1- "Jester" Chad Allen
2- Dalbello Rage
3- Alex Van Steele
4- "The One" Brian Young
5- Shadoe Rage
6- "Cold-hearted Bastard" Frostbite
7- Summer Blake
8- Larry Gionet
9- Dan Broussard
1- "Jester" Chad Allen
VOICE: UPSET MY FAT CLOWN ASS!
(And with that, the Wicked Clown of Wrestling, The Hardcore God, "Jester" Chad Allen is sitting in the middle of a dimly lit room. He is in what can only be described as a throne, done in wood and purple velvet. On top of the throne, a carving that looks similar to the Jester that sits on top of his cane. That cane taps angrily on the floor as Jester speaks...or in all actuality, YELLS. )
JCA: UPSET? OVER THAT NIMROD?! ARE THEY SERIOUS! The NEWF is just mad because I beat their redneck poster child, the one man here all that incest loving mullet-heads can relate to. They tried to let that moron get the advantage on me by letting him attack me in the back, and to use a baseball bat...A BASEBALL BAT...in the middle of the ring! And did the referee disqualify him? OF COURSE NOT! Because the "Higher Up's" in this hell hole are afraid of what I will do when I get to the top of this molehill they call the NEWF. But I got them, I got them ALL. I brought in better firepower than they did...right boys?
(From the shadows steps two behemoths, one dressed like a snowman straight out of a Christmas Holiday Special, but definitely angrier. He holds a large metal snow shovel in one hand. The other is dressed in a full body cow costume, and he continuously rings a cowbell that hangs around his neck via a long piece of rope. )
JCA- Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Frozty the Abominable Snowman and Mad Cow, collectively known as the NuThOuSe. These two man/monsters are not just my bodyguards and confidants, but they are going to set the tag team world ABLAZE here in the NEWF. As I am taking the World Title at the upcoming pay-per-view, these men will be readying for the chance to bloody and maim anyone that gets in their, or MY, way. So "The One" Angus Young or whatever the hell your name is, I recommend you do not do something stupid like Hairball did, and bring something like a baseball bat to the ring with you, because you do NOT want to make these two angry.
(The Mad Cow lets out a very angry MOO, as Frozty slams his snow shovel onto the ground with a loud crash.)
JCA-Now now boys...everyone is making a big deal that Young beat Frostbite, no one seems to realize a major piece of his win, Frostbite sucks...I mean, BAD. He makes Zeke McGinty look like a competent wrestler. So to say I am worried about "The One" would be a fib, and it is not nice to fib.
(A small laugh at this attempt at humor.)
JCA-And as for the rest of the field? I know Gionet is still around, and he would be something to worry about if he weren't as gimpy as Paul McCartney's ex-wife right now. And everyone else? Well, with the boys watching my back, I dare say no one else can stand up to me.
(Jester stands, holding his cane tight in his hand, the NuThOuSe standing behind him.)
JCA-So NEWF, don't you worry your pretty little heads about anything, the Era of the Wicked Clown is about to begin, and I for one cannot WAIT to show you why I always have THE LAST LAUGH!
(Jester lets out his trademark laugh as the two members of the NuThOuSe look menacingly behind him as we fade...)
2- Dalbello Rage
[Usually being the lead interviewer for a major promotion has its fair share of bad moments. Generally Dave Lowry is surrounded by grunting, sweaty, angry wrestlers -- big, burly men of vicious and intemperate natures. Now, however, thanks to the holiday spirits and the Diamond Division of the NEWF, Dave Lowry gets to spend an interview sitting down with Dalbello Rage perched on his lap. The competitor in the Fatal Four Way match at Slamfest is dressed in a short cut Mrs. Clause outfit, complete with jauntily perched cap, fur-trimmed red velvet minidress and knee-high stiletto black boots. The beige-skinned stunner sips from a cup of egg nog before tilting the cup to Lowry's lips.]
DR: Merry Christmas, Dave.
[She wiggles a little bit on his lap.]
DR: I thought I should spread the joy. December 30 in the Palace of Auburn Hills, home of my favourite Detroit Pistons, I get the chance to strap on the NEWF Diamond title. It's been a while since I've felt the thrill of a championship hunt. I like the feeling of going up against the best that the NEWF has to offer.
DL: It certainly is a privilege considering you haven't logged the most ring time in the NEWF.
[Dalbello's eyes narrow. She hoists herself off Lowry's lap much to his chagrin. She downs the cup of eggnog in one stout swig and tosses it over her shoulder off camera. We hear the crash of glass breaking.]
