An intervention

[Stylin' Kyle Roberts [REBEL]]

(A sound stage. A fake garden set is erected, as young children run on to the strains of a fairly well-known commercial jingle. In comes... what the hell?)

LARGE MAN: I'm a BIIIIG wrestler! And I need a BIIIG ass-kicking!

(Is that Bobby O'Brady? Well, no, it's Ryan Kingston dressed up in a singlet and a red wig. But he's a good enough parody, from a distance.)

KIDS: O'Brady's big! Yeah, yeah, yeah!

RYAN KINGSTON: I'm not small.

KIDS: No, no, no!

RYAN KINGSTON and KIDS: O'Brady's got! A big big ass! He needs a kick in his big big ass!

(Ryan drops the impersonation and calls offstage.)

RYAN KINGSTON: I'm sorry, Kyle.

(Kyle Roberts walks on with a paper megaphone and black beret.)

KYLE ROBERTS: What's wrong, Ryan?

RYAN KINGSTON: This just isn't working. I'm not getting any sense of getting one over your opponent this way.

KYLE ROBERTS: Yeah, well, I've got nothing.

RYAN KINGSTON: What?

KYLE ROBERTS: Come on, can you blame me? I'm not a details guy, I prefer thinking about the big picture. And the big picture is mocking O'Brady enough so he'll lose his cool and be mindless in the ring.

RYAN KINGSTON: Right, because that really worked when it came to Bruce Richards.

KYLE ROBERTS: I got him TOO riled up. I'm not going to make that mistake again. When it came to Bruce, I wanted to completely annihilate him, and I'll admit it, I went too far. I could care less about Bobby O'Brady. This time, it's all about getting the win, not demoralizing the big lug.

RYAN KINGSTON: I'm not sure if mocking a cereal commercial form the eighties is really any way to win here. Where were you planning on going with it?

KYLE ROBERTS: Cheer up, Ryan. It could be worse.

(Cut to a similar set, this one featuring a prominent wall. The caption "Half an hour earlier..." appears on the screen.)

KYLE ROBERTS: (offstage) Aaaaand ACTION!

(Ryan Kingston bursts through the wall, still wearing the red wig and singlet.)

RYAN KINGSTON: O' YEAAAAHHH!

(We cut back to the first set.)

RYAN KINGSTON: Yes, that made even less sense. I mean, you wrote out "O' Yeah" in the script, but when I say it, it sounds exactly the same! How's anybody going to know that you were going for a play on his name when you're using homonyms?

KYLE ROBERTS: You know what? Forget it. These kids have to be off the set soon anyways, and if you aren't in any mood to help me, I might as well just cut a promo myself.

RYAN KINGSTON: It's not that I'm not helping you. I just think my talents could be better used somewhere else.

KYLE ROBERTS: True, true. Tell you what, I'll meet you back at the apartment. Look into that discrimination suit against REBEL. See if we can make it a class action suit. I'll find some other wrestlers to help us out.

(Ryan nods and walks off the set. Kyle looks straight into the camera.)

KYLE ROBERTS: Bobby O'Brady. This week, we meet in the ring. First time since you lost a tag title to me. Well, I hope you're ready for a repeat of January. Because I'm not taking another loss here. I'm fighting for a win? How the (BLEEP) did it come to this, right? I'm not impressed with my showing in REBEL so far. And I aim to do something about it.

Then you come out of nowhere and challenge me! Why? Why would you be so stupid? Is it seriously as simple as not wanting to get booed? Go up against the most-hated wrestler on the REBEL roster? Why the hell do you care what the ignorant unwashed masses think of you, O'Brady? You should be better than that! You are better than the fans! We are giants to these morons, O'Brady! They pay their hard-earned money to come and see us fight. And, well, when it comes to me, if it's a fight they want, it's a fight they'll get.

I truly don't want to fight you, Bobby. You put me in this situation. I was willing to extend a hand to you, if only for the sake of being very similar to you in REBEL: A non-American. In fact, I'll give you some advice:

You want to know about how to get the crowd behind you? (BLEEP) THE CROWD! The only way they'll get behind you is if you make yourself more accessible to the lowest common denominator. Get yourself a leprechaun. Wear a derby. Put a four-leaf clover in your hat. Start mocking your heritage. It's all Americans know.

You know why the crowd doesn't cheer me? It's not because they hate me, it's that they hate what I'm not. I'm not a hoser. I don't say "eh?" all the time. I've got an accent that reminds them of North Dakota, not every single Canadian stereotype. I don't own a beaver. And I certainly don't play into their image of me. And that pisses them off.

Have you noticed that my career highs have come at the expense of the fans? I only get somewhere in this business when I stop caring about what the fans think. When I DID care, all it got me was pain. Beatdowns by other men. And, of course, stress from worrying if my partner was going to have yet another concussion.

So, for the love of GOD, Bobby, don't get into that ring against me if you want to get cheered. Come into the ring for the sport of competition, face me to recoup some of the honour that you lost against me, go out there and tear shit up for the sake of tearing shit up. But if you go into the ring for the sole sake of being loved by the fans?

You've already lost.

Because, so help me God, I will be out for blood. I will cripple you, I'll beat you down so badly you wish you were Alec Baldwin's daughter, because compared to my wrath? She got off easy. You are currently the only thing standing in my way of victory here in REBEL, Bobby. And when it comes to this biased, discriminating company? I'll take every win I get here. Whatever gets me to within an inch of the big shiny belt, O'Brady, I'll take it. Because it's certainly not going to come due to the kindness of our company. It's up to me and me alone to get what I deserve.

Think about it, Bobby. What do you deserve? Do you deserve the loyalty of the fans? If that's what you think, then stop going for the (BLEEP)ing cheap pop. No allusions to the Horsemen. No mentions of Ric Flair. Because no matter what you do, you'll never be North Carolinan. They won't cotton to you.

Me? I don't want to be American. I don't want to be North Carolinan. I'm way too proud of my heritage to throw it away for what I think the fans would like. Have you seen the ingrates they've got down here? If it wasn't for the co-ed cuties that live around my condo, there wouldn't be a single person who would redeem my faith in America. If I wanted to become a hillbilly, I'd have moved to Drumheller, Alberta, a long time ago. You know what the difference is? Canada has a lesser sense of ignorance. At least we can point to other countries on a map.

So, Bobby. What is it? What exactly are you fighting for? I beg you, find a cause that doesn't turn on you. Do it for you. Because if you try to do it for the fans?

You end up like them. And that's something I just won't do.

See you in the ring, Bobby. I hope I don't have to kick your ass something fierce.

(Kyle walks off the set as we fade to black.)