jediPREZ
Shadowboss
*note: written by JN, posted by JK
(FADEIN: To the hand-manicured back acres of "VALHALLA", the Carlton Family expanse, and home base to the CARLTON TRUSTS as well as other business entities, but more famously known as the compound of the CARLTON FAMILY DYNASTY.
The camera pans across a rose garden, which has a park-sized fountain in the middle of it, with a nude winged cherub with African American features pissing into the basin below. If you look close, it looks remarkably like a young CALVIN CARLTON. The camera keeps panning right, past a harpist who is pulling elegant notes out of a full concert harp, surrounded by a bed of daylillies. Finally the camera trains on an outdoor table setup underneath an umbrella, white linen, table service for one, and a somber CALVIN CARLTON in a navy robe with the family crest on the heart, ascot, and seersucker pajama pants, slippers and a pretty wicked bandage job wrapping around his head, some pink spots coming through the gauze. He angrily flips back a square of the Wall Street Journal and shakes his head, as a noise rattles the bushes and causes the harpist to stop for a second! The camera jerks over and we see ESEN reporter DEVIN MILLWOOD, hopping on one foot and covered in shrubbery like he just scaled a fence! CARLTON shakes his head and goes back to his reading as MILLWOOD walks over)
MILLWOOD (Slapping at his suit) "This is great Calvin - you invite me over here for brunch and I've been leaning on the gatehouse buzzer for 15 minutes! I had to walk a quarter-mile just to get to the house (looks behind him) and then climb an ivy wall to get in here! (Pulls up a seat and sighs, looking around, and absent-mindedly scratching his face) Sooooo... I thought we were having brunch here?"
CARLTON: (not breaking contact with the paper) "I'M having brunch. YOU, are WATCHING me have brunch."
MILLWOOD: (Pissed!) "I'm REALLY thirsty, Calvin. Is that any way to treat company? (CAL coughs and reads) Well can I at least get something to drin--"
(CUTTO and EXTREME CLOSEUP: of CAL in slow-motion tipping back a long-stemmed flute of orange juice, the light hitting it with a 'ding!' glint. MILLWOOD takes a long dry gulp!)
CARLTON: "Nothing like a freshly-squeezed glass of OJ handled by an illegal alien, then paired with a 1998 Dom Perignon. I bet you can't even SPELL Dom Perignon, Millwood... (Chuckles to himself)"
MILLWOOD: "Well if I can't eat, can we just get down to business? You said you had something to share - apparently it's not those toast points you're sopping up those eggs with."
CARLTON: (Stuffing his face) "Plucked from the nest of a rare, or close to endangered species of bird, no less! (MILLWOOD dry heaves) But yes, let's get down to business. (Folds down the paper again and places it in his lap) If you haven't been paying attention, The Carlton Family Dynasty has seen, well how can I say it... better days."
MILLWOOD: "I've noticed - Malik Anderson broke camp and ran off with your sister Shan--(CAL: "DON'T SAY HER NAME WHILST I'M EATING!" --right, Okay, and Blaine Hollywood bounced from The Ultratitle... Dorchester Stratton RUNNING PEOPLE OVER WITH CARS! The only shining light you have right now, is KINDA The Bandit! I'm sure you don't want to hear that--"
CARLTON: "THAT'S RIGHT, I DO NOT. And that's exactly why I summoned you, Millwood. My momma called me in for a special, private meeting last night, and... (winces) let it be known that some things have to be changed - the Carlton's ship must be righted and I am going to start with that FREAKING TURNCOAT RAT Malik Anderson... (grits teeth) and ... The Bandit, who are STILL NFW Everette Memorial Tag Champions..."
MILLWOOD: "Well - At least BANDIT is - you don't really control Malik, as we saw last night on RELOADED 12...right? You at this point have ONE HALF of the tag champs... how's that going to work? We saw Malik bust Bandit in the chops and all hell broke loose - every tagteam in NFW is smelling blood in the water and frankly . . . I don't see how this is going to end well for your camp..." (Just then, CARLTON produces a paper from his robe and throws it across the table! He leans back and drinks mimosa as MILLWOOD starts scratching his neck, reading the document, his eyes getting big.) Wait - are you SERIOUS?"
CARLTON: "Deadly. When NFW commissioned the Everette Tag Titles, part of the charter to recognize and control the conditions of the titleholders were to crown a champion team. . . EVERY FIVE YEARS."
MILLWOOD: (scanning the document) "And the EMT tourney where the Hollywood Wrecking Crew won began in..."
CARLTON: (Smiling like a demon) "2007."
MILLWOOD: "I'm not sure I get where this is going."
CARLTON: "Well you had better catch up, as I've already filed an injnuction against MY STUPID SISTER and Benedict Anderson, and had all documents signed by the NFW Board of Trustees - As of (looks at watch) ten minutes ago, Malik Anderson and Bandit are NOT THE NFW TAGTEAM CHAMPIONS ANYMORE."
