Roleplay runs from Tuesday, May 15 to Tuesday, May 22. 2 RP minimum this round. SHOW UP! 
Round 2: Henry Dylan vs. Shamon
- Thread starter Chad
- Start date
(FADEIN to The Beverly Hills Hotel. Shamon is relaxing at the spa with a mud mask on his face and cucumber slices over his eyes. His blonde gheri curl is protected by a clear shower cap on his head. A small Chinese woman is giving him a manicure.)
CHUN LI: You want shiny buff?
SHAMON: Oh yes! Shiny buff really brings out the color of my eyes! Hey, Chun Li, do you think I can get a massage after this? My shoulders are killing me.
CHUN LI: Yes, Mr. Shamon. No problem.
(The manicurist finishes the final touches on the shiny buff on his fingernails. She then begins to remove the cucumber slices on his eyes and the mud mask.)
SHAMON: My skin feels terrific. (Looks at his nails.) Oh Chun Li, you are the best! You don’t think the shiny buff makes my hands look too feminine do you?
(She stares at his hands, then sees how ridiculous he looks with the shower cap and barber cape covering his body.)
CHUN LI: Oh no, Mr. Shamon. You are right. It brings out your eyes.
(She rolls her eyes at her comments as Shamon glances at himself in a nearby mirror. He begins to sing an abbreviated version of “Don’t Stop ‘til You Get Enough”.)
SHAMON: Lovely…is the feeling noooowwww. Feeeever…temperatures rising noooowwww. (Throws his arms in the air and does a fist pumping move rotating each arm.) OHHH! Keep on with the force don’t…don’t stop ‘til you get enough! Keep on with the force don’t…don’t stop ‘til you get enough!
(He grabs his crotch and begins to do a shoulder shimmy. Does a spin move to talk to Chun Li.)
SHAMON: I’m ready for my massage now. GO ON GIRL…uhh…huh…HEE HEE!
(Chun Li walks Shamon over to the massage chair. He tries to sit in it like a regular chair. Chun Li wags her finger at him and then does a swirl motion with her hand informing him to sit the other way. He places his head onto the face cushion cradle. The camera cuts to a shot of his face through the cushion opening as Chun Li begins to massage his shoulders.)
SHAMON: Ahh…it has really been a rough few days for me. First, I won my ULTRATITLE match against Lucious Starr. Can you believe it!? Then I got through an even ROUGHER choreography session at the dance hall with Paula Abdul. And THEN I had to get through all of my adoring fans and the paparazzi to see you today.
Then tomorrow I have to start training with some new guy that the Disco Midget is hooking me up with. I hope it will be worth it. After capturing the hearts of the nation and becoming America’s Sweetheart with my performances on American Voice Factor X, I have been nonstop busy.
Next week I have to wrestle again in the ULTRATITLE tournament. Some guy named Hank Dylan. I wonder if he is related to Bob. Interesting fact, did you know Bob Dylan originally recorded a duet with Michael Jackson called “The Girl Is Mine”, but Quincy Jones thought his vocals were too mumbled. So he went with Sir Paul McCartney…true story!
Anyway…I saw what Dylan did to one of the favorites in the tournament, Calvin Powers. I mean, the guy is a monster. If he can beat Powers like that…it makes me wonder what he will do to me. Gee whiz…I hope this new trainer works out for me. My Pilates instructor has been putting me through the ringer lately. I need to change things up so that I can beat Dylan and move one step closer to capturing the ULTRATITLE!
(Chun Li pays no attention to Shamon’s ramblings. She continues to massage his shoulders and neck area. Then a familiar voice can be heard entering the spa area. The famous actor, John Travolta.)
TRAVOLTA: What’s a guy gotta do to get a massage around here?
SHAMON: Vinnie Barbarino? Is it really you? I have admired your career from afar. I loved your work in Saturday Night Fever, Grease, and To Wong Foo!
TRAVOLTA: Hey buddy, thanks. But I wasn’t in To Wong Foo. That was Swayze. I was busy filming Get Shorty and couldn’t take the role. Maybe you have my movies confused…did you see Hairspray? I played an obese house-ridden mother that owns her own laundry service. A role that brought tears to the eyes of all the critics and fans alike.
SHAMON: That’s it!
CHUN LI: Mr. Shamon, lets go put you on the table for full body massage.
TRAVOLTA: Hey…what about me? I’m Johnny freakin’ Travolta!
CHUN LI: Well it’s just me right now. Go ahead and lay down. I will try to fit you in.
(Shamon and Travolta enter separate changing rooms. Both emerge with a white towel around their waist. Travolta looks Shamon up and down and nods with approval.)
TRAVOLTA: You are totally shredded. What’s that from? The Thighmaster? Wow-wee…impressive.
SHAMON: No, I do a lot of dancing. You may have seen me on A.V.F.X.? I’m the 2012 season winner!
TRAVOLTA: Oh yeah…I thought you looked familiar. You’re the guy that used to be a wrestler. I watch it from time to time. Nothing like seeing big huge bulked up dudes rubbed down in baby oil…rolling all over each other.
SHAMON: Yeah…it’s a rough sport. You really have to be in top physical condition. Hey…my album comes out in a few months. I know you had several Top 40 hits. Do you want to do a duet with me on the album? I really love that song “Summer Nights”. (Clears his throat to sing.) Wella wella wella…huh…tell me more…tell me more…did she put up a fight? Uh huh…uh huh…uh huh. (Stops singing.) Could you sing it to me?
TRAVOLTA: For you, sure thing.
(Chun Li is rubbing down Shamon, as Travolta looks on.)
TRAVOLTA: (Singing.) Summer lovin’…had me a blast. Summer lovin’…happened so fast! I met a girl…crazy for meee…
(Shamon begins to doze off to the blissful sounds of Travolta serenading him during his massage. He begins to dream of him and his new best friend, The Disco Midget. He has images from a commercial he saw recently on television.)
(While dreaming, he has images of him and the Disco Midget at a playground. Shamon is spinning around in a circle, holding the Disco Midget by his arms, imitating a propeller. Then an image of them going down a slide together, with Disco between his legs. They get to the bottom, hit the ground, and both turn to each other laughing.
Then another shot of them in a playhouse, with the door having a sign reading “No Girls Allowed”. A little kid is knocking on the door, and Shamon and Disco pop out of a side window to see who it is.
A shot of Shamon and the Disco Midget on a “big wheel” going down a hill. Laughing and being carefree. Shamon pulls the handbrake and they spinout.
A shot of them tossing around a Nerf football. Shamon catches a pass, does a spin move to get past the dwarf, and then does a touchdown celebration dance after spiking the ball.
A shot of them wearing matching blanket Snuggies and watching television on the couch.
The visual changes to a shot of Shamon asleep at the table. Chun Li leaves the room to take a break. Travolta makes his way to Shamon and begins rubbing his shoulders. Shamon begins to wake up, but leaves his eyes closed while he is getting massaged.)
SHAMON: Oh, Chun Li…I had the most wonderful dream. Me and my bestest friend, the Disco Midget, were having fun at the playground. Just having the best time ever! Chun Li...how much longer is the massage? I feel great. You have magic hands!
TRAVOLTA: Hey…she left the room to take a smoke break. How about we finish this in my bungalow?
(Shamon sits straight up, eyes bugging out of his head, looking creeped out by the proposition proposed to him.)
SHAMON: No sir! Shamon does not swing that way!
TRAVOLTA: But I will sing to you some more. (Starts to sing.) I got chills…their MULTIPLYIN’! And I’m looooosin’ control! From the power…you’re supplyin’! It’s ELECTRIFYIN’!
SHAMON: Oh…hell to the no! I think you have me confused for another masseur, Johnny Boy. I am your friend…not a prostitute.
TRAVOLTA: (Still singing.) You’re the one that I want. You are the one I want. OHH OHH OHH…HONEY!
SHAMON: I’m getting the hell out of here!
(Shamon gets up, grabs his clothes, and walks out of the room with a towel around his waist. Travolta watches him walk away and continues to sing.)
TRAVOLTA: We go together like ramma lamma ka dinga da dingy da dingy dong. Remembered forever as shoo-bop sha whada whadda yippidy boom da boom. Chang chang changity chang shee-bop. That’s the way it should beee…waooo…yeah…
(The scene FADES TO BLACK..)
CHUN LI: You want shiny buff?
SHAMON: Oh yes! Shiny buff really brings out the color of my eyes! Hey, Chun Li, do you think I can get a massage after this? My shoulders are killing me.
