let's do the time warp (again...and again...and again...)
(CUTTO: closed eye….pops open…)
SFX: GASP!!!
(Felix Red, shirtless, in black vinyl workout pants, still covered in bandages from Superbowl, startled, hurriedly sits up, and frantically looks around…)
FELIX: Wh---
WOMAN’S VOICE: Ohmigawd, FELIX…We were so worried you O.D.ed! We were about to call 911!!
(pan back…Felix is sitting on his locker room floor, next to a half empty bottle of gray goose, and the WFW world title belt which has a fistful of blow and a razor blade set upon it for the occasion. On a nearby bench sit two groupies. One blonde, perky, shiny, in a red tank top and mini-skirt (ample cleavage) the other aaaalll goth-tarded out, dyed black hair with blonde roots showing, black pleather pants, cut up vintage Skinny Puppy T-shirt, dead pale ‘cept for the obligatory black and purple make up….)
FELIX: Ugh…(sighs, and lies back down) Okay, where am I, how did I get here, and how much do you want to not press charges for whatever bad stuff?
BLONDE: Oh, Felix, you must have another concussion! Don’t you remember?! You finally won the WFW World Title!!!
FELIX: WFW World ti---that’s impossible.
BLONDE: Oh, silly! Of course it isn’t! We all saw! You beat Anarky and Copycat and Larry Tact-
FELIX: Oh, wait, you mean the Eee Pee Duby-
BLONDE: And Even Michael Manson! Wow, gee, (grins a little too widely) you probably really seriously MURDERED Manson!
FELIX:….(sits up, and points at the goth girl) Hi, um, what’s your name?
GOTH: (stares blankly at Felix for way too long while he awaits a response)
FELIX: Oh, hey, don’t be shy. It’s just me, y’know?
(more awkward staring silence, while the blonde starts to dance to music only she can hear)
FELIX: Um, look, um…Hi. Listen, your friend’s clearly a big wrestling fan, which is just great, but she seems to think I just murdered someone who I haven’t even seen in years, and that I just won a title that’s been defunct for about as long. What did your friend take, and can I have some?
GOTH: (abruptly starts talking, which is kind of disturbing, y’know?) She didn’t take anything. She’s right. You just won your first world title, and you probably killed Michael Manson. Your destiny has been fulfilled.
FELIX:……..
BLONDE: Awesome job, babe! Let’s break out the champagne! Whoooooo!
FELIX: No, I won my first world title in Tokyo…I beat Doc Silver. I remember.
GOTH: That hasn’t happened yet.
BLONDE: That was, like, whoa, what, three years ago? Way retro.
FELIX: Yeah, that was over three years ago. And that was well after WFW closed down, and Manson retired, which was before Superbowl could happen. We cut a ton of promos, hyped the bejesus out of the show, and the money fell through? I never got my second chance at the WFW title? It wasn’t until Japan that I got my shot…at….the…(glances over at the title) big time….?....Ummmm….
GOTH: Most of what you just said isn’t true, the other part is only going to be true later.
BLONDE: Wow, Felix, why are you going on and on about old times? Live in the NOW dude! You’re a champion again! No more of this midcarder burn out thing for you! C’mon! Let’s do the rest of the coke, then you can spank me with the belt while you F(bleep) me!
FELIX: (stares blankly at the groupies) What year is it?
GOTH: 2006.
BLONDE: 2009, baby!
FELIX: And which one of you are figments of my imagination?
BLONDE: I am!...At least I think I am…
GOTH: We both are, but the funny thing…heh…really, Felix, (cackles) You haven’t figured it out yet?! You stupid b@stard. YOU’RE THE IMAGINARY CHARACTER!
(both the groupies start laughing hysterically)
(CUTTO: Black and white footage. Felix is apparently sleeping, yet thrashing about slightly, and quietly moaning…)
FELIX: There’s no place like home…there’s no place like home…There’s no place like home….
(A hand comes into the shot, grasps Felix on the shoulder, and gently shakes him back into consciousness…)
FELIX: Wh—
"ANARKY" V/O: Felix, you okay? You were having a dream, we think.
(Felix sits up, and we pan back to see He’s surrounded by “who appear to be, but probably aren’t really” ANARKY, PSYCHO, AND JARED WELLS, who are all smiling warmly, all in their ring gear, and all bruised up and bleeding from any number of fresh gashes…)
FELIX: Oh, wow you guys! I had the strangest dream! I became a big star in Japan! I had a genetically mutated giant fetus for a sidekick! Then I got all wasted on hard drugs and my career downward spiraled until I was basically a mid carder with a nostalgic cult following. But at least I got to be a tag champ for a while! (points to “Psycho”) and you weren’t there…(points to “Wells”) Um…I think you were there for parts of it. So were you, Nark.
