(FADEIN: To the madness of the ULTRATITLE. Specifically the bowels of the arena where staff and talent wonder about at a frantic pace. Above those responsible for putting on the show are the dying remains of the voices who echoed their displeasure, surprise, wonder, and sheer joy over tonight’s show. In an event like this to make it work you need luck if anything. Some feared the earlier episode would derail the hard work and the dreams. Whether or not Blaine Hollywood or Dan Ryan are ever freed is relative. The tidal wave of desperation and unease carried tonight’s crowd in like a magic carpet, which is to say, nobody knew what the hell to expect. The camera pans down to two who have been easily passed over, dismissed, and repeated cases of mistaken identity – BRONTE LAKES and JASON MURRAY. Bronte dressed in a pair of white new balance running shoes that have seen better days, black yoga pants, and a green cami walks out of the medical center. Across the way, Poison Ivy saunters by, trailing we presume Sean Stevens, though the man is moving too fast to be made out entirely. Ivy looks over and nods at Bronte. She motions ‘call me’ and continues with her walk away every bit the icon of class, beauty, and grace Bronte believed her to be. We zoom, almost bump into Bronte. Her raven colored hair pulled back in a pony, no makeup, she’s radiant. This was not supposed to happen. She bites her lip, what the hell she’s got something to say…)
BRONTE LAKES: TMZ right? Ha. No, come here please. This is for Pete Whealdon. You know, that prick who hid my duffle bag a few hours ago and said I should be gang raped. While my disgust is fresh…
(Bronte looks back briefly and we see Jason hop of the trainer’s table, in black sweat pants, and a sleeveless UK basketball shirt. He looks like he’s been hit by a small, battery powered car.)
BRONTE LAKES: Pete Whealdon. We know what you’re thinking. You share the same thought with the millions of viewers who have watched the ULTRATITLE to-date, you’re thinking who the heck are these two? Where the hell did they come from? Good questions, (Bronte points to the camera) but here’s one for you.
If Jason and I just shocked the world and took out Sean Sevens, what hope do you ****ing have? You’re Pete Whealdon. Maybe that name might open some doors, I’m sure it has in your life.(Bronte runs her hands through her hair, she’s thinking too fast to decide what to say) I’m sure you’ve approached the single mother in a Piggly Wiggly grocery store, staring at her ass bulging out of her jeans and played the “I have a great ‘stache card” and that might have gotten you an empty bottle of whisky, regret, and pause for concern as to whether or not you need a STD test at some point in the next few weeks. But you’re no Sean Stevens!
(Bronte falls back into the arms of the wall just a foot from the open trainers door. She’s completely swallowed whole.) But neither are ****ing we.
This is all sort of a dream, right now Pete. But, we were prepared for this. We’re white trash from Kentucky, who come from a place most people don’t get out of. You’re born in Kentucky, you live, you die there and along the way you ****ing bet on a few horses and try to avoid assholes in the Mexican section of the Wiggly, asking if you like pink tacos. (Bronte bends at the knees and LAUGHS.) If I’m rambling right now, I’m just a little excited. You can understand, can’t you? Beating a legend in the ULTRATITLE then finding out you’re facing Ron Burgandy – the wrestler.
WHY ARE WE YELLING!!?
(Bronte laughs, doubles over, she’s delirious.)
JASON MURRAY: (Walks out of the room, smiling. Leave it to Bronte to jump the gun. The rest of the world mistakes her as an introvert. Jason’s never seen her when she’s NOT talking.) Because we’re in round two…
BRONTE LAKES: (pushes Jason away, not his time yet.) We upset everyone’s bracket, but we thought it could happen. I believed in Jason. We watched so much video tape on Stevens, you saw the match, man. All it took was one mistake. And we knew where it’d come to pass. Have you ever watched anything on your tablet, other than your HD shot personal sex tapes? Probably not. I know it’s fun reliving your personal conquests, huh? I’m doing it right now in my head, thinking about all the hard work we put in to capitalize on this opportunity. It’s weird to think, eight hours ago security wouldn’t let us into the building until we were personally cleared by Chad Merritt. Now, we’re one of 64 men left.
(Jason watches Bronte bounce around, she’s on cloud nine. Better stop her before she starts REALLY talking. It’s little moments like this where the Great Lakes is quiet, that he’s learned to step in and take his turn. Jason’s bloodied from his lip. Sean Stevens was a bad mother****er – SHUT YO MOUTH – but its true. How did he win? What business did he have to win? He moved on adrenaline, he felt so lost at times in the ring. Stevens carried him like cross. He’ll never forget this moment. But, yeah, that Whealdon fellow insulted Bronte earlier. He’s green, but Jason knew as the rookie to keep his mouth shut. At least now, he can open it…)
JASON MURRAY: We? I did all the heavy lifting, Bron.
BRONTE LAKES: But you couldn’t have done it without me!
JASON MURRAY: I’m a bit tired right now Pete. Maybe it’s not the best time to cut a promo, minutes after you just sent shock waves through the tournament and changed your personal history, but we’re not promised tomorrow. Its 2012, anyway, the year the world ends. So if today is it, if this is my last day, if we don’t take anything for granted, right here, right now. I made it, man.
I come from a town, as Bronte said, it’s hard as hell to leave. It’s a ghost town of broken men, racial divide, and pseudo Christians who want to believe but look at what God’s given them and wonder which of the Holy Trinity did we piss off the most.
Men and women get up every day and drive their trucks to go work at a Fisher Price factory, or some other back breaking, mind numbing work and the come home beaten, they come home not sure if they’re alive or dead. All you got in Kentucky is a dream men on tv sell you and (Jason looks at Bronte) each other.
But, Pete, Bronte and I aren’t products of our environment.
We ****ing made it out.
I’m not ashamed of where I come from. I’m not ashamed of the wrestling I did in my backward and the promos cut on our pastor’s kid. (Johnny may sing praise and worship but he’s got a roundhouse like a demon) Because what I learned tonight is, in any ring, my best brings a set of concerns to whoever I’m wrestling, be it Sean Stevens, or Doche Whealdon.
I’m playing with House money right now.
As I told Stevens, it’s our time to be hated.
Generation Bored.
Frances Bain is our Cobain. We have no soul.
We are mistakes. Nobody wants to get beaten by white trash and his trailer queen.
Pete, daddy, be as cool as you want next round. But just understand, tonight has just made me even more hungry. This is my fate. It’s my story playing out. You’re a song I once played, Pete. You’ve a good chorus, but the last stanza will be the same.
(FTB)