The scene began inside Cody’s apartment in Yucca Valley, California. A faint snoring was heard as the camera panned left to show Cody asleep on the sofa. How he slept was a mystery, due to the fact that the couch was badly torn and looked like it's seen the bad side of the late seventies. It was one of those brown plaid numbers, but it fit in with the rest of the mis-matched furniture. The apartment consisted of a tiny living room, a small bathroom straight ahead, and an attached kitchen. It was separated by a small island counter which was covered in beer stains and coffee grounds. Beside the front door was a piece of shit tv, along with the old sofa and a beanbag chair. You would think, being the AWA world heavyweight champion he could afford some decent furniture. But what you’d neglect to realize is that that would require effort on Cody’s part; something he was apt to avoid whenever humanly possible. The door to the only bedroom was right beside the bathroom, propped open. Inside we could glimpse Jalie asleep on an old military cot; the only thing in the room besides Carson’s dirty laundry and a familiar bum passed out on the floor beside her. The phone on the kitchen wall began ringing, disturbing Cody from his slumber. He stumbled off the couch and reached over the counter to grab the receiver.
“Whaaaaat?” He groaned.
He listened in long enough to understand that the woman wanted to know if he was able to make decisions regarding the phone service.
“Listen lady, the only way i'm accepting any service from you is if you're on your fuckin' knees. Get a real job!” He growled.
He hung up the phone and went into the kitchen, reaching down the front of his boxers and scratching himself. He opened the fridge and pulled out a Corona, twisting off the cap and downing half of it. Obviously, Seth’s no ‘pre-noon booze’ rule didn‘t apply in this household. Jalie now wandered out of the bedroom. She was dressed in a black tank top and a pair of Seth’s red plaid boxers. Yawning, she went over to the couch and dropped onto it, emitting a yelp when one of the protruding springs stabbed her in the ass.
“Ugh... So who was on the phone?” She asked.
“Sales call. Want a beer?” Cody asked, offering her the remaining half of his.
“Noooo. I'm so fucking hungover. I'm boycotting alcohol for at least the next... Ten minutes.” Jalie groaned.
“I admire your dedication.” Cody said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Jalie shot him a look that would make most men buckle at the knees. “Bite me, you fucking manwhore…” She muttered. Cody frowned.
“Hey, just because I’m popular don’t mean you gotta get with the name-calling.” He protested. “Speakin’ of pussy, though… Aren’t you supposed to be at home with Seth? He’s gotta be wondering why you didn’t come home last night.”
“Heh, I’d love to see you call him that to his face. And no… I called him. Told him I was too drunk to drive home after I promised him I wouldn’t have more than two beers. He seemed sort of upset with me for some reason.” She explained.
“Gee, imagine that…” Cody sneered. Jalie didn’t catch the hint, but disappeared back into the bedroom to slide her jeans back on. Her rustling roused Hobo Nick from his slumber.
“Hoozair? …Whuss gonon?” Nick demanded, sitting up. His eyes were barely visible beneath the matted tangle of his bushy brown hair. His beard had collected an odd assortment of items throughout the previous night. Gum, bottle caps, a hairbrush, a Russian medal of honor and a condom wrapper. Jalie buckled her belt; a large silver skull and crossbones, above a Dodge Charger and the words ‘Cruisin’ For A Bruisin’. She plucked the medal from Nick’s beard and pinned it onto the back pocket of her jeans.
“Morning, Officer.. Uh.. Oblanski.” Nick said, squinting to read the name printed on the award.
“Nick, quit staring at my ass.” Jalie snapped.
She walked out into the living room with Nick trailing behind her and dragging his trench coat behind him. He was donning his usual tightie whities and socks that looked like they hadn’t been washed since 1982.. And had essentially become not so much stockings as an outer layer of skin on his feet. Nick dropped onto the beanbag chair in the living room. Jalie cleared the counter with a sweep of her hand, sending empty beer bottles crashing to the kitchen floor. She vaulted herself up to sit on it and grabbed the phone from the base on the wall. She punched in a number and listened for an answer, looking like she’d much rather get the answering machine. Much to her dismay, someone did indeed pick up. Through the magic of television, or the volume on Cody’s phone, Seth’s voice could be heard on the other end.
“Hey, where the hell are you?”
