Is Entertainment sick?!
[FADE IN. There’s a heavy oak desk directly in front of us, with a stylish telephone on the left as we look at it, and some papers in the centre. On the right is a desk-lamp, leaning slightly so, if it were on, it would be shining on the documents. Furthest behind the desk is a wall, covered in striped paper, alternating pale blue, violet, and white. Also on the wall, clearly visible but not readable, are several certificates – judging by a few of the crests that appear on them, educational ones. Between the wall and the desk, sitting in an Oxford executive black leather chair, is an impeccably dressed man in a black suit, pale blue shirt and matching tie. He’s sitting in an open posture, not a hair out of place in his light brown mop. Something tells me we’re in the presence of a lawyer.]
Lawyer: Hello, and thank you for coming. I am here on behalf of my client, the professional wrestler and New ERA of Wrestling superstar, Mister Entertainment, to give a brief message to the fans, employees, and employers of New ERA of Wrestling, concerning their upcoming event, Banned in the US. Mister Entertainment would firstly like to ensure the fans that his silence to this point concerning his match with Harold A. Lombourgh, hereafter to be referred to as HAL, has nothing to do with fear on his part. He has been silent on my advice, whilst talks have been held with representatives of Mister LaRoque, the current owner and president of New ERA of Wrestling, and myself, concerning the announcement that Mister Entertainment’s property, paid for by himself, would be the prize for the victor of the forthcoming match at said event. These talks have centred on HAL’s ineligibility to compete for the World Heavyweight, Actually Defended, Actually Held Television Title. Mister LaRoque did not make any comment when the title was created concerning the rules, which state that only those who have defeated two World Heavyweight Champions of New ERA of Wrestling may compete for it, and that they may only be awarded the title if deemed worthy by a prominent and independent team of judges from varying international locations. These talks have now concluded, and whilst I am not at liberty to discuss the details at this time, my client is now free to continue his preparations for the contest against HAL, including any and all promotional appearances as set down in his contract of employment with New ERA of Wrestling.
[FADE OUT…
But not for long, as we EXPLODE BACK with a fireball, starting in the middle of the screen and spreading quickly to all corners of it. Once the flames start to settle down, we see various images matching an off-screen narrative voice]
Narrator: It was brutal.
[A shot of HAL smashing the TV title across the back of Mr Entertainment, seconds before the bell rings]
Narrator: Sadistic.
[Hal, pouring Tabasco sauce into a gaping wound on the head of the greatest ENTERTAINER!! who has ever lived]
Narrator: Barbaric.
[HAL spearing Mr Entertainment into the buffet table]
Narrator: Sexual.
[MWG and Beau Michaels sharing a muffin]
Narrator: And just plain vicious.
[HAL scoring with a VICIOUS clothesline]
Narrator: But in the end…
[HAL smashing Mr Entertainment in the head with the championship belt]
Narrator: All his cheating… failed.
Now, this Sunday… in a match across an entire cruise ship…
HAL seeks revenge.
Will he be able to reboot his career?
Or will it be ALT plus F4 on his window of opportunity?
HAL versus Mister Entertainment!
Only on Pay Per View!!
[SMASHOUT! As some cello’s start sounding. We’re back in the studio, watching the mighty APOCALYPTICA perform their monster track, Life Burns! featuring vocals from the lead singer of The Rasmus, Lauri Ylönen. Behind them, drumming and juggling fire, are some circus performers, recreating their Eurovision 2007 interval appearance]
We break our enemies with fear and
We’ve seen how the tears come around
We built our confidence on wasteland
We’ve seen how the walls come down
LIFE BURNS!
Man dies like a butterfly
Life burns from the touch of the reaper
All things must pass
One love is a crooked lie
The world lies in the hands of evil
We pray it would last
LIFE BURNS!
We have no sympathy for the lost souls
We’ve chosen the path of disgrace
We give this life to our children
And teach them to hate this place
Man dies like a butterfly
Life burns from the touch of the reaper
All things must pass
One love is a crooked lie
The world lies in the hands of evil
We pray it would last
[The tempo slows, as we pan round to see the studio audience head banging away in time with the beat. As the tempo prepares to kick back in, we switch back…
and enjoy]
Man dies like a butterfly
Life burns from the touch of the reaper
All things must pass
One love is a crooked lie
The world lies in the hands of evil
We pray it would last
Man dies like a butterfly
Life burns from the touch of the reaper
All things must pass
One love is a crooked lie
The world lies in the hands of evil
We pray it would last
LIFE BURNS!!
LIFE BURNS!!
LIFE BURNS!!
