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Post by Stylin' Kyle Roberts [REBEL] on Dec 17, 2005 2:04:47 GMT -5
(Scene: The locker room. The New and Improved D-X has once again lost a match. Two in a row? Good lord!)
KYLE ROBERTS: Two in a row! Good lord! Two LOSSES in a row! What happened to the most dominant tag team in the NAPW?
(Bruce "The Beast" is leaning against the wall, not saying anything. Just cold as stone, in business mode. Coach Gordon Jago sits in a chair, crestfallen. His whistle is hanging from its lanyard, nowhere near his mouth. He breathes in to say something, thinks better of it, and slumps over again.)
KYLE ROBERTS: And YOU, Coach! We give you another chance to redeem yourself, and what do you do? You distract the ref just in time for Bill Fleming, of all people, to hand a chair to Static! He almost hit a home run! EXCEPT MY HEAD IS NOT A BASEBALL, COACH!
(Coach opens his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Roberts.)
KYLE ROBERTS: And so you dropped the ball again, Coach! It's like high school when Kris Sjoberg missed that free throw and lost the basketball game! What did you do, Coach? I seem to remember Sjoberg running laps for the next three practices. And the practices you ran were usually a good three hours!
I swear, Bruce and I don't know what to do with you. You're disappointing us at every turn, it seems! I thought that trip to Churchill was supposed to reinvigorate us! Put us on the same page! What do we have to show for it? TWO LOSSES AND CLAW MARKS ON MY ASS!
Sure, I'm used to putting calomine lotion on my ass, but that's USUALLY because of some fiesty randy fillies after an evening at the clubs! Not because of a one-ton POLAR BEAR!
Coach, I'm sorry that I have to do this, but I think we're going to put you in a trainer role for a little while. We don't want you coming down to ringside with us for the next few weeks, okay?
(The Coach looks to Bruce Richards, as if to say, "Help me?")
BRUCE RICHARDS: Sorry, Coach. I gave you one more chance. And you know how I don't break my word on things like this.
KYLE ROBERTS: So, Coach, I guess the only thing left to do is ask if you want to say anything in your defense. (The Coach is about to speak, only for Kyle to go on.) I guess that settles it, then. Coach, you're dismissed. We'll see you at the gym on Sunday.
(The Coach leaves the room, head slumped.)
KYLE ROBERTS: Looks like we're on our own for a little bit, Bruce. What do you think? A month or so of suspension?
BRUCE RICHARDS: I think that's a starting point. We can re-evaulate from that point.
KYLE ROBERTS: Okay. Let me just get my Palm out here. (Kyle turns on his Palm Pilot.) Mid-January: Coach is off susp- GAH!
BRUCE RICHARDS: What gah? What's wrong?
KYLE ROBERTS: Bruce, we've gotta find a cameraman around here! It shouldn't be TOO hard, since they're freakin' EVERYWHERE, it seems.
BRUCE RICHARDS: Kyle. TELL me what's wrong.
KYLE ROBERTS: (looks directly into shot) HEY! Have you been there the entire time? (shot nods up and down) THE HELL? Well, that doesn't matter now. Come closer! (The camera tightens in on the New and Improved D-X.) Is the camera on? (The camera nods again. Kyle curses under his breath.) Whatever. Ready?
Hey, Dudes! We, as the former holders of those belts you've probably got bean dip all over as we speak, challenge you to a rematch for the belts! And we want it to be this Monday!
BRUCE RICHARDS: That's no good. We've got the Christmas Chaos Tag Match that evening.
KYLE ROBERTS: Christmas Chaos?
BRUCE RICHARDS: Yeah, it's me and Rex Caliber against one of the Dudes and Immortal.
KYLE ROBERTS: You and Rex Caliber? Wow, really?
BRUCE RICHARDS: I swear, sometimes the Commission has such STUPID ideas for matches.
KYLE ROBERTS: No, that's pretty cool, actually. I think it's the first time you've faced off against a bigger opponent.
(Kyle notices the camera again.)
ANYWAYS, we'll save that tag team title match for the first Monday Night Fights of the new year, then! The New and Improved D-X against the Dudes, Round Two! And this time, it'll be no fluke win over us!
(Kyle turns to Bruce.)
