King Bear
League Member
Houseshow – July 27-28 – Night 2 – David Tui v Felix Red
(FADE IN: Posh art gallery.) The classical sounds and sensations that we all experience when we hear a concerto from early 14th century France goes through David Tui. He is dressed to the nines; a yellow La Coste polo and navy slacks. Smoking a giant cigar, he stands in the doorway.
TUI: Excuse me, ol’ chum. Perhaps you might know where the Van Gogh’s are? Maybe the Picasso’s, as well?
Michelangelo’s sculpture, David, says nothing.
DAVID: No, bra. I’m on door duty. Y’got an ID?
TUI: Fo’ sheezy! What’re the specials, tonight?
ART GUY: Excuse me, sir? Sir? Si-
Leaping backward, Tui examines that once again – as is the expected case when he wake ‘n bakes until 3pm with Tua & Kua – he is seeing things. Nodding justly, making sure not to give away too much to this stranger, Tui stands up straight.
TUI: Yes, excusing you is the first thing I shall do. Who are you?
ART GUY: Bradley Kensingtonfield Chesterpotfordtonhousewicz.
TUI: …
DAVID: …
BRADLEY KENSINGTONFIELD CHESTERPOTFORDTONHOUSE: My mother’s side is Polish. Please, call me Chester.
TUI: Very well, Sir Bradley Chesterpot; I am the King.
CHESTERPOT: The King?
TUI: (taking a deep breath) The Tsunami of the Seven Seas, Fiji’s Fighting Son, the Fijian Phenomenon. The King… DAVID TUI! (leaning in to whisper) Tui means ‘king’ in Fijian.
(CUE: Trumpets and cheers.) Chesterpot tilts his head again, as the jubilation dies down. Jeez!
TUI: After many years of training with the Iron Sheik-
Narrator: Okay, time out one second. Tui didn’t even last 8 months under the Sheik’s tutelage. He was caught after curfew with the Sultan of Smackdown’s *****es, in the hot tub, drinking all his vodka. Long story short, Sheik gave him the shoe.
TUI: -I have developed a wrestling style that the world has never seen. From the fertile forest of the Fijian Farmlands, I have come to the New Frontier Wrestling with two things in mind, but one is the most important of all – the Ultratitle. I will not rest until I capture it, showing everybody who deserves it. After that comes world domination, of course.
CHESTERPOT: And you’re here because….
TUI: I want to buy your finest piece of art, of course. Just because I work amongst heathens and lowlife scum does not justify poor taste. A King’s castle should be a reflection of the King, correct?
CHESTERPOT: I do agree, good sir. Right this way.
(CUTTO) Tui and Chesterpot are standing in front of a painting. Tui has his arms crossed over his chest, his brow is furrowed, and he is seemingly biting his bottom lip wearing a look of contemplation on his face. Chesterpot looks toward his customer.
CHESTERPOT: Well-
TUI: What is it?
CHESTERPOT: This is Rue Montorgueil, by Claude Monet. It’s a very prestigious painting. Any owner would-
TUI: It’s too French.
CHESTERPOT: Well, yes, Monet was French, Mr. King.
TUI: Yeah, but I don’t have any French friends, even. Who am I gonna show this crap off to, Tony Parker? Come on, where’s the good stuff?
(CUTTO) Now, the two are standing in front of Michelangelo’s Last Supper.
TUI: Nah…
(CUTTO) Again, Chesterpot and Tui; standing in front of a painting. This one happens to be Leonardo da Vinci’s Baptism of Christ.
CHESTERPOT: Anythi-
TUI: Too naked.
(CUTTO) Standing at the front of the store, Tui is holding his chin in one hand and the elbow of that arm in his other hand (follow that?). He is not, however, holding any paintings. A small boy walks in the door.
BOY: Mister, mister. The UPS man in the truck outside said that his nose was too runny to come inside, so he asked me if I would give this to you.
TUI: Runny nose, eh… (peering out the gallery windows)
CHESTERPOT: (opening the long and painting-like package) I wond- oh my word!
Chesterpot pulls out another painting. This painting is called Woman with a guitar, by Georges Braque.
CHESTERPOT: So beautiful, so lovely.
