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Author Topic: The Quick and The Dumb  (Read 503 times)

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Offline Arizona's Most Wanted

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The Quick and The Dumb
« on: February 09, 2017, 04:49:11 AM »
The Tanner-Young family household. Living room, sometime after dinner. Our hero, Adrian Tanner Junior is sat on the couch watching film of his 'opponent' for the week. Rolling his eyes at most of it but writing down notes when he needs to, he doesn't pay much attention when his best friend/brother-in-law/manager walks in, carrying a letter in his hand.

Brandon: Hey man, got a letter for you. Found it on the doorstep.

The Arizona Assassin glances up from his note-taking with a quizzical look.

Adrian: You got a letter for me here? That's... weird.

Brandon: Yeah I thought so too. It's gonna get weirder though.

Adrian: How so?

He hands Adrian the letter, pointing at the envelope.

Brandon: See? No return address. I don't think it was delivered so much as dropped off right at the door step.

Adrian: Okay yeah, that's definitely weird-er. Let's see what it's in it, I guess.

He tears open the top of the envelope, pulling out the contents. Inside is what looks to be a hand-made card. It would be cute if it wasn't for the graphic black and white image of Adrian bleeding from the head glued to the front.

Adrian: Okay what the FU-

He stops himself, barely, Baby nearby and all that. Until he opens the card and sees the inside.

Adrian: What the FUCK?!

Brandon: Dude, language.

Adrian: No but, what the FUCK!?

He hands Brandon the card motioning to the inside. On the inside is one of those things where you cut out letters from magazines or newspaper articles and tape them all together to form a word or a sentence. In brightly colored, mix and matches letters the card spells out

"J O I N  U S
     O R
S U F F E R"

Brandon: What the FUCK!?

Adrian: Right!?

Brandon: What the hell is this?

Adrian: Don't look at me, you're the one who gave it to me!

...This isn't some kinda prank, is it?

Adrian glares intently at his best friend.

Brandon: What- No man! I can't believe you think I'd stoop that low!

Adrian: One word, Brandon. Wrestling bear. Okay, that's two words but still.


Adrian: Fuckin' creepy.

Brandon: Yeah. Hey! What about those weird kids from that one day when I went on my business trip.

Adrian: ...You mean when you mysteriously disappeared for three weeks and claimed you were on a 'business trip.'

Brandon: Right.

Adrian glares at Brandon.

Adrian: Hrm. That... makes more sense, actually.

Brandon: Hah! Score one for the Bran-man!

Adrian quirks a brow at Brandon.

Brandon: I mean- so that's fuckin' creepy huh? I wonder what it means.

Adrian: I have to assume it has to deal with all the weird shit happening around me lately. Which I am not a fan of, by the way. But if I was one to let some creepy letter get to me I'd have been murdered by some stalker fan years ago.

He says as he drops the letter onto the table.

Brandon: Somethin' to keep an eye on though, yeah?

Adrian: Definitely. For now though, I've got other things to worry about.

Cue the sound of a baby crying from the other room.

Brandon: Speaking of other things to worry about-

Brandon quickly exits the room. Adrian sits back down on the couch, resuming his note-taking. the camera pans down on the letter, the last shot we see before we fade to black is the creepy magazine letters one more time.


The scene opens up on the set of one of those Daytime Talk shows. You know the type. Trash TV at it's finest. Doctor Phil, Oprah, etc. There's a seating area with a number of open chairs that the multiple cameras are pointed at, and there's even a live studio audience behind the cameras! Seated in two of the seats on the left of the stage/seating area, are your hero and mine, The Arizona Assassin Adrian Tanner Junior, and Cecil Kennedy.

Adrian: Hello and welcome to the Adrian Tanner Show. Now filmed in front of a live studio audience!

The crowd, mostly clueless as to why they're even there, give a little round of applause.

Adrian: Tonight's topic: The Stupid and You - How to Not Be The World's Biggest Tryhard.

Cecil: Subtitled: Johnny Evil Sucks More Dicks Than a Dick Sucking Machine at a Robot Porn Convention.

A number of loud gasps ring out from the audience. Adrian smiles but shakes his head.

Adrian: C'mon Ceece, we're better than that.

Cecil: Sometimes I wish we weren't, man.

Adrian: Me too man, me too.

