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Author Topic: Three CHEERS for Mediocrity  (Read 390 times)

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Offline Arizona's Most Wanted

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Three CHEERS for Mediocrity
« on: January 26, 2017, 03:24:09 AM »
Brandon: Hoooooney, I'm hoooome!

The Young Gun calls out as he walks into his home for the first time in seemingly weeks. The redhead staring him down at the entrance doesn't seem too pleased by his Nick at Nite impersonation.

Kaycee: You're late. By like two weeks.

Brandon: I know babe, I'm- I'm sorry. I really thought I told you! But you know me-

Kaycee: Apparently I don't. Not as good as I thought at least.

She snorts, causing him to wince.

Brandon: Ouch. That stings-

Kaycee: THAT stings!? You disappeared on me, on our child- for weeks! You don't get to say what stings, Brandon.

Brandon: I knoooow, I just- It was a mistake, Kayc. It won't happen again. Ever. I promise.

A long, awkward silence settles between the two, neither wanting to make the first move. After another moment or two, a light bulb goes off above the Young Gun's head and he steps back out of the door way. He reappears shortly after, carrying a giant, white chocolate teddy bear with both hands, a smaller regular chocolate teddy bear in the giant bear's arms. Kaycee tilts her head at the sight.

Kaycee: How did you even- how did they not melt?

Brandon: Magic?

Kaycee glares at her husband.

Brandon: Okay, I had 'em shipped in ice. But uh- surprise?

He grins, sheepishly. Kaycee stares at her husband, then at the bears, then back at Brandon. Finally she lets out a small sigh.

Kaycee: Alright, you're forgiven.

Brandon: Woohoo-

Kaycee: You only get ONE, Brandon.

Brandon: I know, I swear it won't-

Eerie choir music begins to play from Brandon's cell phone.

Brandon: -Ah shit, hold up babe, I gotta get this. Be right back, promise!

Kaycee: We're not done ye-

But he's already gone, around the corner and out of earshot.

Brandon: Jello? Yeah. Yeah, it's cool. Nah, they gave me some shit about it but they don't really think anything of it. Yeah, nah it's all going good. Yeah, I got this don't worry. I promise, I won't let ya down. I-

It's at that moment he notices the camera trained right at him.

Brandon: Hey! Can't a guy get a moment's fuckin' peace here? Geez.

Cut to black.


Voice Over: Go Fuck Yourself was filmed in front of a live studio audience.

Voice Over 2: ...Brandon, c'mon, that's not the line and you know it.

Voice Over: Fiiiiiiiine.

Voice Over 2: ...Well?

Voice Over: Well what?

Voice Over 2: The line, you jackass.

Voice Over: Oh right. Uh-

The sound of ruffling papers can be heard.

Voice Over: 'Cheers' was filmed in front of a live studio audience.

Voice Over 2: Thank you.

The sign above the door is iconic, as if straight out of a TV show, only this is real life in downtown Boston, MA. Our heroes are dressed to impress, because even though its a bar its a legendary place to be, and you gotta look the part. Adrian starts to open the door then stops, glancing back at his friends and teammates.

Adrian: Hold up, I wanna try something.

He opens the door, slowly walking down the stairs into the pub proper.

Bar Crowd:  ADRIAN!

Adrian: Whoa, everyone really does know your name.

He chuckles to himself as he walks over to the bar and takes a seat.

Woody Harrelson: Howdy. Never seen you in here before.

Adrian: First time.

He grins, glancing over to see Cecil following in his footsteps.

Bar Crowd:  CECIL!

Brandon is quick to follow after Cecil, especially after hearing the reception he gets.

Bar Crowd:  BRANDON!

Brandon: Hoooold up.

Brandon walks back out the door, then back in.

Bar Crowd:  BRANDON!

He grins, walks back out and back in again.

Bar Crowd:  BRANDON!

And again.

Bar Crowd:  BRANDO-!

And again, faster this time.

Bar Crowd:  BRAND-!


Bar Crowd:  BRANDO-!


Bar Crowd:  BRAN-!


Bar Crowd:  BRA-!


Bar Crowd:  BRAND-!