CHUN LI: Yes, Mr. Shamon. No problem.
(The manicurist finishes the final touches on the shiny buff on his fingernails. She then begins to remove the cucumber slices on his eyes and the mud mask.)
SHAMON: My skin feels terrific. (Looks at his nails.) Oh Chun Li, you are the best! You don’t think the shiny buff makes my hands look too feminine do you?
(She stares at his hands, then sees how ridiculous he looks with the shower cap and barber cape covering his body.)
CHUN LI: Oh no, Mr. Shamon. You are right. It brings out your eyes.
(She rolls her eyes at her comments as Shamon glances at himself in a nearby mirror. He begins to sing an abbreviated version of “Don’t Stop ‘til You Get Enough”.)
SHAMON: Lovely…is the feeling noooowwww. Feeeever…temperatures rising noooowwww. (Throws his arms in the air and does a fist pumping move rotating each arm.) OHHH! Keep on with the force don’t…don’t stop ‘til you get enough! Keep on with the force don’t…don’t stop ‘til you get enough!
(He grabs his crotch and begins to do a shoulder shimmy. Does a spin move to talk to Chun Li.)
SHAMON: I’m ready for my massage now. GO ON GIRL…uhh…huh…HEE HEE!
(Chun Li walks Shamon over to the massage chair. He tries to sit in it like a regular chair. Chun Li wags her finger at him and then does a swirl motion with her hand informing him to sit the other way. He places his head onto the face cushion cradle. The camera cuts to a shot of his face through the cushion opening as Chun Li begins to massage his shoulders.)
SHAMON: Ahh…it has really been a rough few days for me. First, I won my ULTRATITLE match against Lucious Starr. Can you believe it!? Then I got through an even ROUGHER choreography session at the dance hall with Paula Abdul. And THEN I had to get through all of my adoring fans and the paparazzi to see you today.
Then tomorrow I have to start training with some new guy that the Disco Midget is hooking me up with. I hope it will be worth it. After capturing the hearts of the nation and becoming America’s Sweetheart with my performances on American Voice Factor X, I have been nonstop busy.
Next week I have to wrestle again in the ULTRATITLE tournament. Some guy named Hank Dylan. I wonder if he is related to Bob. Interesting fact, did you know Bob Dylan originally recorded a duet with Michael Jackson called “The Girl Is Mine”, but Quincy Jones thought his vocals were too mumbled. So he went with Sir Paul McCartney…true story!
Anyway…I saw what Dylan did to one of the favorites in the tournament, Calvin Powers. I mean, the guy is a monster. If he can beat Powers like that…it makes me wonder what he will do to me. Gee whiz…I hope this new trainer works out for me. My Pilates instructor has been putting me through the ringer lately. I need to change things up so that I can beat Dylan and move one step closer to capturing the ULTRATITLE!
(Chun Li pays no attention to Shamon’s ramblings. She continues to massage his shoulders and neck area. Then a familiar voice can be heard entering the spa area. The famous actor, John Travolta.)
TRAVOLTA: What’s a guy gotta do to get a massage around here?
SHAMON: Vinnie Barbarino? Is it really you? I have admired your career from afar. I loved your work in Saturday Night Fever, Grease, and To Wong Foo!
TRAVOLTA: Hey buddy, thanks. But I wasn’t in To Wong Foo. That was Swayze. I was busy filming Get Shorty and couldn’t take the role. Maybe you have my movies confused…did you see Hairspray? I played an obese house-ridden mother that owns her own laundry service. A role that brought tears to the eyes of all the critics and fans alike.
SHAMON: That’s it!
CHUN LI: Mr. Shamon, lets go put you on the table for full body massage.
TRAVOLTA: Hey…what about me? I’m Johnny freakin’ Travolta!
CHUN LI: Well it’s just me right now. Go ahead and lay down. I will try to fit you in.
(Shamon and Travolta enter separate changing rooms. Both emerge with a white towel around their waist. Travolta looks Shamon up and down and nods with approval.)
TRAVOLTA: You are totally shredded. What’s that from? The Thighmaster? Wow-wee…impressive.
SHAMON: No, I do a lot of dancing. You may have seen me on A.V.F.X.? I’m the 2012 season winner!
TRAVOLTA: Oh yeah…I thought you looked familiar. You’re the guy that used to be a wrestler. I watch it from time to time. Nothing like seeing big huge bulked up dudes rubbed down in baby oil…rolling all over each other.
SHAMON: Yeah…it’s a rough sport. You really have to be in top physical condition. Hey…my album comes out in a few months. I know you had several Top 40 hits. Do you want to do a duet with me on the album? I really love that song “Summer Nights”. (Clears his throat to sing.) Wella wella wella…huh…tell me more…tell me more…did she put up a fight? Uh huh…uh huh…uh huh. (Stops singing.) Could you sing it to me?
TRAVOLTA: For you, sure thing.
(Chun Li is rubbing down Shamon, as Travolta looks on.)
TRAVOLTA: (Singing.) Summer lovin’…had me a blast. Summer lovin’…happened so fast! I met a girl…crazy for meee…
(Shamon begins to doze off to the blissful sounds of Travolta serenading him during his massage. He begins to dream of him and his new best friend, The Disco Midget. He has images from a commercial he saw recently on television.)
(While dreaming, he has images of him and the Disco Midget at a playground. Shamon is spinning around in a circle, holding the Disco Midget by his arms, imitating a propeller. Then an image of them going down a slide together, with Disco between his legs. They get to the bottom, hit the ground, and both turn to each other laughing.
Then another shot of them in a playhouse, with the door having a sign reading “No Girls Allowed”. A little kid is knocking on the door, and Shamon and Disco pop out of a side window to see who it is.
A shot of Shamon and the Disco Midget on a “big wheel” going down a hill. Laughing and being carefree. Shamon pulls the handbrake and they spinout.
A shot of them tossing around a Nerf football. Shamon catches a pass, does a spin move to get past the dwarf, and then does a touchdown celebration dance after spiking the ball.
A shot of them wearing matching blanket Snuggies and watching television on the couch.
The visual changes to a shot of Shamon asleep at the table. Chun Li leaves the room to take a break. Travolta makes his way to Shamon and begins rubbing his shoulders. Shamon begins to wake up, but leaves his eyes closed while he is getting massaged.)
SHAMON: Oh, Chun Li…I had the most wonderful dream. Me and my bestest friend, the Disco Midget, were having fun at the playground. Just having the best time ever! Chun Li...how much longer is the massage? I feel great. You have magic hands!
TRAVOLTA: Hey…she left the room to take a smoke break. How about we finish this in my bungalow?
(Shamon sits straight up, eyes bugging out of his head, looking creeped out by the proposition proposed to him.)
SHAMON: No sir! Shamon does not swing that way!
TRAVOLTA: But I will sing to you some more. (Starts to sing.) I got chills…their MULTIPLYIN’! And I’m looooosin’ control! From the power…you’re supplyin’! It’s ELECTRIFYIN’!
SHAMON: Oh…hell to the no! I think you have me confused for another masseur, Johnny Boy. I am your friend…not a prostitute.
TRAVOLTA: (Still singing.) You’re the one that I want. You are the one I want. OHH OHH OHH…HONEY!
SHAMON: I’m getting the hell out of here!
(Shamon gets up, grabs his clothes, and walks out of the room with a towel around his waist. Travolta watches him walk away and continues to sing.)
TRAVOLTA: We go together like ramma lamma ka dinga da dingy da dingy dong. Remembered forever as shoo-bop sha whada whadda yippidy boom da boom. Chang chang changity chang shee-bop. That’s the way it should beee…waooo…yeah…
(The scene FADES TO BLACK..)
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Change and the threat of shame.
The tables have turned on you Henry.
Most of them thought you would lose. Yet here you stand as the victor, ready to move on to the second round. The “Good God” fell at your feet, but with that the advantage of being the underdog – the benefit of being an unknown quantity – fell too.
You were the former schoolteacher that could, ready to sneak in under the radar and pick a path through the tournament. You were hidden in plain sight. Before the first match took place nobody was concerned by Henry Dylan. Not many were even predicting you to advance past the first round, especially not over a near seven foot giant named Kevin Powers.
Dylan stood dripping wet and naked but for the white cotton towel wrapped around his midsection. He stood in front of his bathroom mirror with his dark brown eyes focused on his own reflection in front of him. Though his body stood still as a statue, his mind was racing at a frantic pace. Henry Dylan was lost in thought.