Jalie pursed her lips, inhaling deeply as if the air itself would calm her. “I’m still at Cody’s. We just got up.” She explained.
“We?”
“Yes, love.. As in he from the couch and me from the bedroom.” She pointed out, rolling her eyes. “I thought you knew me better than that?”
“I thought you knew better than to get drunk and pass out at another mans house.” Seth shot back.
Jalie, not one to hold her temper, was literally biting her tongue to keep it in check. “Sorry darling.. Next time I’ll be sure to drive home trashed and get myself killed. At least that way you won’t have to worry about parenting me any more.” Seth began to respond, but she cut him off mid-sentence. “Listen, let’s please not do this now.. I’ve got another meeting today with that Skylar woman so I’ve gotta be going.”
“Whatever. Just make sure you actually make it home tonight, agreed?” He asked.
Jalie lifted her eyes to the ceiling, as if the answer to her marital troubles lied somewhere up there, etched into the grime caked onto the paint.
“Agreed. I’ll see you later. I love you..” She said.
“Yeah, I love you too… Later.”
A dial tone greeted her ears. She placed the phone back onto the base and dropped her gaze to her feet. She couldn’t understand what had caused the gradual change in Seth’s behavior. She hadn’t changed a bit since the day they were married.. But the past several months had turned him into a different person. Cody looked up from the couch, and for the first time since he’d known her, he saw the slightest crack in Jalie’s seemingly invincible façade. To be honest, the sight of it made him rather uncomfortable as opposed to sympathetic. To ease the tension, he quickly brought up a different topic.
“So… You have another meeting today, eh?” He asked.
Jalie chuckled, shaking her head. “No, thank the gods… I just said that to get him off my back. I really don’t feel like going home yet. Maybe that sounds worse than it really is, huh? I hope, anyway… Uhh hey! You wanna get out of here? Go get some shit for the apartment or something?”
She hopped off the counter, clapping her hands together in hopes of lightening the mood. Cody had been sorely missing the lazy boy recliner he had had at the place he shared with Carmen. That had been one of the items he hadn’t been able to keep.. After a particularly nasty fight, she’d taken it to the local Goodwill and donated it when he was out of state for work. He grabbed his discarded jean shorts and pulled them on over his boxers; then grabbed a white wife beater and the two of them headed out the door with Hobo Nick following along behind them.
./scene 2\. __long live the king
The cameras returned inside a fairly crowded Goodwill thrift store. Jalie was currently in the middle of an argument with the cashier about a National Geographic map of ancient Egypt. Cody was wandering in search of the furniture and Hobo Nick was in absolute ecstasy upon finding the ten cent sock bin. He dug in his trench coat pocket to find nine pennies. Cursing, he slowly approached Jalie.
“Who the hell told you that, you fucking dumbass… Djoser had the Step Pyramid built in his honor but he didn’t oversee it’s construction.. That was left to Imhotep, his architect.. And NO he did not betray the pharaoh and come back to life years later to assault Brendan Fraser!
When Jalie began slapping the clerk about the face with the map, Nick thought it best to go in search of Cody in his quest for spare change. He found him, sitting on a sofa with a pretty young girl of about 20. From the vague expression on her face one could only guess she was one of Goodwill’s.. Er.. Mentally handicapped employees. This fact didn’t seem to matter to Carson, considering he was already using all his charm to manipulate the poor young woman. He caressed her face, whispering things into her ear that were making her blush a deep shade of scarlet. Nick butted in, not so much for sock money but to save this girl from Cody’s evil-intentioned clutches.
“Hey, Carson, you got any spare change?” Nick said loudly. Cody glared up at him.
“Later, bum. Now shoo.” Cody ordered.
“No, now. Before I accidentally let it slip to this beautiful little lady that you’ve had more girlfriends in one day than Hugh Hefner has in a good week. Oh… Whoops…” Nick smirked.
The little blonde looked up at Nick in confusion. “Who’s Hugh Hefner?” She asked, looking from Nick to Cody.
“No one! He’s no one. Distant cousin on my uncle’s side.. Twice removed.. Nick could I have a word?” Cody asked, looking at Nick expectantly. Nick nodded and Cody grasped him by the arm and lead him out of earshot of his would-be prey.
