Post by D! on Jan 28, 2006 5:38:04 GMT -5
(Lights up on a large, golden-brown relic of a building on the corner of Whyte and 103rd. It could be one of Edmonton's oldest buildings and nothing good has ever come out of it--the legendary Strathcona Hotel. On the main floor is a barber's shop . . . has it ever been used? No one knows and no one's telling. The hotel rooms . . . do they rent? Please, Lord, we beg of Thee not to inform us.
But the tavern that occupies most of the main floor, well, that's a different story. Mainly college students, spiced with a tangibly dangerous crowd, the "Strat" has endured time, fires and riot to stand as the recognizable watering hole that it is today. And the always game D!, NAPW Title belt on his shoulder, is loving the change of scenery.
There is a scruffy-looking man hitting on some drunken college girls. He is telling them, loudly, that he has just been released from prison. This is not an embellishment. He has a beer.
There is a young man, in a group, with a metal halo attached to his head and neck. He has a beer.
There is an old man, sitting alone, apparently content to see everyone bustle round him. He has a beer.
And recognizeable, even in the crowd, is Mark "The Moose" Millar. The Edmonton-born, Edmonton-bred rig pig turned NAPW Superstar . . . has beer. Plural. And he's already finishing off the last one as D! struts in. Moose looks up, adjusts his Oilers "third" cap, and smiles broadly.)
MOOSE: Don't tell me ya got lost gettin' here! I started without ya!
D!: Buddy, if I knew it was the Strat, I'd've gotten here early.
MOOSE: (Roars laughing.) Whad'ja think, we were stopping for sushi?
(D! sticks his hand out and Moose grips it, nearly engulfing it. Trying not to wince, he has a seat.)
OLD MAN: (Standing suddenly.) Panthers win, four-nothing! (Sits back down.)
D!: (Looking around.) I'm a little freaked out by that. There's no TV in here.
MOOSE: Haw! He just loves his sports.
(A waitress swings by with a platter full of pitchers. She sets them down on the wrestler's table, picks one up, and carries it over to another table.)
D!: (Calling out.) Oy! Miss! We're occupied! Please don't use our table as a bussing station!
WAITRESS: (Matter-of-fact.) That's your friend's order, sir.
(D! takes this in, looks at Moose, who's cracking up, then looks back at the waitress.)
D!: Sorry. I'll have Trad. Just the one pitcher, please.
(She liberates her tray and leaves. Moose goes straight to pouring D! a pint of Canadian.)
MOOSE: No sense wastin' time, eh?
D!: (Taking a sip of his pint.) Are we ripping off the Decapitators' gimmick by doing this?
MOOSE: . . . this don't look like The Price Is Right to me, man.
D!: Good point. (Drinks.) Wait. What?
MOOSE: Yer on like your first beer, don't tell me yer getting confused already. The Decapitators are doing that Happy-Time Variety hour. We're drinkin' beers in my favorite waterin' hole. (Drinks.) You sure you weren't drinkin' before you come here?
OLD MAN: (Slams his table.) GOOOAAALLL!!! Olli Jokinen!
D!: I'm starting to think I should have.
(The waitress stops by and nonchalantly leaves a dark-nut pitcher of Big Rock Traditional.)
D!: Good one, God.
(D! holds his pint up, and Moose clinks his against it.)
MOOSE: To us!
D!: Cutting the Rat Pack off at the knees, taking the NAPW Title out of their reach and getting D-X fired!
MOOSE: Give ol' Predator the scraps!
(Both men slam their beers back.)
D!: Okay, first of all, how awesome is it that the two of us, two rasslers from the very beginning of NAPW, are teaming up for the first time? And furthermore, how awesome is it that we're going into MNF wanting the same damn thing . . . to illustrate a point.
MOOSE: Hell yeah, D! That's what I'm talkin' about! No more of this garbage interference and bullshit, just the best goin' out there and givin' it all for the damn fans! You and me, we been at this since the beginning, and we both come through some hard times. Dusty Rhodes hard times! And now it's time to ROCK! (Slams his fist down, rattling the pitchers.)