You won. You won just like you had to but now some of those eyes have switched focus. Some of the experts are calling your name, singling YOU out as one to watch. You can’t fly under the radar unexpectedly with so many eyes locked on you. Staring a hole through your soul and watching your every move whilst documenting each step you dare to take.
This is not the way you had planned it, is it? Not. At. All.
<buzzzzz. buzzzzz.>
Dylan’s intense focus was disturbed by the familiar sound of a phone vibrating to his left. He picked his mobile phone up off the surface, affording himself a quick glance at the caller ID before answering.
“What is it?” His deep English voice lacked its familiar calm and poise. From his tone alone it was crystal clear that he was not in mood to chat. His angry facial expressions only confirmed that to be true as he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. “Listen to me David, and you listen good…” he spoke with an unfamiliar growl “…you’re almost a teenager now, and you can’t come crying to Mr. Dylan every time you’re picked on! Don’t even think about calling this number again unless you have a real reason to.”
With those words Dylan pressed the terminate call button harder than necessary before motioning as if to toss the phone aside. That’s when something stopped him, and instead he found himself flipping to the mobiles video function and focusing it on his own ageing features. His hair was greying at the roots, his beard a scraggly mess, his body felt worn down and his mind was held captive by the inner turmoil that was his brain.
That’s when he held the phone out at arm’s length and hit “RECORD”…
The camera focuses on the face of “The Friendly Stranger” Henry Dylan. The bags under his weary bloodshot eyes give an immediate suggestion of sleep deprivation as the picture comes into focus. He runs a weary hand through the wet, scruffy brown mop of hair atop his head, the water causing it to hold its slicked back position.
For the entirety of his admittedly brief wrestling career thus far Henry has always been the epitome of poise. Calmness personified, as though his veins flowed with an ice cold substance. However this man staring into the camera was a foreign sight. The hearty smile was nowhere to be seen – the friendly stranger had become a stranger to himself.
HENRY DYLAN:
Shamon. Sha-Mon. Shaaaamoooonn.
Here we are my dear friend. Here we are in the second round of the most prestigious and elite tournament this business to offer.
Dylan tried in vain to hide his anxiety. Seeking to force a smile that was never likely to convince an audience. His voice remained calm despite his visible unease, but it trembled at points as though it belonged to a man about to crack.
DYLAN:
Just like almost everyone else who signed on the dotted line, I am a man who wants to win the ultimate prize. I didn’t join up for the photo opportunity and I didn’t come this far just to pack up my things and leave right now.
I came into this thing as an unknown quantity and I had intended to keep it that way for at least another round or so. But already the vultures are circling and the media are calling me for interviews and promotional material. What kind of stranger allows the entire world to know him inside out?
This isn’t me. The mood is changing. I was recognised on the street yesterday - ME! A former teacher trying to make my way into this business I grew up adoring. I’m not a star. Not yet. I shouldn’t be recognised by anyone outside of the arena I compete in. Not yet. It’s happening too early. Far too early.
To be perfectly honest I was guilty of making a mistake. For a weak moment I allowed myself to think that I had done the hard part. Beating Kevin Powers was one of several upsets that shook the tournament to its core, rocking the foundation of the wrestling world as we know it. The job was done, and then I afforded myself a glance at the bracket and my next opponent.
And as for my next victim? That’s you Shamon.
I thought it was sure to be easy. You’re a joke with no interest in winning titles in the wrestling world. Of course you are far more concerned with winning “talent” shows and gyrating with disgraced celebrities. Of course I should defeat you. Easy as one, two, three.
…I think that’s exactly why the nightmares started.
I took a look at you gallivanting around with your carefree attitude to an event of this magnitude and my mind started playing cruel and twisted games. Until recently I had never envisaged the day when I would wake up in the middle of the night in a pool of my own sweat with such disgustingly vivid images still fresh in my head.
Images of you Shamon. The terrifying image of you and Danny Zuko himself sharing a warm embrace whilst looking down at my prone, lifeless and heavily blood-stained body as I lie flat out on the canvas. The sound of you singing merrily as Tony Manero struts his stuff and Michael Jackson rises from the grave Thriller-style to join the pair of you for an impromptu dance number. All the while I lie motionless on the mat in the centre of the ring and I continue to bleed. So much blood…so many dance moves. Moves I didn’t even think that I knew existed.
That’s not normal. That’s not healthy.
Losing to you would make me the joke. I can’t allow that to happen…
I WON’T allow that to happen. I can’t lose this way…not to you…anyone but you. It can’t be to you. Anyone besides you. I have to win for the sake of my career. For the sake of professional wrestling. I can’t lose to someone like you…anyone else but y…
…anyone…else…
That’s when it hit him. Henry paused to reflect – if real life were a cartoon strip a light bulb would be flashing above his head right about now. Some refer to it as a “eureka moment” – the true realisation had dawned upon the ACW star.
The corners of his thin mouth twitched upwards. His familiar smile began to return.
DYLAN:
That’s it! I didn’t see it until now but that’s the very problem itself! It isn’t the fact that I’m no longer the underdog. It isn’t because the focus has switched to me at all…
It’s YOU, Shamon. It’s all you.
Dylan chuckled with a strange sense of relief as he brushed his free hand through his hair again.
DYLAN:
Advancing in this tournament was always going to mean having a spotlight shining in my direction for the very first time. In this business, success breeds familiarity. When you win you get the masses murmuring. Being recognised as the best is my whole purpose for being here and that’s what winning the ULTRATITLE is all about. My game plan served me well in the first round but now it is time to tweak it. A slight alteration never hurt anybody.
No, the difference between round one and round two is not me. The difference is you.
On paper I had a mammoth task ahead of me in the gigantic “Good God” Kevin Powers with all his past successes and accolades. If I had lost nobody would have given it a second thought. But Shamon? A Michael Jackson wannabe who spends more time squealing and gyrating with celebrities than focusing on a massive upcoming match? I lose to you and I might well be laughed out of the building, even laughed out of the industry.
I’m sure you’re only too aware that that’s how you’re perceived to the average outsider looking in. You’re a comic; a comedy act trying to make his way in wrestling. A lost little boy moonwalking in a world full of grown men.
Or at least, that’s what you’d want me to believe.
The shot pans down and focuses on Henry’s bare feet for a moment whilst Dylan at last decides to pick up a towel with his spare hand and wipe down his face. As it quickly pans back up “The Strangler” is now sporting the towel around his neck.
DYLAN:
But unlike so many others Shamon, I’m not going to fall into that trap. Oh no. Mr. Dylan is just a little bit smarter than your average bear.
I could go the same route as “The Untamed Fury” Lucious Starr. I could stand here and crack a few “hilarious” one-liners and MJ gags that we’ve all heard a million times before. I could simply dismiss you as the comedy act you portray yourself as and prepare myself for what is sure to be an easy victory. After all you’re just a gag right?
Wrong.
Unlike others before me I will not allow myself to underestimate you. Once you step through those ropes and enter that ring you become the only thing standing between me and my desired destiny. I will treat you as a colossal threat in every conceivable way, and I will formulate a carefully devised plan to efficiently eviscerate you, just as I did to Kevin Powers.
I don’t know whether you’re being trained by another supposed comedy act or a superstar wrestler from this corner of the business. Maybe my old buddy “Good God” himself is going to train you, though all he would be capable of teaching you is how to fall to a miserable and agonising defeat. The bottom line is that I don’t care for it simply does not matter. I have studied the counter move to every move and counter move in the book and I’m coming at you with everything in my arsenal.
This is round two Shamon, and in that ring all of the comedy pretences quickly fade away into insignificance. To me you’re not just a phoney MJ wannabe. You are a man and more importantly you are as dangerous as any foe I ever have or ever will step into the squared circle with.
In this business where careers can end in an instant nobody is to be taken lightly, and as much as it might disappoint you and your own game plan to hear this - that includes you.
So mark my words because I have chosen my path - I will destroy you so badly that you’ll need a shoehorn in future just to put your hat on. My nickname might allow you to think that I’m a nice guy but on the inside I’m the kind of man who sincerely hopes you stand an inch or two closer to the blade next time you shave.
The time for devising strategies is coming to an end and the war is set to play out inside the squared circle. I will take enormous pleasure in teaching you the kind of lesson you don’t learn in any classroom.
