Post by Jay O'Brien on Feb 4, 2007 14:44:35 GMT -5
[Start.]
“I’ve got a quote for you, Johnny, and it’s about as esoteric as they go, so I hope you like it. But rather than just stick it at the opening without so much as a single word to give it relevance, I’m actually going explain mine. I’m going to tell you about it, then I’m going to let you know where you and I come into it. Kinda like what you did with your... ugh... equally extraneous Texas Hold ‘Em rant...”
[Jay O’Brien, not pulling any punches. We’re right on the offensive this time.]
JOB: It was Hassan-i Sabbah, the ‘Old Man of the Mountain’ that said, “in the absence of truth, nothing is true, everything is permitted”. Well, Johnny, in this case, the absent truth was my reason for not being here for a – SHOCK HORROR – 48 hour period. And yes, in it’s absence, when nothing was true, it seems like everything was permitted. Including your amateur-hour psychology lesson. And I think I speak for the entire NAPW roster when I tell you how gracious we are for that slice of your great mind.
[Jay rolls his eyes.]
JOB: Johnny, I believe it was you who, a week previously when you preparing to face Don Travelli in what may be his last ever match in this company, sung a song about how you “don’t need no education”. Now I don’t like to get too pedantic and get myself bogged down in petty one-upsmanship, but there’s just a teeny-weeny little bit of irony there, don’t you think? You not wanting Travelli to come out and ‘educate’ you on how he was a bigger star and a better wrestler than you, and then seven or eight days later, you’re here droning on to me the very next week about how I’m “bluffing”, and how you’re about to “move all in”.
JOB: Well move all in, Johnny, you son of a bitch, because you can bet your ass that I’ll call you, each and every time.
[Jay nods, slowly, certainly.]
JOB: The reason for my absence the past two days? Right here, buddy.
[CUT TO: The O’Brien residence, still an apartment, still downtown in Edmonton, Alberta.]
BROWN: Jay! So good to see you again!
[Jack offers his hand to shake. Reluctantly, Jay accepts it.]
JOB: It’s been... three hours.
[That’s three hours since they met at the coffee house, if you’re desperate to keep track, like.]
BROWN: Yeah, I know, listen, we need to talk.
[Jack sounds serious. Jay steps aside.]
JOB: Come in.
BROWN: Jay, I... (distracting himself) is Andy around?
JOB: He’s in his room.
BROWN: Ah...
JOB: What is it?
BROWN: Well, I... I need you to sign a new contract.
JOB: Oh, you went and got it done?
BROWN: Sure...
[Jack doesn’t sound too convincing. Nevertheless, he opens his briefcase and produces an official NAPW document – yes, a contract.]
BROWN: I had them make some amendments to it. Read it through, I’ll just go have a word with Andy.
JOB: All right, no probs.
[Mr. Brown knocks on Andy’s door, and is told to enter. He does, closing it behind him.]
[Jay, meanwhile, casts his eyes over the new contract. It’s his contract to appear at Cold Snap, and apparently Jack Brown has had it amended, like he said he would. Jack isn’t in Andy’s room for long, when Jay has seen all he needs to see – in this case, the figures. He bangs on the door.]
AOB: Just one second!
[Jay frowns, then enters anyway, to see Jack and Andy stuffing something into Andy’s desk drawer.]
JOB: What you got there?
AOB: Hey, did I say enter?
JOB: This is my place, Andy.
AOB: And this is my room, Jay! I’m paying you rent for it, which means it’s mine!
[Jay sighs. Then he looks at Jack.]
JOB: This is the same contract I signed a week ago. I thought you said you’d improve it? Double it, I believe?
BROWN: Yeah, err, about that... see, the suits at NAPW are real... economists.
JOB: I’d noticed.
BROWN: Yeah, well, long story short, they aren’t prepared to pay you anymore. I gave it my best shot, used all my best material, stuff that’s worked on all the Big Time Charlies, and they stone-walled me.
[Jay shrugs.]