D!: (Doing the same.) I've gotta confess, Moose, I was pretty in awe of you in that first week.
MOOSE: What, in awe of me? For goin' out and losing in the first week? D!, don't listen to that crap Plague told you. Yer not some 'kid' or nothing, you're same as the rest of us. Tryin' to make it through. You come out that first week and blow everybody's minds. Don't be so damn humble!
D!: Truth! Honest truth!
MOOSE: You see the Edmonton Oilers going around saying "yeah, we won some stanley cups but you know, gosh". NO! It's the City of Champions! The EDMONTON FREAKIN' OILERS!
OLD MAN: Panthers!
MOOSE: You're a two-time freakin' NAPW Champion! Don't gotta be a jerk about it, but that's fact, man, and you can stand by that. (Rattling the table again with an open-hand slap.) FACT!
D!: Aw man, you'll make me blush.
MOOSE: Fact like Edmonton needing a good goaltender this year but hey.
D!: Listen, you gotta remember, I was watching everything happen that first week, same as about every fan. I wanted you to win. I needed you to win. Y'see, it was either you or Ravager, and buddy, I wasn't at all pleased with what he represented. I mean, here's a guy who makes his living attacking people on the street, right?
MOOSE: Right. No good in that.
D!: Here's a guy who spat at Edmonton, and yet was threatening to take the Provincial Title.
MOOSE: Hell man, I still don't get why the fans started cheerin' him. But they pay their ticket, they can cheer or boo whoever they damn want!
D!: (Nods.) Well, true. (Pours himself a Trad.) I mean . . . I've had a chance to know him since then, but you never grow to fully trust the guy.
MOOSE: Who'd trust a hitman?
D!: Well, exactly. (Sighs.) I mean, here's the deal: I've had this guy as my partner, I've trusted him, and wouldn't you know it, just when you get to like the guy, he . . .
(D! takes a drink.)
D!: Well, it's like the Frog and the Scorpion.
MOOSE: (Shakes his head.) . . . I'm gonna need another beer. Did you just say frog and the scorpion, man?
D!: Yeah, sounds like a bad English pub, but bear with me here . . .
There's a scorpion, right, and he wants to cross the river. So he skitters up to a frog and asks if he can ride across his back. Now, the frog's got his doubts, naturally. Scorpion's a real bugger. And he tells him "No, you're the last animal I can trust." The Scorpion says "Hey, listen. I need to get across the river, and I can't do that if you're dead. Why would I sting you if you're my only chance of getting across the river?" So the frog thinks about it. And by gum, the scorpion's making sense. So he lets the scorpion sit on his back, and starts swimming. And as they get halfway across the river, the scorpion starts stinging the frog like crazy, giving him a lethal dose of venom.
MOOSE: That bastard scorpion!
D!: Frog's dying, and he starts screaming "You're gonna drown! You're gonna die in this river! WHY did you DO that?" And the last thing the scorpion says is, "What am I supposed to do? I'm a scorpion."
And the sad thing is, Moose, is Ravager's the scorpion. We all saw what he was first thing, that first week.
MOOSE: He's a son of a bitch is what he is.
D!: EXACTLY! He started off as a cold-blooded sneak, but what happens? People start cheering for him--
MOOSE: You know, I'm not going to sit here and complain about Ravager beating me. He beat me clean in the ring. (Drinks.) Hell man, he was a killer provincial champ. He defended that belt all the time.
D!: Don't tell me you're defending him.
MOOSE: He ain't never done anything bad to me, D!. I call a spade a spade. Ravager in the ring, he won the title clean. He won it back clean. All I've seen of him outside the ring, I wouldn't trust him s'far as I can spit.
(A pretty young thing in hip-huggers walks by, catching both men's attention before they return to their conversation.)
MOOSE: Still, he's the guy who had to come out and get the damn attention and be a dick when everybody else is celebratin' your title win with you at Joker's Wild.
D!: Exactly. People act like he's changed, but he hasn't. This is what I'm getting at.
(He drains the last of his first glass.)