The Friendly Stranger brushes a stray hair from his face before delivering his final statement:
DYLAN:
If you’re the Michael Jackson of the wrestling world…I guess that’ll make me Dr. Conrad Murray. So never mind the bollocks - in that ring it’ll be just you and me.
…and then it’ll just be me.
/FIN
The tables have turned on you Henry.
Most of them thought you would lose. Yet here you stand as the victor, ready to move on to the second round. The “Good God” fell at your feet, but with that the advantage of being the underdog – the benefit of being an unknown quantity – fell too.
You were the former schoolteacher that could, ready to sneak in under the radar and pick a path through the tournament. You were hidden in plain sight. Before the first match took place nobody was concerned by Henry Dylan. Not many were even predicting you to advance past the first round, especially not over a near seven foot giant named Kevin Powers.
Dylan stood dripping wet and naked but for the white cotton towel wrapped around his midsection. He stood in front of his bathroom mirror with his dark brown eyes focused on his own reflection in front of him. Though his body stood still as a statue, his mind was racing at a frantic pace. Henry Dylan was lost in thought.
You won. You won just like you had to but now some of those eyes have switched focus. Some of the experts are calling your name, singling YOU out as one to watch. You can’t fly under the radar unexpectedly with so many eyes locked on you. Staring a hole through your soul and watching your every move whilst documenting each step you dare to take.
This is not the way you had planned it, is it? Not. At. All.
<buzzzzz. buzzzzz.>
Dylan’s intense focus was disturbed by the familiar sound of a phone vibrating to his left. He picked his mobile phone up off the surface, affording himself a quick glance at the caller ID before answering.
“What is it?” His deep English voice lacked its familiar calm and poise. From his tone alone it was crystal clear that he was not in mood to chat. His angry facial expressions only confirmed that to be true as he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. “Listen to me David, and you listen good…” he spoke with an unfamiliar growl “…you’re almost a teenager now, and you can’t come crying to Mr. Dylan every time you’re picked on! Don’t even think about calling this number again unless you have a real reason to.”
With those words Dylan pressed the terminate call button harder than necessary before motioning as if to toss the phone aside. That’s when something stopped him, and instead he found himself flipping to the mobiles video function and focusing it on his own ageing features. His hair was greying at the roots, his beard a scraggly mess, his body felt worn down and his mind was held captive by the inner turmoil that was his brain.
That’s when he held the phone out at arm’s length and hit “RECORD”…
***
The camera focuses on the face of “The Friendly Stranger” Henry Dylan. The bags under his weary bloodshot eyes give an immediate suggestion of sleep deprivation as the picture comes into focus. He runs a weary hand through the wet, scruffy brown mop of hair atop his head, the water causing it to hold its slicked back position.
For the entirety of his admittedly brief wrestling career thus far Henry has always been the epitome of poise. Calmness personified, as though his veins flowed with an ice cold substance. However this man staring into the camera was a foreign sight. The hearty smile was nowhere to be seen – the friendly stranger had become a stranger to himself.
HENRY DYLAN:
Shamon. Sha-Mon. Shaaaamoooonn.
Here we are my dear friend. Here we are in the second round of the most prestigious and elite tournament this business to offer.
Dylan tried in vain to hide his anxiety. Seeking to force a smile that was never likely to convince an audience. His voice remained calm despite his visible unease, but it trembled at points as though it belonged to a man about to crack.
DYLAN:
Just like almost everyone else who signed on the dotted line, I am a man who wants to win the ultimate prize. I didn’t join up for the photo opportunity and I didn’t come this far just to pack up my things and leave right now.
I came into this thing as an unknown quantity and I had intended to keep it that way for at least another round or so. But already the vultures are circling and the media are calling me for interviews and promotional material. What kind of stranger allows the entire world to know him inside out?
This isn’t me. The mood is changing. I was recognised on the street yesterday - ME! A former teacher trying to make my way into this business I grew up adoring. I’m not a star. Not yet. I shouldn’t be recognised by anyone outside of the arena I compete in. Not yet. It’s happening too early. Far too early.
To be perfectly honest I was guilty of making a mistake. For a weak moment I allowed myself to think that I had done the hard part. Beating Kevin Powers was one of several upsets that shook the tournament to its core, rocking the foundation of the wrestling world as we know it. The job was done, and then I afforded myself a glance at the bracket and my next opponent.
And as for my next victim? That’s you Shamon.
I thought it was sure to be easy. You’re a joke with no interest in winning titles in the wrestling world. Of course you are far more concerned with winning “talent” shows and gyrating with disgraced celebrities. Of course I should defeat you. Easy as one, two, three.
…I think that’s exactly why the nightmares started.
I took a look at you gallivanting around with your carefree attitude to an event of this magnitude and my mind started playing cruel and twisted games. Until recently I had never envisaged the day when I would wake up in the middle of the night in a pool of my own sweat with such disgustingly vivid images still fresh in my head.
Images of you Shamon. The terrifying image of you and Danny Zuko himself sharing a warm embrace whilst looking down at my prone, lifeless and heavily blood-stained body as I lie flat out on the canvas. The sound of you singing merrily as Tony Manero struts his stuff and Michael Jackson rises from the grave Thriller-style to join the pair of you for an impromptu dance number. All the while I lie motionless on the mat in the centre of the ring and I continue to bleed. So much blood…so many dance moves. Moves I didn’t even think that I knew existed.
That’s not normal. That’s not healthy.
Losing to you would make me the joke. I can’t allow that to happen…
I WON’T allow that to happen. I can’t lose this way…not to you…anyone but you. It can’t be to you. Anyone besides you. I have to win for the sake of my career. For the sake of professional wrestling. I can’t lose to someone like you…anyone else but y…
…anyone…else…
That’s when it hit him. Henry paused to reflect – if real life were a cartoon strip a light bulb would be flashing above his head right about now. Some refer to it as a “eureka moment” – the true realisation had dawned upon the ACW star.
The corners of his thin mouth twitched upwards. His familiar smile began to return.
DYLAN:
That’s it! I didn’t see it until now but that’s the very problem itself! It isn’t the fact that I’m no longer the underdog. It isn’t because the focus has switched to me at all…
It’s YOU, Shamon. It’s all you.
Dylan chuckled with a strange sense of relief as he brushed his free hand through his hair again.
DYLAN:
Advancing in this tournament was always going to mean having a spotlight shining in my direction for the very first time. In this business, success breeds familiarity. When you win you get the masses murmuring. Being recognised as the best is my whole purpose for being here and that’s what winning the ULTRATITLE is all about. My game plan served me well in the first round but now it is time to tweak it. A slight alteration never hurt anybody.
No, the difference between round one and round two is not me. The difference is you.
On paper I had a mammoth task ahead of me in the gigantic “Good God” Kevin Powers with all his past successes and accolades. If I had lost nobody would have given it a second thought. But Shamon? A Michael Jackson wannabe who spends more time squealing and gyrating with celebrities than focusing on a massive upcoming match? I lose to you and I might well be laughed out of the building, even laughed out of the industry.
I’m sure you’re only too aware that that’s how you’re perceived to the average outsider looking in. You’re a comic; a comedy act trying to make his way in wrestling. A lost little boy moonwalking in a world full of grown men.
Or at least, that’s what you’d want me to believe.
The shot pans down and focuses on Henry’s bare feet for a moment whilst Dylan at last decides to pick up a towel with his spare hand and wipe down his face. As it quickly pans back up “The Strangler” is now sporting the towel around his neck.
DYLAN:
But unlike so many others Shamon, I’m not going to fall into that trap. Oh no. Mr. Dylan is just a little bit smarter than your average bear.
I could go the same route as “The Untamed Fury” Lucious Starr. I could stand here and crack a few “hilarious” one-liners and MJ gags that we’ve all heard a million times before. I could simply dismiss you as the comedy act you portray yourself as and prepare myself for what is sure to be an easy victory. After all you’re just a gag right?
Wrong.
Unlike others before me I will not allow myself to underestimate you. Once you step through those ropes and enter that ring you become the only thing standing between me and my desired destiny. I will treat you as a colossal threat in every conceivable way, and I will formulate a carefully devised plan to efficiently eviscerate you, just as I did to Kevin Powers.
I don’t know whether you’re being trained by another supposed comedy act or a superstar wrestler from this corner of the business. Maybe my old buddy “Good God” himself is going to train you, though all he would be capable of teaching you is how to fall to a miserable and agonising defeat. The bottom line is that I don’t care for it simply does not matter. I have studied the counter move to every move and counter move in the book and I’m coming at you with everything in my arsenal.