JOB: So you can’t double it, right?
BROWN: Well, I………. No.
JOB: (sighs) And this?
BROWN: That? Yeah, you just need to sign that, cause I, err... I kinda tore your old one up.
[Jay’s eyes – they’re almost popping out of his skull now.]
JOB: Repeat that?!
BROWN: Yeah, well, no harm, no foul! There’s your contract, it’s for the same money you were on before, now if you could just sign it...?
JOB: And if I don’t want to sign it?
BROWN: Well then, you err... you’re off the card, and probably out of the promotion.
[Jay stares at Jack for a while. Jack looks at his watch, then back at Jay.]
BROWN: And if you could just sign it real quick, I’ll be on my way, we’re kind of... kind of on borrowed time here...
[Needless to say, none of this is putting Jay in a very good mood. His new agent, the fast-talking, big-smiling son of a bitch has basically bull(BLEEP)ted his way into becoming Jay’s agent. None of his promises were kept, and now Jay’s being told, indirectly, that if the contract isn’t signed, sealed and delivered to NAPW Headquarters in the next hour or two, Jay’s NAPW career is finished.]
JOB: (teeth gritted) You got a pen?
[Of course Jack has a pen! Jack, naturally, hands it to Jay with a smile. Jay signs with a frown. Jay hands the contract back to Jack, who places it back in his briefcase.]
BROWN: Excellent! Jay, I’ve got to go, I’ll talk to you later, okay?
[Jack exits. Jay looks at Andy. Andy looks at Jay. Andy’s hand is on his desk drawer. Jay shakes his head and leaves.]
[CUT TO: Andy’s room, later.]
[Andy isn’t around. Jay is. Andy was hiding something in his desk drawer. Jay wants to know what.]
[Jay tries to open the drawer, to find it locked. There’s a small keyhole in the centre, at the top. Jay begins to search for the key, and, after a while, he finds it, hidden behind the back of the bureau itself. Jay unlocks the drawer and opens it.]
Looking for something?
[Jay slams the drawer shut, annoyed, locks the drawer and puts the key back where he found it.
[CUT TO: The gym, the next day. That’s yesterday, by the way.]
[Jay is working out when he gets a phone call. He answers:]
JOB: Jay O’Brien.
JOB: GOD DAMN IT.
[CUT TO: The O’Brien residence, the flat.]
JOB: WHAT THE (BLEEP) ARE YOU PLAYING AT?
[Jay has Andy by the shirt, two big handfuls of it.]
AOB: Hey, hey, what the hell!?!
JOB: You and Jack trying to screw me over, Andy?! OUT! OUT!
[Jay lets go of his brother, then opens the door, demanding that Andy exit.]
AOB: Jay, what is wrong with you, man?!
[Jay storms over to Andy’s room.]
AOB: DON’T GO IN THERE!
[Jay turns to Andy, pointing angrily at him.]
JOB: You’re out of here, Andy! Get your (BLEEP) together, now!
[Andy moves toward Jay, hands open, apologetically.]
AOB: Jay, I...
JOB: OUT!!
AOB: All right, all right, I’ll pack!
JOB: You got that right!
[Andy muscles past Jay, into his room, attempting to shut the door behind him. No such luck.]
AOB: Jay, please, if you want me out, I’ll go, but...
[Jay suddenly gets an idea. He storms past Andy now, heading for the desk/bureau.]
AOB: NO!! NO!!!
[Jay opens the drawer and produces a contract.]
JOB: What’s this?!
[Andy stands there, defeated, staring at Jay.]
JOB: So let me get this straight – your old agent, Jack Brown, mysteriously appears at my door, and promises me the world. He goes to HQ, tears up my old contract, gets me a new one for exactly the same money, and gets me to sign it again... just so that he can get his twelve-and-a-half percent cut?!?
[Ahh...]
[... And from the look on Andy’s face, he just got an idea...]
AOB: Ohhhhhhh………… Jay, I had no idea!
[And that just sent Jay over the edge.]
