Steve
the EX-QUEEN of FW~!
[updated:LAST EDITED ON Jul-20-02 AT 02:37 AM (EDT)](FADE-IN: Master Bathroom, Melton mansion in upstate New York. Joey Melton, relaxes in the hot tub. His right foot hangs over the tub letting his big toe tease the floor. The suds start to spill over the sides. There’s an empty bottle of wine in with Joey, and a full glass in his right hand. The latest issue of Maxim magazine is curled up against the base of the tub.)
JOEY MELTON: ”Cue the haunting score. It’s that time of the story where the freak realizes he’s misplaced his anti-depressants. Now that his emotional state isn’t level, Merritt’s admitting he’s reached rock bottom. The twelve-year denial plan worked out well for you, kid, but sometimes the freak can’t go it alone.
You took me up on the offer. Ten million for a World title shot, and it’s happening in just enough time to allow the slick haired sheriff to bag ten girls, and save every other piece of moderately good looking tail.
History lessons are a bore, so I’ll save the routine. Chad you full well know, Aho doesn’t put butts in the seats. The man barely draws attention, but here he is, my belt around his waist, screaming at the top of his lungs that it’s hip to be square, and still Evan has trouble being heard. What was the last straw Chad? Was it the day the corporate fish you attempted to package Aho to didn’t bite? I swear nobody could have seen that one coming. He’s got a hell of an arm drag going for him, but at his best he’s a CSPAN reality series in waiting.
But your hopes surely aren’t set on Windham. The man who runs around on a broken horse chanting the British are coming, while sniffing a hypochondriac’s panties. Sure that may add up to fun if you’re passed out drunk, but sobered up, Windham’s simply a half-chromosome short.
“Is he smart, Sunshine, or is...like me?”
Yes, Mark...we know. Vietnam is a whole ‘nother country.
There’s Flair, who’s spent the last dozen years of his life with his dead wife’s better half, and hasn’t thought once about spreading the Red Sea and letting his people free. Eli, it may feel weird, but stud trust me, when you get Ivy past the half-hour mark and her eyes roll back in her head as she’s spewing out pig Latin in hopes that it’ll stop what’s about to come, you’ll know you made the right choice.
A title shot, finally but which one did I buy?
The US? Will I face Hornet, a man who once was a tough out, but now he’s nothing more than an overpaid advocate of medical marijuana because of his crippled back. Poor baby.
Triple X, the GX-whatever invasion. Yeah, I’m old people but I think I speak for a good portion of the buying public when I say, who the hell are you?
But it all comes back to FISH FUND, and a reopened Park. This is what you’ve gotten a loan for Chad? Amazing. Maybe if the freaks running around here were animated, Eisner could milk them for two hundred per picture, but in reality they’re filthy animals, living in shanties, who can’t clean up their own mess. I step out of the CSWA world, and there’s a Muppet in South Africa getting HIV, but back in...it’s even a touch sadder. What side is it safe to stand on anymore? THE LINE MUST BE DRAWN HERE, THIS FAR, AND NO FURTHER.
That’s why I bought the title shot. World, US, Tag Team. That’s right it may even be the Professionals. Two men who set out with a common goal to show the wrestling world, what Amos and Andy would have been like if they had really been black.
I’m beginning to think I should forego the shot and directly put a gun to my head.
I’ve bought an opportunity to create an open space of sanity for myself. I need gold around my waist to carry the CSWA out of the gutter. Not for old time’s sake, but simply because five years from now I’d like to be able to go to a public restroom without having to saran wrap my genitals.
Okay, so I do it now strictly for fun. When you’ve held every belt imaginable you’re allowed to be somewhat of an eccentric.
FISH FUND, Mine Eyes Have Seen Melton’s Return To Glory. (singing) Who can it be now?
And Eddy, trust me, in some way, shape or form, it’ll be you.
(FADE OUT)
JOEY MELTON: ”Cue the haunting score. It’s that time of the story where the freak realizes he’s misplaced his anti-depressants. Now that his emotional state isn’t level, Merritt’s admitting he’s reached rock bottom. The twelve-year denial plan worked out well for you, kid, but sometimes the freak can’t go it alone.
You took me up on the offer. Ten million for a World title shot, and it’s happening in just enough time to allow the slick haired sheriff to bag ten girls, and save every other piece of moderately good looking tail.
History lessons are a bore, so I’ll save the routine. Chad you full well know, Aho doesn’t put butts in the seats. The man barely draws attention, but here he is, my belt around his waist, screaming at the top of his lungs that it’s hip to be square, and still Evan has trouble being heard. What was the last straw Chad? Was it the day the corporate fish you attempted to package Aho to didn’t bite? I swear nobody could have seen that one coming. He’s got a hell of an arm drag going for him, but at his best he’s a CSPAN reality series in waiting.
But your hopes surely aren’t set on Windham. The man who runs around on a broken horse chanting the British are coming, while sniffing a hypochondriac’s panties. Sure that may add up to fun if you’re passed out drunk, but sobered up, Windham’s simply a half-chromosome short.
“Is he smart, Sunshine, or is...like me?”
Yes, Mark...we know. Vietnam is a whole ‘nother country.
There’s Flair, who’s spent the last dozen years of his life with his dead wife’s better half, and hasn’t thought once about spreading the Red Sea and letting his people free. Eli, it may feel weird, but stud trust me, when you get Ivy past the half-hour mark and her eyes roll back in her head as she’s spewing out pig Latin in hopes that it’ll stop what’s about to come, you’ll know you made the right choice.
A title shot, finally but which one did I buy?
The US? Will I face Hornet, a man who once was a tough out, but now he’s nothing more than an overpaid advocate of medical marijuana because of his crippled back. Poor baby.
Triple X, the GX-whatever invasion. Yeah, I’m old people but I think I speak for a good portion of the buying public when I say, who the hell are you?
But it all comes back to FISH FUND, and a reopened Park. This is what you’ve gotten a loan for Chad? Amazing. Maybe if the freaks running around here were animated, Eisner could milk them for two hundred per picture, but in reality they’re filthy animals, living in shanties, who can’t clean up their own mess. I step out of the CSWA world, and there’s a Muppet in South Africa getting HIV, but back in...it’s even a touch sadder. What side is it safe to stand on anymore? THE LINE MUST BE DRAWN HERE, THIS FAR, AND NO FURTHER.
That’s why I bought the title shot. World, US, Tag Team. That’s right it may even be the Professionals. Two men who set out with a common goal to show the wrestling world, what Amos and Andy would have been like if they had really been black.
I’m beginning to think I should forego the shot and directly put a gun to my head.
I’ve bought an opportunity to create an open space of sanity for myself. I need gold around my waist to carry the CSWA out of the gutter. Not for old time’s sake, but simply because five years from now I’d like to be able to go to a public restroom without having to saran wrap my genitals.
Okay, so I do it now strictly for fun. When you’ve held every belt imaginable you’re allowed to be somewhat of an eccentric.
FISH FUND, Mine Eyes Have Seen Melton’s Return To Glory. (singing) Who can it be now?
And Eddy, trust me, in some way, shape or form, it’ll be you.
(FADE OUT)