D!: But you, Moose, you fascinate me.
MOOSE: . . . you comin' on to me?
D!: You're not my type, Moose. Y'know, with a dick and all.
(Moose roars with laughter.)
D!: It's just that, after that first month, I almost thought you'd left NAPW. (He leans over to tag Moose's shoulder.) But you're here, and we're talking, and you're completely fired up!
MOOSE: I'm in the damn main event, wrestlin' in my hometown! Damn rights I'm fired up! Hell wouldn't I be?
D!: (Grins.) No reason, man.
MOOSE: Listen, truth told, I lost my focus for a while. I just couldn't win, and I know I'm better'n that. I sat there feelin' sorry for myself, you know? And then . . .
(Moose stares at the ceiling.)
MOOSE: Somebody took time out to say "hey moose, you can still do this." I didn't know what to do, but when D-X come to screw you again, I couldn't sit in the crowd anymore! (Beat.) I bought a ticket, even, t'make sure nobody knew that I was only sittin' in the crowd at the biggest NAPW show ever.
(He tilts back to eye-level.)
MOOSE: Anyways. Be a good match. We know we can't trust Ravager, but I respect him in th' ring. What about this Maniac guy?
D!: I've watched a lot of his matches. He's tough. Tricky. Wild. (Pours himself a new Trad.) He's like an evil Moose.
MOOSE: If that's a compliment, I'll take it. So he's gonna be a handful.
D!: Basically, if you go toe-to-toe with him, be prepared to break out the whup-ass. But let it be understood, Moose . . . Maniac only cares about himself. And that's why I think we have an advantage. Did you see how he "partnered" with J.C. Cook?
MOOSE: Yeah, I saw that. Not much for teamwork.
D!: Bingo.
MOOSE: Yeah well, those two sons of bitches can do whatever they want. We'll be busy winnin' the match.
D!: Bingo.
MOOSE: Tell you one thing, D!. One thing you don't need to worry about is me going soft. I always bring the whup-ass!
D!: You gonna Roughneck some people?
MOOSE: (Once again roaring with laughter.) Dammit, D!, I'm gonna roughneck every damn sucker in that ring with more than one letter in their name until we get one-two-three!
D!: Good! (Drinks.)
MOOSE: You ain't gotta worry about that until one day we match up for that gold, man. Ha!
(D! spits beer.)
D!: The two . . . the two of us, huh?
MOOSE: Bring the house down. But I ain't in any hurry. That Provincial Title and me got a date sooner than later, you know?
D!: Oh . . . no. Oh great.
MOOSE: Whut?
(Moose turns his head to see two young athletes, respectively wearing Ravager's "Nothing Personal" and Maniac's "Most Unpredictable Son Of a Bitch" T-shirts make a bee-line for them.)
D!: We're in a bar. We're wrestlers in a bar. Of course we're gonna get in a fight. Why didn't I see this coming?
(Moose stands and cuts them off.)
MOOSE: Ladies.
RAVAGER FAN: Well, look what we got here, Cory. A couple of sacks of crap.
MOOSE: What'd you two want?
RAVAGER FAN: We couldn't believe our luck when we saw you two sitting together. Cory and I are huge NAPW fans, just not of you two. (Sniggers.)So it's gonna be awful sweet seeing our heroes kick your asses come Monday Night.
D!: Lemme guess. You're a Ravager fan.
RAVAGER FAN: Oh good one, genius! Right outta the gate! And my buddy loves Maniac!
MANIAC FAN: He's my idol. I grew up on a farm outside Steinbach, Manitoba. I had two sisters, one, Lacy, born two years ahead of me, and two, Stephanie, born three years behind. I had a rooster for a pet, his name was "Mr.Dog" and there's a funny story there that I'll get to. My earliest memory is of light straining through a dirty window, wondering why I saw so little of my father. Even as a toddler, I always wanted to help around the farm, but as I was always getting "underfoot", I was usually being fussed after by Mom or Lacy. It wasn't until I was seventeen months that I even spoke my first word, and it was "Laylee", which, of course, was me trying to say "Lacy". As I was learning to crawl--
(Moose socks him in the mouth.)