DR: Stand up, Dave Lowry. Stand up right now.
[As Lowry complies Dalbello is in his face.]
DR: Lowry, I will fight. You know that, right? I ain't the bitch to mess with like that. Let me explain something to you. I do not take kindly to disrespect. This is a fledgling promotion, Lowry. Nobody's logged a lot of ring time. We're veteran wrestlers ... big women ... not little girls. Most of us, anyway. I'm always ready to compete and it doesn't matter whether it's one match or fifty I've done my share and I deserve to be in this match.
DL: Well, some might say that Achika Akatani should be in this match.
DR: (face twisting with anger) Are you trying to say that she should be replacing me?
DL: Would you voluntarily step aside for her?
DR: No, I would not. We're talking about the Diamond championship. We're talking about the chance to be the highlight of the night, the greatest athlete on the stage. And let's be honest. If you want to play that old game one of these things is not like the other and one of these things does not belong. It ain't hard to tell who doesn't belong in that ring. Natalie Olson should not be in that match. She hasn't logged the ring time, she hasn't earned a name. She hasn't done the work. So, if anybody deserves to be kicked out of this match it's her not me. Am I clear?
DR: Good, because it was shaping up to be a very Merry Christmas until you opened your mouth. Don't do it again. Now as for Josie Saito and Nina Grimsson. Well, I know they think they're the new stuff on the street. They think they are the bad women of the NEWF. Nina and I have danced a few times and she better remember that I owe her a receipt. And as for Josie Saito. Honey, don't worry about Summer Blake. Because I'm going to knock your teeth out. You won't have no grill when I'm done with you. And Achika, don't worry, chickie. When I'm done with the rest of those spent hens I'll come find you and prove to you that you never had what it took to be in the ring in the first place. Now, for the disrespectful Olson. I'm going to show you exactly why you never belonged in this match, either. I'm going to teach you to respect the Canadian wrestling tradition. I'm going to teach you to respect me. I hope you all have a Merry Christmas because the last days of the year aren't going to be very pleasant at all. I'm serious.
[Fade to black.]
3- Alex Van Steele
[…and now the moment you have all been waiting for.
Standing by is the prodigal son of the Van Steele clan, the youngest one known as Alex. As Warren Zevon would say, his hair is perfect, a short crop of dark brown hair that is cut short in a buzz and also a beard that wraps around his chin and into a pencil thin mustache. He is phenomenal shape, thin with a slight build capable of incredible athletic moves. Alex sits reverse in a steel folding chair in front of a NEWF banner which is promoting the mother of all events, Slamfest. Alex begins to talk not with all the swagger we have come to know, rather he speaks in all seriousness.]
AVS: This is it. This is the moment that will either define you or end you. You have to make that decision on your own, do you risk it all? Or do you save something for the ever after?
[He looks up.]
AVS: These are the exact words my brother Eric said to me only a couple of moments ago. Normally, I’d be making a Frostbite needing special education joke and following that up with telling you that Will Geddings bleeds dust because of his age.
But, I’m not going to do any of that [bleep] now.
Now’s not the time nor the place for any of that. Because, this is it… just like my brother said.
[Alex rubs his hand through his short brown hair.]
AVS: This is it. I have to decide when I step out into that ring outside of Detroit if there is going to be a tomorrow. Sure, the common person that pays for their ticket or plops down in front of that television will know that tomorrow will come shortly after we go off the air, the Earth does not start and stop based upon what happens inside a wrestling ring.
But there is only that one chance to be a legend, to transform from just some guy who took part of Slamfest into the world champion who fought his way to the top of the mountain and staked claim first. That is what legends do. They are the ones who do not realize there is ever a tomorrow, they are the ones who believe that what goes on in that ring starts and stops the Earth.
…and I’m starting to believe in that.
[Alex rubs his hand over his face as his ice cold blue eyes begin to drift back towards the ground.]
AVS: A smart person might save something for the next six Explosions down the line hoping to get another shot at the championship eventually. And that is smart, that is tactical, and that is the wise thing to do… but that is not what a legend does. Big brother, you asked me if I was willing to risk it all or save something for down the road.
I become the legend. That is the only answer.
[Again his eyes creep back up towards the camera.]
AVS: Why? Because, this _is_ it. All three of my brothers have all tried their hands at the wrestling business and I have watched and learned from them all. Eric, the oldest and the first, worked so damn hard that we all barely saw him for ten years. Eric worked on becoming the best technical wrestler the world has ever seen, and it probably felt so damn hard when his elbow gave out. James, known really only as the asshole of the Van Steele clan. James was gifted with the look of a professional wrestler, the natural charisma that promoters wet their pants over.