“NARK”: Don’t worry Felix. It was all just a terrible dream. You’re safe, back in WFW. The Liars Oppressors and Violence Experience is still on top making everyone else miserable. And guess what? You’re the champion now!
FELIX: Aw, that’s wonderful! it’s so good to see you guys. You don’t know h-
(“Anarky” pulls a chair from behind his back, and smacks Felix over the head with it. “Wells” pounces on Felix and starts clobbering him in the brain. “Psycho” procures a fork…)
(CUTTO: Somewhere in Chicago. Felix, in a neon green “thedeathset” T-shirt and dickies, is sitting at a bar next to “Michael Manson,” who’s in a leather jacket and black jeans. They’ve both got mugs of cheap beer before them, and those clearly aren’t their first of the evening…)
“MANSON”: You know you’re a huge disappointment to me?
FELIX: Wait, wh---I was----(looks around) Oh, okay. Cool. I like this one.
“MANSON”: You were supposed to fill the void I left. In fact, you did for a while. But somewhere along the way….you just…slipped.
FELIX: We’ve met before. You’re basically the same person in real life. That seems to hold true for a lot of us. It’s nice to be able to create a more powerful version of yourself, and then destroy it.
“MANSON”: You were never a true evil mastermind. But you were so crazy, and spoke so much beautiful nonsense, you fooled everyone into thinking you were. Even me.
FELIX: I thought you died once. I was….kind of worried?
“MANSON:”: I can’t believe anyone thinks I’m really dead.
FELIX: I thought you might’ve been. It made me sad. Except you’re…my nemesis? Yeah, it was me who killed you. It was actually really cool. In fact, I also beat you in like my third match ever. I was really proud of myself, until I found out it was only ‘cause you were quitting the league anyway. Except that wasn’t me who did that…..No, wait, I was well into my career when I first fought you, but I can’t….which one was I then?
“MANSON”: WOW, do you ever need another drink.
FELIX: (glances off into space for a sec, then shakes his head) Jeez, yeah, sorry if I’m going on a tangent. I think I’ve finally taken one too many blows to the head. I don’t know what’s been wrong with me recently. (signals the bartender) Bar Wench! Beer me!
(The bartender comes over, and, oh my ****, it’s the goth broad from earlier)
GOTH GIRL: The beginning is the end born knowing.
FELIX: It’s like nothing ever really ends. Tattoos fade, civilizations collapse, TV shows get canceled, people die…but it all gets repeated in memories of various forms, both of plastic and of flesh, until it becomes a distorted, possibly more idyllic, possible less idyllic version of the thing that was. And we infect our children with our diseases. And they inflect their children with their diseases, which were ours. The three beats of war, peace, and revolution, the endless waltz of history, it’s in our f(bleep)king BLOOD, bar wench…the essence of life itself is also its foregone conclusion. Life destroys the world, and the world destroys life.
GOTH GIRL: And the world also creates life. And if what you’re saying is true, then we are eternal beings after all. (slides Felix another mug) And it’s death that doesn’t exist.
“MANSON”: Yeah, you got nothing to mope about, Felix. You’re a champion again. It’s just the drugs talking.
FELIX: How’d things go with the unicorn, out of curiosity?
“MANSON”: (sighs) Not well.
FELIX: Bummer, dude. (takes a sip of his beer)
(Ultra-quick cutto: Felix, neon green TEAM MIDCARD T-shirt and dickies, is taking a swig off a PBR can over the stove in his dimly lit apartment. There’s a hollowed out light bulb, and a little glass pipe on the counter nearby…)
FELIX: (gasps again) WHOOOAAAA-Ho! Aaaand I’m back. (looks around, wipes beer residue off his lips with his sleeve) Well, that was the weakest DMT trip I think I’ve ever taken.
(pan back – THE GOTHOPOTAMUS, Felix’s big fat Blue Meanie rip-off dancing sidekick, is plopped on the floor in the corner of the room wearing a black tutu and giggling to himself…)
GOTHO: Dude…your old promos never made any sense. They were total wannabe art house crappola. And SO FRIGGIN’ LONG…..
FELIX: Shut the f(bleep) up, flunky.
(Felix walks off drinking his beer while Gotho continues to giggle at nothing)
(FTB)
