Post by terrybrandon on Jan 7, 2006 15:35:20 GMT -5
30,000 feet in the sky - THE RAT PACK are living the high life even during travel. Aboard the NAPW Champion's private learjet - THE GOLDEN GOOSE - are the ELITE of the NAPW. The tag team champs and most dominating tag team today STYLIN' KYLE & THE BEAST. The premier trainer in wrestling today COACH GORDON JAGO. The most dangerous man in wrestling today EVAN CARTWRIGHT. The NAPW Champion and most hated man in wrestling today CHRIS CASINO.
And the greatest MIND in wrestling today, Terry Brandon. Who is currently sitting by himself with two cel phones, one on each ear, talking loudly and over top of whomever is on either line.
BRANDON: Listen up, baby! No --- no I said listen to me! The Rat Pack is the ELITE, the SUPREME, the BEST in wrestling today! This isn't McDonald's, you can't just sign an application! You want in --- I'll tell you what, I want you to prove yourself to me! No I don't care about your past with Rambler, I don't care if that's not his name, shut up! No I'm not going to tell you what to do, you have to figure it for yourself! If you can't --- hold on I got to be on the other line --- Hello? No, you can't speak with Chris Casino! I told you, Paris, he doesn't want anything to see you anymore! The restraining order is being filed, Hilton, so stay away, I've got another call --- Hello? You're still here! Start planning! I don't know, you figure it out, goodbyeHELLO? Jack Jones, yeah, we're on our way back, what's the weather like? Snowing? Yeah, we'll hook up when I'm in town, I'll meet the wife, my wife never shuts up she's a complete motormouth! What? Yes, she repeats, reiterates, states again what she has already stated --- why are you laughing? I'll touch down in three hours! Goodbye! Hello? No, Evan Cartwright did not play professional basketball! Evan Cartwright is the HANDS OF DEATH --- GOODBYE! *klick* *Klick*
Brandon throws both phones across the plane and stalks up towards the front. Coach Jago is napping, his mustache billowing through his snores. Evan Cartwright & The Beast are engaged in what appears to be an intelligent discussion. Stylin' Kyle? Reading the latest edition of "Bear Taming Monthly" (cover story: Grizzly Adams Comes Clean) and muttering bitterly to himself. And up front? Well, it's NAPW Champion Chris Casino, custom title belt on his lap, and a pretty lady in the seat beside him.
BRANDON: Chris, Chris --- Champ, I need to talk. Business.
CASINO: Hey, sugar, take off.
BRANDON: Good gravy, Casino, what the blue hell is going on with you and Marcus Trapier? We can't work with that maniac Minstrel!
CASINO: Heh, boss, you're getting them confused again. Course it's not hard to get these generic jock-strap jockeys of the NAPW confused.
BRANDON: But you were talking to Marcus Trapier! Who may or may not BE Minstrel, but certainly is involved in his business! Behind my back no less! Behind the back of the GREATEST MIND IN WRESTLING today!
CASINO: Terry...chill. I've got it all under control. Hey, you're the greatest mind, and I'm the greatest wrester, and we've got the greatest stable. And I've got it all under control.
BRANDON: Kid, but Minstrel: He's a maniac! A loon! Not somebody the psychologists would consider "stable!" Sure, he's the Provincial Champion, but EVAN CARTWRIGHT --- that's who the Rat Pack needs to be Provincial Champion! We can't trust Minstrel, and we definitely can't trust Marcus Trapier! Now? When D-X have a tag title defense and you have a ...well... Predator's possibly a light workout, but... well, when D-X have a tag title defense this monday!
Casino grins, a cocky expression on his face. He pats Brandon on the shoulder, nodding knowingly.
CASINO: Terry, The Rat Pack wouldn't be here without you. But I've come up with one helluva plan...
Casino cackles and begins to speak in undertones the camera can't catch. Terry Brandon visibly relaxes, guffaws, and ---
Lights down.
And the greatest MIND in wrestling today, Terry Brandon. Who is currently sitting by himself with two cel phones, one on each ear, talking loudly and over top of whomever is on either line.
BRANDON: Listen up, baby! No --- no I said listen to me! The Rat Pack is the ELITE, the SUPREME, the BEST in wrestling today! This isn't McDonald's, you can't just sign an application! You want in --- I'll tell you what, I want you to prove yourself to me! No I don't care about your past with Rambler, I don't care if that's not his name, shut up! No I'm not going to tell you what to do, you have to figure it for yourself! If you can't --- hold on I got to be on the other line --- Hello? No, you can't speak with Chris Casino! I told you, Paris, he doesn't want anything to see you anymore! The restraining order is being filed, Hilton, so stay away, I've got another call --- Hello? You're still here! Start planning! I don't know, you figure it out, goodbyeHELLO? Jack Jones, yeah, we're on our way back, what's the weather like? Snowing? Yeah, we'll hook up when I'm in town, I'll meet the wife, my wife never shuts up she's a complete motormouth! What? Yes, she repeats, reiterates, states again what she has already stated --- why are you laughing? I'll touch down in three hours! Goodbye! Hello? No, Evan Cartwright did not play professional basketball! Evan Cartwright is the HANDS OF DEATH --- GOODBYE! *klick* *Klick*
Brandon throws both phones across the plane and stalks up towards the front. Coach Jago is napping, his mustache billowing through his snores. Evan Cartwright & The Beast are engaged in what appears to be an intelligent discussion. Stylin' Kyle? Reading the latest edition of "Bear Taming Monthly" (cover story: Grizzly Adams Comes Clean) and muttering bitterly to himself. And up front? Well, it's NAPW Champion Chris Casino, custom title belt on his lap, and a pretty lady in the seat beside him.
BRANDON: Chris, Chris --- Champ, I need to talk. Business.
CASINO: Hey, sugar, take off.
BRANDON: Good gravy, Casino, what the blue hell is going on with you and Marcus Trapier? We can't work with that maniac Minstrel!
CASINO: Heh, boss, you're getting them confused again. Course it's not hard to get these generic jock-strap jockeys of the NAPW confused.
BRANDON: But you were talking to Marcus Trapier! Who may or may not BE Minstrel, but certainly is involved in his business! Behind my back no less! Behind the back of the GREATEST MIND IN WRESTLING today!
CASINO: Terry...chill. I've got it all under control. Hey, you're the greatest mind, and I'm the greatest wrester, and we've got the greatest stable. And I've got it all under control.
BRANDON: Kid, but Minstrel: He's a maniac! A loon! Not somebody the psychologists would consider "stable!" Sure, he's the Provincial Champion, but EVAN CARTWRIGHT --- that's who the Rat Pack needs to be Provincial Champion! We can't trust Minstrel, and we definitely can't trust Marcus Trapier! Now? When D-X have a tag title defense and you have a ...well... Predator's possibly a light workout, but... well, when D-X have a tag title defense this monday!
Casino grins, a cocky expression on his face. He pats Brandon on the shoulder, nodding knowingly.
CASINO: Terry, The Rat Pack wouldn't be here without you. But I've come up with one helluva plan...
Casino cackles and begins to speak in undertones the camera can't catch. Terry Brandon visibly relaxes, guffaws, and ---
Lights down.