It’s just a shame that James let that all get to his head.
[Alex takes a deep breath.]
AVS: Finally, Adam… if I learned anything from Adam it was this, never put your career in the hands of someone else. Never trust another person in this game, this so-called business, because they always will let you down in the end. Adam waits for his chance again, but I do not.
You see, when my brother said that this is it… he forgot about the fact that I am the last chance for the Van Steele family. Because let me ask you something, outside of the past minute have you ever heard the names of Eric, James or Adam Van Steele?
Do they stack up with the names such as “Blackheart” Casey James, “the Outlaw” J.W Harding or Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven?
AVS: No, they’re not even close. It falls onto me now, the youngest one, Alexander. The weight of my family’s legacy pushes down upon these shoulders with the pressure of over twenty years of failures professional wrestling. Everything rides on me now, and that is why I do it my way, that is why I am the Maverick of the Van Steele clan, and this is why I am who I am inside and outside that ring. I can escape only when I hoist that NEWF world championship above my head.
My family has all shown me how to fail at professional wrestling…
[Alex points at himself.]
AVS: …I know what it takes to become that legend.
It is not good enough to just steal the show… but to take it away from everyone else.
[Alex balls his hand into a fist with the last bit of those words. Instead of walking off, he simply begins to rest again on the chair under the weight of his family’s history. We fade to black.]
4- "The One" Brian Young
[Blackness remains on the screen for a few moments. Slowly an image comes into view, a darkened arena with a wrestling ring in the center of it. A lone figure can be seen sitting upon the far turnbuckle. As the camera moves closer to the ring the figure begins to take shape and come into focus. Brian Young sits upon the turnbuckle wearing only a pair of blue jeans and a pair of dress slacks. His shirtless top reveals a long scar along his right shoulder. He is looking down towards the mat.]
[Young] With every step I take people continue to say behind my back can you believe Brian Young upset Frostbite. [Sighs] It amazing to me that I am hearing those remarks. Has it been that long that I have been away from the wrestling industry, that people have forgotten what I can do inside the squared circle?
[Brian slowly raises his head and looks into the camera. He exhales slowly before speaking again.]
[Young] Let me tell each and every one of you a story about a young boy growing up in Miami. This young boy was raised by his mother and older brother as is father was out on the road for about 300 days a year wrestling to earn a living for his family. Yet, as the young boy’s father was touring the country the boy was slowly developing a deep seeded hatred for the business his father was giving his sweat, and blood to. Sure the boy’s father would probably shed a few tears as a new injury was inflicted upon him, but it was not the tears of the father but the tears of the mother that affected him the most. The boy could not understand how a man who claimed he loved his family could abandon each and every year for so long.
How could a man say I love you to his wife and yet make her cry each and every time he was home?
[An expression of grief falls upon Brian’s face as he lowers his head once again.]
[Young] The young boy only knew pain from his father’s business, so while his brother would brag about his father the younger brother would not mention his father’s name. He did not take the same joy and feeling of pride when his dad won his final championship belt on national television. In fact the young boy was nowhere near a television that night, he was reading in his bed wondering how his brother could be proud of that man.
When the boy turned twelve his parents divorced and he moved with his mother to Toronto. He slowly began to lead a normal life far away from his father and his quote unquote legacy. When the boy turned eighteen his father became very ill and the boy decided to go to Miami one final time to visit him.
[Brian looks at the camera one more time.]
[Young] This final visit was a painful one for the boy as he finally understood why his father did what he did. He understood the fire and desire that burned in his father’s soul for the wrestling industry … he understood his passion and love but more importantly he realized that no matter how much his father care about the wrestling industry his love for his family was stronger than that. The boy broke down into tears that day but he could never forgive the business that took his father from him. [Sighs]
Upon his twentieth birthday his brother was making a name for himself in Miami as a wrestler; ‘The Fantasy’; as he stayed in school trying to make a life for myself away from the family business. As the years past ‘The Fantasy’ was making Young a household name in the wrestling industry once again. The Young brother’s mother was proud of her oldest son and told young Brian to seek out Brett and see his brother again.
[Young] I took my mother’s advice and visited Brett. Brett and I always had a bond as he was always there not just as an older brother but almost a father figure to listening to him and understanding that wrestling was in our blood seemed to mean more coming from him than it did from dad. Brett and Chad began my training and when the time finally came I took out on my own as Brian Storm. I needed to earn my own legacy not live off of my father’s and my brother’s.