D!: Thank you.
MOOSE: Get movin', ya snot-nosed punks! We was enjoyin' ourselves!
RAVAGER FAN: Make us!
MOOSE: (Rolling up his sleeve.) Well, if that's what'cha want, then you're gonna get a preview of the NAPW's two most dominant wrestlers, right here. LET'S ROCK!
D!: (Staring at Moose's arm.) Arm . . . arm, wrestlers. Wrestlers, arm, wrestlers, OF COURSE!
(D! rushes in-between Moose and the two fans.)
D!: We don't have to fight! I've got a better idea!
MOOSE: What?
D!: Drinking contest!
(Pause.)
RAVAGER FAN: Hey, dude, whatever. But if, like, we win, you're buying rounds . . . for the entire Strat, for the night!
MOOSE: Yeah, well if we win, we're gonna make you eat your purty shirts! Now LET'S ROCK!
(All four men grab pitchers, and a crowd surrounds them, chanting "CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!")
MOOSE: You up for this?
D!: What's the worst that can happen?
(Outside the Strat, D! and Moose are standing in the bitter cold watching paramedics load a body bag into the back of an ambulance.)
D!: Wow . . .
MOOSE: Yeah . . .
D!: That got real sucky real quick.
MOOSE: The look on his face when he died . . . horrible.
(Pause.)
D!: Still, an old man like that, heart attacks just sneak up on ya.
MOOSE: Makes ya think.
(The door swings open and the two fans stick their heads out into the cold.)
RAVAGER FAN: Hey, I'm sorry he's dead, but will ya quit stalling and do this drinking contest we're supposed to have?
MOOSE: SIT YOUR ASS BACK DOWN AND YOU'LL GET A DRINKIN' CONTEST!
(The two fans retreat into the warmth of the building.)
MOOSE: (Spits.) Haw! I love this place! Why would ya go anywhere else?
(Moose goes back inside, and the second the door closes, we hear a wild fracas come from inside, the voices of the fanboys shrieking.
D! stares at the door, shrugs his shoulders--)
D!: Meh!
(--and kicks the door open, flinging himself into the melee. Lights down.)
----------
Co-written by Moose.
But the tavern that occupies most of the main floor, well, that's a different story. Mainly college students, spiced with a tangibly dangerous crowd, the "Strat" has endured time, fires and riot to stand as the recognizable watering hole that it is today. And the always game D!, NAPW Title belt on his shoulder, is loving the change of scenery.
There is a scruffy-looking man hitting on some drunken college girls. He is telling them, loudly, that he has just been released from prison. This is not an embellishment. He has a beer.
There is a young man, in a group, with a metal halo attached to his head and neck. He has a beer.
There is an old man, sitting alone, apparently content to see everyone bustle round him. He has a beer.
And recognizeable, even in the crowd, is Mark "The Moose" Millar. The Edmonton-born, Edmonton-bred rig pig turned NAPW Superstar . . . has beer. Plural. And he's already finishing off the last one as D! struts in. Moose looks up, adjusts his Oilers "third" cap, and smiles broadly.)
MOOSE: Don't tell me ya got lost gettin' here! I started without ya!
D!: Buddy, if I knew it was the Strat, I'd've gotten here early.
MOOSE: (Roars laughing.) Whad'ja think, we were stopping for sushi?
(D! sticks his hand out and Moose grips it, nearly engulfing it. Trying not to wince, he has a seat.)
OLD MAN: (Standing suddenly.) Panthers win, four-nothing! (Sits back down.)
D!: (Looking around.) I'm a little freaked out by that. There's no TV in here.
MOOSE: Haw! He just loves his sports.
(A waitress swings by with a platter full of pitchers. She sets them down on the wrestler's table, picks one up, and carries it over to another table.)
D!: (Calling out.) Oy! Miss! We're occupied! Please don't use our table as a bussing station!
WAITRESS: (Matter-of-fact.) That's your friend's order, sir.
(D! takes this in, looks at Moose, who's cracking up, then looks back at the waitress.)