This is round two Shamon, and in that ring all of the comedy pretences quickly fade away into insignificance. To me you’re not just a phoney MJ wannabe. You are a man and more importantly you are as dangerous as any foe I ever have or ever will step into the squared circle with.
In this business where careers can end in an instant nobody is to be taken lightly, and as much as it might disappoint you and your own game plan to hear this - that includes you.
So mark my words because I have chosen my path - I will destroy you so badly that you’ll need a shoehorn in future just to put your hat on. My nickname might allow you to think that I’m a nice guy but on the inside I’m the kind of man who sincerely hopes you stand an inch or two closer to the blade next time you shave.
The time for devising strategies is coming to an end and the war is set to play out inside the squared circle. I will take enormous pleasure in teaching you the kind of lesson you don’t learn in any classroom.
The Friendly Stranger brushes a stray hair from his face before delivering his final statement:
DYLAN:
If you’re the Michael Jackson of the wrestling world…I guess that’ll make me Dr. Conrad Murray. So never mind the bollocks - in that ring it’ll be just you and me.
…and then it’ll just be me.
/FIN
Last edited:
The First Interview
[FADE IN]
The scene cuts to a smiling interviewer best known for his current position in Infinite Wrestling. Dave Snuggett glares at the camera, suitably attired in a smart shirt and trousers.
Opposite him is the individual set to face Shamon in the second round of the highly coveted ULTRATITLE tournament. A man named Henry Dylan.
In stark contrast to the last time he was seen standing near naked in his own bathroom, Dylan sports a tweed jacket and trouser suit, with a purple shirt and matching tie. His usually scruffy brown mullet has been slicked back, and his beard trimmed to perfection. More importantly he appears to be relaxed. Cool, calm and calculated.
That's the Henry Dylan we're used to after all.
DAVE SNUGGETT:
Greetings wrestling fans and welcome to the Wrestling News Online. My name is Dave Snuggett and today we're taking a close look at one of the remaining participants in the much-hyped ULTRATITLE tournament.
I'm joined here today by none other than "The Friendly Stranger" himself, ACW superstar Henry Dylan! Welcome Henry.
HENRY DYLAN:
Greetings Dave, and may I say that it is my pleasure to be here.
SNUGGETT:
Indeed you may and I'm only too happy to have this chance for a rare interview with you. How are you feeling?
DYLAN:
Im feeling on top of the world and I simply cannot wait to get back in that ring.
SNUGGETT:
Of course! You saw off the challenge of the heavily fancied "Good God" Kevin Powers in round one. Would it be fair to say that win was something of an upset?
DYLAN:
I'd argue not, but to the casual fan who might not be so familiar with me and my work I can see why they might believe that to be the case.
SNUGGETT:
I see. Next up you are set to go face to face with another surprise package of sorts. A wacky, "off the wall" individual by the name of Shamon. What are your thoughts on him?
DYLAN:
Shamon is a man who has pulled the wool over a lot of eyes. In particular those of Lucious Starr, who was so preoccupied with Michael Jackson related one-liners that he found himself being pinned to the mat for a three count. You can be sure that I will not be making the same mistake.
SNUGGETT:
He is certainly a "bad" man. I'm convinced that match will be a real "thriller"...
Henry interrupts and raises his hand to stop Dave mid-sentence.
DYLAN:
Let me stop you there Dave, because you're only serving to prove my point. Shamon has the wrestling world believing that he's no more than a novelty act, but I know better than that. I know better than to underestimate the wrestling ability he brings to the table. Henry Dylan does not take his career lightly, and I will go above and beyond to ensure that Shamon's ULTRATITLE journey ends right here in round two.
SNUGGETT:
You're absolutely right Henry, he is clearly a "dangerous" individual.
Dave flashes a smarmy smile at the camera whilst Henry rolls his eyes.
SNUGGETT:
Okay...moving on. Erm...Jenny can you come over here please - and bring the props.
DYLAN:
Props?
A young blonde woman with her hair tied back strolls over and hands Dave a cardboard box.
SNUGGETT:
Thanks darling, are the midgets ready?
JENNY:
They are.
SNUGGETT:
Excellent. If you could send them over now that would be great.
Jenny nods and heads off as Henry leans forward in an attempt to see the contents of the box.
DYLAN:
What is this? What do you mean midgets?
SNUGGETT:
Here's the deal. I'm trying to launch my new website and a video with you mocking Shamon as one of the Jackson 5 would be hilarious! I can have it posted up on the homepage. So here, take this box and put those on.
Henry takes the box and pulls out a black Afro wig and a red replica jacket of the one worn by Michael in the famous video for 'Thriller'.
DYLAN:
You've got to be kidding me...
SNUGGETT:
No not at all, this will be great and really serve to put you over! [Dave glances over Henry’s shoulder.] Okay the midgets are here, let's get this thing done!
Dylan turns around to see a group of four blacked up midgets wearing Afro wigs and disco clothes walking over to him.
DYLAN:
Hold it right there! I will take no part in this. Either the midgets go, or I do.
Henry tosses the cardboard box aside and flashes a death state in Dave's direction. The icy look in Dylan’s eyes makes it immediately clear to Snuggett that this idea is a definite no go.
SNUGGETT:
Alright. No Jackson 5...it would have been classic but okay! [SNUGGETT shifts his focus to his assistant.] Jenny can you see these guys out? Thanks...and sorry guys.
A couple of the midgets cast angry and disappointed glances at Henry before walking off and out of the room. Snuggett shakes his head trying to mask his own disappointment.
SNUGGETT:
[Sigh.] No problem...blacking people up is always a risk in this day and age anyway. I couldn't find any black midgets at such short notice, I'm sure you can know how it is...
DYLAN:
I can only imagine. Although…why did they have to be midgets?
SNUGGETT:
[shrugs.] Just…funnier. Anyway, perhaps if you could just look into the camera and say something about how Shamon doesn't "wanna be startin' somethin' with you?
Dylan doesn't need to answer. His stare tells Dave all he needs to know about what he thinks of the idea.
SNUGGETT:
Okay...but you got to help me out here. Just give me a sound-byte I can use for the website.
DYLAN:
A sound-byte? How's this?
Shamon is not a laughing stock. To me he is one great big cause for concern that MUST be dismantled in the most painful and efficient manner possible. In round one he had the crowd in the palm of his hand, he made them all fall in love with them. That was no act – he knows how to get the job done and if I allow myself to relax for one second he might well do the same to me.
But I shall not grant him such mercy. I will show him no weakness and I will do only what I do best, and that is WIN. He will be the man on trial and I will be his judge, jury and joyous executioner.
I’ve spent most of my life living out a lie. Seeking solace in another profession when this is where I truly belonged the whole time. For me this tournament represents a golden opportunity and I am determined not to allow it to slip from my grasp. You are looking at the future of the wrestling industry.
SNUGGETT:
Well it’s a little wordy…
Henry scoffs.
SNUGGETT:
It is however interesting that you call yourself the future of this business. My research tells me you’re close to forty years old having arrived into the wrestling world at a late stage. Do you not see that as a disadvantage?
DYLAN:
You’re as old as you feel, and as for me…I’m a spritely teen. I believe they call it being young at heart.
Now how about you do your job and ask me some probing questions? [Henry smiles] I know you're better than all this tomfoolery. You mentioned your research which I’m sure was extensive and thorough. So come on, what questions do you have for me?
SNUGGETT:
You know what? You're right, I do have a question or two up my sleeve. After all, the research I put in on you ahead of this meeting told me only a few things.
DYLAN:
Oh really? How intriguing. And what exactly did you learn about old Mr. Dylan?
SNUGGETT:
How's this? I discovered that you - Henry Thomas Dylan, are known as a man whose friendly interest in your fellow competitors is nothing short of creepy. I know you used to teach children at a school in England. I know that you study each and every one of your opponents extensively and in meticulous detail. I also heard that you are known as being almost impossible to phase. Nobody had ever even known you to lose your cool, which is actually what interested me most of all.
DYLAN:
Oh is that so? And why might that be?
SNUGGETT:
Well correct me if I'm wrong but last time I saw you, you were standing butt naked holding a handheld camera at arm’s length ranting like a crazy person about your nightmares. Nightmares induced by a pop star impersonator and an actor refusing to come out of the closet. That doesn't sound like a cool, calm customer to me...