JOB: NO IDEA?!! NO IDEA?!??! Who the (BLEEP) are you trying to kid, Andy?!
[Busted. Andy’s weaselling-out maneuvour just failed...]
JOB: Do you think I’m stupid, Andy?!
AOB: No, no, of course n---
JOB: Then enough! Enough bull(BLEEP), Andy! I want you out of my apartment NOW!
[Andy grabs his suitcase and begins to fling stuff in.]
JOB: And this?
[Jay holds up the contract in two hands.]
AOB: No, no, don’t do tha---
[Then tears it in half. Then quarters. Then eighths. Then into tiny little fractions of pieces I couldn’t even describe.]
[Andy frowns. He’s angry now, too.]
AOB: OUT!
[He points Jay to the door. Jay leaves the room, and leaves Andy to pack. But before he goes:]
JOB: Andy... you greedy little son of a bitch... if you think Jack Brown is getting a cut of my Pay-Per-View money... and if you think you are getting a cut of his share just because you put him onto me... then you’re sorely mistaken.
[CUT TO: Jay. The promo.]
JOB: So you see, Johnny, I’ve had my own problems to deal with. You, you might put it down to me not having anything to come back at you with, after your little “Reality” promo, but let me tell you this: I knew what I wanted to say to that two days ago, and I still know now. I just had to... tie up a few loose ends.
[Jay grins.]
JOB: Johnny, if I didn’t know what to say to your “curtain of reality” theory, then I’d just hang my boots up right now and call it a day, because I wouldn’t be fit to grace anybody’s television screen.
[Johnny Rotten’s voice:]
“Wrestling ring... Mat... Wrestler... Professional Wrestler. You see one needs a gimmick and ring ropes, and the other gets to go to the Olympics.”
[And a SECOND quote:]
“But sadder than that... Is the guy that believes his own hype. That can't tell the difference between Jay O'Brien the wrestler and Jay O'Brien the man... (Cu-Kooo) And you say you love this business.”
[Jay, unimpressed. Jay, stone-faced.]
JOB: Johnny, Johnny, Johnny... You’re right, I do say I love this business. It’s the thing that keeps me going – it’s the thing that challenges me. It’s the thing that drives me to better myself, rather than stagnate behind some desk somewhere, doing nothing with my life other than collecting pay checks and squandering it at the weekends on overpriced booze and disingenuous women.
JOB: I love it, it gives me purpose. But that’s where my agreeing with you starts, and that’s where it ends. You say there’s a big difference between Jay O’Brien the wrestler and Jay O’Brien the man?
[Jay shakes his head.]
JOB: Johnny, you’ve got a lot to learn about me, buddy. Like any athlete EVER, I’m a different person when I’m in the zone than when I’m not, that much is true. It’s also true of football players, hockey players, baseball players, hell, every true competitor in the world. Competition breeds competitiveness. It sounds simple, and it is. When I’m competing, I’m a different person. But unlike you, I, and the rest of the serious competitive world, don’t need an alter-ego. I don’t have an alter-ego. I’m not Jay O’Brien the wrestler one minute, then Jay O’Brien the person the next.
JOB: Johnny, I’m Jay O’Brien all the damn time.
JOB: You wanna oversimplify everything, Johnny? Or Jaysen, as I’m gonna call you from now on... then here it is, in plain English, in black and white... when I step in that ring at Cold Snap, I’m Jay O’Brien. When I’m trying my damnedest to herniate that disc in your neck with my dragon clutch, I’m Jay O’Brien. When I’ve beaten you to a bloody pulp and I’m standing over you with my arm raised, I’m Jay O’Brien. And when I go back and shower, watching the crimson drain from my body and circle away down the plug, I’m still (BLEEP)ing Jay O’Brien.