Someone throws a glass of liquid at his head as he enters. He barely manages to duck it, sheepishly making his way over to the bar and taking a seat next to the other two.

Brandon: What?

Adrian: Really?

The Arizona Assassin just shakes his head.

Woody Harrelson: What'll it be fellas?

Adrian: Diet cherry Dr. Pepper please.

Cecil: Water for me.

Brandon: BEER!

The Young Gun slams his fist on the table enthusiastically. Cecil and Adrian both side eye him.

Brandon: I mean- 7-up please.

Woody Harrelson sets about getting their drinks.

Brandon: So when do we get to meet Norm. Or Carla. Or uh, Kirstie Alley? I love Kirstie Alley, especially the whole scientology thing. Hey Mr. Boyd, have you heard of our lord and savior Viduus Morta?

Woody Harrelson: Who?

Adrian: What?

Brandon: WHEN!?

Woody Harrelson: Where?

Adrian: How-

Cecil: ...Why.

All four men stop and stare at each other. Cecil sighs, slowly standing up from the bar. He picks up his glass of water before grabbing Brandon by the shirt arm like a father with a disobedient child, or a sober person with a drunk person, and pulls.

Cecil: C'mon Brandon, you owe me a game of darts.

Brandon: Aight, and then I can tell you about the wonderful ways of-

Cecil: Nope.

And they're gone.

Woody Harrelson: So that was weird.

Adrian: Not really. I mean, yeah, it was weird-er, for Brandon but it's part of the job description at this point.

The Arizona Assassin shakes his head, sipping his drink.

Woody Harrelson: What do you do for a living?

Adrian: Professional wrestler.

Woody Harrelson: Ah, well then.

They share a look. Woody Harrelson's apparently seen some shit.

Adrian: Yeah. It's a thing. Was born into it really, but I honestly couldn't see myself doing anything else.

Woody Harrelson: Kinda like me and acting. I mean- bartending. Yeah. Acting, who's acting?

Both men stare at the camera.

Adrian: ...Is this bit dying for anyone else or is it just me?

Woody Harrelson: Just a bit. Want some chips?

Adrian: Please.

Woody Harellson grabs a plate of tortilla chips and a small bowl of salsa and places it next to Adrian's drink.

Adrian: Thanks. So-

He's about to say something else when a snobby looking customer at the other end of the bar impatiently calls out to Woody Harrelson, from across the room. Woody Harrelson is the one to sigh this time, it's been a long day and this jackass is not helping.

Snobby customer at the other end of the bar: Waiter!

Woody Harrelson: I'm a bartender not a- 'Scuse me.

Adrian nods, raising his drink in a sympathetic gesture as Woody Harrelson goes of to strangle a bitch help the 'customer.'

Adrian: Welp, guess this is as good a time as any-

He takes another quick sip of his drink.

Adrian: Bryan Williams claims not to give a shit what people think of Hashtag Gen Nope, claims he doesn't care that Cashe or me or anyone else was upset by it. And yet,  my little promotional last show was all the five of you could talk about on the ol' twitter machines when it was released. Lots of crying and claims of me and/or Cashe and whoever else being "jealous," lotta boo-hoos and whY DONT THEY LIKE US??? Or in the case of Troll Guy blank stares and complete obliviousness but- we'll get to that.

My point is Bry Bry, that's not the action of people who "don't give a shit." Those are the actions of people who very much give a shit, and are just to Proud to admit it. People who 'don't give a shit about it,' yknow, don't give a shit about it. If you truly didn't give a shit about it you woulda just ignored it and went on your way. Like I do most any time the Clown- sorry sorry, she's an Elvira-wannabe this month. Like I do anytime Fake Elvira attempts to act like she matters beyond the title she didn't beat me for.

But you didn't. You and your little 'group' had a massive whine-fest over it for hours on twitter and had a virtual cry on each others shoulders for sympathy. That's how I know I'm in your head, Bry Bry. You can deny it, and I know you will because NOBODY in this fucking hell of a company DARES to show any sort of weakness, but everyone else will know the truth. I will know the truth.

Adrian takes a bite of a chip.

