Cooling Doom

[Scott [NAPW Staff]]

(Lights up. We're standing in the large walk in freezer in the back of some restaurant, somewhere. MICHAEL JOHNSTON and CAMERON SCOTT stand, wearing parkas, smiling into the camera, their breath frosting as they talk.)

MIKE: Tommy Deathrow! Wassup homeslice? We noticed that you cut a promo about how Cam, Static and I have our heads in the clouds, about how you're a member of a sick, freakish cabal, and you're going to run roughshod all over the NAPW.

CAM: And we can respect that.

MIKE: But, at the same time, it makes us kind of sad. The kind of sad you feel when you see someone who has completely missed the point.

CAM: Frankly, Tommy - can we call you Tommy? Ok... Mr. Deathrow. Mr. Deathrow, we have really just one thing to say to you.

MIKE and CAM: Chill out. Seriously.

MIKE: Dude, honestly. It's nice that you and Sick Billy and Illusion all have your little "hardcore" club. Really! It's sweet, and it's nice that you have a hobby. But then you went and brought up the Tag Team Titles...

CAM: What is it with posers in this place? Seriously. You claim to be a "freak" who's going to take us to hell and back in the ring... and then suddenly change gears to "We are the most liable leaders of the NAPW Tag division." What's it going to be? Are you going to run roughshod over us all? Or are you trying to get the titles?

MIKE: We're going to be serious. Just for a moment, here, so bear with us. We just want to set the record straight, right here, right now. We don't care about the Tag Team Titles. At least, not the way you, and D-X, and everyone else seems to.

CAM: We're here to WRESTLE.

MIKE: And no one seems to be able to wrap their heads around this.

CAM: The only reason we want the belts... is because it seems to cheese off everyone else. And that's pretty hilarious from where we're standing.

(Cam and Mike exchange a high five and laugh.)

MIKE: See... we don't need a title belt to justify our existence as a tag team... like some people.

CAM: And we don't need a title belt to prove that we're amongst the best at what we do... like some people.

MIKE: We really just, well, KNOW that we're one of the best teams - if not the best team - in the NAPW. We prove it night after night in the ring, win or lose.

CAM: For all we care, D-X can have the belts forever. You know why?

MIKE: Because the belts are just a symbol. In the end, they're only as prestigious as the team that holds them.

CAM: And we're secure enough to understand that. A good tag team proves they're good in the ring, not with a shiny gold plated strip of leather with their name on it.

MIKE: Hence, we want to wrestle. Don't get us wrong, we'll take the belts if they come out way.

CAM: Again, because it cheeses off people taking this WAY too seriously... people like, you Mr. Deathrow.

MIKE: But that's not the PURPOSE of the Dudes. The Dudes are just here to entertain the fans by going out night after night and being in the most memorable matches.

CAM: First team to defeat the New and Improved D-X in the NAPW.

MIKE: Check.

CAM: One of three teams in the first ever ladder match in the NAPW.

MIKE: Check.

CAM: Wrestled ten minutes against Rex Caliber and Static to a draw.

MIKE: Check.

CAM: So you can't come in here and tell us you're the best... that we should be like you.

MIKE: Because telling us how awesome you are means nothing. It just makes you like D-X. Or worse, Storm. Someone who thinks that talking big and holding gold makes you "the best." It doesn't. It makes you a blow hard with an ugly belt you would never wear in public.

CAM: But, we're willing to oblige you. Maybe you talk the talk, AND walk the walk. You'd be the first... with the possible exception of Rex and Static.

MIKE: We have a healthy dose of respect for them because they can DRINK. A lot! And they respect us in turn. You, however, seem to have respect issues. You - and I'm paraphrasing here - want to "taste our blood."

CAM: Which brings us to this place.

(Cam gestures to the refrigerator we've been in this whole time.)

CAM: See we've got this thing about feeding you bleeding chunks of our flesh. It's... well... not awesome. But, as a peace offering, we're going to ensure that you HAVE some bleeding chunks of flesh to feed on.

MIKE: We didn't see a "Please don't feed the Doomriders" sign anywhere, so we figured it would be okay.

CAM: So we hit the nearest meat locker, and here we are. Mike, grab some of that over there.

MIKE: Right.

(Mike and Cam begins loading up armfuls of frozen meat.)

CAM: So, this monday, the Dudes will be ready to offer the olive branch to you three. We might not be willing to give up bloody strips of our hide to you, but we don't want to see you guys go hungry!

MIKE: And on that note, we'll see you Monday! Is this prime rib?

CAM: Grade A Alberta Beef by the looks of it. Get some extra of that.

(There's a sudden knock on the freezer door.)

VOICE: Is there someone in there?

(Cam and Mike exchange panicked glances.)

MIKE: The fuzz!

CAM: Grab your meat and head for the hills!

(Cam and Mike run towards the camera. Light down.)