TUI: Whoa… trippy, dude. Sold!
CHESTERPOT: What? No, no! I can’t just sell this. How do you intend to pay for this anyway?
Tui leans in close enough to hear every nerve in Chesterpot’s body scream ‘OH SH*T!’
TUI: Look, pal. I’m tryin’ to play nice here, because, I’m trying to relax; I’ve got a match comin’ up, real soon. It’s not just one match, but two. Two big f*ckin’ matches, bra. The one booked is against one of the sickest bastards in this business. Starting from day one, he was twisted and demented enough to get under people’s skin and into their heads, too. Do you follow NFW, Chesterpot?
CHESTERPOT: It’s the offseason.
TUI: Good boy, except the offseason’s over. Comin’ off the training camp, I get Felix Red.
CHESTERPOT: You’re going against Felix? Don’t you know what he’s done?
TUI: Sure, sort of. And frankly, I don’t care. I’ve only got a few things I’d ever want to say to Felix; eat sh*t and die. How’s that for past accomplishments? How about I just end all his pain and suffering right then; leave him for dead and take that huge win as my stepping stone into the spotlight…onto the Ultratitle.
CHESTERPOT: I don’t know, sir; Felix Red may be a tough task himself, but you’ll have to go through the entire NFW roster before you get the Ultratitle.
TUI: Consider that done, junior. Whether I’m climbing uphill or not doesn’t matter right now. I’ve trained, I’ve studied, and I’ve even been knocked down a few times on my way. But those knocks healed, I’m here, and I am ready for some action, Jackson. NFW has decided, that on the eve of it’s third season, during the kickoff party – Felix Red against David Tui. And, well; as the saying goes…
“YOU CROSS KING TUI, YOU BE CHOP SUEY!”
CHESTERPOT: I’ll remember that.
(CUTTO) Tui is walking out the door with the trippy painting.
CHESTERPOT: Um, King? If I may, why did you buy a painting today?
TUI: (chuckling) Because I’m cultured, motherfu*ker.
(FADE OUT: David Tui walks out the door and can barely be seen out the gallery windows as he walks out of view. FTB.)
(FADE IN: Posh art gallery.) The classical sounds and sensations that we all experience when we hear a concerto from early 14th century France goes through David Tui. He is dressed to the nines; a yellow La Coste polo and navy slacks. Smoking a giant cigar, he stands in the doorway.
TUI: Excuse me, ol’ chum. Perhaps you might know where the Van Gogh’s are? Maybe the Picasso’s, as well?
Michelangelo’s sculpture, David, says nothing.
DAVID: No, bra. I’m on door duty. Y’got an ID?
TUI: Fo’ sheezy! What’re the specials, tonight?
ART GUY: Excuse me, sir? Sir? Si-
Leaping backward, Tui examines that once again – as is the expected case when he wake ‘n bakes until 3pm with Tua & Kua – he is seeing things. Nodding justly, making sure not to give away too much to this stranger, Tui stands up straight.
TUI: Yes, excusing you is the first thing I shall do. Who are you?
ART GUY: Bradley Kensingtonfield Chesterpotfordtonhousewicz.
TUI: …
DAVID: …
BRADLEY KENSINGTONFIELD CHESTERPOTFORDTONHOUSE: My mother’s side is Polish. Please, call me Chester.
TUI: Very well, Sir Bradley Chesterpot; I am the King.
CHESTERPOT: The King?
TUI: (taking a deep breath) The Tsunami of the Seven Seas, Fiji’s Fighting Son, the Fijian Phenomenon. The King… DAVID TUI! (leaning in to whisper) Tui means ‘king’ in Fijian.
(CUE: Trumpets and cheers.) Chesterpot tilts his head again, as the jubilation dies down. Jeez!
TUI: After many years of training with the Iron Sheik-
Narrator: Okay, time out one second. Tui didn’t even last 8 months under the Sheik’s tutelage. He was caught after curfew with the Sultan of Smackdown’s *****es, in the hot tub, drinking all his vodka. Long story short, Sheik gave him the shoe.