Adrian: Here's the thing, Bry Bry. I'm not mad at the group because you're a group. I'm not mad at the idea, or the creation of the group. I love stables! Stables are the best! Been in plenty of 'em myself, and the more people teaming up to take the Royal Idiots down a notch or two is A-Okay with me.

What I take issue with, is you guys taking some sort of moral high ground when you've aligned yourselves with the goofy elvira-wannabe fuck who didn't beat me for my title, who KIDNAPPED A FUCKING CHILD.

You don't get to be the good guys when you ally yourself with a baby-stealing piece of trash, Bryan. You just don't. You lost that right the instant ",and Sativa" left your lips at Adrenaline 58.

And because I know Troll Guy is watching this, or he'll mention to you, or one of you will bring it up after this promotional goes up- let's nip another little talking point in the bud right now, eh?

Adrian turns on stool to the side so he's facing directly at the camera.

Adrian: Okay so, stay with me here. Especially you, Troll Guy.

Man dies in the middle of the ring during tag team match:


He waves his hands slowly over his head and the letters appear in the air where his hands move.

Adrian: Dumb bitch literally kidnaps child from her HOME after calling fake murder claim on child's father:



Again, hand-waving, words appear, you get the deal. Woody Harrelson walks back over at this point as Adrian finishes his soda.

Woody Harrelson: Jesus, did that really happen!?

Adrian: That really happened.

Woody Harrelson refills Adrian's drink before turning to stare judgingly into the camera. Woody Harellson is judging you. Feel bad about yourselves.

Adrian: And just for good measure, and because the goofy elvira-wannabe who didn't beat me for my title got SO butt hurt over the last ones- I had Benji make a little diagram for you guys.

Adrian: I don't hate what you represent, Bryan. I respect it, even. I've been where you're at. The difference is when I wanted to better myself in this business I surrounded myself with like-minded individuals who would help make me a better person AND a wrestler. People who could counter whatever flaws I might have in a way that would benefit us all. and I could do likewise. We gelled together in a cohesive unit of awesome and ran roughshod over everywhere we went.

You surrounded yourself with a baby stealer.

The Royal Fuckwits may be evil, lying pieces of shit, but at least they've never kidnapped a baby. And the way whats-her-face talks about it on twitter, I'm kinda surprised they haven't to be honest.

That one's for you, Genie.

Adrian: Maybe I was a little overeager in saying I'd devote all my time to making you rethink your stupidity, tempers are too hot sometimes, but I'm at least going to mock the shit out of you as much as I can for as long as I can.

Oh and take your titles. That's something I'm definitely gonna work towards. The goofy looking elvira-wannabe's running scurred of me so I'll have to settle for beating you here and taking that Pride title for real the next time we meet.

Sometimes you gotta be selfish right?

There's the smirk. Then a long sigh, and a head shake while he takes a sip from his refilled drink.

Adrian: There's a thing everyone- and I mean everyone does in this company that annoys me to no end, Bry Bry. Even the supposed "good guys" do it constantly, and quite frankly its just kinda sad. It's the go-to insult in this place and it irks me to no end. "You don't matter." "You're an afterthought." "You're a nobody." It's the same shit, different day, different opponent.

Maybe you and the goofy elvira-wannabe fuck who didn't beat me for my title actually do work with each other. You're both fuckin' clones. Everyone in this fuckin' place is just a parrot of someone else. It's like you all read from the same "Bad Wrestling Promotionals 101" playbook. I don't like your choice in alliances but I'm not gonna say you're 'shit' or you're 'not important,' cause I'd be stupid to say so. You're the Pride champ, you beat 4CDub Legend Jason Cashe! Of course you're not a nobody. I hate the fucking ground the goofy elvira-wannabe fuck that didn't beat me for my title walks on but even I can acknowledge the small, very very small iota of talent that exists in her body.

If nobody matters than what's the point? What are you fighting for? I know what I'M fighting for, it's the same thing I've always fought for. The same thing I'll continue to fight for.

Cecil: To rid the Earth of stupid people?

Cecil Kennedy, outta f'n nowhere.

Adrian: Well yeah.

Cecil grabs two more drinks and walks off back to the dart board.

Adrian: But more than that. I'm fighting to prove I am the motherfucking BEST light heavyweight in this business.

