Post by D! on Dec 16, 2005 22:55:36 GMT -5
(Lights up. We see D! in his bed, tossing and turning.)
D!: Zzzz . . . no . . . please . . . so boring . . . Casino's promos . . . so boring . . .
(And the scene dissolves away to another shot. D! and the NAPW title are smack dab in the middle of Galaxyland.)
D!: Where am I? What is this strange and bizarre place? So dystopian! (To a small child on a crutch.) I say, there, where are we?
CHILD: Cor blimey! It's West Edmonton Mall, by thunder!
D!: Of course! WEM! I just saw a crappy roller coaster and assumed I was in Vegas. But small British child, what day is it?
CHILD: Why today? It's the nointeenth, guvnah!
D!: (To the camera.) The nineteenth? Then that means--
(D! is suddenly interrupted by WEM's PA system.)
ANNOUNCER: Attention, shoppers! Please help congratulate Chris Casino on his one millionth identical promo!
(The crowd boos.)
D!: One million redundant promos? Sweet Jebus!
(D! runs off-camera and re-emerges in another shot in the Mall, this time outside an electronics store. D! skids to a halt here and looks at the bank of TVs on display. On them we see Chris Casino--or D! with a blond wig tied back into a pony tail--talk in a whiny tone.)
CASINO: You know, here I am picking out bathrobes, when I realised I hate several things. First of all, I hate Canadians. They are inferior to Americans. And I'm only here in Canada to show them what a real champion is like. That reminds me! I also hate the NAPW Title, because it's worthless. Unless I win the title, then it will be the most prestigious title in the universe! I just add the charm, baby! Unlike D!, whose name should be N! for "not charming". He sucks! And he has no talent! Now buy my shirt!
(Cut to D!, reeling.)
D!: So . . . mind-numbing . . .
CASINO: (On the TV.) Oh, and you're so much more entertaining?
D!: Hells yes I'm more entertaining than you. My promos actually go somewhere, and are different from my other promos!
CASINO: Different? you want different? This promo had me in my walk-in closet! That's money, baby! Plus it's totally different than my nine-hundred-ninety-nine-thousand, nine-hundred ninety-ninth promo which had me playing baccarat! You couldn't ask for more different! Or the one before that where I sat on a red couch!
D!: Okay, sure, you sure do find new and exciting locations in your Dad's hotel. But you keep saying the same damn things over and over.
CASINO: Shut your mouth! No I don't! Maybe a new promo will prove that I'm right! (Walks over a few feet.) One of the things you filthy Canadians could never understand is the joy of looking at an expensive lamp. And here's my expensive lamp! You can't have my lamp, you poor blue-collar Canadians. Just like D! can't ever have my kind of talent. What a terrible champion! His name should be T! for "terrible champion"! He's made the NAPW title worthless. But when I win it, it'll be a real title, just because I'm holding it! Now buy my shirt!
(D! runs to a nearby trashcan, sticks his head in it and heaves his guts.)
CASINO: See? The fact that you're vomiting means that I'm a better wrestler.
D!: (Wiping his mouth.) Chris, I'm begging you--stop giving the same ape-raping promo over and over again!
CASINO: But why should I? Clearly I have an advantage! I can keep cranking out my darlings like a cow does methane, D! And there's so many different settings I can do it in, too! Maybe on a hot-air balloon! Maybe while making a sandwich! Or better yet--while rubbing oil on myself!
(D! clutches his stomach and runs from the storefront. He finds the nearest set of benches and lies down, shaking. An old lady on a nearby bench approaches him.)
OLD LADY: Now, now, dear. What seems to be the matter?
D!: Oh, it's all of these flat-out awful Chris Casino promos! I just can't take it anymore!
(He looks at the old lady and blanches. Suddenly, she's wearing a blond, pony-tailed wig.)
OLD LADY: That's because the NAPW title is worthless! But if I win it, it'll be worth its weight in gold!
(D! screams and jumps away from the bench, but accidentally bumps into a passing teenager.)
D!: Oh no! I'm so sorry!
TEENAGER: (Wearing a blond, pony-tailed wig.) You are sorry! A sorry excuse for a wrestler! Why, I can do better moves in my sleep, because I've wrestled everywhere!
(D! terrifiedly falls back onto his butt and panicedly crawls backwards, away from teen Casino. He bumps into the body of a security guard, head out of frame.)
GUARD: Now what seems to be the problem?
D!: You gotta help me, I'm--(he looks up and screams.)
GUARD: (Wearing a blond ponytail wig.) I won't help you, you piece of Canadian trailer trash! I'm so much better than a Canadian!
(Anyways. Jump cut to a shot of an exhausted-looking D! trying to get away from a slow-moving horde of people wearing blond ponytail wigs.)
CROWD: Canadians are ugly . . . the NAPW title is worthless . . . D! doesn't have any talent . . . buy my shirt . . .
D!: Huff . . . puff . . . it's no use. There's just to many of the same damn promo! I can't possibly escape!
(Suddenly, a hand reaches out of a side door and pulls D! in. There, in a utility hallway is Wayne Wright, though with a wig and costume on he looks kind of like--)
D!: Terry Brandon! Thank goodness you're here! Your client won't stop repeating the same diahrrea-inducing promo! But now that you're here, maybe his promos can be interesting for once!
