October 16, 2018, 12:41:32 AM

Author Topic: Kinsley's Playhouse  (Read 180 times)

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Offline Nurse Kinsley

  • Member
  • Posts: 30
  • Karma: +0/-0
    • View Profile
Kinsley's Playhouse
« on: January 15, 2018, 11:00:22 PM »

Any given Sunday.

Anything can happen.

Expect the unexpected.

Idioms meant to instill a sense of unpredictability. The idea that the outcome of an event can't be anticipated is key to selling a sporting event, be it football, racing, or the ever wondrous world of professional wrestling. Wrestling in particular does tend to have a wider array of genuinely unpredictable events, to be perfectly fair--no one ever comes back from the dead in the NBA, no one ever leads a cult in the NFL, and substantially fewer people urinate and/or defecate themselves in FIFA.

Strange things happen between the ropes, and stranger things still outside them when the cameras are rolling. It's easy to think that a veteran viewer has seen everything, but there's always some new horror, some shocker, some fresh twist waiting just around the corner. There's always something that the audience could never, in their wildest dreams, have expected to see on a wrestling program.

The scene opens to a perfect recreation of Pee-wee's Playhouse.

Like, immaculate. The oddly shaped front door, the big chairs with moving eyes and wiggling arms, the clock that's kind of shaped like the United States, the whole nine. No blood, no cages, nothing out of place, no alterations to the set. It's exactly like it was on the original CBS show circa 1988. The attention to detail is more horrifying than any intentional changes could ever be. Perhaps more nightmare-inducing still is what dances spryly into the view of the camera, which is

(of course)

Harlow Kinsley.

Charcoal gray suit, slightly too small, one button done. White collared undershirt. Slip on, low top white shoes. Red bow tie. Harlow still wears a mask over the lower half of her face, but it's a perfect gray to match the suit. The physical mannerisms are there, even--the walk with the flopping hands at her side, the head bob, all of it. This could all be deemed weird, but not bizarre, not until she starts to speak... and does a frankly spot on Pee-wee Herman impression for someone of the opposite gender.

"Hi everybody! It's me, Pee-wee Harmon!"

Chairry, the blue-green talking chair toward the back of the set, rolls its huge eyes and heaves an audible sigh. Pee-wee Harmon continues on undeterred by the pained reaction.

PEE-WEE HARMON: "My opponent for Adrenaline is Gavin Grimes, a 9-year-old boy trapped in the hairless body of a 23-year-old girl! I figured I should do the right thing, and cut this promo in a way Gavin's developmentally disabled brain can digest. So it's a children's show! For children! Yaaay! Because you're a child, Gavin! YAAAY!

She drops the voice quickly enough.

PEE-WEE HARMON: "You strolled into 4CW with the grace of a choking Pomeranian, Gavin. You kicked the door in with your hand out--not reaching for for lattes or title belts, not demanding or expecting kudos and praise, but rather extending your hand... just, JUST to tickle at the undercarriage of those that already had those things. Bronx this, Jair that, Genevie, Persephone, GIVE ME A BREEEAAAK Gavin! I get-- I GET acknowledging where you're headed, I GET doing the Babe Ruth point and letting the arrogant boobs at the top know you're coming for them, I even GET making it clear that you're not expecting a cake walk... but of all the inane prattling you've done in 4CW so far, about a fourth of it's been suckling the corporate udder and another half has been the promo equivalent of foam packing peanuts.

You play it safe, Grimes, and you play it defensively. You get put against the wall with hardly a struggle. You mock win-loss records before you've squeezed out one in this company, and you claim you're a big name with all this experience in the same breath you call yourself an underdog, you're a joke. You're a joke, Gavin."


She gives a very loud but very short Pee-wee-esque laugh.