D!: Sorry. I'll have Trad. Just the one pitcher, please.
(She liberates her tray and leaves. Moose goes straight to pouring D! a pint of Canadian.)
MOOSE: No sense wastin' time, eh?
D!: (Taking a sip of his pint.) Are we ripping off the Decapitators' gimmick by doing this?
MOOSE: . . . this don't look like The Price Is Right to me, man.
D!: Good point. (Drinks.) Wait. What?
MOOSE: Yer on like your first beer, don't tell me yer getting confused already. The Decapitators are doing that Happy-Time Variety hour. We're drinkin' beers in my favorite waterin' hole. (Drinks.) You sure you weren't drinkin' before you come here?
OLD MAN: (Slams his table.) GOOOAAALLL!!! Olli Jokinen!
D!: I'm starting to think I should have.
(The waitress stops by and nonchalantly leaves a dark-nut pitcher of Big Rock Traditional.)
D!: Good one, God.
(D! holds his pint up, and Moose clinks his against it.)
MOOSE: To us!
D!: Cutting the Rat Pack off at the knees, taking the NAPW Title out of their reach and getting D-X fired!
MOOSE: Give ol' Predator the scraps!
(Both men slam their beers back.)
D!: Okay, first of all, how awesome is it that the two of us, two rasslers from the very beginning of NAPW, are teaming up for the first time? And furthermore, how awesome is it that we're going into MNF wanting the same damn thing . . . to illustrate a point.
MOOSE: Hell yeah, D! That's what I'm talkin' about! No more of this garbage interference and bullshit, just the best goin' out there and givin' it all for the damn fans! You and me, we been at this since the beginning, and we both come through some hard times. Dusty Rhodes hard times! And now it's time to ROCK! (Slams his fist down, rattling the pitchers.)
D!: (Doing the same.) I've gotta confess, Moose, I was pretty in awe of you in that first week.
MOOSE: What, in awe of me? For goin' out and losing in the first week? D!, don't listen to that crap Plague told you. Yer not some 'kid' or nothing, you're same as the rest of us. Tryin' to make it through. You come out that first week and blow everybody's minds. Don't be so damn humble!
D!: Truth! Honest truth!
MOOSE: You see the Edmonton Oilers going around saying "yeah, we won some stanley cups but you know, gosh". NO! It's the City of Champions! The EDMONTON FREAKIN' OILERS!
OLD MAN: Panthers!
MOOSE: You're a two-time freakin' NAPW Champion! Don't gotta be a jerk about it, but that's fact, man, and you can stand by that. (Rattling the table again with an open-hand slap.) FACT!
D!: Aw man, you'll make me blush.
MOOSE: Fact like Edmonton needing a good goaltender this year but hey.
D!: Listen, you gotta remember, I was watching everything happen that first week, same as about every fan. I wanted you to win. I needed you to win. Y'see, it was either you or Ravager, and buddy, I wasn't at all pleased with what he represented. I mean, here's a guy who makes his living attacking people on the street, right?
MOOSE: Right. No good in that.
D!: Here's a guy who spat at Edmonton, and yet was threatening to take the Provincial Title.
MOOSE: Hell man, I still don't get why the fans started cheerin' him. But they pay their ticket, they can cheer or boo whoever they damn want!
D!: (Nods.) Well, true. (Pours himself a Trad.) I mean . . . I've had a chance to know him since then, but you never grow to fully trust the guy.
MOOSE: Who'd trust a hitman?
D!: Well, exactly. (Sighs.) I mean, here's the deal: I've had this guy as my partner, I've trusted him, and wouldn't you know it, just when you get to like the guy, he . . .
(D! takes a drink.)
D!: Well, it's like the Frog and the Scorpion.
MOOSE: (Shakes his head.) . . . I'm gonna need another beer. Did you just say frog and the scorpion, man?
D!: Yeah, sounds like a bad English pub, but bear with me here . . .
