direct us onto a tangent.
Cash: Why didn’t you meet FDCM for lunch?
Zevon: I attempted to make arrangements but was unable to speak directly with Mr. Cutter Man. At first I was directed to some sort of Flying Diamond Cutter dietician, had a rather humorous name.
Cash: Was it a number?
Zevon: It did indeed resemble a numerical value. Any who, she and I were unable to assemble suitable conditions. She then directed me to some lawyer, whose credentials I question.
Cash: Ken Rosenberg?
Zevon: Yes, him. Doesn’t his name sound like the stereotypical sleazy Jewish attorney straight out of an 80s themed media production?
Cash: Well, I guess it does.
Zevon: Long story short, Rosenberg is an ass and recommended that I meet Mr. Cutter Man at the “Crazy Beaver.” Can you believe that?
Cash: Knowing FDCM and his posse I sure can.
Zevon: Quite disgusting, Rosenberg dragging noble souls like FDCM into such houses of debauchery.
Cash: I think your grasp on FDCM’s character is a little skewed.
Zevon: BLASPHEMY! My observations are never skewed. Unless I say they are, but that doesn’t happen very often.
Cash: Speaking of FDCM’s foray into a strip club, did you catch what he said about you.
Zevon: Please jog my hot delicious Arby’s deprived memory.
(Cash checks his notebook as Zevon continues to sit peacefully in his lawn chair.)
Cash: He said that he knows your act. That you pull the and I quote “May the best man win bullshit.” Also that you are quote “full of it” and bitter and jealous because he is more successful than you.
Zevon: That doesn’t sound like Mr. Cutter Man at all.
Cash: I assure you these are all things that he has said, among others.
Zevon: Please continue with the paraphrasing Mr. Cash.
Cash: FDCM claims you fancy yourself quote “a crusader of the old-school. A hero of yesterday. He aspires to be a champion, a TRUE champion, in the same vein as the Ric Flairs, the Bruno Sammartinos, the Lou Theszes.”
Zevon: Are you certain he said that? Because that doesn’t sound like me at all. Old school? I’m new school all around. I’m about ushering in a new age.
Cash: He says that you must evolve or die. That what made a champion in 1975 does not make one now.
Zevon: You are certain he said this?
Cash: It was broadcast all-over the Northeast.
Zevon: So he really thinks I’m some crybaby 1970s throwback like George Duke?
Cash: I wouldn’t call George Duke a crybaby, but…yeah.
Zevon: Don’t question my observations again Lee.
Cash: Sorry.
Zevon: Have anything else interesting on that notebook of yours?
Cash: Indeed I do. FDCM stated quote “take your vitamins, say your prayers, drink your milk. Or whatever other antiquated training methods you continue to subscribe to.” Prepare “just like your idols would have.”
Zevon: What idols?
Cash: In FDCM’s world, washed up wrestlers from decades ago.
Zevon: Like?
Cash: Bruno Sammartino.
Zevon: I don’t idolize Bruno Sammartino. In fact, I’m pretty sure he idolizes me.
Cash: Okay…He also says that he’s going to end your mediocrity and boredom and replace it with his new age of excitement.
Zevon: Are you absolutely sure that he said all of this?
Cash: Yes, I am.
Zevon: Hmmm… Mr. Cutter Man seems to be greatly misinformed about my person. Would you agree?
Cash: Somewhat?
Zevon: And do you know why he is thusly information deprived?
Cash: Because he’s an egotistical, drunken maniac?
Zevon: BLASHPEMY! Mr. Cutter Man is a noble soul. He merely suffers from lack of information.
(Zevon coolly glances over at Cash.)
Cash: What?
Zevon: If Mr. Cutter Man had access to quality journalism…
(Zevon gives another cold glare of insinuation to Cash.)
Zevon: he wouldn’t misjudge the Eastern Heavyweight Champion in such a grave manner.
Cash: Are you saying that I don’t do my job properly?
Zevon: Apparently, if all this you say of Mr. Cutter Man is accurate.
Cash: I assure you that all my work is accurate and of the highest quality.
Zevon: I do not concur.
Cash: Am I going to have to sit through this crap now?
Zevon: Absolutely not, you are standing my inadequate friend from the fifth estate.
(Cash jerks up from his car lean as he is met by a poke in the thigh from the champ.)
Cash: Dammit, I don’t have to take this shit!
Zevon: Well, then good-day! And where is my hot delicious Arby’s?
(Cash storms off as Zevon remains calmly seated in his lawn chair next to a Taurus under a cloudy New England sky. With Cash in the distance, Zevon remembers why he is sitting in a lawn chair next to a Ford Taurus under a cloudy sky.)
Zevon: LEEEEEEEEE! LOCKSMITH!
(Cash continues to walk straight forward as he shoots the bird to the stranded Eastern Heavyweight Champion.)
Zevon: The nerve, what have I ever done to him?
(Zevon sits in contemplation for a few seconds before emitting a big sigh and prepare for a nap filled with pleasant dreams of Mr. Kitters. Zevon knows that it will only be a matter of time before his slumber is interrupted by Stephie Campbell, always eager to pounce on any unsuspecting POW competitor.)