PEE-WEE HARMON: "You want to have your caaake and eat it too, you want to be a bad boy but you're a good boy that tries to sound bad but it sounds good in a baaad way, so instead you just shuffle off the assembly line a good-bad boy-girl that almost got their head kicked off by Andre Holmes. WHAT A DEBUT! WHATAMATCH! WHATASTUNNER! WHATABURGER! The same night I had one of the nastiest triple threat matches WHICH I HATE in Adrenaline history, and one of 4CW's most hardcore wrestlers--WHO I'D ALREADY BEATEN TWO SHOWS PRIOR AND I KNOW MOST HARDCORE IN 4CW IS A LOW BAR SHUT UP--capitalized on my having bigger, cooler priorities than her to score her free title shot. NOT THAT I'M BITTER OR ANYTHING, I just wanna put this all in context because NO DOUBT you're gonna start beating THAT drum as soon as humanly possible.

OH GEEZ KINSLEY'S LOST SOME MATCHES

SHE LOST TO ALESSANDRO QUAGLIATERRE (ROLL THE Rs)
WHO'S A STRAIGHT UP BEAST

SHE LOST TO AIDAN CARLISLE
LIKE A MONTH AFTER BEATING HER
BUT THIS TIME IN A SHAM TRIPLE THREAT THING
INSTEAD OF A REAL MATCH

Oh, my word, how flawed this Harlow Kinsley lady must be as a competitor (but attractive and interesting to compensate). You ate mat against a dude that has nightmares about Alexis Morrison. Spoilers: Alexis Morrison is the dimestore K-Mart clearance version of ME, and if you're sucking the turnbuckle against a guy with THAT kind of pathos you're in for a BAD TIME mother clucker. On Adrenaline you professed that the guy you'd eventually LOSE TO was a stepping stone; meanwhile, I TASED somebody. On Adrenaline, you got knocked out with what might as well have been your own move; meanwhile, it took the Queen of Extreme™ and El Ángel Distorsionado chairs, curbstomps and chains JUST, juuust to put me down. For you, last Adrenaline was--and I'm not making this up, you really said this on the show--one of the biggest nights of your career. But to quote the late, great, Raúl Juliá...

for me,

it was Tuesday.

And that's not to say I took it lightly, nor will I be kicking back and waiting for my win against you, genetically confused CW escapee Gavin Grimes. Every match I HAVE is a five star epic because I'm just as amazing as I am underrated, which is only rivaled by how HUMBLE I am BUT NO! What I'm saying is that what you think you've had in terms of serious matches prior are about as big time as busking on the corner, and if you're seriously going to get THE JITTERS against me I'm going to straight up kill you. Like, dead. You will be a corpse. I'm not Andre Holmes, Double G. I'm PEE-WEE HARMON, and I have a LARGE NUMBER OF REPRESSED ISSUES I'M SURE YOU DIDN'T NOTICE CARRYING OVER FROM MY LAST TWO MATCHES HERE IN FOUR CORNERS WRESTLING aaand I haaave RIGHT OUT BROKEN WRESTLER'S LIMBS FOR LESS GRIEVOUS OFFENSES."


She gives another Pee-wee laugh.
It feels more aggressive this time,
if a Pee-wee laugh can be described as aggressive.
A figure passes by the window;
the doorbell rings.

Harlow puts the Pee-wee voice back on, if only for a moment.


PEE-WEE HARMON: "THERE'S SOMEONE AT THE DOOR, HA HA!"

She marches into the background, hands a-floppin' the entire time, and proceeds to open the door. It's hard, but one thought at a time here: she opens the door. Meaning, this isn't a green screen, it's not a projector, Kinsley actually had the set of Pee-wee's Playhouse meticulously reconstructed for a stupid joke. More (less?) importantly, standing behind the door is... Harlow Kinsley

but dressed as Cowboy Curtis.

The pink shirt, the white-and-purple chaps, the cowboy hat; if she went this far without skimping on the deets, why would she stop now? Though the original Cowboy Curtis was played by Laurence Fishburne, Harlow doesn't go so far as to put on blackface--she wants heel heat, not Jason Bourne heat. Pee-Wee Harmon opens the door wide so the other Kinsley can mosey on into the Playhouse.