There's a scorpion, right, and he wants to cross the river. So he skitters up to a frog and asks if he can ride across his back. Now, the frog's got his doubts, naturally. Scorpion's a real bugger. And he tells him "No, you're the last animal I can trust." The Scorpion says "Hey, listen. I need to get across the river, and I can't do that if you're dead. Why would I sting you if you're my only chance of getting across the river?" So the frog thinks about it. And by gum, the scorpion's making sense. So he lets the scorpion sit on his back, and starts swimming. And as they get halfway across the river, the scorpion starts stinging the frog like crazy, giving him a lethal dose of venom.
MOOSE: That bastard scorpion!
D!: Frog's dying, and he starts screaming "You're gonna drown! You're gonna die in this river! WHY did you DO that?" And the last thing the scorpion says is, "What am I supposed to do? I'm a scorpion."
And the sad thing is, Moose, is Ravager's the scorpion. We all saw what he was first thing, that first week.
MOOSE: He's a son of a bitch is what he is.
D!: EXACTLY! He started off as a cold-blooded sneak, but what happens? People start cheering for him--
MOOSE: You know, I'm not going to sit here and complain about Ravager beating me. He beat me clean in the ring. (Drinks.) Hell man, he was a killer provincial champ. He defended that belt all the time.
D!: Don't tell me you're defending him.
MOOSE: He ain't never done anything bad to me, D!. I call a spade a spade. Ravager in the ring, he won the title clean. He won it back clean. All I've seen of him outside the ring, I wouldn't trust him s'far as I can spit.
(A pretty young thing in hip-huggers walks by, catching both men's attention before they return to their conversation.)
MOOSE: Still, he's the guy who had to come out and get the damn attention and be a dick when everybody else is celebratin' your title win with you at Joker's Wild.
D!: Exactly. People act like he's changed, but he hasn't. This is what I'm getting at.
(He drains the last of his first glass.)
D!: But you, Moose, you fascinate me.
MOOSE: . . . you comin' on to me?
D!: You're not my type, Moose. Y'know, with a dick and all.
(Moose roars with laughter.)
D!: It's just that, after that first month, I almost thought you'd left NAPW. (He leans over to tag Moose's shoulder.) But you're here, and we're talking, and you're completely fired up!
MOOSE: I'm in the damn main event, wrestlin' in my hometown! Damn rights I'm fired up! Hell wouldn't I be?
D!: (Grins.) No reason, man.
MOOSE: Listen, truth told, I lost my focus for a while. I just couldn't win, and I know I'm better'n that. I sat there feelin' sorry for myself, you know? And then . . .
(Moose stares at the ceiling.)
MOOSE: Somebody took time out to say "hey moose, you can still do this." I didn't know what to do, but when D-X come to screw you again, I couldn't sit in the crowd anymore! (Beat.) I bought a ticket, even, t'make sure nobody knew that I was only sittin' in the crowd at the biggest NAPW show ever.
(He tilts back to eye-level.)
MOOSE: Anyways. Be a good match. We know we can't trust Ravager, but I respect him in th' ring. What about this Maniac guy?
D!: I've watched a lot of his matches. He's tough. Tricky. Wild. (Pours himself a new Trad.) He's like an evil Moose.
MOOSE: If that's a compliment, I'll take it. So he's gonna be a handful.
D!: Basically, if you go toe-to-toe with him, be prepared to break out the whup-ass. But let it be understood, Moose . . . Maniac only cares about himself. And that's why I think we have an advantage. Did you see how he "partnered" with J.C. Cook?
MOOSE: Yeah, I saw that. Not much for teamwork.
D!: Bingo.
MOOSE: Yeah well, those two sons of bitches can do whatever they want. We'll be busy winnin' the match.
D!: Bingo.
MOOSE: Tell you one thing, D!. One thing you don't need to worry about is me going soft. I always bring the whup-ass!
D!: You gonna Roughneck some people?
MOOSE: (Once again roaring with laughter.) Dammit, D!, I'm gonna roughneck every damn sucker in that ring with more than one letter in their name until we get one-two-three!
D!: Good! (Drinks.)
MOOSE: You ain't gotta worry about that until one day we match up for that gold, man. Ha!
