Post by The Delivery Men on Jan 8, 2006 18:23:40 GMT -5
(Lights up. It's the lounge at Delivery Dispatch. Delivery Man #1 and #2 are playing a relaxing game of chess. Neither man says a word . . . instead, stand witness to their unspoken internal monologue!!!)
DELIVERY MAN #1: I wonder if he knows his frickin' rook's in danger.
DELIVERY MAN #2: I wonder how frickin' rooks move.
(Suddenly, the blinds snap open. Delivery Man #88 views them through the lounge window.)
DELIVERY MAN #88: I'm ignoring them!
DELIVERY MAN #2: I can hardly frickin' wait until Monday. There was this terrible promo on NAPW.ca from Deathrow . . . (spitting sound) Deathrow! . . . going on and on and on about what he and the "smart" Doomrider are going to do in the NAPW. I swear to God he went on for ten frickin' minutes and I still don't know what his point was. It's like listening to someone who can only speak in adjectives.
DELIVERY MAN #1: Deathrow admitted that we were skilled fighters. That was very charitable of the frickin' gimp.
DELIVERY MAN #88: I don't pay attention to them at all! I don't even think about them! In fact, I'm not thinking about them right now!!!
DELIVERY MAN #2: Why is our first NAPW competition against two frickin' man-toddlers? Those were specifically the dead-last people we wanted to waste our time on. I suppose there's a certain amount of irony inherent here.
DELIVERY MAN #1: I wonder if Deathrow can spell "genital".
DELIVERY MAN #88: Those two . . . which I'm ignoring? I hate them so much! But on a sub-conscious level.
DELIVERY MAN #2: Why have we never seen both Doomriders together? Do they know that they're a team?
DELIVERY MAN #1: I wonder if Deathrow can spell "torture".
DELIVERY MAN #88: I'm a sadistic gladiator!
DELIVERY MAN #2: I mean, is it even fair of me to get in the ring with these fricks? They're not well. And certainly not toilet-trained.
DELIVERY MAN #1: I wonder if Deathrow would notice a big button with the word "spell check" on it.
DELIVERY MAN #88: I was caused by darkness! Born into darkness!
DELIVERY MAN #2: But really, who does this frick think he is? I'm the fastest delivery man in the business. My partner and I have won the Delivery Fighting Circuit's tag titles time and time again. Hell, we've been big with NAPW fans before we even had contracts. I'm not some schlub that's crippled by self-doubt! I'm one-half of the most dominant force on this planet! Why does he think frickin' talking like some kid kept behind a year in high school is going to throw a pro like me off my game?
DELIVERY MAN #1: I wonder if Deathrow knows what "PG-13" means.
DELIVERY MAN #88: Darkness! Darkness darkness darkness blackness darkness!
DELIVERY MAN #2: Why does he want to frickin' lick #1's ass? My ass is much nicer.
DELIVERY MAN #1: No, it's not.
DELIVERY MAN #88: Black darkness darkity towers crumbling anarchy darkness.
DELIVERY MAN #2: Well, whatever's wrong with him, it's nothing a little "beating to near-death" won't solve. So tonight, I enjoy my evening, and tomorrow, One and I frickin' take out the trash.
DELIVERY MAN #1: I wonder what the Doomriders think "face" means.
DELIVERY MAN #88: Ha ha! Nothing will prevent my ascendancy! Not wrestling, or talent, or coherency, or having a frickin' point! Nothing!
(The blinds snap shut. #1 and #2 look up, but see nothing. They go back to staring at the board.)
DELIVERY MAN #2: (Talking.) Frickin' go!
DELIVERY MAN #1: (Talking.) What?
DELIVERY MAN #2: It's your turn.
DELIVERY MAN #1: Oh.
(And they go back to staring at the board. Lights down.)
----------
With thanks to Ravager.
DELIVERY MAN #1: I wonder if he knows his frickin' rook's in danger.
DELIVERY MAN #2: I wonder how frickin' rooks move.
(Suddenly, the blinds snap open. Delivery Man #88 views them through the lounge window.)
DELIVERY MAN #88: I'm ignoring them!
DELIVERY MAN #2: I can hardly frickin' wait until Monday. There was this terrible promo on NAPW.ca from Deathrow . . . (spitting sound) Deathrow! . . . going on and on and on about what he and the "smart" Doomrider are going to do in the NAPW. I swear to God he went on for ten frickin' minutes and I still don't know what his point was. It's like listening to someone who can only speak in adjectives.
DELIVERY MAN #1: Deathrow admitted that we were skilled fighters. That was very charitable of the frickin' gimp.
DELIVERY MAN #88: I don't pay attention to them at all! I don't even think about them! In fact, I'm not thinking about them right now!!!
DELIVERY MAN #2: Why is our first NAPW competition against two frickin' man-toddlers? Those were specifically the dead-last people we wanted to waste our time on. I suppose there's a certain amount of irony inherent here.
DELIVERY MAN #1: I wonder if Deathrow can spell "genital".
DELIVERY MAN #88: Those two . . . which I'm ignoring? I hate them so much! But on a sub-conscious level.
DELIVERY MAN #2: Why have we never seen both Doomriders together? Do they know that they're a team?
DELIVERY MAN #1: I wonder if Deathrow can spell "torture".
DELIVERY MAN #88: I'm a sadistic gladiator!
DELIVERY MAN #2: I mean, is it even fair of me to get in the ring with these fricks? They're not well. And certainly not toilet-trained.
DELIVERY MAN #1: I wonder if Deathrow would notice a big button with the word "spell check" on it.
DELIVERY MAN #88: I was caused by darkness! Born into darkness!
DELIVERY MAN #2: But really, who does this frick think he is? I'm the fastest delivery man in the business. My partner and I have won the Delivery Fighting Circuit's tag titles time and time again. Hell, we've been big with NAPW fans before we even had contracts. I'm not some schlub that's crippled by self-doubt! I'm one-half of the most dominant force on this planet! Why does he think frickin' talking like some kid kept behind a year in high school is going to throw a pro like me off my game?
DELIVERY MAN #1: I wonder if Deathrow knows what "PG-13" means.
DELIVERY MAN #88: Darkness! Darkness darkness darkness blackness darkness!
DELIVERY MAN #2: Why does he want to frickin' lick #1's ass? My ass is much nicer.
DELIVERY MAN #1: No, it's not.
DELIVERY MAN #88: Black darkness darkity towers crumbling anarchy darkness.
DELIVERY MAN #2: Well, whatever's wrong with him, it's nothing a little "beating to near-death" won't solve. So tonight, I enjoy my evening, and tomorrow, One and I frickin' take out the trash.
DELIVERY MAN #1: I wonder what the Doomriders think "face" means.
DELIVERY MAN #88: Ha ha! Nothing will prevent my ascendancy! Not wrestling, or talent, or coherency, or having a frickin' point! Nothing!
(The blinds snap shut. #1 and #2 look up, but see nothing. They go back to staring at the board.)
DELIVERY MAN #2: (Talking.) Frickin' go!
DELIVERY MAN #1: (Talking.) What?
DELIVERY MAN #2: It's your turn.
DELIVERY MAN #1: Oh.
(And they go back to staring at the board. Lights down.)
----------
With thanks to Ravager.