JOB: You might have a hard time understanding that given that, evidently, you’ve never seen a man enter the squared circle and act like himself, without the lucha mask or the ‘power-paint’ before, but of me, it’s true. Whilst you’re putting on your “Johnny Rotten” pants, and your “Johnny Rotten T-shirt... whilst you’re tying up your “Johnny Rotten” boots, you know what I’ll be doing? I’ll be tying up my own boots. The one’s I, Jay O’Brien, bought from a store, the one’s I, Jay O’Brien, laced up for the past three matches, and the one’s I, Jay O’Brien, wore to the ring and stomped holes into three unfortunate sons of bitches.
JOB: And you know what I’m going to do then? Me, Jay O’Brien? I’m going to come down to the ring, with the music that I chose, wearing the clothes that I bought, and I am going to leave you lying. And it’s going to be my fourth victory, my fourth step towards becoming the number one wrestler in this promotion – and it’s going to me on my way to ridding this business of the fraudulent pieces of crap that sully it’s name. Like you, Jaysen.
JOB: You see, like you acknowledged, I love this business. And it hurts me to see worthless drunks like Krusty Kid Paul getting paid to embarrass the wrestling world. It hurts me to see people like Marcus Chamberlain, who couldn’t give a crap about the sport so long as they can pay their gas bills, and they don’t get injured so they continue being a stunt-man. And it hurts me to see people like you, Jaysen, who falsify this sport, covering up the reality with your god damn curtain of fiction and lies.
JOB: Well Jaysen, I wouldn’t worry about me making you pull back that curtain anymore, because when I’m done with you, I’m going to rip it clean off the rail and set fire to the (BLEEP)ing thing. And if I feel that way inclined, I might even piss on it for good measure, because you, Jaysen, are the representation of everything that is wrong with this business. You are the one that is clowning it up, you are the one who, incorrectly, doesn’t believe that a wrestler can act as he truly is. You are the one that, in the absence of truth, have thrown as much bull(BLEEP) at me as you possibly could, and hoped that at least some of it would stick.
JOB: You are the one that is mistaken here, Johnny, NOT ME. Cuckoo, cuckoo? Will you still be saying that when you’ve tapped out to me, the one and only, the real Jay O’Brien, Jaysen?
[Out.]
“I’ve got a quote for you, Johnny, and it’s about as esoteric as they go, so I hope you like it. But rather than just stick it at the opening without so much as a single word to give it relevance, I’m actually going explain mine. I’m going to tell you about it, then I’m going to let you know where you and I come into it. Kinda like what you did with your... ugh... equally extraneous Texas Hold ‘Em rant...”
[Jay O’Brien, not pulling any punches. We’re right on the offensive this time.]
JOB: It was Hassan-i Sabbah, the ‘Old Man of the Mountain’ that said, “in the absence of truth, nothing is true, everything is permitted”. Well, Johnny, in this case, the absent truth was my reason for not being here for a – SHOCK HORROR – 48 hour period. And yes, in it’s absence, when nothing was true, it seems like everything was permitted. Including your amateur-hour psychology lesson. And I think I speak for the entire NAPW roster when I tell you how gracious we are for that slice of your great mind.
[Jay rolls his eyes.]
JOB: Johnny, I believe it was you who, a week previously when you preparing to face Don Travelli in what may be his last ever match in this company, sung a song about how you “don’t need no education”. Now I don’t like to get too pedantic and get myself bogged down in petty one-upsmanship, but there’s just a teeny-weeny little bit of irony there, don’t you think? You not wanting Travelli to come out and ‘educate’ you on how he was a bigger star and a better wrestler than you, and then seven or eight days later, you’re here droning on to me the very next week about how I’m “bluffing”, and how you’re about to “move all in”.
JOB: Well move all in, Johnny, you son of a bitch, because you can bet your ass that I’ll call you, each and every time.
[Jay nods, slowly, certainly.]
JOB: The reason for my absence the past two days? Right here, buddy.
[CUT TO: The O’Brien residence, still an apartment, still downtown in Edmonton, Alberta.]
BROWN: Jay! So good to see you again!
[Jack offers his hand to shake. Reluctantly, Jay accepts it.]