And I craved my legacy out with my blood, sweat and tears throughout Michigan and Kentucky. I won championship after championship; beat monster after monster … and to here the NEWF call my victory over Frostbite an upset is a slap in the face to the career I have had!
[Young finally gets off of the turnbuckle and walks to the far side ring rope as he speaks.]
[Young] While it appears that Frostbite overlooked Brian Young, one has to ask if ‘The Jester’ Chad Allen will make the same mistake. Will Chad Allen just shrug off my storied career and think that Brian Young is just small bump in the road on his way to the NEWF Championship? Chad, are you going to try and slap me in the face as the rest of the NEWF has?
[Young looks towards the camera.]
[Young] If you do it will be the funniest thing that ‘The Jester’ has ever done. ‘The Jester’ …. It’s funny how one’s nickname doesn’t always fit the man. I mean really Chad your antics don’t make me laugh in fact you barely entertain me at all. But this business is not about entertaining all the time is it. The key is performing in this ring and attaining that win that propels you forward.
In the NEWF the win that propelled me forward was on December 15, 2007. Now the NEWF views Brian Young a bit differently, but will Chad Allen show Brian Young the respect he deserves or will you just try to cash in your golden ticket without a thought about who you are facing in the ring? You see Chad I’ve seen you in a few federations over the years … and even in those you were never really a jester on the microphone, but at times in the ring you could be one.
[Young] Allen there’s no doubt you’ve been making a name for yourself here in the NEWF and at Slamfest I know you will try to continue that at my expensive.
But ask yourself this are you really going to be first ever NEWF World Champion … are you the one who beats ‘The One’ Brian Young?
Chad that gold plated metal is the lifeblood for this federation. A lot of people count on their monthly pay check and I won't allow you to turn the Championship Belt into a mockery. I've taken it upon myself to insure that it doesn’t become a prop in your quest to become wrestling’s one and only true Jester. You see there aren't many times I agree with the so called monikers wrestlers come and call themselves. This time I can say without a shadow of a doubt you my friend are a true Jester.
[Young] There’s eight men left … make that seven men after ‘The Jester’ Chad Allen loses his golden ticket to ‘The One’, and only one man can be the first ever NEWF World Champion.
There are six other men who stand in my way as I attempt to do what everyone is saying I won’t do, that I won’t be the one with the championship strap resting upon my shoulder as the final few moments of Slamfest are shown on Pay Per View.
Look into my eyes … and you will see the desire, the passion … the Young blood flowing in my viens. This business is in my family’s blood, it always has been and it always will be until this war torn body can’t continue anymore. But Slamfest will not be that night that it will fail … no Slamfest is the night where I am the one left standing as the first ever NEWF World Champion … It is the night where everyone realizes I am ‘The One’ Brian Young.
[Fade to black.]
5- Shadoe Rage
The shot opens up before the NEWF backdrop. Shadoe Rage stands before it. He looks distraught. He's shirtless. He's wet. He's shaking.]
SR: There were no freak outs! No celebrations! No nothing. The United Centre stood on its feet as one and wept because of the incompetence of one referee. Gehlman, who knew a man so old could count so fast. You know it was a fast count. I know it was a fast count. And Larry Gionet, you know it was a fast count. Chris Hopper knows it was wrong. Twice now, at the moment of victory, I've been cheated of my rightful victory. The referees are in a conspiracy ... trying to humble me.
[Rage's voice is strangled with emotion. He can only speak in a hoarse whisper and croak.]
SR: They want to destroy the Rage before it has a chance to blossom. Mere moments after I've been robbed of my victory, my right to advance in the tournament, the management tells me I have to appear to sign autographs for the fans? They knew the Rage-oholics were outraged and rather than risk a boycott for the greatest travesty in the history of modern sports ... they tried to toss the Rage-oholics a bone. They thought that sending them their God would be enough to mollify them. They think this will humble me. They think this will break me. It won't, man. It can't, man. And all the Rage-oholics out there know it's true. They know that the Rage courses through my blood and I will not bend. I will not bow. I will not break. I'm gonna stand up tall, man. I _AM_ a champion. I _AM_ the greatest wrestler in this promotion. My rightful place has been stolen. And everybody knows it. But Chris Hopper knows these injustices can't go on. That's why he's given me a shot at the television title. That's why he's sacrificed Erik Grimsson.
[Shadoe rubs at his eyes. Is he wiping away tears?]