PEE-WEE HARMON: "IT'S MY GOOD FRIEND COWBOY KINSLEY!," she honks. "What're YOU up to, Cowboy Kinsley?"

Cowboy Kinsley then proceeds to put on the fakest, most grating southern accent imaginable.

COWBOY KINSLEY: "Well Pee-wee, ah reckon ah'm headin' down ta Oka-la-homa City ta wrassle that there Gavern Grimes."

PEE-WEE HARMON: "WHAT A COINKEYDINK! Me too, Cowboy Kinsley!"

COWBOY KINSLEY: "YUP. Ah've jus' got so many dern kinfolk in tha Bahble Belt, I hope I can keep muhself from... havin' RELATIONS with any of 'em. It's tha WAY down there, as I'm sure yer aware. With any luck, some o' that Red State Revolver magic'll rub off on me, 'cuz I can get a win streak goin' there but I cain't get A COW'S PATOOTIE here in tha Corners Four, bah gum. Say, Pee-wee--why're we even doin' this here Playhouse bit, anyhow? Ain't you skeered the cowpokes 'round these parts won't be a-takin' ya seriously no mores?"

PEE-WEE HARMON: "Taking me seriously? COWBOY KINSLEY, I've got a tied win-loss record! What's the worst that could happen?! I'm at the end of my rope! I'm at the bottom of the barrel! I'M LOSING MY GOD DAMN MIND, DRESSING UP LIKE PAUL REUBENS AND TALKING TO MYSELF COWBOY KINSLEY! I'm going to bicycle my way into the Chesapeake Center, I'm going to gut Gavin Grimes like a FISH, and then I'm going to MAKE THE OKC LOOK LIKE THE SET OF SE7EN JUST TO GET PEOPLE TALKING AGAIN!"

There's a brief pause, where Cowboy Kinsley adjusts her hat.

COWBOY KINSLEY: "Ah, I see. So ya reckon ya don't got no more credibility."

PEE-WEE HARMON: "Cowboy Kinsley, YOU JUST SAID THE SECRET WORD!"

The camera abruptly, and repeatedly, zooms in and out as all the furniture and miscellaneous accessories and puppets in the Playhouse scream and flail their arms, Pee-wee Harmon included.

COWBOY KINSLEY: "Ya mean tha secret werd is credibility?"

They do it again, verbatim, everybody yelling and seizuring out.

PEE-WEE HARMON: "It is! Because I don't have any! It's all tapped out, Cowboy Kinsley. It's run dry! I'm being squared off against a prepubescent toothpaste drop, and all the people that pinned me are in the headline and main event! I'm a laughing stock, Cowboy Kinsley!"

Cowboy Kinsley pats Pee-wee Harmon on the back. Somehow. Without causing a time paradox, ripping a hole in the space continuum, or going over the budget.

COWBOY KINSLEY: "Now, now, Pee-wee. T'aint so bad, little lady. See, if'n all tha people what beat you are top talents at tha top o' tha card... then that means you got beat by tha best, right? T'aint like ya got beat by some regular ol' losers, ya done got beat by them real pree-fessional types. Heck, if that tan feller with tha Rs in his name wins that there Pride buckle, and that stocky heffer Aidan Carlisle becomes the XTV champeen... why, that means tha only folks you'da' lost to were champions. That ain't so bad, Pee-wee! An' besides, that Gavin Grimes--ain't he about the same age as you, anyway? Seems weird to be makin' fun o' his age when you're only like a year apart."

PEE-WEE HARMON: "Please, Cowboy Kinsley. I'm pretty sure Gavin prefers them/they pronouns."

Cowboy Kinsley sighs.

COWBOY KINSLEY: "That's it, ah'm hittin' tha old dusty trail before this blows up on Twitter, ya short sighted transphobic bitch."

