(BLACK VIDEO MATTE : SFX : BEEPING. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.)
(FADE IN: A near empty hospital corridor. A lone nurse is sorting medication on a push cart. Her inappropriate heels click over the tiles as she takes a few small steps.)
(BEEP. BEEP. BEEEEEEEEP.)
(This nurse drops her pills onto the cart and rushes to the nearest room. Following behind her, the camera notices a manila folder containing patient information of one Jack Harmen.)
Better known to the wrestling world as High Flyer.)
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(CUTTO: Hospital bed. High Flyer is seated upright, eyes wide awake. He's wearing a hospital gown and frowns to a man sharing the hospital room with him.)
HIGH FLYER: Glad I'm not that guy.
(Going wide, Tony Davis and Mary-Lynn Mayweather st around Flyer's hospital bed. In the back of the room, another patient is in a vegetative state, as doctors and nurses flood the room. Mayweather is wearing her red skirt suit. Tony is wearing an oversized shirt he no doubt got from the Salvation Army. It reads "I'm with Stupid" and is currently pointed to a doctor.)
HIGH FLYER: I hope my next roommate is a talker.
DOCTOR(OS): CLEAR!
(A large buzz sound is heard as the doctor zaps the patient. The heart beat restarts. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. TONY DAVIS rolls his chair into frame, looking up at the doctor.)
TONY DAVIS: God was like, I want him, and you were like, NAH-UH He stays here! Fist bump!
(Davis raises his fist. The doctor doesn't respond.)
TONY DAVIS: Conventional high five?
(No response.)
TONY DAVIS: Winking nod of approval with thumbs up!
(Davis winks, nods, and raises his right hand, thumb skyward. He spins back to Flyer's side.)
DOCTOR: You know, you two shouldn't be here. This is intensive care. And you?
(The doctor walks over to Flyer's side.)
DOCTOR: You've been well enough to get out of the ICU for the past two days. You should be home re-cooperating. You can do you’re physical therapy somewhere other than here.
HIGH FLYER: But doc. I'm not a hundred percent. I'm paying for a hundred percent care. If I buy an x-box, if it has 98% of it's functions but doesn't have it's power button I'm gonna return the sucker.
(The doctor frowns, looking toward Mayweather.)
DOCTOR: You're the sensible one. Use some logic on him.
MLM: You obviously don't know Jack.
HIGH FLYER: Logic is as ineffective on me as BP against an oil spill.
(Flyer yells after the doctor as he exits the room.)
HIGH FLYER: Or a lightsaber against Superman!
(Mayweather leans in and pats Flyer on his forehead.)
MLM: You gotta get back in the game Fly. You've got Fuse next and I remember him taking you out in TEAM.
HIGH FLYER: Well, how was I supposed to know the guy had a hidden s in his name... I mean, you know I only retain 20% of what I read cause I’ve watched so much TV. (Frown) How do you even say his name? (slowly) Fu-sens-hoff? Fu-sen-shoff? (quickens pace)I don't like 50/50 multiple choice. And I don't like listening to commentary from no talent hacks. I do the commentary myself.
MLM: So, the man who champions preparedness lost to a man because he couldn't PRONOUNCE his name because he doesn’t listen to commentary tracks? How convoluted is that?!
HIGH FLYER: Hey. I had to learn that lesson somewhere. Wasn't Aesop's Fables.
MLM: No, because Aesop didn’t have recorded media in his time line.
TONY DAVIS: Wait. Wait. Wait.
(Davis grabs the side of Flyer’s hospital bed to brace himself.)
TONY DAVIS: You’re saying there’s a time when there was no such thing as music?
(Tony gasps at MLM’s nod. His eyes go wide.)
TONY DAVIS: That means I can use your time machine that’s in hammerspace and go back in time to invent the rap music with my Two Tone Tony gimmick! Oh man, what should the inventor of hip hop music wear? Probably something by Nelly. Or Hilary Duff if she makes man’s clothes.
HIGH FLYER: Time machine’s no more. It went rogue and tried to destroy time and space. I had to send it into a paradox. Because it created paradoxes. I mean, I just couldn’t keep track anymore and it was easier to send it to space time’s version of boarding school.
(Flyer leans in to Tony.)
HIGH FLYER: (whispering) I lied. Ginger here hates the thing.
(Mayweather crosses her arms over her chest.)
MLM: If you’re not gonna take this seriously, I don’t know why I’m even bothering. I should be focusing on my own career. Not worrying if you’re gonna get yourself killed by a mad man like Stalker or a true professional like FUSENSHOFF inside of a steel cage.
HIGH FLYER: C’mon. I had a near death adventure. Cut me some slack.
MLM: Is that why you shaved your head?
(Indeed, if you haven’t noticed, High Flyer’s trademark long locks had been erased by clippers.)
HIGH FLYER: The two are mutually exclusive.
MLM: Cause I think it’s cause you almost died.
HIGH FLYER: Listen. Can’t a guy get a haircut in a hospital bed without the third degree? And can’t a guy just get some rest in a hospital bed?!
(Mayweather stands to her feet.)
MLM: Yeah, but you’re not just some guy Jack. You’re High Flyer. You’re the greatest cruiser weight this sport has ever seen. Or at least that’s what you tattooed on your ****ing arm. Grow some balls and show you earned that ego boosting honor. Because if you don’t, I’m going to fork stab you, and believe me, you do not want to be forkstabbed by a fiery irish red head. Besides the fact it’s a cliché, you’d get it in the EYE!
(Mayweather promptly storms off. After a beat…)
HIGH FLYER: Charming. No wonder she doesn’t have a boy friend.
TONY DAVIS: She’s right though. You gotta stay serious. I’m basically outta this business at 36. I’ve retired twice. So have you. You don’t have a lot of time left.
(Flyer doesn’t say a word. After a long pause, Tony continues.)
TONY DAVIS: Could be your last chance.
(Another long pause. Tony shifts awkwardly in his seat.)
TONY DAVIS: Unlike the Phillies. Chalk this year up as a mulligan, eh? Can’t even beat the Pirates.
(Another lengthy pause. Tony frowns.)
TONY DAVIS: You want me to leave, don’t you?
HIGH FLYER: Please.
TONY DAVIS: Leaving.
(Tony gets up and exits the room quickly. Flyer watches him exit and sighs. He reaches over to his nightstand and pulls out a wallet. He takes out a picture, one taken ten years ago when he and his tag partner Tony Davis were young, impressionable, and IWO Tag team champions. His eyes tear up, a single drop rolls down his cheek as he puts the sentimental reminder away.)
HIGH FLYER: I should’ve done better…
(CRANE SHOT. FADE OUT.)