SR: (hoarse) Erik, I don't have anything against you, man. I know you're going through your own problems with that woman and whatever. I wish you the best of luck, man. I mean that sincerely. My heart goes out to you, but they've given you to me on pay-per-view. December 30 at the NEWF's first pay-per-view ... the Rage will descend on you from high above. It will envelop you. Grimsson, I'm coming for you. I'm coming to take your soul. I'm coming to take your title. I will not let a conspiracy keep me down. All the NEWF has done is kick a lion in the back. When I get you down in that ring, Erik, they will see that Shadoe Rage is a warrior. Shadoe Rage is a fighter and I will not quick. I will not submit. I will not fall. Now I know that the refs will count me down the second my shoulders touch the mat ... then I won't go down. There will be no opportunity for them to cheat me. And Erik, that means your passion play backstage will mean nothing. I will finish off your stalker. She won't want an ex-champion. Trust me on this. I will begin 2008 with championship gold. This I vow. Now take me off the air!
6- "Cold-hearted Bastard" Frostbite
[We hear a loud noise coming from an nearby locker room.]
[More of the same loud noise. ]
[ A few security guards wearing yellow t-shirt with written in big black letters it says NEWF. As we see about 4 to 6 guards go racing into the locker room to check out all of this noise. ]
DAMN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I WAS ROBBED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[ A voice yells throughout the locker room.}
I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE COMPANY'S FIRST WORLD CHAMPION!!!!!!!!!!! NOBODY DESERVES THAT DAMN TITLE BUT ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[ The voice continues to raise cane in the locker room.]
[ We see the security guards look around as they see lockers turn over, a bench pulled from out of the ground.]
[The security guards hear another loud noise, as they suddenly spot a hole in the wall of the locker room. A gentleman is holding a sledgehammer in his hands as he eyes the wall.]
Security guard: What in the hell are you doing?
[ The gentleman turns to the security guards as he gives them a evil look as to say they will be next, if they don't get out of here.]
WHERE IN THE HELL IS YOUR PRESIDENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[ As once again the voice shouts out throughout the entire locker room.]
Security Guard: Are you talking about Hopper.
THAT IS WHO I AM TALKING ABOUT YOU MORON!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND IF I WERE YOU I WOULD TICK OFF A MAN HOLDING A DAMN SLEDGEHAMMER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[ You can tell the pitch in his voice the rage continues to grow and grow.]
[ The gentleman picks up his sledgehammer and put another hole into the wall.]
Security Guard: Sir you need to calm down.
CALM DOWN I WILL NOT DO THAT UNTIL THIS INJUSTICE THAT WAS DONE TO ME IN THAT RING EARLIER IN THE EVENING IS TAKEN CARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I WANT THAT DECISION REVERSE AS YOU DECLARE ME THE WINNER OF THAT MATCH.
[ The 4 to 6 security guards look at each other as they shrug their shoulders.]
Security guard: Look sir their is nothing we can do about that. The ref's decision is final. You lost fair and square.
[ As the gentleman takes the sledgehammer and smashes it over the pipes that are connected into the shower area.]
[ We see water flying everywhere in the locker room as the security guards and the gentleman holding the sledgehammer are all getting wet. The gentleman's long blue tights are just about soaked. The camera zooms down to see his blue boots appear to be just about filled with water.]
SO THEN THE DECISION IS FINAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[ The gentleman continues to scream from the top of his lungs as his sledgehammer and his short blonde hair is completely wet. As the camera zooms back in we see that it is Frostbite.]
Frostbite: DID YOU MORONS SEE BRIAN YOUNG PULL MY DAMN TIGHTS TO GET THE WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[ The security guards move a little closer to Frostbite.]
Security guard: Sir you need to calm down. We understand that you are upset that you lost an important match tonight. But once again there is nothing we can do about it.
Frostbite: WHERE IN THE HELL IS HOPPER?
Security guard: He is gone for the evening. He watched the last match, and he left for some important business.
Frostbite: That figures, the jackass pays me big time bucks to come to his worthless company, to make him a big time star in this sport, and help get his company off the ground. I help him put his ass on PPV, and now he doesn't have his biggest star in his company in the World title tournament. Instead he has a blind ref make one of the worse calls in this history of this business. The guy pulls my tights and he gets the three count.
[ Security guards inch closer.]
Frostbite: Where in the hell is the justice in that? A no name guy advances in such an important tournament like this. You don't have the greatest wrestler in the business today not moving forward in your tournament. Please Hopper's PPV sells are going to go down the drain. He is losing out. Think if he had the Cold Hearted Bastard in the main event how much ticket the idiot would sell. How much money I would put in his pocket. He doesn't see that. No all he sees his getting revenge on me.