JOB: It’s been... three hours.
[That’s three hours since they met at the coffee house, if you’re desperate to keep track, like.]
BROWN: Yeah, I know, listen, we need to talk.
[Jack sounds serious. Jay steps aside.]
JOB: Come in.
BROWN: Jay, I... (distracting himself) is Andy around?
JOB: He’s in his room.
BROWN: Ah...
JOB: What is it?
BROWN: Well, I... I need you to sign a new contract.
JOB: Oh, you went and got it done?
BROWN: Sure...
[Jack doesn’t sound too convincing. Nevertheless, he opens his briefcase and produces an official NAPW document – yes, a contract.]
BROWN: I had them make some amendments to it. Read it through, I’ll just go have a word with Andy.
JOB: All right, no probs.
[Mr. Brown knocks on Andy’s door, and is told to enter. He does, closing it behind him.]
[Jay, meanwhile, casts his eyes over the new contract. It’s his contract to appear at Cold Snap, and apparently Jack Brown has had it amended, like he said he would. Jack isn’t in Andy’s room for long, when Jay has seen all he needs to see – in this case, the figures. He bangs on the door.]
AOB: Just one second!
[Jay frowns, then enters anyway, to see Jack and Andy stuffing something into Andy’s desk drawer.]
JOB: What you got there?
AOB: Hey, did I say enter?
JOB: This is my place, Andy.
AOB: And this is my room, Jay! I’m paying you rent for it, which means it’s mine!
[Jay sighs. Then he looks at Jack.]
JOB: This is the same contract I signed a week ago. I thought you said you’d improve it? Double it, I believe?
BROWN: Yeah, err, about that... see, the suits at NAPW are real... economists.
JOB: I’d noticed.
BROWN: Yeah, well, long story short, they aren’t prepared to pay you anymore. I gave it my best shot, used all my best material, stuff that’s worked on all the Big Time Charlies, and they stone-walled me.
[Jay shrugs.]
JOB: So you can’t double it, right?
BROWN: Well, I………. No.
JOB: (sighs) And this?
BROWN: That? Yeah, you just need to sign that, cause I, err... I kinda tore your old one up.
[Jay’s eyes – they’re almost popping out of his skull now.]
JOB: Repeat that?!
BROWN: Yeah, well, no harm, no foul! There’s your contract, it’s for the same money you were on before, now if you could just sign it...?
JOB: And if I don’t want to sign it?
BROWN: Well then, you err... you’re off the card, and probably out of the promotion.
[Jay stares at Jack for a while. Jack looks at his watch, then back at Jay.]
BROWN: And if you could just sign it real quick, I’ll be on my way, we’re kind of... kind of on borrowed time here...
[Needless to say, none of this is putting Jay in a very good mood. His new agent, the fast-talking, big-smiling son of a bitch has basically bull(BLEEP)ted his way into becoming Jay’s agent. None of his promises were kept, and now Jay’s being told, indirectly, that if the contract isn’t signed, sealed and delivered to NAPW Headquarters in the next hour or two, Jay’s NAPW career is finished.]
JOB: (teeth gritted) You got a pen?
[Of course Jack has a pen! Jack, naturally, hands it to Jay with a smile. Jay signs with a frown. Jay hands the contract back to Jack, who places it back in his briefcase.]
BROWN: Excellent! Jay, I’ve got to go, I’ll talk to you later, okay?
[Jack exits. Jay looks at Andy. Andy looks at Jay. Andy’s hand is on his desk drawer. Jay shakes his head and leaves.]
[CUT TO: Andy’s room, later.]
[Andy isn’t around. Jay is. Andy was hiding something in his desk drawer. Jay wants to know what.]
[Jay tries to open the drawer, to find it locked. There’s a small keyhole in the centre, at the top. Jay begins to search for the key, and, after a while, he finds it, hidden behind the back of the bureau itself. Jay unlocks the drawer and opens it.]
Looking for something?
[Jay slams the drawer shut, annoyed, locks the drawer and puts the key back where he found it.