“What the fuck, dude? I’m about to land the simplest pussy of my life and you gotta fuck it up?” He demanded.
“I, unlike you, have this little object in my head known as a conscience. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. But give me a penny and I may or may not leave you be with your poor unsuspecting victim.” Nick offered.
Cody looked confused. “Victim? I’m about to give this chick the night of her fucking life, man.. She should be on her knees thanking me for this once in a lifetime opportunity. And if you leave me the fuck alone, then I guarantee you she will be…” He stated. Cody dug in his pockets and handed Nick two dimes and a few loose pennies. Nick’s eyes lit up as the realization that he could now purchase three pairs of socks dawned on him. But now he was in a mental struggle. Socks, or saving this woman’s virginity for someone who actually deserved it… And, last of all, why the fuck did he even care? Noting that the change had already been pocketed into his coat, Nick stared Cody in the eye, looking solemn. “This is gonna hurt me a lot more than it’s gonna hurt you.” He seized his opportunity and pulled Cody in to plant a big, wet kiss on his lips. The girl on the couch let out a gasp. She stormed over and pulled Cody away to land a stinging slap to his face. Her words were audible, but muffled by the combined frustrations of a stutter and heavy lisp.
“Why d-d-didn’t you tell me you had a.. A.. P-Partner? Screw you, you j-jerk!” She stormed off for the back of the store, leaving Cody to stand there… Feeling sore, angry, and incredibly violated. Before he could even consider how he would make Nick pay, the bum had selected his socks, paid for them, and darted out of the store.
Wow.. What the fuck is with all the mystery people lately? First Rick, then Cody, now me… This is getting ridiculous. Just say who the fuck you are already. The mystery shit is done. Over. Overdone. Get me? Lovely. To be honest, no one really gives a shit about the mystery of it anymore. It’s become almost routine. Rick’s attacker was Presler… Wow, impressive. Such a big lead on to something, so much hype, and then he’s revealed and boom! Drops to the bottom rung of the ladder. You know why? Because he’s mediocre. And in this business, mediocre does not pay. Mediocre does not buy you a beach house or a Jaguar. It gets you shit. You may ask why I’m still giving Presler shit when I already squashed the poor bastard at Mayhem. Well, that’s actually rather simple. Who was the last mystery opponent to be booked? Ah yes… Chris Presler. What happened to Presler after his big revealing match (which he lost, I might add)? Right again. He was verbally and physically bitchslapped by yours truly.
So I see he’s appeared, and, what? Surprise surprise. Boom! Mediocrity rears its ugly head once more. So this guy has some issues with uh, nightmares? He looks like a flesh covered brick wall and he has to tell his daddy all about a bad dream he had? Oh for christs sake… Grow a fucking set, dude! This is real life, where grownups interact with each other. Where innocents die, the guilty walk, and Richard Simmons is STILL ON TV! Yeah it sucks, but you deal with it. You don’t cry to your parents. Okay, okay… Here’s a scenario for ya. You know what my papi would say if I told him I had a scary dream, and I didn’t want him to die? He’d clock me with his fucking Cuervo bottle and tell me to quit my bitching. And I would love him for that. You know why? Because that, my dear, is what kept me from growing up and turning into the fucking schoolgirl that YOU have become.
So in retrospect, I have but one thing to say about mister Perkins. The last bastard that tried to be sneaky? His skull was cordially introduced to my crowbar. Feel free to step in line.
Gary Mac… The Mac Daddy… Old MacDonald… Okay… I’m done, really… (mac and cheese)
Okay, NOW I’m done…
So Gary, the fuck is up man? It’s been a while, right? Shit, last I remember you were in RWA, still playin’ the bitch. Appears your ambitions haven’t changed too much. Although you’re now playing the bitch in AWA. Ah, no, I kid… If given the choice of who I’d have to face here, I’d face Perkins. Why? Because I’m lazy. Facing you means I might actually… Possibly… Have to consider putting in a slight effort. And this bothers me. Effort on my own part is not something I usually approve of.
So considering you haven’t been around all that much lately, I suppose I’ll wait and see what you have to say. Honestly, I hope you choose your words carefully. You know, since I know you and all… I’d really hate to have to cripple you.
Okay so that’s a lie. But nonetheless… I have high expectations for you Gary. Let’s see if you can live up to them.
..caution// 