[ Frostbite swings the sledgehammer at the security guards as they back up.]
Frostbite: And he calls himself a business man. How much did Hopper pay off the ref's to blow that damn match. You saw I was whipping the mat with Young. He didn't stand a damn chance at all. The only way he could have one if what had happening out there became the end result.
[ Frostbite gets another potion of the wall with his sledgehammer.]
Frostbite: You know Hopper can find my ass all he wants as far as this locker room goes or destroying another man's car or whatever I will do next. But rest assure at Slamfest this company's first PPV. I will make an damn impact. Hopper can try his damndest to stop my ass, but I will be heard.
Security guard: Please sir we are going to have to ask you to leave.
Frostbite: You don't ever tell me what to do.
[ Frostbite pauses.]
Frostbite: But I might leave you with this crap to clean up. However, at Slamfest I have some special in store for the World title match. Something very big.
[ Frostbite points the camera to get closer as it zooms in. Right into his cold,blue and intense eyes.]
Frostbite: HOPPER MARK MY DAMN WORDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BY THE END OF THE NIGHT!!!!!!!!!! I WILL MAKE MY MARK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU AND THE REST OF YOUR LOCKER ROOM WILL SUFFER ON THAT NIGHT!!!!!!! BECAUSE NOBODY SCREWS ME OUT OF MY WORLD TITLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DO YOU HEAR ME!!!!!!!!!!!! NOBODY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[ Frostbite pushes his away through the security guards.]
Frostbite: FORGET WHAT I SAID IT STARTS RIGHT ABOUT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[ Frostbite turns around as he throws up the sledgehammer and starts to swing it as he connects with at least one security guard.]
# STATIC #
[ As it fills the screen, and the image fades out.]
7- Summer Blake
[The scene opens to the home of Summer Blake. More specifically, the kitchen. Everything appears calm until we see black smoke slowly drifting from the closed oven door.]
Voice: Damn it! The cookies!
[It's then that Summer comes rushing into the kitchen, clad in a navy blue, sleeveless dress and heels, her black hair falling down her back in curls. She grabs a nearby oven mitt and puts it on, quickly turning off the oven and then opening the oven door. As she does so, smoke comes rushing at her. She frowns and coughs, fanning the smoke away, before reaching her gloved hand in the oven and bringing out a cookie sheet, filled with black, charred objects that we can only assume were once cookies.]
[Summer sighs and places the cookie sheet on the nearby counter. She tosses off her mitt in disgust and frowns, eying the cookies.]
Summer: [grumbles] Just follow the recipe my ass!
[Just then, there's a knock at the front door. Summer gives the cookies one last irritated look before making her way to the door. She opens it and is greeted by the sight of her best friend and wrestler, Tawny Blake. Tawny is an attractive, young woman with shoulder-length, blonde hair and blue eyes. She's clad in a tweed coat, open to reveal a cream-colored top and skirt, finishing the look with boots.]
Tawny: [smiles] Hey, Summer!
Summer: Hey, T. You're early.
Tawny: My meeting let out a lot sooner than expected. So, I decided to head here.
[The two women embrace before Summer steps aside, allowing Tawny to enter. Immediately, Tawny makes a face.]
Tawny: What is that smell!?!
[Summer sighs again, closing the door behind her.]
Summer: Don't laugh. I was trying to bake cookies. And, as expected, they didn't turn out so good.
[Tawny can't help the amused smile that crosses her lips.]
Tawny: _You_ were making cookies? The woman who can't even boil water without instructions?
Summer: [rolls her eyes] Oh, shut it.
Tawny: Seriously, what in the world possessed you to do that?
Summer: Well, you were telling me how your cousin always bakes cookies for everyone in the UWF, during the holidays. So, I thought I would do the same thing for the NEWF guys. You know, as a thank you.
Tawny: Lolita only does that because she's the reincarnation of Betty Crocker. I would never advise any normal woman to follow her path.
[Tawny walks over to the kitchen, taking a seat at the counter and eying the cookies warily.]
Tawny: You should have called me, when you decided to do this. I could have helped.
Summer: [frowns] How? You don't cook either.
Tawny: Of course not. But I could have at least given you the number to Jillian's. She's kind of expensive but, once you taste her mint chocolate chips, you'll see that she's worth every penny.
Summer: [frowns] I'll keep that in mind. But maybe the cookies aren't so bad. I know they look burned or whatever. But maybe it's just the outside.
Tawny: [flashing a disbelieving look] Are _you_ willing to taste test them to find out?
[Summer takes a last look at the cookies and sighs, tossing them in the nearby trash can.]
