Belts Off, Belts On
(FADEIN: A dark room with a single overhead light which produces a cone of bright light. It illuminates the EAGLEstar, NOVA, sitting in a folding chair, clad in a black SUPERFLY t-shirt, jeans, and gleaming EMT strap around his waist. Behind him, the silhouettes of JACK HARMEN and CALVIN CARLTON are barely visible, JACK’s arms crossed over his chest, EMT strap visible around his waist as well, and CAL with his arms folded over his front and jewelry glittering like stars spread over a dark night sky.)
NOVA: (Lighting a cigarette) “Well, here we are. You’ve got your shot. You both certainly know how to talk, so I guess we’ll see soon enough if you’re as comfortable standing across the ring from us as you are snuggling behind a microphone.”
(Taking a drag) “Let me address each of you numbskulls in turn.”
(He exhales a plume of smoke which outlines the conical shape of the light as it swirls and dances in front of his face.)
NOVA: “Phil. Philly Boy. Tell Uncle Nova the truth.”
(NOVA leans forward, a broad grin on his face.)
NOVA: “It was Eddie’s idea, right? A marketing gimmick? I mean, I’ve been racking my brain over it for days and I keep arriving at the same conclusion. You wanted a ‘comeback’ moment, and Mayfield saw an opportunity by feeding you Cripple Ryan. I smell a pre-planned career boost, and Phil-Dawg…”
(He cocks his head and exhales smoke through his nose.)
NOVA: “…the Nose Knows. It’s okay to be real with me, I’m a f*cking AUTHORITY on the subject. Look past the fog of self-loathing that coats the years 2007-09 in your memory and remember my WARS with Ryan. They were the stuff of legend. On a seemingly monthly basis, across multiple organizations, we spilled it all on the canvas in efforts to crown and re-crown this community’s pre-eminent competitor.
“So I know healthy, violent, painfully Texan Dan Ryan when I see him. I remember him when he basically resembled a gigantic sledgehammer with two smaller sledgehammers poking out of either side. And the Ego-Buster you, erm, ‘defeated’…well, I just guarantee you the backstage environment of Team Ryan immediately prior to that match must’ve closely resembled the mood before Ali shuffled out to meet Larry Holmes in 1980, so…enjoy the big win.”
(Another drag) “Of course, you’re Phil Atken, so you were expertly equipped to snuff out whatever meaningless momentum you generated off that hollow win. And snuff it out you did, with one of the absolute most horrific f*cking return in-ring promos I have ever had the misfortunate to bear witness to.” (Pointing finger at the screen) “And I only bore witness to it because some asshole mounted a flat-screen over the concessions table…and it was a DAMN FINE spread, so not even your veritable stake in the vampire heart of our ratings could draw me away…from the cheese log, or the barbeque weenies, or the stuffed mushrooms, or…”
(CAL puts a hand on NOVA’s shoulder and leans in close.)
CALVIN CARLTON: “Stay on target, Champ, you’re killin’ ‘em!”
NOVA: “Will someone please acknowledge the f*cking Elephant in the Room and tell Phil that no one cares about British political humor? It’s been the basis of his shtick for years, and it’s not selling. It’s just not. I say that because I feel like SOMEBODY would’ve said SOMETHING positive about it to me by now. But enough on that asshole”.
(The Frontier luminary snuffs his cigarette against the heel of his boot.)
NOVA: “Teddy.” (Looking off-camera) “I’m assuming someone will flash a light or something if I need to speak up over the orgasmic peals of glee from Mr. Alexander that he’s getting a genuine name-drop.
“Ted, you confuse me with your bizarre blend of mangled Norse mythology and macabre children’s tales. But what I DO understand…”
(NOVA rips his t-shirt apart, revealing another shirt with the image of a sad dying face morphed over a white marble background. Behind him, silver and black glitter jets explode next to the heads of JACK HARMEN and CALVIN CARLTON.)
NOVA: “…is Drowning Pool! And that’s the new slogan, right? Right?! Yeah, ‘Let the bodies hit the floor.’ That is just…that is great. I mean, I was pretty confident when we came up with our badass ‘SUPERFLY’ thing, because a good cohesive, creative moniker is a necessary part of tag success, but you two have put us on WATCH with the whole Drowning Pool reference. ‘Let the Bodies Hit the Floor!’ Dudes, I GET it! There was that song, back in like '98 or something, and then it was used in every American release of an Asian action movie thereafter. Yeeeeeaaaaah, best of luck to you both in the future.
“But this is about YOU, Ted. Sweet, oblivious Ted. Indignant Ted. So full of moxie. It's positively ADORABLE that you’ve already developed a Master Plan on success in the tag division, which I gues involves you taking the opportunity to double-team me with your partner at the last BRAWL. And I must say, player…”
(NOVA stands up slowly, and begins softly clapping his hands together, in unison with JACK and CALVIN.)