[CUT TO: The gym, the next day. That’s yesterday, by the way.]
[Jay is working out when he gets a phone call. He answers:]
JOB: Jay O’Brien.
JOB: GOD DAMN IT.
[CUT TO: The O’Brien residence, the flat.]
JOB: WHAT THE (BLEEP) ARE YOU PLAYING AT?
[Jay has Andy by the shirt, two big handfuls of it.]
AOB: Hey, hey, what the hell!?!
JOB: You and Jack trying to screw me over, Andy?! OUT! OUT!
[Jay lets go of his brother, then opens the door, demanding that Andy exit.]
AOB: Jay, what is wrong with you, man?!
[Jay storms over to Andy’s room.]
AOB: DON’T GO IN THERE!
[Jay turns to Andy, pointing angrily at him.]
JOB: You’re out of here, Andy! Get your (BLEEP) together, now!
[Andy moves toward Jay, hands open, apologetically.]
AOB: Jay, I...
JOB: OUT!!
AOB: All right, all right, I’ll pack!
JOB: You got that right!
[Andy muscles past Jay, into his room, attempting to shut the door behind him. No such luck.]
AOB: Jay, please, if you want me out, I’ll go, but...
[Jay suddenly gets an idea. He storms past Andy now, heading for the desk/bureau.]
AOB: NO!! NO!!!
[Jay opens the drawer and produces a contract.]
JOB: What’s this?!
[Andy stands there, defeated, staring at Jay.]
JOB: So let me get this straight – your old agent, Jack Brown, mysteriously appears at my door, and promises me the world. He goes to HQ, tears up my old contract, gets me a new one for exactly the same money, and gets me to sign it again... just so that he can get his twelve-and-a-half percent cut?!?
[Ahh...]
[... And from the look on Andy’s face, he just got an idea...]
AOB: Ohhhhhhh………… Jay, I had no idea!
[And that just sent Jay over the edge.]
JOB: NO IDEA?!! NO IDEA?!??! Who the (BLEEP) are you trying to kid, Andy?!
[Busted. Andy’s weaselling-out maneuvour just failed...]
JOB: Do you think I’m stupid, Andy?!
AOB: No, no, of course n---
JOB: Then enough! Enough bull(BLEEP), Andy! I want you out of my apartment NOW!
[Andy grabs his suitcase and begins to fling stuff in.]
JOB: And this?
[Jay holds up the contract in two hands.]
AOB: No, no, don’t do tha---
[Then tears it in half. Then quarters. Then eighths. Then into tiny little fractions of pieces I couldn’t even describe.]
[Andy frowns. He’s angry now, too.]
AOB: OUT!
[He points Jay to the door. Jay leaves the room, and leaves Andy to pack. But before he goes:]
JOB: Andy... you greedy little son of a bitch... if you think Jack Brown is getting a cut of my Pay-Per-View money... and if you think you are getting a cut of his share just because you put him onto me... then you’re sorely mistaken.
[CUT TO: Jay. The promo.]
JOB: So you see, Johnny, I’ve had my own problems to deal with. You, you might put it down to me not having anything to come back at you with, after your little “Reality” promo, but let me tell you this: I knew what I wanted to say to that two days ago, and I still know now. I just had to... tie up a few loose ends.
[Jay grins.]
JOB: Johnny, if I didn’t know what to say to your “curtain of reality” theory, then I’d just hang my boots up right now and call it a day, because I wouldn’t be fit to grace anybody’s television screen.
[Johnny Rotten’s voice:]
“Wrestling ring... Mat... Wrestler... Professional Wrestler. You see one needs a gimmick and ring ropes, and the other gets to go to the Olympics.”
[And a SECOND quote:]
“But sadder than that... Is the guy that believes his own hype. That can't tell the difference between Jay O'Brien the wrestler and Jay O'Brien the man... (Cu-Kooo) And you say you love this business.”
[Jay, unimpressed. Jay, stone-faced.]