Tawny: Good girl. Anyway, glad to see you still in the holiday spirit. Thought you'd be a little pissed about being left off of the NEWF pay per view.
[Summer leans against the counter.]
Summer: To be honest with you, it does suck a little. I would have given anything to be involved in the four-way match at Slamfest. But I guess I can understand why I didn't get a slot. It's not like my last match was anything to write home about. You know, with Achika kicking my ass from pillar to post and all.
Tawny: Oh, please. It was not _that_ bad. From what I remember, you gave as good as you got.
Summer: [shrugs] I guess. It doesn't even matter anyway. What's past is past. Right now, I'm just focusing on rebounding and working my ass off to get a shot at whichever woman wins that Diamond title match. So, Janice Dubois better be prepared because, Dark Match or no Dark Match, I won't be playing around. I want the NEWF to know that, despite my setbacks, I'm really serious about making it here and winning the Diamond Title.
Tawny: Well, if you go into this Dark Match with this same attitude, I don't think you'll have any problem doing that. Anyway, enough about work. Come on. Let's hit the mall and we'll swing by Jillian's too, so you can get something for the NEWF crew that won't kill them.
Summer: Ha, ha, bitch.
8- Larry Gionet
[We fade into an abandoned street corner in Detroit Michigan. The sun shines brightly as a local diner and laundromat are buzzing with people taking breaks from their busy lives. A few apartment duplexes fill out the populated street as Larry Gionet decked out in his leather jacket and blue jeans sits on an empty stairway leading to a front door of an apartment.]
Here we are Detroit Michigan the sight of Slamfest I. The Motor City where an auto industry boomed surviving the Great Depression while other companies floundered. Where Motown gave artists of color a voice. Where one of the hardest working teams in the NFL the Detroit Lions call home. Despite talented players like Herman Moore and Barry Sanders as well as a NFC Divisional Championship in 1991 they have been unable to win the Super Bowl. Even this year after starting strong, they fall just a little short of reaching the playoffs. For the next few months until training starts up again they must ask what if. To be quite honest I'm sick and tired of wondering what if.
[Gionet looks down as he sees water dripping down the sewer drain formulating a puddle as it mets the bars. Larry's reflection can be seen clearly. A moment of sincerity can be etched across his face as one can se he is deeply reflecting his career. One can see his blue eyes drifting off as his dark blonde hair parts off to the sides of his head.]
Like the Detroit Lions I was always told I had such potential to go all the way. To far surpass any expectations I ever dreamed of. It seemed that every time I pursued my aspirations and dreams head on I would get so close only for it to slip away like a faded memory. As I would be ready to step on firm ground high above the mountaintop the rug would be swept under my feet forcing me to tumble back down to my starting point. I never complained because I knew against hope I would get there someday. I knew quitting would be an easy avenue to take but had I quit years ago, the people that wronged me would have won. I know I'm in the fight of my life at the PPV but I've swam against the current before.
[Larry continues to look at himself in that puddle as one can see him looking at his hands. He clenches his hands into fists. Not of anger or hostility but of fire and determination. He closes his eyes letting out a deep sigh. He breathes so hard that his breathing sent ripples through the water making his face look distorted for a brief moment in time in the puddle's image.]
Alex Van Steele you have unquestionable made a name for yourself here in the NEWF. You would have not made it past the first round had you not made an impact. What you may lack in size there is no denying that you make up for in determination. Although I can/t take away from you what you bring to the NEWF, you certainly can't underestimate my desire and passion to be the first NEWF Champion of The World. McGraw tried to cripple me, I signed a waiver to not hold this promotion responsible if I were to get hurt and I gave Mr. Rage the fight of his life. He realize that unfortunately you must realize is there is nothing I want to accomplish more than winning the NEWF World Championship.
[Larry Gionet with his hand still stuffed in a fist of fire raises it up to the heavens as he for the first time looks up at the camera. His face shows off a stigma of hope and longing to be the best in this world. He pounds his chest with his free hand as if in sync with the beating of his heart. The same heart he feels that beats in the souls that encourage him day in and day out.]
When its all over and I stand before the wrestling world as the NEWF World Champion I will no longer be asking myself what if, I shall be asking who is willing to STEP UP?!
[Larry without missing a beat, stands up in a split second. The cameraman was unable to keep up with his speed thus choosing to see him from an angle. As if Gionet is telling the wrestling world he is coming into Slamfest with a mission in mind. He takes one final look at his reflection in the puddle as the sun rises over it allowing it to shine brightly before the puddle begins to evaporate as we then fade to black.]