You ran down all my supposed 'failures' in this company Bryan, but just like literally EVERYONE ELSE who's done the same exact fucking thing since I joined this company you too have missed the entire point:

Bitch I've lost TWO matches in this entire run.

That's more than you can say. More than most of your stupid little club can say. You talk to me like I'm some new kid- again parroting literally everyone else who has faced me in this place- but I'm a fucking 10 year veteran, asshole. I know how the game works. Wrestling is a game of ups and downs, you get on a streak and then you get knocked off it and you have to build yourself back up. In all of my 'unimportant' moments in this place, I've only been pinned ONCE in five months. But in that time I walked out the runner up of a giant fucking hardcore death match in the main event of a pay per view, fought the 4CW CHAMPION to a stand still until Eli's fuck ass interfered and drew the DQ, and was never pinned for the title I lost.

Can you say ANY of that Bryan?

Didn't think so.

So you keep playing up my 'failures' like every fucking other person in this company and I'll keep doing what I keep doing, what I keep TELLING people I'm going to do to them every single fucking time they play this little game: Crush them underneath my boot where they belong.

 When all you've got on me is to make fun of my promotional style and my friends, you've already lost the battle. Don't worry, the war's just started. But you won't win that either, because my references might be outdated but you're just a fuckin' carbon copy of everyone else in this company. You can slot in anyone- Marquis, Cashe, Sativah, the corpse of Maddox Lucien- anyone, and it's the Same Old Shit. The same fucking promo.

"You don't matter." "You're overrated." "You're not important" Blah blah fucking BLAH. You sound like a broken record because you ARE. I sound like a broken record because I HAVE to be, because you fuckwits never give me anything new to work with. Because you HAVE nothing new to work with. You're gonna be "up here fighting the real talent?" What talent, Bry? What main events? What have YOU done in the five months I've been here, aside from ride Jason Cashe's coat tails-  Heh, its fun being on this side of that one for once- and make a shitty group for shitty people. In five months I've been in more main events, more high profile matches- at least ones that don't involve Jason Cashe- than you have. So please, enlighten me o 'Great One.' What makes you so much better than me?

The question's rhetorical because the answer, Bry, is nothin'.   You call me washed up, old news, outdated but I'm right where I fuckin' want to be- where I need to be. I'm perfectly fine biding my time, working my way up the ranks of the roster. I mean, its what I said I'd do from day one. I've been in this business over 10 years I don't need to take shortcuts. I don't need to surround myself with pieces of shit to make myself stink less. I just need to keep doing what I do. Because what I DO works. Look at the fuckin' record books if you don't believe me. Or don't, it's fine too. It's not gonna matter.

Bring up my recent past, be like everyone else. Be No Different. That's what works for you. And that's fine.

What works for me is putting people like you in their places. What works for me is kicking you in your face until it's black and blue and red all over, and then stepping on your neck with my boot until you pass the fuck out. What works for me is being the epitome of high flying technical hybrid awesomeness that I am and beating respect into people who show me none.

That's what works for me. And it's gonna keep workin' for me, because people like YOU haven't figured out how to stop it from doing so. You can talk a big game but you can't back it up.

Not to me. Never to me.

He stops, taking a long gulp from his drink.

Adrian: Y'know the old saying yeah? Pride cometh before the fall? Well you're not gonna fall, Bryan. Not exactly, anyways.

I'm gonna push your sanctimonious ass off the damn cliff.

And then when you hit rock bottom, when you finally come crashing from the hill your ego resides on back down to earth - to the real world, I'm gonna stand over you with my Golden Gun, my Revolver, and I'm gonna shoot you point fucking blank in the face. Again. And again. And again. Until you can't get back up. Until you stay down.

And you will stay down. Because you're just not good enough to stop me.

Shrug emoji.

Adrian: You can try, and I'm sure you will. Hell, I want you to. But I've seen all I need to in just the one promotional. You're the same as everyone else, and that means you're gonna go down like everyone else.

You know the deal, gun motion, camera point.

Adrian: Bang bang, motherbitch. You go dead now.

Fade to your mother.
« Last Edit: January 26, 2017, 03:25:38 AM by RevolveR »