MILLWOOD: (Flipping a page) "There will be a new tournament held to crown the next EMT tag champions . . . at the next two BRAWL shows? (puts the paper down, looking confused - and man, he's REALLY scratching his neck!) You STRIPPED your own guy of a belt? That's pretty twisted Calvin."
CARLTON: "No, it's BRILLIANT, because I'm a big thinker, and YOU, climb over fences through poison ivy. (MILLWOOD makes a 'DAMMIT!' expression and starts tearing at his neck) Who's smarter? You see, our ESTEEMED President put it out there that he has no interest into straightening this mess out. My sister's a hair-extension wearing water buffalo, and couldn't manage a Popeye's franchise, let alone MY Muh... I mean, Malik Anderson, and THIS way, The Dynasty can shake itself free from the FAT, BALDING DEAD WEIGHT OF THAT CHICKEN MALIK ANDERSON, and... (rubs hands together evilly) get MY belts back where they belong."
MILLWOOD: "So what if you're. . . whoever you're putting in this tournament can't win it all? Then what?" (CARLTON cackles)
CARLTON: "That WON'T happen. Malik is going to pay for leaving my warm comforting bosom, and unless he can dress up Nick Nolte and get him ring-ready, I doubt very seriously he'll even be entered into the tournament. He has NO partner, no hope, no MONEY, and since he left me - NO FRIENDS, either. (Sips with his eyes closed, pleased with himself)"
MILLWOOD: "So what about Bandit? Are you entering him to . . . (thinks) try to win back the belt you just took from him?"
CARLTON: "You make this sound way more complicated than it is. This is NEW WORLD thinking, Millwood, read up on it. I have just solved a problem, and there's NOTHING Shaniqua or that TRAITOR Malik Anderson can do about it. That's the Carlton way! So run and tell your (makes typing fingers) UNIVERSE this news, because The DYNASTY is coming back strong, sloughing the DEAD FAT WEIGHT, and HA HA - I screwed over my Slampig sister and get to make the entire tag roster look like retarded blind cats crashing into living room furniture. BRAWL 53 begins the FIXING OF THE DYNASTY SHIP. (MILLWOOD isn't paying attention anymore, he's standing up and scratching his suit in a caniption fit!) Listen, you can show yourself out... I'd give you something to drink, but I dont want to have to contaminate my crystal."
(CARLTON pitches what was left of his drink into the grass as we FADE TO BLACK)
(FADEIN: To the hand-manicured back acres of "VALHALLA", the Carlton Family expanse, and home base to the CARLTON TRUSTS as well as other business entities, but more famously known as the compound of the CARLTON FAMILY DYNASTY.
The camera pans across a rose garden, which has a park-sized fountain in the middle of it, with a nude winged cherub with African American features pissing into the basin below. If you look close, it looks remarkably like a young CALVIN CARLTON. The camera keeps panning right, past a harpist who is pulling elegant notes out of a full concert harp, surrounded by a bed of daylillies. Finally the camera trains on an outdoor table setup underneath an umbrella, white linen, table service for one, and a somber CALVIN CARLTON in a navy robe with the family crest on the heart, ascot, and seersucker pajama pants, slippers and a pretty wicked bandage job wrapping around his head, some pink spots coming through the gauze. He angrily flips back a square of the Wall Street Journal and shakes his head, as a noise rattles the bushes and causes the harpist to stop for a second! The camera jerks over and we see ESEN reporter DEVIN MILLWOOD, hopping on one foot and covered in shrubbery like he just scaled a fence! CARLTON shakes his head and goes back to his reading as MILLWOOD walks over)
MILLWOOD (Slapping at his suit) "This is great Calvin - you invite me over here for brunch and I've been leaning on the gatehouse buzzer for 15 minutes! I had to walk a quarter-mile just to get to the house (looks behind him) and then climb an ivy wall to get in here! (Pulls up a seat and sighs, looking around, and absent-mindedly scratching his face) Sooooo... I thought we were having brunch here?"
CARLTON: (not breaking contact with the paper) "I'M having brunch. YOU, are WATCHING me have brunch."
MILLWOOD: (Pissed!) "I'm REALLY thirsty, Calvin. Is that any way to treat company? (CAL coughs and reads) Well can I at least get something to drin--"
(CUTTO and EXTREME CLOSEUP: of CAL in slow-motion tipping back a long-stemmed flute of orange juice, the light hitting it with a 'ding!' glint. MILLWOOD takes a long dry gulp!)
CARLTON: "Nothing like a freshly-squeezed glass of OJ handled by an illegal alien, then paired with a 1998 Dom Perignon. I bet you can't even SPELL Dom Perignon, Millwood... (Chuckles to himself)"
MILLWOOD: "Well if I can't eat, can we just get down to business? You said you had something to share - apparently it's not those toast points you're sopping up those eggs with."