Cowboy Kinsley turns and cowboys out the door while Pee-wee Harmon throws her hands up, bewildered.

PEE-WEE HARMON: "WHAT! I'm super progressive, Cowboy Kinsley! Come back! I just wanted to get the lady-boy's pronouns straight, that's all! COWBOY KINSLEY! I VOTED FOR BERNIE, YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THINGS LIKE THAT!"

When it's clear the cowboy version isn't coming back, Pee-wee Harmon's shoulders sink. She drags herself across the Playhouse floor, moping most Pee-wee Hermanly.

PEE-WEE HARMON: "So... maybe he's right. Maybe Alessandro Quagliaterre (roll the Rs) will win the Pride championship, and Aidan Carlisle will win the XTV belt... and obviously, I'm going to rip open Gavin Grimes' jaws and take a fat SHIT down his THROAT, so... the only people with wins over me will be champions! High profile champions! Main eventers and whatnot! AND THEN I CAN KILL THEM AND TAKE THEIR CHAMPIONSHIPS IN A RIP ROARING RAMPAGE OF REVENGE THE LIKES OF WHICH THIS COMPANY HAS--

wait.

Wait though.

That... means I have to... hope they win. I have to root for them, but that-- I-- I'm not sure I can-- I'm too vindictive to-- I want them to get CRYPTOCOCCAL MENINGITIS, I DON'T WANT THEM TO WIN CHAMPIONSHIPS, THIS ISN'T FAIR! I'M BEING PUT IN A POSITION THAT I STRONGLY DISAGREE WITH! I AM BEING HELD DOWN BY THE MAN! GOD AND PERRY WALLACE SHOULD BOTH BE TREATING ME BETTER! I'M GOING TO WRITE A STRONGLY WORDED LETTER TO MY CONGRESSMAN!"


THE TALKING CHAIR: "You still gotta beat Gavin Grimes, too. You're aaawfully focused on people outside the match, when you should really be trying to--"

PEE-WEE HARMON: "YOU'RE NOT MY MANAGER, CHAIRRY! SO FUCK OFF! I just wish Gavin Grimes was more than an infant-faced cardboard cutout with some HINT, some MODICUM of a personality, because honestly it's hard to roast him when he's so FUCKING boring, he probably won't even GET THIS BIT because he's not cool enough to have watched--"

A colorful cabinet toward the far left side of the set suddenly bursts open, revealing a human head.

JAMBI: "Did somebody say wish?"

Pee-wee Harmon screams, shrieking and leaping backward.

PEE-WEE HARMON: "Jesus CHRIST, I forgot we were going to do this part!"

Jambi, of course, is a green skinned floating genie head with a luminescent glow, perfectly acceptable for children. Jambi is, like the rest of the cast hence far, played by a combination of post-production magic and Harlow Kinsley.

JAMBI: "You get one wish, Pee-wee, so you better make it count! Maybe you could wish for deathmatch rules against Gavin Grimes, since you're kind of garbo at conventional wrestling."

THE TALKING CHAIR: "You could wish to be better at traditional matches, so you can beat Gavin Grimes of your own power--without having to resort to underhanded tactics or those brass knuckles you always keep in your boot!"

Cowboy Kinsley pops her head through the window, tipping her cowboy hat.

COWBOY KINSLEY: "Bah gum, ya could wish fer a five star banger that makes match o' tha night--so win er' lose, errbody still remembers what a great wrasslin' ya did!"

There's a brief pause.

Pee-wee Harmon mulls it over.

She nods, quietly, to herself
before screaming at the top of her lungs.

PEE-WEE HARMON: "I HOPE GAVIN GRIMES GETS CRYPTOCOCCAL MENINGITIS!"

...At which point Harlow (the Pee-wee one) runs across the room, puts on the creepiest bike helmet you've ever seen, hops on a bright red scooter and launches herself out the back exit. One middle finger is held firmly in the direction of the camera as she blasts her way out the door. Suck it, nerd.