[The song ends, and the crowd go BALLISTIC, chanting and cheering for the cello-metalists from Finland! This goes on for several seconds, as they lap up the applause, before we pan round, to see Mister Entertainment, leaning against the entranceway to the stage. He looks a little dishevelled, his leather jacket askew, and his eyes seem darker than usual. Over his shoulders, he’s got both the ON TV Title, and the WHADAHTT Title, resplendent in it’s being neither completely the TV title, nor the World Heavyweight Championship. He doesn’t seem to look at the camera straight as he talks]
ME: Life Burns… kinda like Tabasco sauce ta the face. Ya know, I was plannin’ on comin’ up with a great lil’ story ta tell ya’ll. I had a great concept – this guy, Halegan, from the planet ERATH, a technological utopia, was gonna keep pushin’ an’ pushin’, lookin’ fer greater power, tryin’ ta create the best lookin’ him he could be, but in the end, he was gonna be outshone by a game o’ Pong.
But… then I realised somethin’. I’da been wastin’ my time, because good ol’ Dave wouldn’ta been able ta see the woods fer the trees. He probably have been like Rocko Daymon, *****ed abou’ being great an’ gettin’ screwed fer however long it’s been since he actually won a match, an’ completely ignored what I was sayin’. It’s not like he ain’t done that before.
He’s like one o’ those… budget games ya get these days. Ya know, the ones made fer the PS Two or somethin’ that cost next ta nothin’, have no storyline, but by god their graphics are better than the old generation of great games. He’s the kinda guy who thinks pretty pretty makes fun.
Sorry, Dave. But pretty pretty only gets ya so far.
An’ so does puttin’ extra RAM in Marceau’s harddrive.
All ya gotta do is look around. More power, better looks – they may give an instant kick as soon as it goes on sale, but ya need somethin’ extra, no matter what it is, ta last. Video games, music, books, wrestlin’ – without substance, you ain’t gonna make it.
I mean, look at ya. Ya came out, made a splash in the Chad Dupree cup, but what’s it got ya where it counts, in the New ERA?
Zip. Nadda. Zilch.
Yer claim ta fame is ridin’ my coat-tails, ever since I beat Steve-o Shane an’ ya got the sound tech ta switch the mics. Big whoop.
Yer all flash, no substance, Dave. Everyone saw it at Wrestlestock. Ya couldn’t keep up with me, an’ all those lil’ calculations yer so proud of came to as much as you.
Nothing.
Yeah. You’ve got another shot. I dunno, maybe ya put some more RAM in LaRoque’s hard-drive this time. SOMEHOW, ya even made him THINK you’re eligible ta go fer the greatest title in the history of this business.
But ya know somethin’, Dave? Even in the state I am right now, an’ I know I’m in a state... you don’t stand a chance. Yer like… I dunno… Final Fantasy Ten Two.
That’s a video game if ya don’t know.
It looks great. Hell, the chicks in it are hotter than old Britney Spears on the sun. But beneath the graphics? The story was… a lil lackin’. A lil contrived.
In other words – it wasn’t as good as it looked.
Yer impressive, yeah. All the hype ya built up around yerself, ya had a few people lookin’ at ya. But ya lost ‘em! Ya had it all, an’ ya lost it, all because ya couldn’t get it done when it counted.
You lack substance.
[Just then, he lurches forward slightly, staggering a bit, before regaining his balance. A stage-hand comes over, and gets shoved away for his troubles]
ME: I’m gonna make this so simple even HAL can understand. At Banned in the US, I’m gonna walk in the champ, an’ he’s gonna lose. Simple as.
The only thing we don’t know is if he’s gonna go all MWG on us an’ mistake the ‘Pinfalls Count Anywhere On The Cruise Ship’ ta mean Cameron wants his RAM upgraded too.
Either way, I’m gonna be leavin’ with these two belts, an’ he’s gonna be tossed overboard by Peter File.
Now, if ya’ll’ll excuse this champ… I’m gonna show just how much more ENTERTAINING I am than anyone else by mimickin’ late night Big Brother reality TV shows.
[A few stage hands rush across as he staggers forward again, and we quickly CUT TO Apocalyptica, as the curtain is dropped in front of Mr Entertainment. The band start up, playing “Somewhere Around Nothing”
FADE OUT]
Narrator: Mister Entertainment would like to apologise for any worry he may have caused with his most recent promotional segment. He would also like to make clear to the fans that Tabasco sauce should never be poured into an open wound, as it may cause Tabascoitis Toxicity of the Major Arterial Arteries.
Thank you.
[END]