DYLAN:
[slight twitch.] We all have our moments Dave. I'm only human after all.
SNUGGETT:
That's fair enough. I know you've never had this kind of attention focused on you before now. The ULTRATITLE is a massive event that the people can't stop yapping about. Suddenly you lose your cool - coincidence?
DYLAN:
[Henry twitches before uneasily adjusting in his seat.] People react in different ways and like I said, I am only human.
SNUGGETT:
I see, but if that's how you react after only one round - how are you likely to respond to the increased focus on you and your lifestyle? The further you advance, the more intense things are going to get.
How are you going to cope with that?
Henry twitches again before taking a deep breath and regaining his composure.
DYLAN:
Shamon sure as hell does not wanna be startin' something' with me.
There, I said it. Put that on your little website.
...Now are we done here?
Dylan starts to stand up as if to leave when a brunette woman in her early twenties walks into the room.
BRUNETTE:
Hey Dave what's going on here? You gonna need me here for this or what?
Henry pauses to look at the woman. She is wearing a short, low cut black dress designed to ensure that maximum cleavage is very much on display. More confusingly she is covered from head to toe in dirty mud-like stains. Henry turns to question his interviewer.
DYLAN:
Who on earth is she?
SNUGGETT:
That's err...[Snuggett itches the back of his neck nervously.] ...Dirty Diana?
Cue tumbleweed.
DYLAN:
Yeah…we’re done here.
[BLACK]
Your mask is slipping.
As much as it pains to admit it, that incompetent interviewer was right on the money. You can't continue to hide when all those beady eyes are focused on you, and as this thing goes on its only going to get even more intense.
How much longer can you go on like this?
How long until the real Henry Dylan is forced to reveal his hand?
Food for thought...
Though if the real Henry Dylan leaves this tournament with the ULTRATITLE to his name, will any of that even matter? Winning is everything after all.
Stay focused Henry. You got this. Shamon is like a lamb being led to the slaughter. He might be able to make people laugh but this is one joke that will not be at your expense. Count to ten, keep your composure and go out there. Embrace the spotlight.
Give him hell.
[FADE IN]
The scene cuts to a smiling interviewer best known for his current position in Infinite Wrestling. Dave Snuggett glares at the camera, suitably attired in a smart shirt and trousers.
Opposite him is the individual set to face Shamon in the second round of the highly coveted ULTRATITLE tournament. A man named Henry Dylan.
In stark contrast to the last time he was seen standing near naked in his own bathroom, Dylan sports a tweed jacket and trouser suit, with a purple shirt and matching tie. His usually scruffy brown mullet has been slicked back, and his beard trimmed to perfection. More importantly he appears to be relaxed. Cool, calm and calculated.
That's the Henry Dylan we're used to after all.
DAVE SNUGGETT:
Greetings wrestling fans and welcome to the Wrestling News Online. My name is Dave Snuggett and today we're taking a close look at one of the remaining participants in the much-hyped ULTRATITLE tournament.
I'm joined here today by none other than "The Friendly Stranger" himself, ACW superstar Henry Dylan! Welcome Henry.
HENRY DYLAN:
Greetings Dave, and may I say that it is my pleasure to be here.
SNUGGETT:
Indeed you may and I'm only too happy to have this chance for a rare interview with you. How are you feeling?
DYLAN:
Im feeling on top of the world and I simply cannot wait to get back in that ring.
SNUGGETT:
Of course! You saw off the challenge of the heavily fancied "Good God" Kevin Powers in round one. Would it be fair to say that win was something of an upset?
DYLAN:
I'd argue not, but to the casual fan who might not be so familiar with me and my work I can see why they might believe that to be the case.
SNUGGETT:
I see. Next up you are set to go face to face with another surprise package of sorts. A wacky, "off the wall" individual by the name of Shamon. What are your thoughts on him?
DYLAN:
Shamon is a man who has pulled the wool over a lot of eyes. In particular those of Lucious Starr, who was so preoccupied with Michael Jackson related one-liners that he found himself being pinned to the mat for a three count. You can be sure that I will not be making the same mistake.
SNUGGETT:
He is certainly a "bad" man. I'm convinced that match will be a real "thriller"...
Henry interrupts and raises his hand to stop Dave mid-sentence.
DYLAN:
Let me stop you there Dave, because you're only serving to prove my point. Shamon has the wrestling world believing that he's no more than a novelty act, but I know better than that. I know better than to underestimate the wrestling ability he brings to the table. Henry Dylan does not take his career lightly, and I will go above and beyond to ensure that Shamon's ULTRATITLE journey ends right here in round two.
SNUGGETT:
You're absolutely right Henry, he is clearly a "dangerous" individual.
Dave flashes a smarmy smile at the camera whilst Henry rolls his eyes.
SNUGGETT:
Okay...moving on. Erm...Jenny can you come over here please - and bring the props.
DYLAN:
Props?
A young blonde woman with her hair tied back strolls over and hands Dave a cardboard box.
SNUGGETT:
Thanks darling, are the midgets ready?
JENNY:
They are.
SNUGGETT:
Excellent. If you could send them over now that would be great.
Jenny nods and heads off as Henry leans forward in an attempt to see the contents of the box.
DYLAN:
What is this? What do you mean midgets?
SNUGGETT:
Here's the deal. I'm trying to launch my new website and a video with you mocking Shamon as one of the Jackson 5 would be hilarious! I can have it posted up on the homepage. So here, take this box and put those on.
Henry takes the box and pulls out a black Afro wig and a red replica jacket of the one worn by Michael in the famous video for 'Thriller'.
DYLAN:
You've got to be kidding me...
SNUGGETT:
No not at all, this will be great and really serve to put you over! [Dave glances over Henry’s shoulder.] Okay the midgets are here, let's get this thing done!
Dylan turns around to see a group of four blacked up midgets wearing Afro wigs and disco clothes walking over to him.
DYLAN:
Hold it right there! I will take no part in this. Either the midgets go, or I do.
Henry tosses the cardboard box aside and flashes a death state in Dave's direction. The icy look in Dylan’s eyes makes it immediately clear to Snuggett that this idea is a definite no go.
SNUGGETT:
Alright. No Jackson 5...it would have been classic but okay! [SNUGGETT shifts his focus to his assistant.] Jenny can you see these guys out? Thanks...and sorry guys.
A couple of the midgets cast angry and disappointed glances at Henry before walking off and out of the room. Snuggett shakes his head trying to mask his own disappointment.
SNUGGETT:
[Sigh.] No problem...blacking people up is always a risk in this day and age anyway. I couldn't find any black midgets at such short notice, I'm sure you can know how it is...
DYLAN:
I can only imagine. Although…why did they have to be midgets?
SNUGGETT:
[shrugs.] Just…funnier. Anyway, perhaps if you could just look into the camera and say something about how Shamon doesn't "wanna be startin' somethin' with you?
Dylan doesn't need to answer. His stare tells Dave all he needs to know about what he thinks of the idea.
SNUGGETT:
Okay...but you got to help me out here. Just give me a sound-byte I can use for the website.
DYLAN:
A sound-byte? How's this?
Shamon is not a laughing stock. To me he is one great big cause for concern that MUST be dismantled in the most painful and efficient manner possible. In round one he had the crowd in the palm of his hand, he made them all fall in love with them. That was no act – he knows how to get the job done and if I allow myself to relax for one second he might well do the same to me.
But I shall not grant him such mercy. I will show him no weakness and I will do only what I do best, and that is WIN. He will be the man on trial and I will be his judge, jury and joyous executioner.
I’ve spent most of my life living out a lie. Seeking solace in another profession when this is where I truly belonged the whole time. For me this tournament represents a golden opportunity and I am determined not to allow it to slip from my grasp. You are looking at the future of the wrestling industry.
SNUGGETT:
Well it’s a little wordy…
Henry scoffs.
SNUGGETT:
It is however interesting that you call yourself the future of this business. My research tells me you’re close to forty years old having arrived into the wrestling world at a late stage. Do you not see that as a disadvantage?
DYLAN:
You’re as old as you feel, and as for me…I’m a spritely teen. I believe they call it being young at heart.
Now how about you do your job and ask me some probing questions? [Henry smiles] I know you're better than all this tomfoolery. You mentioned your research which I’m sure was extensive and thorough. So come on, what questions do you have for me?
SNUGGETT:
You know what? You're right, I do have a question or two up my sleeve. After all, the research I put in on you ahead of this meeting told me only a few things.