(D! spits beer.)
D!: The two . . . the two of us, huh?
MOOSE: Bring the house down. But I ain't in any hurry. That Provincial Title and me got a date sooner than later, you know?
D!: Oh . . . no. Oh great.
MOOSE: Whut?
(Moose turns his head to see two young athletes, respectively wearing Ravager's "Nothing Personal" and Maniac's "Most Unpredictable Son Of a Bitch" T-shirts make a bee-line for them.)
D!: We're in a bar. We're wrestlers in a bar. Of course we're gonna get in a fight. Why didn't I see this coming?
(Moose stands and cuts them off.)
MOOSE: Ladies.
RAVAGER FAN: Well, look what we got here, Cory. A couple of sacks of crap.
MOOSE: What'd you two want?
RAVAGER FAN: We couldn't believe our luck when we saw you two sitting together. Cory and I are huge NAPW fans, just not of you two. (Sniggers.)So it's gonna be awful sweet seeing our heroes kick your asses come Monday Night.
D!: Lemme guess. You're a Ravager fan.
RAVAGER FAN: Oh good one, genius! Right outta the gate! And my buddy loves Maniac!
MANIAC FAN: He's my idol. I grew up on a farm outside Steinbach, Manitoba. I had two sisters, one, Lacy, born two years ahead of me, and two, Stephanie, born three years behind. I had a rooster for a pet, his name was "Mr.Dog" and there's a funny story there that I'll get to. My earliest memory is of light straining through a dirty window, wondering why I saw so little of my father. Even as a toddler, I always wanted to help around the farm, but as I was always getting "underfoot", I was usually being fussed after by Mom or Lacy. It wasn't until I was seventeen months that I even spoke my first word, and it was "Laylee", which, of course, was me trying to say "Lacy". As I was learning to crawl--
(Moose socks him in the mouth.)
D!: Thank you.
MOOSE: Get movin', ya snot-nosed punks! We was enjoyin' ourselves!
RAVAGER FAN: Make us!
MOOSE: (Rolling up his sleeve.) Well, if that's what'cha want, then you're gonna get a preview of the NAPW's two most dominant wrestlers, right here. LET'S ROCK!
D!: (Staring at Moose's arm.) Arm . . . arm, wrestlers. Wrestlers, arm, wrestlers, OF COURSE!
(D! rushes in-between Moose and the two fans.)
D!: We don't have to fight! I've got a better idea!
MOOSE: What?
D!: Drinking contest!
(Pause.)
RAVAGER FAN: Hey, dude, whatever. But if, like, we win, you're buying rounds . . . for the entire Strat, for the night!
MOOSE: Yeah, well if we win, we're gonna make you eat your purty shirts! Now LET'S ROCK!
(All four men grab pitchers, and a crowd surrounds them, chanting "CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!")
MOOSE: You up for this?
D!: What's the worst that can happen?
THIRTY MINUTES LATER
(Outside the Strat, D! and Moose are standing in the bitter cold watching paramedics load a body bag into the back of an ambulance.)
D!: Wow . . .
MOOSE: Yeah . . .
D!: That got real sucky real quick.
MOOSE: The look on his face when he died . . . horrible.
(Pause.)
D!: Still, an old man like that, heart attacks just sneak up on ya.
MOOSE: Makes ya think.
(The door swings open and the two fans stick their heads out into the cold.)
RAVAGER FAN: Hey, I'm sorry he's dead, but will ya quit stalling and do this drinking contest we're supposed to have?
MOOSE: SIT YOUR ASS BACK DOWN AND YOU'LL GET A DRINKIN' CONTEST!
(The two fans retreat into the warmth of the building.)
MOOSE: (Spits.) Haw! I love this place! Why would ya go anywhere else?
(Moose goes back inside, and the second the door closes, we hear a wild fracas come from inside, the voices of the fanboys shrieking.
D! stares at the door, shrugs his shoulders--)
D!: Meh!
(--and kicks the door open, flinging himself into the melee. Lights down.)
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Co-written by Moose.