BRANDON: I will make them fun to listen to!
D!: Yes!
BRANDON: Exciting!
D!: Yes!
BRANDON: And not at all boring.
D!: No! Please!
BRANDON: Instead, more amusing.
D!: Yes.
BRANDON: Lively!
D!: Yes.
BRANDON: Merry.
D!: Mmm-hmm.
BRANDON: Downright diverting!
D!: If you please.
BRANDON: And I will do this by talking!
D!: Yes.
BRANDON: Communicating!
D!: Mmm-hmm.
BRANDON: Making my point known!
D!: Yeah.
BRANDON: Not keeping it a secret!
D!: Yes.
BRANDON: Revealing what's on my mind, as it were.
D!: Yeah.
BRANDON: Mentioning it.
D!: Yes.
BRANDON: Elucidating.
D!: That's right.
BRANDON: And I will do it as his manager!
D!: Yes.
BRANDON: His overseer!
D!: Mmm-hmm.
BRANDON: His consul!
D!: Okay, you know what? Thanks but no thanks. I'm gonna go back and take my chances. (Exits.)
BRANDON: That is to say, his right-hand man!
(Cut back to D! desperately trying to escape the crowd of Chris Casino promos.)
CROWD: I will elevate the title . . . all Canadians are ugly . . . D! is ugly . . . his name should be Q!
(D! collapses, exhausted. Enter Don, dressed in a referee shirt.)
DON: I'll handle this!
(The crowd turns back. D! pulls himself up.)
D!: An NAPW official! I'm saved, at last!
DON: Nooooo problem! Now just hand me that belt!
D!: Whaaaaaaaaa?!?
DON: We've decided that the NAPW title will change hands based on who can cut the most sheer amount of promos!
(Cut to a wide shot.)
D!: NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!
(And dissolve back to D! in bed, tossing and turning.)
D!: No . . . no . . . NO! (He sits up, panicked.) Oh, it was only a bad dream! Chris Casino didn't cut over a million ridiculously bad promos, he's only cut four to twelve. I still get a chance to humiliate Casino in a steel cage! And best of all, the NAPW title won't change hands because of some stupid rule!
(Don walks into the shot.)
DON: Or will it? Mu-ha-ha-ha!
D!: Oh, no! What are you doing here?
DON: Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha!
D!: Seriously. Why are you here?
DON: I . . .
D!: Why are you in my place, Don!?
(Cut to a commercial for the new "Chris Casino Will Die Hungry and Alone" T-shirt.)
D!: Zzzz . . . no . . . please . . . so boring . . . Casino's promos . . . so boring . . .
(And the scene dissolves away to another shot. D! and the NAPW title are smack dab in the middle of Galaxyland.)
D!: Where am I? What is this strange and bizarre place? So dystopian! (To a small child on a crutch.) I say, there, where are we?
CHILD: Cor blimey! It's West Edmonton Mall, by thunder!
D!: Of course! WEM! I just saw a crappy roller coaster and assumed I was in Vegas. But small British child, what day is it?
CHILD: Why today? It's the nointeenth, guvnah!
D!: (To the camera.) The nineteenth? Then that means--
(D! is suddenly interrupted by WEM's PA system.)
ANNOUNCER: Attention, shoppers! Please help congratulate Chris Casino on his one millionth identical promo!
(The crowd boos.)
D!: One million redundant promos? Sweet Jebus!
(D! runs off-camera and re-emerges in another shot in the Mall, this time outside an electronics store. D! skids to a halt here and looks at the bank of TVs on display. On them we see Chris Casino--or D! with a blond wig tied back into a pony tail--talk in a whiny tone.)
CASINO: You know, here I am picking out bathrobes, when I realised I hate several things. First of all, I hate Canadians. They are inferior to Americans. And I'm only here in Canada to show them what a real champion is like. That reminds me! I also hate the NAPW Title, because it's worthless. Unless I win the title, then it will be the most prestigious title in the universe! I just add the charm, baby! Unlike D!, whose name should be N! for "not charming". He sucks! And he has no talent! Now buy my shirt!
(Cut to D!, reeling.)
D!: So . . . mind-numbing . . .
CASINO: (On the TV.) Oh, and you're so much more entertaining?
D!: Hells yes I'm more entertaining than you. My promos actually go somewhere, and are different from my other promos!
CASINO: Different? you want different? This promo had me in my walk-in closet! That's money, baby! Plus it's totally different than my nine-hundred-ninety-nine-thousand, nine-hundred ninety-ninth promo which had me playing baccarat! You couldn't ask for more different! Or the one before that where I sat on a red couch!
D!: Okay, sure, you sure do find new and exciting locations in your Dad's hotel. But you keep saying the same damn things over and over.
CASINO: Shut your mouth! No I don't! Maybe a new promo will prove that I'm right! (Walks over a few feet.) One of the things you filthy Canadians could never understand is the joy of looking at an expensive lamp. And here's my expensive lamp! You can't have my lamp, you poor blue-collar Canadians. Just like D! can't ever have my kind of talent. What a terrible champion! His name should be T! for "terrible champion"! He's made the NAPW title worthless. But when I win it, it'll be a real title, just because I'm holding it! Now buy my shirt!