TUI: -I have developed a wrestling style that the world has never seen. From the fertile forest of the Fijian Farmlands, I have come to the New Frontier Wrestling with two things in mind, but one is the most important of all – the Ultratitle. I will not rest until I capture it, showing everybody who deserves it. After that comes world domination, of course.
CHESTERPOT: And you’re here because….
TUI: I want to buy your finest piece of art, of course. Just because I work amongst heathens and lowlife scum does not justify poor taste. A King’s castle should be a reflection of the King, correct?
CHESTERPOT: I do agree, good sir. Right this way.
(CUTTO) Tui and Chesterpot are standing in front of a painting. Tui has his arms crossed over his chest, his brow is furrowed, and he is seemingly biting his bottom lip wearing a look of contemplation on his face. Chesterpot looks toward his customer.
CHESTERPOT: Well-
TUI: What is it?
CHESTERPOT: This is Rue Montorgueil, by Claude Monet. It’s a very prestigious painting. Any owner would-
TUI: It’s too French.
CHESTERPOT: Well, yes, Monet was French, Mr. King.
TUI: Yeah, but I don’t have any French friends, even. Who am I gonna show this crap off to, Tony Parker? Come on, where’s the good stuff?
(CUTTO) Now, the two are standing in front of Michelangelo’s Last Supper.
TUI: Nah…
(CUTTO) Again, Chesterpot and Tui; standing in front of a painting. This one happens to be Leonardo da Vinci’s Baptism of Christ.
CHESTERPOT: Anythi-
TUI: Too naked.
(CUTTO) Standing at the front of the store, Tui is holding his chin in one hand and the elbow of that arm in his other hand (follow that?). He is not, however, holding any paintings. A small boy walks in the door.
BOY: Mister, mister. The UPS man in the truck outside said that his nose was too runny to come inside, so he asked me if I would give this to you.
TUI: Runny nose, eh… (peering out the gallery windows)
CHESTERPOT: (opening the long and painting-like package) I wond- oh my word!
Chesterpot pulls out another painting. This painting is called Woman with a guitar, by Georges Braque.
CHESTERPOT: So beautiful, so lovely.
TUI: Whoa… trippy, dude. Sold!
CHESTERPOT: What? No, no! I can’t just sell this. How do you intend to pay for this anyway?
Tui leans in close enough to hear every nerve in Chesterpot’s body scream ‘OH SH*T!’
TUI: Look, pal. I’m tryin’ to play nice here, because, I’m trying to relax; I’ve got a match comin’ up, real soon. It’s not just one match, but two. Two big f*ckin’ matches, bra. The one booked is against one of the sickest bastards in this business. Starting from day one, he was twisted and demented enough to get under people’s skin and into their heads, too. Do you follow NFW, Chesterpot?
CHESTERPOT: It’s the offseason.
TUI: Good boy, except the offseason’s over. Comin’ off the training camp, I get Felix Red.
CHESTERPOT: You’re going against Felix? Don’t you know what he’s done?
TUI: Sure, sort of. And frankly, I don’t care. I’ve only got a few things I’d ever want to say to Felix; eat sh*t and die. How’s that for past accomplishments? How about I just end all his pain and suffering right then; leave him for dead and take that huge win as my stepping stone into the spotlight…onto the Ultratitle.
CHESTERPOT: I don’t know, sir; Felix Red may be a tough task himself, but you’ll have to go through the entire NFW roster before you get the Ultratitle.
TUI: Consider that done, junior. Whether I’m climbing uphill or not doesn’t matter right now. I’ve trained, I’ve studied, and I’ve even been knocked down a few times on my way. But those knocks healed, I’m here, and I am ready for some action, Jackson. NFW has decided, that on the eve of it’s third season, during the kickoff party – Felix Red against David Tui. And, well; as the saying goes…
“YOU CROSS KING TUI, YOU BE CHOP SUEY!”
CHESTERPOT: I’ll remember that.
(CUTTO) Tui is walking out the door with the trippy painting.
CHESTERPOT: Um, King? If I may, why did you buy a painting today?
TUI: (chuckling) Because I’m cultured, motherfu*ker.
(FADE OUT: David Tui walks out the door and can barely be seen out the gallery windows as he walks out of view. FTB.)