I think that was a decent promo, don't you? (Bruce points to the camera again.) Oh, SONOFABI- (Camera shuts off.)
KYLE ROBERTS: Two in a row! Good lord! Two LOSSES in a row! What happened to the most dominant tag team in the NAPW?
(Bruce "The Beast" is leaning against the wall, not saying anything. Just cold as stone, in business mode. Coach Gordon Jago sits in a chair, crestfallen. His whistle is hanging from its lanyard, nowhere near his mouth. He breathes in to say something, thinks better of it, and slumps over again.)
KYLE ROBERTS: And YOU, Coach! We give you another chance to redeem yourself, and what do you do? You distract the ref just in time for Bill Fleming, of all people, to hand a chair to Static! He almost hit a home run! EXCEPT MY HEAD IS NOT A BASEBALL, COACH!
(Coach opens his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Roberts.)
KYLE ROBERTS: And so you dropped the ball again, Coach! It's like high school when Kris Sjoberg missed that free throw and lost the basketball game! What did you do, Coach? I seem to remember Sjoberg running laps for the next three practices. And the practices you ran were usually a good three hours!
I swear, Bruce and I don't know what to do with you. You're disappointing us at every turn, it seems! I thought that trip to Churchill was supposed to reinvigorate us! Put us on the same page! What do we have to show for it? TWO LOSSES AND CLAW MARKS ON MY ASS!
Sure, I'm used to putting calomine lotion on my ass, but that's USUALLY because of some fiesty randy fillies after an evening at the clubs! Not because of a one-ton POLAR BEAR!
Coach, I'm sorry that I have to do this, but I think we're going to put you in a trainer role for a little while. We don't want you coming down to ringside with us for the next few weeks, okay?
(The Coach looks to Bruce Richards, as if to say, "Help me?")
BRUCE RICHARDS: Sorry, Coach. I gave you one more chance. And you know how I don't break my word on things like this.
KYLE ROBERTS: So, Coach, I guess the only thing left to do is ask if you want to say anything in your defense. (The Coach is about to speak, only for Kyle to go on.) I guess that settles it, then. Coach, you're dismissed. We'll see you at the gym on Sunday.
(The Coach leaves the room, head slumped.)
KYLE ROBERTS: Looks like we're on our own for a little bit, Bruce. What do you think? A month or so of suspension?
BRUCE RICHARDS: I think that's a starting point. We can re-evaulate from that point.
KYLE ROBERTS: Okay. Let me just get my Palm out here. (Kyle turns on his Palm Pilot.) Mid-January: Coach is off susp- GAH!
BRUCE RICHARDS: What gah? What's wrong?
KYLE ROBERTS: Bruce, we've gotta find a cameraman around here! It shouldn't be TOO hard, since they're freakin' EVERYWHERE, it seems.
BRUCE RICHARDS: Kyle. TELL me what's wrong.
KYLE ROBERTS: (looks directly into shot) HEY! Have you been there the entire time? (shot nods up and down) THE HELL? Well, that doesn't matter now. Come closer! (The camera tightens in on the New and Improved D-X.) Is the camera on? (The camera nods again. Kyle curses under his breath.) Whatever. Ready?
Hey, Dudes! We, as the former holders of those belts you've probably got bean dip all over as we speak, challenge you to a rematch for the belts! And we want it to be this Monday!
BRUCE RICHARDS: That's no good. We've got the Christmas Chaos Tag Match that evening.
KYLE ROBERTS: Christmas Chaos?
BRUCE RICHARDS: Yeah, it's me and Rex Caliber against one of the Dudes and Immortal.
KYLE ROBERTS: You and Rex Caliber? Wow, really?
BRUCE RICHARDS: I swear, sometimes the Commission has such STUPID ideas for matches.
KYLE ROBERTS: No, that's pretty cool, actually. I think it's the first time you've faced off against a bigger opponent.
(Kyle notices the camera again.)
ANYWAYS, we'll save that tag team title match for the first Monday Night Fights of the new year, then! The New and Improved D-X against the Dudes, Round Two! And this time, it'll be no fluke win over us!
(Kyle turns to Bruce.)
I think that was a decent promo, don't you? (Bruce points to the camera again.) Oh, SONOFABI- (Camera shuts off.)