Having said that, though-

He leans forward in his chair slightly, staring into one of the cameras which zooms in on his face.

Adrian: Go fuck yourself, you unbelievable bag of dicks.

He resumes his casual sitting posture in the chair. Cecil raises an eyebrow.

Cecil: Oh okay, so you can say shit about him but I'm not allowed to.

Adrian: Look man, we both know his type. The more you and/or Brandon say in defense of me or at him, shitbag's gonna take eeeeeeeeevvvvvery opportunity to whine at me about not 'handling my business' myself or some stupid bullshit. You know it's true. Even when he's supposed to be retired.

Cecil: Aight, that's fair.

He sighs, shaking his head.

Adrian: But I'll talk more about that shit at Adrenaline.

For now let's focus on the immediate situation. We'll start with the part where I told Bryan Williams I was going to beat him, he didn't believe me- and then I did it anyways.

Just like I said I would.

He grins.

Adrian: And I know everyone and their mothers are gonna bring up my so-called "opponent" this week causing a distraction being the only reason I won, because everyone and their mothers are a bunch of unoriginal hacks so let's nip that little problem in the bud right now. You knocked my ass silly with that elbow-kick combination. The only thing I noticed when I came back to my senses was you with your back turned to me, and well, you quickly found out why you NEVER turn your back -or take your focus from me- during a match. I didn't even know Matty was there until after the bell rang. So you and everyone else can claim that Matty was the 'only reason' I won but that's just an excuse to hide the fact that I once again did what I said I was going to do.

Speaking of doing what I say I'm going to do- Hi Matty.

A slow wave at the camera, some in the crowd wave back in confusion.

Adrian: Matty, you are what we in the business, and by that I mean those of us with- Hmm, how do I word this...?

Cecil: Class?

Adrian: Nah.

Cecil: Intelligence?

Adrian: Nah, you can be smart and still be an idiot- see Bryan Williams.

Cecil: rational human beings with an understanding of how wrestling works?

Adrian: Close enough. Matty, you are what we in the business call a classic case of 'Trying Too Hard.' Beating up random civilians in promotionals and getting 'thrown in jail' to show how edgy and kewl you are when really its just the epitome of-

Neil deGrasse Tyson from outta nowhere! The audience cheers.

Neil deGrasse Tyson from outta nowhere: Watch out, we got a badass over here!

Our heroes share a confused look as they glance at Neil deGrasse Tyson from outta nowhere.

Adrian: ...Thanks Neil deGrasse Tyson from outta nowhere.

Neil deGrasse Tyson from outta nowhere: Any time!

Neil deGrasse Tyson exits, stage right even. Adrian shakes off the awkwardness.

Adrian: That.

He points at where Neil deGrasse Tyson from outta nowhere was standing moments ago.

Adrian: You are the epitome of that, Matty. You are a walking meme.

Cecil: Trust us, we know something about walking memes.

Quick cut to NEXTWAVE manager extroadinaire Brandon Young standing in front of a large tank covered by a tarp.

Adrian: For someone who's supposedly been in the business since 1999 you sure do embody the saddest, lamest parts of it. Beating up random nobodies in promotionals is like day one shit, it's what rookies do who don't know how sad and pathetic it makes them look. You're trying to show people you're some kind of bad ass with an 'anger' problem when really it just shows you as a petulant child who can't control his temper. The Wallace stuff is even worse. You think you're the first and only person Wallace has whining at him for better opportunities? Do you even watch the show you're a part of? EVERYONE does that, Matty. Fuck, the so-called '4CW Champion' beat the shit outta like 40 people on the last show including his own wife because he was angry at Wallace. You think you beating one single reporter and getting put in jail is gonna make Wallace, or anyone for that matter, take notice of you? Make you seem speshul?

It doesn't, buddy.

A shrug. The entire audience shrugs, even if they don't know why they're shrugging. It just seems like the right thing to do.

Adrian: You've been in matches! Ooooooooh!

He punctuates the 'oooooh's' with finger wagging at the camera.

Adrian: I've been in matches too, Matty. I've been in wars the likes that would make your wannabe-badass self cry in terror. I've faced dudes and dudettes that would make you shit your pants in fear. And I'm man enough to admit I might not have won all of those matches, but I walked away from them. I learned from them. Some might even say I 'grew' and 'adapted' from them.