DYLAN:
Oh really? How intriguing. And what exactly did you learn about old Mr. Dylan?
SNUGGETT:
How's this? I discovered that you - Henry Thomas Dylan, are known as a man whose friendly interest in your fellow competitors is nothing short of creepy. I know you used to teach children at a school in England. I know that you study each and every one of your opponents extensively and in meticulous detail. I also heard that you are known as being almost impossible to phase. Nobody had ever even known you to lose your cool, which is actually what interested me most of all.
DYLAN:
Oh is that so? And why might that be?
SNUGGETT:
Well correct me if I'm wrong but last time I saw you, you were standing butt naked holding a handheld camera at arm’s length ranting like a crazy person about your nightmares. Nightmares induced by a pop star impersonator and an actor refusing to come out of the closet. That doesn't sound like a cool, calm customer to me...
DYLAN:
[slight twitch.] We all have our moments Dave. I'm only human after all.
SNUGGETT:
That's fair enough. I know you've never had this kind of attention focused on you before now. The ULTRATITLE is a massive event that the people can't stop yapping about. Suddenly you lose your cool - coincidence?
DYLAN:
[Henry twitches before uneasily adjusting in his seat.] People react in different ways and like I said, I am only human.
SNUGGETT:
I see, but if that's how you react after only one round - how are you likely to respond to the increased focus on you and your lifestyle? The further you advance, the more intense things are going to get.
How are you going to cope with that?
Henry twitches again before taking a deep breath and regaining his composure.
DYLAN:
Shamon sure as hell does not wanna be startin' something' with me.
There, I said it. Put that on your little website.
...Now are we done here?
Dylan starts to stand up as if to leave when a brunette woman in her early twenties walks into the room.
BRUNETTE:
Hey Dave what's going on here? You gonna need me here for this or what?
Henry pauses to look at the woman. She is wearing a short, low cut black dress designed to ensure that maximum cleavage is very much on display. More confusingly she is covered from head to toe in dirty mud-like stains. Henry turns to question his interviewer.
DYLAN:
Who on earth is she?
SNUGGETT:
That's err...[Snuggett itches the back of his neck nervously.] ...Dirty Diana?
Cue tumbleweed.
DYLAN:
Yeah…we’re done here.
[BLACK]
***
Your mask is slipping.
As much as it pains to admit it, that incompetent interviewer was right on the money. You can't continue to hide when all those beady eyes are focused on you, and as this thing goes on its only going to get even more intense.
How much longer can you go on like this?
How long until the real Henry Dylan is forced to reveal his hand?
Food for thought...
Though if the real Henry Dylan leaves this tournament with the ULTRATITLE to his name, will any of that even matter? Winning is everything after all.
Stay focused Henry. You got this. Shamon is like a lamb being led to the slaughter. He might be able to make people laugh but this is one joke that will not be at your expense. Count to ten, keep your composure and go out there. Embrace the spotlight.
Give him hell.
(DISCLAIMER: Any characters that are not my own in this note have the express written consent of the owner. Any names or likeness to any real or fictional characters that are trademarked, copyrighted, and/or are owned intellectual property of others, are strictly coincidental. Thank you and enjoy.)
(FADEIN to Shamon Manor, located in beautiful city of Detroit, Michigan. With the town being one of the hardest hit areas during the current economic recession, several large estates were foreclosed upon and available at an extremely reasonable price. After winning American Voice Factor X and signing a recording contract with Casablanca Records, Shamon was able to procure the property with his earnings. Shamon is in the process of remodeling and duplicating some aspects of the estate of his idol and mentor’s home, Neverland Valley Ranch.
Shamon is outside of his new home in the backyard of the mansion, seated by the pool discussing future plans for the renovations with his interior decorator, as well as contractor. The decorator is jotting down notes and flipping through a book of paint samples. The contractor has a blueprint of the home and a layout of the grounds unrolled on the table.
Shamon is standing over the two individuals, spitting out various thoughts and ideas he has on the place. The Disco Midget is the pool, wearing floaties on his arms and is lying out on an inflatable lounger. Shamon is wearing a shiny metallic outfit, with leather straps around the arms and legs. He has his blonde gheri curl pulled back in a short ponytail. The drips from his hair activator are streaming down the back of the suit.)
SHAMON: I have big plans for this place. I want the front driveway of the mansion to be in the shape of a giant “S”. I want to pool to be redone and made in the shape of a music note. Maybe an octave clef or an alto clef shape…yeah…one of those.
CONTRACTOR: Well the “S” shaped driveway is a nightmare logistically. It would have to be very wide for a limo to reach your front door. And then we have to think of a way to lead to the cars coming and going to get back on the main road to get off the property. The pool may not be too difficult. I’m not certain what those notes look like, but it shouldn’t be a problem. We just did Lady GaGa’s pool last week in the shape of a disco stick. I still don’t know what this is.
SHAMON: We also need to figure out where the Ferris wheel and roller coaster will go. I want an area for a zoo. Maybe even a garden of art. Sculptures, hedges in the shape of polar bears, water fountains…the bigger…the better. Then a giant gate at the main entrance. I am not sold on a name for this place yet. Maybe Shangri-La, Narnia, or Wonderland! I will consult with a few of my advisors. It will be great! I am so excited! It makes me want to SCREAM! (Starts singing.) Stop pressurin' me. Just stop pressurin' me. Stop pressurin' me. Make you just wanna scream! HOOOOOOO!
(Shamon does a spin move and starts bobbing his head violently. Activator flies out of his hair and onto the unrolled plans on the table.)
CONTRACTOR: Alright, Mr. Shamon. I think we have a good idea of where we are going with things. We will meet back in a few days.
SHAMON: Well, I may be away. I have a wrestling match soon. I am a competitor for the ULTRATITLE! Yes…that title. The most prestigious championship in all the land! Wrestling is a hobby of mine. You might have seen me win a match about two weeks ago? (Not giving the man time to answer.) Of course you did. I spoke to my spiritual advisor and she told me that I need to envision it in my mind and then I could make it possible. It actually worked! It’s amazing! It makes me just wanna…wanna…wanna rock with you! (Starts singing.) You gotta feel that heat. And we can ride the boogie. Share that beat of love. I wanna ROCK WITH YOU, all night. Dance you into day, sunlight, I want to ROCK WITH YOU, all night. Rock the night awaaaayyyy! OHHHH! SHA…SHA…UHH…SHAMON!
(Shamon does some shoulder shimmies after he sings. The contractor looks frightened and nods his head. He exits swiftly with the interior decorator. Shamon looks puzzled for a brief moment and breaks into a dance. He kicks a beach ball that is lying in the pool area and it hits the Disco Midget in the pool. This causes him to try to block the ball and as a result he rolls off of the inflatable lounger and into the water around him.)
(Cut to ten minutes later. The Disco Midget is drying off with a towel. Shamon has changed into his training clothes. He is wearing a green leotard with purple legwarmers. He has a gold sequin head band and has a cutoff shirt with a large neck area exposing one of his shoulders. Shamon is seated in a chair waiting to hear instructions from his vocal coach, as he applies several squirts of activator to his hair. The dwarf checks his cell phone, he has a missed call. He then checks his text messages.)
DISCO MIDGET: Shamon, remember when I told you earlier that you were going to have a special trainer for your match? Well…he is almost here. He was about five minutes away when he sent me a message. He should be here any minute.
SHAMON: Is it Tae Bo expert, Billy Blanks? Maybe Jillian Michaels from the Fattest Loser show? Oh…I know…its world-renown Zumba enthusiast, Gerardo! (Singing with a Hispanic accent.) Ricoooo…..suaaavveee!
DISCO: Look, kid…I think you need to step it up more. The Pilates and kegel exercises will only get you so far…
SHAMON: But kegel is excellent core training. All of the experts harp on having a strong core.
DISCO: I don’t know how to break it to you, other than to just say it. Your training today is going to be conducted by the one and only…
(As Disco Midget is explaining himself about Shamon’s training, a large figure walks into the background behind Shamon.)
KEVIN POWERS: SHAMON, your training is gonna be conducted .. by .. ME!
SHAMON: AHHHH! I need to get to my PANIC ROOM!
(Shamon jumps out of his seat and scurries off toward the maintenance room by the pool. He slams the door shut behind him. The deadbolt can be heard locking into place. Kevin Powers and Disco Midget walk to the door and speak to Shamon.)