JOB: Johnny, Johnny, Johnny... You’re right, I do say I love this business. It’s the thing that keeps me going – it’s the thing that challenges me. It’s the thing that drives me to better myself, rather than stagnate behind some desk somewhere, doing nothing with my life other than collecting pay checks and squandering it at the weekends on overpriced booze and disingenuous women.
JOB: I love it, it gives me purpose. But that’s where my agreeing with you starts, and that’s where it ends. You say there’s a big difference between Jay O’Brien the wrestler and Jay O’Brien the man?
[Jay shakes his head.]
JOB: Johnny, you’ve got a lot to learn about me, buddy. Like any athlete EVER, I’m a different person when I’m in the zone than when I’m not, that much is true. It’s also true of football players, hockey players, baseball players, hell, every true competitor in the world. Competition breeds competitiveness. It sounds simple, and it is. When I’m competing, I’m a different person. But unlike you, I, and the rest of the serious competitive world, don’t need an alter-ego. I don’t have an alter-ego. I’m not Jay O’Brien the wrestler one minute, then Jay O’Brien the person the next.
JOB: Johnny, I’m Jay O’Brien all the damn time.
JOB: You wanna oversimplify everything, Johnny? Or Jaysen, as I’m gonna call you from now on... then here it is, in plain English, in black and white... when I step in that ring at Cold Snap, I’m Jay O’Brien. When I’m trying my damnedest to herniate that disc in your neck with my dragon clutch, I’m Jay O’Brien. When I’ve beaten you to a bloody pulp and I’m standing over you with my arm raised, I’m Jay O’Brien. And when I go back and shower, watching the crimson drain from my body and circle away down the plug, I’m still (BLEEP)ing Jay O’Brien.
JOB: You might have a hard time understanding that given that, evidently, you’ve never seen a man enter the squared circle and act like himself, without the lucha mask or the ‘power-paint’ before, but of me, it’s true. Whilst you’re putting on your “Johnny Rotten” pants, and your “Johnny Rotten T-shirt... whilst you’re tying up your “Johnny Rotten” boots, you know what I’ll be doing? I’ll be tying up my own boots. The one’s I, Jay O’Brien, bought from a store, the one’s I, Jay O’Brien, laced up for the past three matches, and the one’s I, Jay O’Brien, wore to the ring and stomped holes into three unfortunate sons of bitches.
JOB: And you know what I’m going to do then? Me, Jay O’Brien? I’m going to come down to the ring, with the music that I chose, wearing the clothes that I bought, and I am going to leave you lying. And it’s going to be my fourth victory, my fourth step towards becoming the number one wrestler in this promotion – and it’s going to me on my way to ridding this business of the fraudulent pieces of crap that sully it’s name. Like you, Jaysen.
JOB: You see, like you acknowledged, I love this business. And it hurts me to see worthless drunks like Krusty Kid Paul getting paid to embarrass the wrestling world. It hurts me to see people like Marcus Chamberlain, who couldn’t give a crap about the sport so long as they can pay their gas bills, and they don’t get injured so they continue being a stunt-man. And it hurts me to see people like you, Jaysen, who falsify this sport, covering up the reality with your god damn curtain of fiction and lies.
JOB: Well Jaysen, I wouldn’t worry about me making you pull back that curtain anymore, because when I’m done with you, I’m going to rip it clean off the rail and set fire to the (BLEEP)ing thing. And if I feel that way inclined, I might even piss on it for good measure, because you, Jaysen, are the representation of everything that is wrong with this business. You are the one that is clowning it up, you are the one who, incorrectly, doesn’t believe that a wrestler can act as he truly is. You are the one that, in the absence of truth, have thrown as much bull(BLEEP) at me as you possibly could, and hoped that at least some of it would stick.
JOB: You are the one that is mistaken here, Johnny, NOT ME. Cuckoo, cuckoo? Will you still be saying that when you’ve tapped out to me, the one and only, the real Jay O’Brien, Jaysen?
[Out.]