NOVA: “…well-done. Please hem and haw as much as you can about loyalty and who’s gonna leave who hanging when the rubber meets the road. YOU clearly know how to make the tough decisions. You know in your heart you were wise to take that opportunity when Phil held my head over the side of the ring for you to kick in…you knew.”
(Lighting another cigarette) “You knew a sack-less cheap-shot was the ONLY way you would EVER be able to pull one out over me.
“I am a Living Legend in this company. You can talk in your bizarre accent till you’re blue in the face, and that fact will never change. NFW has been around for going on thirteen years, and it took me HALF that amount of time to become only the second individual inducted to the Hall of Fame, which by the way entitles me to a veritable buffet of awesome sh*t on a daily basis that I choose not to disclose to your cheap-shotting ass at the moment.
“YOU, Ted…you are Teresa Q. You are Lord Coyner Pollard. You are the respectable midcard. Get used to it. You will NEVER upstage me, or Jack, no matter how many ill-timed chairshots you attempt or how many different ways you try to reinvent yourself, and just for the record, I’m prophesying at least one theme-oriented tag team with Cameron Cruise and a potential turn as part of a religious gimmick stable in 2014, where you don’t talk much, to the benefit of NFW v.5’s ratings.
“Because talking isn’t really your thing, is it, Ted? Great explanation for accidentally cracking your own partner over the head with a chair, by the way – ‘YEAH I MADE A DUMBASS MISTAKE, BUT AT LEAST I WAS PRESENT TO MAKE THAT DUMBASS MISTAKE!’ Duly noted. Everyone clear on that?
“You talk about Phil knowing what it takes to win…”
(The EAGLEstar shakes his head, exhaling smoke.)
NOVA: “…dude, WHAT is that guy telling you? You DO know he’s won virtually NOTHING in his roughly half a decade with this company, don’t you? We did Frontier Secret Santa last year, and Phil Atken was the only one who didn’t get a present. Phil Atken once participated in a wrestling tournament…and finished in SUPER last place. It’s worst than last, I didn’t even think such a thing existed. Unless there’s an award for running a years-long angle involving an angry midget that no one cares about, Phil’s resume could fit on a flash card and still leave room for him to scribble out one of his trainwreck in-ring disasters.
“YOU, my friend…” (Pointing his cigarette finger at the screen) “…need to learn a thing or two about your partner.”
(Mocking flex motions) “You’re gonna LET THE BODIES HIT THE FLOOR! You’re in BEAST MODE! I can’t tell if you’re spending your free time in a college football team’s weight room or the inside of an American tank in Afghanistan. But please, please, by all means, feel free to lecture US about ‘taking the next step.’”
(NOVA leans forward, resting his chin on his hands, doe-eyes blinking into the camera. On cue, JACK and CAL also lean forward attentively.)
NOVA: “Educate us, oh 2012 ROOKIE OF THE YEAR, on what it takes to make it to the NEXT LEVEL. ‘Cuz Jack and I are SO OBVIOUSLY in over our heads dealing with the pressure of our top billing at BRAWL 63 against Never-Was and Hasn’t-Yet.
“You describe us as ‘subpar human beings at best’…” (Jerking a thumb back towards JACK) “…and we don’t know what the hell that means. But let us be clear about what we think YOU are…a poor man's Jack Bryant (or a homeless man's Dan Ryan), whose name recognition will fade long before the names of most of the people Jack and I have beaten over the years.”
(Holding up his arms) “Oh, I’m sorry, is this where I’m getting too JOKEY for you? Is my overbearing slapstick muddying the message? Because the skillful part about comedy – and feel free to pass this along to Phil at no charge – is knowing when you don’t have to force the joke. ‘Cuz sometimes you don’t need one.”
(Taking a drag) “Sometimes reality on its own is f*cking HYSTERICAL. Case in point.”
(NOVA leans back in his chair. The EMT Title shines around his waist.)
NOVA: “You keep referencing the titles coming off, the titles coming off, blah, blah, blah, once again taking a cool, fun idea and BLEACHING it of any redeeming value simply by virtue of your constant, repeated acknowledgment that it exists…but I want you to watch carefully, Ted…”
(The EAGLEstar unclips the EMT and holds it aloft.)
NOVA: “The belt comes off…”
(He clips it back around his waist and holds out his arms.)
NOVA: “…and it goes right back on. This is a cycle you should get used to visualizing, Rookie…‘cuz you’re going to be seeing it for a LONG, LONG time.”
(FADETOBLACK.)