DISCO: Shamon…this isn’t your panic room. Do you realize that the hinges are out here? If he wanted to, KP could just rip the door down. He’s not here to beat you up. He’s actually here to help you. If anyone knows anything about being in the ring with Henry Dylan, it’s him. Now will you just come out and listen to the man? I spent a lot of money to fly him here. I think he can offer us good insight into your opponent.
POWERS: Shamon, for the love of God, would you come out of the closet already! (Turns to the camera.) Um, no ... really, come out of the closet. (Grins and gives a wink.) I promise, I will not harm you. I've come here to help. As for the midge though…I make no such guarantees.
DISCO: You son of a b*tch! You would threaten me after I gave you this all-expenses paid trip to Detroit?
POWERS: (Turns and looks down at Disco.) You mean this sought after tourist attraction? (Powers points directly at Disco.) YOU PUT ME IN THE MIDDLE OF COACH you ungrateful wretch! Just for that ...
(Powers kicks Disco and the little guy lifts up about five feet in the air. He hits the ground and grovels in pain.)
SHAMON: Disco? Disco? Are you ok? What was that ruckus?
POWERS: Relax Shamon, the midget is OK. He just believed he could fly ... he believed he could touch the sky ...
(Shamon opens the door and sees his friend on the ground. He walks out to check on him, but Powers stops him.)
POWERS: Shamon, look. I’m on a tight schedule. I have some DVDs with me that we need to study. No one wants to see you beat Dylan more than me ... BELIEVE ME! Disco will be fine. Come with me.
(Cut to a few hours later. Inside the mansion, in a decent sized movie theater, Shamon and Powers are finishing up with watching the Powers/Dylan match from Round One.)
POWERS: So when he does that, you need to counter with a…
SHAMON: I remember…I counter with a swinging neckbreaker. We went over this already. I think I can do this. In fact, I know I can.
POWERS: This assclown cost me everything and now he has the nerve to continue to rub my nose in it. He won't keep my name off his damn lips! If you want, I can be in your corner for the match. I would love to see the look on his face after you hit The Thriller and pin him for the three count!
(Shamon pulls up his DVR menu and clicks on the latest ULTRATITLE show on ESEN. He fast forwards through most of it and plays the latest Henry Dylan promo. His emotions change throughout the clip. One moment he is happy, another moment he appears scared, and he turns to Powers after it airs.)
SHAMON: This guy is serious business.
POWERS: He's Bi-Polar. He thinks he's the underdog, then he thinks he's the favorite. He underestimates you, but then he turns around and considers you a serious threat. He's scared of you, then he considers you a joke. If he wants to think from both sides of the coin then you need to help him out and BREAK THIS PUNK IN TWO! I took him lightly ... I was the sacrifice, but now everyone knows who he is. More importantly YOU know exactly who he is and this gives you the upper hand Shamon…
(Disco Midget walks into the room and sits down. He has an ice pack over his crotch from the kick by Powers. They two of them have a stare down and Disco ignores Powers, for Shamon’s benefit and chimes in with his thoughts.)
DISCO: Did you hear him? He calls YOU a joke and his opinion is credible how exactly? What did he do? He’s a former school teacher. The man has held no titles in this business. And he is obviously jealous because you have talent. You can’t argue with 20 million viewers! You have everything going for you and this bum has absolutely NOTHING! You can trust me, I guided the Disco Express to multiple World tag team titles. I know this business like the back of my hand!
SHAMON: The guy is a “Friendly Stranger”, so maybe he isn’t that bad.
DISCO: Yeah…and so was the serial killer, Ted Bundy! Dylan even slipped up and said “Strangler” instead of “Stranger”. Was it a slip of the tongue? I doubt it. Don’t trust him or let him lure you into a false sense of security. The man is at his wits end. You can tell he hasn’t gotten any rest in days because he claims he has had visions of you in his dreams.
SHAMON: Well, I know that all the ladies have dreams about me…but a man? That’s a bit disturbing. And they let him around kids when he was a school teacher? That’s just wrong…no telling what occurred in his classroom after school let out. Just like Kev said, he says one thing, then another.
In one instance he calls me his latest victim and then the next he says that he fears me. Maybe he IS bi-polar. Maybe with him it’s not all BLACK OR WHITE! (Starts to sing.) It's black, it's white. It's tough for you to get by. Yeah yeah yeah. It's black, it's white…OHHHHH!
(Shamon stands up out of his seat and rips his cutoff shirt open, does a few hand jive movements, and does a short robotic-like dance. He finishes off the dance number with a small moonwalk and then does it back to his seat before he sits down.)
DISCO: Shamon, this is serious business. The man has threatened you, your career, and any plans you have of making it into the next round of the ULTRATITLE tournament. He isn’t right in the head. It comes down to what you can do in the ring. I know you see this sport as only a hobby, but I know deep down inside a champion of the ring lurks within your heart. It’s up to me and Powers to bring it out of you.
SHAMON: But Disco, I am not used to a competition like this. It’s easy for me to pull at the heartstrings of all of my fans and have them call in and vote for their favorite contestant. But this time…(Gulps.)…this time is different. I’m a lover…not a fighter. (Starts to sing.) The girl is miiinne…the doggone girl is miiiinne! I don’t belieeeve it! She’s mine mine mine mine mine. (Inhales.) Don’t waste your time. The doggone girl is mine! OHHH! (Stops singing.) And that girl is the ULTRATITLE championship, silly!
DISCO: Oh brother. (Rolls his eyes.) Look…Dylan went out of his way to commission an interviewer to do his dirty work. He was fully prepared to do that gag to mock you and me! But he wised up because he knew that whatever bit he came up with would have been executed poorly. He wants the world to believe he is some badass. That he is all business and no nonsense.
He is trying to get in your head. Don’t let him do it. If I was tall enough, I would slap you straight across the face and knock some got-damn sense into you! This is serious business! Don’t you want to be the best? Don’t you want to prove to everyone in both the wrestling and entertainment industries that you are a bona fide SUPERSTAR?
Everyone thinks of us as a joke. A sideshow act. No one thinks that Shamon will be the next winner of the ULTRATITLE. All we are to them is some comic relief…Dylan said it himself. It’s time for you to put your game face on. It’s time for you to step your game up and prove to him and everyone watching that you are a legitimate threat to anyone you step into the ring against. I can sit here all day, until I’m blue in the face, and tell you what needs to be done. But until you accept it…all anyone will ever think is that you are a pretender!
(Disco ponders a thought for a brief moment and comes at Shamon from a different angle.)
DISCO: Do you remember the time, NO…please don’t sing…
SHAMON: (Singing.) Do you remember…when we fell in love? We were young and innocent then. Umm…hmmm. Do you remember the time…when we fell in love…do you remember the time…when we first met girl? OH I! OH I! Do you remember the time? OWWW! UHHH! OHHHH!
DISCO: As I was saying. Do you RECALL when your mentor and idol, the late great Michael Jackson, was battling all of those leeches who were filing lawsuits on him from some form of sexual harassment?
SHAMON: He was such a ladies man.
DISCO: Uhh…yeah, that’s right. And what did he do? He fought them! He said you aren’t going to take my money! You aren’t going to disparage my name and get away with it! And once he stood his ground…those people withdrew those lawsuits. Why…because the accusations they were slinging around had absolutely no merit to them!
(Shamon listens intently, as if the words are sinking in.)
DISCO: Don’t let him do the same to you. All of these comments he is making are only trying to bury you in the eyes of your fans. You have to shake it off. You have to go into that ring and let him have it! Make him eat those words!
Oh yeah…one more thing. He also made a wisecrack at your hero and said he was going to treat you like he was Dr. Conrad Murray.
SHAMON: He did what!? Oh…that evil evil mean man!
(Shamon is visibly ticked off and starts fanning his face in an attempt to calm his nerves.)
HOW DARE HE!? I have NEVER been SO insulted! Even when Lucious Starr said all of those hurtful things…it was nothing compared to THAT! Well I never…NEVER!
(Disco lets out an evil grin, as if he finally got his message across to Shamon.)
DISCO: That’s right, Shamon. We will make him pay for that. (He lets out an over exaggerated evil laugh, much like a 1970’s James Bond villain.) Mwuahahaha!
(FADE TO BLACK as Shamon is fuming. Powers stands up and has his palms open. Shamon starts punching them, but they have little to no effect on the Emperor of Hardcore. Shamon lets out a “HOOOOO” in anger.)
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