9- Dan Broussard
[SCENE: Some random hotel room, somewhere in the Detroit. Shootings, crack dealing and prostitution are all around us, or so we are told, but for the moment we are locked in to the dimly lit shot of Dan Broussard's reflection in the mirror. Minds out of the gutter children, he's wearing clothes and lots of them. Indeed, the youngish Broussard stands with his hotel door ajar, still wearing an old grey top coat and with a duffel bag in one hand.]
DB: Being adequate isn't good enough.
I got a big win over Zeke McGinty on Explosion, and as soon as I got back to the locker room... it wasn't what I thought it would be. I thought after earning my way into a title tournament on pay per view, I thought I would be ecstatic and jubiliant. You know, rookie wrestler figures out how to win and pulls his own boot straps up. That stuff is prevalent everywhere.
But I went back to the locker room, and the only thing I could think of is, "I've got to get better. This ain't gonna cut it." And that's when I realized that paying back McGinty for a win he got over a rookie who was the drizzling s[BLEEP!]s is one thing. But staying on top of my game to advance in this tournament and actually _be_ something is totally different. It's all about the, ah, you know, it's all about...
[Broussard snaps his fingers, trying to get the words to roll off of his tongue.]
DB: Truth be told, I don't have a friggin clue what it's all about. It's hard to describe, but it's a palpable feeling. A feeling like maybe the rest of the business is evolving too, so my little bout of maturing in the business is great for personal growth and my own confidence in the ring, but not really worth more than a fat baby's ass in the long run. Like maybe all this improving I'm doing doesn't mean s[BLEEP] because the rest of the business is improving to, thereby keeping me in the same position I'm in right now. The real hard part is acknowledging that others have gone through these growing pains too, and trying to look at your own station in life objectively. Have I found some success?
Have I improved considerably in the ring.
[Dan shrugs and answers truthfully.]
DB: Yes, I think so. But are those improvements happening on a level playing field that always stays the same, or on an ever expanding playing field that gets bigger at a rate better than mine? Y'know what I mean, x and y axis, all that stuff? Is the slope of my improvement as steep as the rest of the playing field's?
[Broussard drops his stuff and sits on the bed, mentally drained.]
DB: Oh who gives a damn. Who needs a drink?
[Dan turns to the mini-fridge and rummages through, coming up with nothing of interest save a bag of Cheetos. He turns back to the bed and sits in classic thinkers pose, occasionally crunching on a fake-cheese flavored snack.]
DB: The best advice I ever got was pretty simple.
"Don't think, you're only hurting yourself." That's served me well in the past. Kinda makes you feel like a tool when the best advice you ever got was ganked from a Kevin Costner movie.
[Broussard shrugs, not concerned.]
DB: My best course of action is the easiest one. I can't control how fast the metaphorical playing field is expanding, or how much better the world around me is getting while I iron out the rookie mistakes. All I can control is my own performance, and how I adjust to the guy in front of me. I'm sure Joshua Black is better than the guy I beat for my first televised win. He seemed like a pretty talented guy. A lot of athleticism and whatnot to deal with.
But I think the most basic approach is the best one. See something you want, you go get it.
I want that world title. Badly. And to get it, I've got to start with Joshua Black, who's already got our prior encounter in the back of his mind. That mental barrier has already been knocked down for me, but I'm sure he'll raise his game now that the stakes have been raised as well. But rather than sugarcoat it, let me say this: I'm going to beat you again, Black. Not because I own you, or because I'm in your head, or anything other than the simple fact that you are the first roadblock to the title. And thus you must be removed.
[Broussard grins, relieved.]
DB: To talk about anyone else down the line is foolish. And the best way to combat my own morbid calculus comparison fetish when it relates to evolution in wrestling is to take one match at a time, get better every time I enter the ring and go from there. The best way for me to raise above the level of simply adequate is to just... do it.
Do or do not, there is no try. That's the second best piece of advice I've ever gotten... this time from Star Wars. The third best advice is more along the lines of self help. It's something like, you're all that and you're sweating some lawn jockey? Please. It's from Swingers, tell me if you heard it.
I guess that's the difference between now and then. I wasn't sure I could beat you then, now I _know_ I can. I also know that I've got to be at the top of my game to do it. Unfortunately, while there may be a big difference in me... their won't be much of a difference in the result.
Broussard 2, Black zero.
[Dan wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve.]
DB: Grab a napkin homey, because you're about to get served.
© 2007 NEWF Productions, a subsidiary of Cooler Than Ice, Inc.