A slow smirk.

Adrian: But the point I'm getting at Mister 'Matthias Barrows Triple Crown Champion of Nobody Gives a Fuck,' is that no matter what you SAY you can do, or how good you claim to be, there's ALWAYS someone better out there.

I am that someone, Matty.

I 'do it better than Matthias Barrows.'

You didn't prove shit in your little stunt, Matty. You didn't 'piss off a lotta people.' Nobody but you, and maybe your wife, cares that you beat up some dude at a press conference. Again for someone who's supposedly been in the business as long as you have one would think you'd know better than this. The reason Vegas has 5000 to 1 odds on me or whatever is because I give better answers than "because I'm going to win!" when asked why I think I'm going to win a wrestling match.

The longest, hardest eye roll in history.

Adrian: In your 'actions' today you did indeed show a stark contrast of character to me. Unfortunately the character you chose to portray is that of a blithering idiot with the tiniest understanding of professional wrestling possible. I'm honestly almost shocked at how you're 'undefeated' in this company if this is the best you got to throw at me. I say 'almost' because I've been around this company for six months and I'm not THAT surprised you managed to squeak out some wins against some of the lazy fucks around here.

Sadly, for you, I'm not one of those lazy fucks, Matty. I'm an Actual Professional Wrestler with actual standards and actual talent.

You could say you tried to make a point in your promotional, Matty. You didn't, but we could say you tried. The point I'M going to make is going to be very different but equally as painful, for you at least. It's gonna be the point of my boots meeting your skull over and over again, or your face meeting the floor. Either way, it's gonna hurt. I'd say it's gonna be an eye-opening experience for you again, I know guys like you. No matter what I say or do, you're just gonna carry on your merry way thinking you're the greatest thing in history ever, period even when the proof that you are not is right there in the pudding.

Quick cut to Brandon standing by the tarp-covered tank.

Brandon: Who said pudding? There's pudding? I want pudding!

Cut back to Adrian and Cecil, Adrian shakes his head.

Adrian: The pudding is metaphorical, Brandon.

What isn't going to be metaphorical is you eating a bullet from my Revolver, you hitting the mat with a loud 'thud' and me giving your 'first loss' in this sorry excuse for a wrestling company.

...Okay, part of that was metaphorical, I'm not gonna actually shoot you. But the part about you hitting the mat and me pinning your sad, sorry ass? That part's real at least.

I'm a world-class, world-traveled top-of-my-game professional wrestler, and you're a dude who beat up a 'reporter' to make yourself seem interesting. One of us is a real, honest to god professional wrestler and the other is, well, you.

A slight chuckle.

Adrian: You are doing the same thing Bryan Williams did last show, the same thing everyone in this fucking company does. It's the 'Show, don't Tell' approach that nobody understands. You can Tell me all you want how great you are, how much 'better' than me you think you are, but when it comes time to Show me in the ring, I end up Showing you the opposite.

Only in your case, you showed, told, and still failed to make a compelling argument.

You're gonna make a statement alright, Matty. But that statement is going to be "Man dropped on his head until he can't see straight anymore and pinned by Arizona Assassin."

There's the smirk.

Adrian: Adrenaline is not the next step in your story, Matthias. You're just a stepping stone in mine. Bryan Williams only cares about you because you said his name and he's a Bryan Williams mark. If the Pride title is going to be taken from him by anyone it's going to be ME, not YOU. Because you'll be too busy being a smear of blood and sweat on the mat to focus on any sort of miracle win against him.

As he raises one hand to the camera, you know what's coming next.

Adrian: My Revolver, my Golden Gun, my Sure Shot, she only needs one shot to put you down like the dog you are. I've spent the better part of a decade proving this as a fact, proving that I can hit you with it in any manner I so choose and proving that barely anyone has a counter for it.

You aren't going to be one of those few.


Adrian: And before we leave, we have some fine parting gifts for those in the audience who managed to stick with us through our lovely television program. Brandon?


Cut to Brandon as he goes to rip the tarp off the giant case behind him. Adrian is quick to stop him before he unleashes literal hell on the poor unsuspecting audience.

Adrian: No. NOO! Dammit Brandon I said no bees.

Brandon: Awww...

The Young Gun frowns and lets go of the tarp. Adrian facepalms. We cut to black.