(D! runs to a nearby trashcan, sticks his head in it and heaves his guts.)
CASINO: See? The fact that you're vomiting means that I'm a better wrestler.
D!: (Wiping his mouth.) Chris, I'm begging you--stop giving the same ape-raping promo over and over again!
CASINO: But why should I? Clearly I have an advantage! I can keep cranking out my darlings like a cow does methane, D! And there's so many different settings I can do it in, too! Maybe on a hot-air balloon! Maybe while making a sandwich! Or better yet--while rubbing oil on myself!
(D! clutches his stomach and runs from the storefront. He finds the nearest set of benches and lies down, shaking. An old lady on a nearby bench approaches him.)
OLD LADY: Now, now, dear. What seems to be the matter?
D!: Oh, it's all of these flat-out awful Chris Casino promos! I just can't take it anymore!
(He looks at the old lady and blanches. Suddenly, she's wearing a blond, pony-tailed wig.)
OLD LADY: That's because the NAPW title is worthless! But if I win it, it'll be worth its weight in gold!
(D! screams and jumps away from the bench, but accidentally bumps into a passing teenager.)
D!: Oh no! I'm so sorry!
TEENAGER: (Wearing a blond, pony-tailed wig.) You are sorry! A sorry excuse for a wrestler! Why, I can do better moves in my sleep, because I've wrestled everywhere!
(D! terrifiedly falls back onto his butt and panicedly crawls backwards, away from teen Casino. He bumps into the body of a security guard, head out of frame.)
GUARD: Now what seems to be the problem?
D!: You gotta help me, I'm--(he looks up and screams.)
GUARD: (Wearing a blond ponytail wig.) I won't help you, you piece of Canadian trailer trash! I'm so much better than a Canadian!
(Anyways. Jump cut to a shot of an exhausted-looking D! trying to get away from a slow-moving horde of people wearing blond ponytail wigs.)
CROWD: Canadians are ugly . . . the NAPW title is worthless . . . D! doesn't have any talent . . . buy my shirt . . .
D!: Huff . . . puff . . . it's no use. There's just to many of the same damn promo! I can't possibly escape!
(Suddenly, a hand reaches out of a side door and pulls D! in. There, in a utility hallway is Wayne Wright, though with a wig and costume on he looks kind of like--)
D!: Terry Brandon! Thank goodness you're here! Your client won't stop repeating the same diahrrea-inducing promo! But now that you're here, maybe his promos can be interesting for once!
BRANDON: I will make them fun to listen to!
D!: Yes!
BRANDON: Exciting!
D!: Yes!
BRANDON: And not at all boring.
D!: No! Please!
BRANDON: Instead, more amusing.
D!: Yes.
BRANDON: Lively!
D!: Yes.
BRANDON: Merry.
D!: Mmm-hmm.
BRANDON: Downright diverting!
D!: If you please.
BRANDON: And I will do this by talking!
D!: Yes.
BRANDON: Communicating!
D!: Mmm-hmm.
BRANDON: Making my point known!
D!: Yeah.
BRANDON: Not keeping it a secret!
D!: Yes.
BRANDON: Revealing what's on my mind, as it were.
D!: Yeah.
BRANDON: Mentioning it.
D!: Yes.
BRANDON: Elucidating.
D!: That's right.
BRANDON: And I will do it as his manager!
D!: Yes.
BRANDON: His overseer!
D!: Mmm-hmm.
BRANDON: His consul!
D!: Okay, you know what? Thanks but no thanks. I'm gonna go back and take my chances. (Exits.)
BRANDON: That is to say, his right-hand man!
(Cut back to D! desperately trying to escape the crowd of Chris Casino promos.)
CROWD: I will elevate the title . . . all Canadians are ugly . . . D! is ugly . . . his name should be Q!
(D! collapses, exhausted. Enter Don, dressed in a referee shirt.)
DON: I'll handle this!
(The crowd turns back. D! pulls himself up.)
D!: An NAPW official! I'm saved, at last!
DON: Nooooo problem! Now just hand me that belt!
D!: Whaaaaaaaaa?!?
DON: We've decided that the NAPW title will change hands based on who can cut the most sheer amount of promos!
(Cut to a wide shot.)
D!: NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!
(And dissolve back to D! in bed, tossing and turning.)
D!: No . . . no . . . NO! (He sits up, panicked.) Oh, it was only a bad dream! Chris Casino didn't cut over a million ridiculously bad promos, he's only cut four to twelve. I still get a chance to humiliate Casino in a steel cage! And best of all, the NAPW title won't change hands because of some stupid rule!
(Don walks into the shot.)
DON: Or will it? Mu-ha-ha-ha!
D!: Oh, no! What are you doing here?
DON: Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha!
D!: Seriously. Why are you here?
DON: I . . .
D!: Why are you in my place, Don!?
(Cut to a commercial for the new "Chris Casino Will Die Hungry and Alone" T-shirt.)