CARLTON: (Stuffing his face) "Plucked from the nest of a rare, or close to endangered species of bird, no less! (MILLWOOD dry heaves) But yes, let's get down to business. (Folds down the paper again and places it in his lap) If you haven't been paying attention, The Carlton Family Dynasty has seen, well how can I say it... better days."
MILLWOOD: "I've noticed - Malik Anderson broke camp and ran off with your sister Shan--(CAL: "DON'T SAY HER NAME WHILST I'M EATING!" --right, Okay, and Blaine Hollywood bounced from The Ultratitle... Dorchester Stratton RUNNING PEOPLE OVER WITH CARS! The only shining light you have right now, is KINDA The Bandit! I'm sure you don't want to hear that--"
CARLTON: "THAT'S RIGHT, I DO NOT. And that's exactly why I summoned you, Millwood. My momma called me in for a special, private meeting last night, and... (winces) let it be known that some things have to be changed - the Carlton's ship must be righted and I am going to start with that FREAKING TURNCOAT RAT Malik Anderson... (grits teeth) and ... The Bandit, who are STILL NFW Everette Memorial Tag Champions..."
MILLWOOD: "Well - At least BANDIT is - you don't really control Malik, as we saw last night on RELOADED 12...right? You at this point have ONE HALF of the tag champs... how's that going to work? We saw Malik bust Bandit in the chops and all hell broke loose - every tagteam in NFW is smelling blood in the water and frankly . . . I don't see how this is going to end well for your camp..." (Just then, CARLTON produces a paper from his robe and throws it across the table! He leans back and drinks mimosa as MILLWOOD starts scratching his neck, reading the document, his eyes getting big.) Wait - are you SERIOUS?"
CARLTON: "Deadly. When NFW commissioned the Everette Tag Titles, part of the charter to recognize and control the conditions of the titleholders were to crown a champion team. . . EVERY FIVE YEARS."
MILLWOOD: (scanning the document) "And the EMT tourney where the Hollywood Wrecking Crew won began in..."
CARLTON: (Smiling like a demon) "2007."
MILLWOOD: "I'm not sure I get where this is going."
CARLTON: "Well you had better catch up, as I've already filed an injnuction against MY STUPID SISTER and Benedict Anderson, and had all documents signed by the NFW Board of Trustees - As of (looks at watch) ten minutes ago, Malik Anderson and Bandit are NOT THE NFW TAGTEAM CHAMPIONS ANYMORE."
MILLWOOD: (Flipping a page) "There will be a new tournament held to crown the next EMT tag champions . . . at the next two BRAWL shows? (puts the paper down, looking confused - and man, he's REALLY scratching his neck!) You STRIPPED your own guy of a belt? That's pretty twisted Calvin."
CARLTON: "No, it's BRILLIANT, because I'm a big thinker, and YOU, climb over fences through poison ivy. (MILLWOOD makes a 'DAMMIT!' expression and starts tearing at his neck) Who's smarter? You see, our ESTEEMED President put it out there that he has no interest into straightening this mess out. My sister's a hair-extension wearing water buffalo, and couldn't manage a Popeye's franchise, let alone MY Muh... I mean, Malik Anderson, and THIS way, The Dynasty can shake itself free from the FAT, BALDING DEAD WEIGHT OF THAT CHICKEN MALIK ANDERSON, and... (rubs hands together evilly) get MY belts back where they belong."
MILLWOOD: "So what if you're. . . whoever you're putting in this tournament can't win it all? Then what?" (CARLTON cackles)
CARLTON: "That WON'T happen. Malik is going to pay for leaving my warm comforting bosom, and unless he can dress up Nick Nolte and get him ring-ready, I doubt very seriously he'll even be entered into the tournament. He has NO partner, no hope, no MONEY, and since he left me - NO FRIENDS, either. (Sips with his eyes closed, pleased with himself)"
MILLWOOD: "So what about Bandit? Are you entering him to . . . (thinks) try to win back the belt you just took from him?"
CARLTON: "You make this sound way more complicated than it is. This is NEW WORLD thinking, Millwood, read up on it. I have just solved a problem, and there's NOTHING Shaniqua or that TRAITOR Malik Anderson can do about it. That's the Carlton way! So run and tell your (makes typing fingers) UNIVERSE this news, because The DYNASTY is coming back strong, sloughing the DEAD FAT WEIGHT, and HA HA - I screwed over my Slampig sister and get to make the entire tag roster look like retarded blind cats crashing into living room furniture. BRAWL 53 begins the FIXING OF THE DYNASTY SHIP. (MILLWOOD isn't paying attention anymore, he's standing up and scratching his suit in a caniption fit!) Listen, you can show yourself out... I'd give you something to drink, but I dont want to have to contaminate my crystal."
(CARLTON pitches what was left of his drink into the grass as we FADE TO BLACK)
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