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THE MOVIES . ..PULP BOOKERMAN . ..RASSELIN' WAR DOGS THE MUSIC . .."BENOIT WILL SURVIVE" . .."HI! MY NAME IS. . ." . .."THE STYLE AND THE PROFILE" . .."BOBBY BRAIN" THE NOTES FROM THE ROSS REPORT . ..OLD . ..CURRENT THE MAILBAG . ..OLD BAGS . ..CURRENT THE MADLIBS . ..DIESEL TURNS TWEENER . ..HIT MY MUSIC THE MEGASITES . ..WRESTLEWHINE . ..CRANKSYLVANIA THE OTHER . ..2000; YEAR IN NOTES . ..THE JF'N SHOPZONE . ..HUNK OF THE WEEK . ..BANNERS . ..LIST OF LINKS |
Dark screen. We don't see anyone, but we hear the voice of Mr. Orange screaming in agony. Mr. Orange: I'm gonna job! I'm gonna job. . . I'm gonna job! Mr. Wight: Just hold on, goblin boy. Mr. Orange: I'm gonna job! We fade in to Paul "Mr." Wight driving a car. In the back seat lies Hulk "Mr. Orange" Hogan, who's bleeding like crazy from the stomach. Mr. Orange: I'm sorry! Mr. Wight reaches his left hand back for Orange to hold. He clutches it. Mr. Orange: I can't believe she squashed me, brutha!! Who the fuck could have thought that!?! Mr. Wight: Hey, just cancel that shit, right now! You're selling, you're selling real fucking bad, but you ain't jobbing! Mr. Orange: All this blood scares the shit out of me, Paul! I'm jobbing, brutha, I know it! Mr. Wight: Oh well it's a big excuse me, I didn't know you had a degree in booking school. Ah. . . Are you a booker? Answer me, please, are you a booker? Huh? Mr. Orange: Noo! No, I'm not. They are all my whores, however. Mr. Wight: OK! So you admit you don't know what you're talking about. So, if you're through giving me your amateur opinion, lie back and listen to the news, I'm taking you back to the rendezvous. . . Dust's gonna get you a busty blonde EMT. . . the EMT's gonna fix you up. . . and you're gonna be OK. Now say it: You're gonna be OK! Mr. Orange just screams in agony. Mr. Wight: Say it! You're gonna be OK! Say the goddamned words, you're gonna be OK! Mr. Orange: Oh, God. . . Mr. Wight: Say the goddamned fucking words!! Say it! Mr. Orange: OK, Paul. . . Mr. Wight: Correct! Correct! Mr. Orange: I'm OK. . . ------------------------------------- We see Wight kicking open a door and carrying Hulk Hogan into what looks like an abandoned warehouse. Mr. Wight: Look where we are. . . Look where we are, we're alright. Mr. Orange keeps screaming in pain. Mr. Wight: We're in the warehouse. Who's the tough guy? Who's the tough guy? Mr. Orange: Hacksaw. . ? Mr. Wight: No no no. Not Hacksaw. Who's the tough guy? Come on, who's the tough guy? Mr. Orange: I'm the. . . tough. . . guy. . . Mr. Wight: You're a tough guy. You're a fucking tough guy. . . He lays Mr. Orange down on the floor. Mr. Wight: OK. . . We're in the warehouse. Look where we are. We made it, we fucking made it. Well it's a big warehouse, look where we are. Look where we are. Hogan keeps trying to lift his head. He can't do it, and he bangs it against the floor. Hogan: Shit! Mr. Wight: Stop banging your head. You're gonna bang a hole in the floor. You don't wanna be a fucking Head Banger, do ya? Hogan, while still in pain, laughs. Mr. Wight: I can't do anything for you. But when Dusty gets here. . . which should be any time now, he's gonna help you out, he's gonna take care of you. OK? We're just gonna sit here, and we're gonna wait for Dusty. Who are we waiting for? Mr. Orange: Dusty. . . The Big Show wipes off Hogan's face. Mr. Orange: I'm just so fucking scared, brutha! Can you please hold me. . .? Wight does, and puts his arm around the back of Hogan's neck. He takes up a comb from his breast pocket and gently combs through the little hair around Hogan's bald dome. Mr. Wight: You go ahead and be scared. . . You've been brave enough for one day, OK? I just want you to relax now. . . You're not gonna fucking job. You're gonna be fine. When Dusty gets here. . . he's gonna fix you up. Mr. Orange: I'm selling and I'm selling hardway, Paul. Mr. Wight: It's not good, no. Mr. Orange: But you're a heart for what you're trying to do. I was overselling for a minute back there. . . But I got my senses back now. But the situation is that I'm juicing from the belly. Without medical attention, I'm gonna job. Mr. Wight: I can't take you to a hospital. . . Mr. Orange: Fuck the indys, brutha!! You don't have to take me in, just drive me up to the front, brutha. Drop me on the sidewalk, I'll take care of myself. I won't tell 'em anything, brutha. . . I swear to fucking God, brutha! Look in my eyes, brutha. Look in my eyes. . . I won't tell them anything! You'll be safe, brutha. Mr. Wight: You're not gonna fucking job, oldie, alright? Listen to me, you're gonna be fine! Along with the neck, the gut is the most difficult area a guy can be forced to sell. Mr. Orange: Holy shit. . . Mr. Wight: But it takes a long time to job from it. I'm talking marathon match. You're gonna wish you've been jobbed, but it takes a marathon match to do the job over a belly injury, time is on your side. All of a sudden, Bret "Mr. Pink" Hart bursts in through the door. Mr. Pink: Were we screwed or what?! He sees Hogan lying in the pool of blood. Mr. Pink: Shit, Orange's bladed? Mr. Wight: Gutshot. Mr. Pink: Screw! Where is Brown? Mr. Wight: Jobbed. Mr. Pink: How did he job? Mr. Wight: How the fuck do you think? Company boys shot on him. Mr. Pink: This is bad! So screwing bad! Is it bad? Mr. Wight: As opposed to good? Mr. Pink: Man, this is screwed up. . . Somebody screwed us big time, man! It's worse than Montreal! I mean, not worse, nothing can be that EVIL, but pretty bad nonetheless. Mr. Wight: You really think we were screwed? Mr. Pink: Do you even doubt it, man? I don't think we got screwed, I know we got screwed! I mean really, seriously, where did all those company boys come from, huh? One minute they're not there and the next minute they’re there? I didn't hear the Stooges' theme music. The bell rung a bunch of times in successions, OK? When a bell rings a bunch of times in succession, you've got an average of four minute response time. Unless an injury angle that's supposed to look like a shoot is going on at that particular moment, you've got four minutes before they even get to respond! And within one minute, there were seventeen striped shirts and suits out there, all prepared, all knowing exactly what they screw they were doing! They were all just there! Remember that second wave that showed up by the cars, OK? Those were the ones that showed up on the bell-ringing. The first motherscrewers, I'm telling you, they were there and they were waiting for us. Haven't you screwin' thought about this?! Mr. Wight: I haven't had a chance to think! At first I was just trying to get the fuck out of there! And then after we got away, I've just been dealing with him. Also, I'm not paranoid by nature. Mr. Pink: You better start screwin' thinking about it, man, 'cause that's all I'm thinking about, man! I wasn't even gonna come here. I was just gonna drive, just drive off, maybe run over my sister along the way, because what if somehow they know about this place? There could've been company boys here waiting for us! There could be company boys coming here right now! Mr. Wight: Let's go in the other room. Hey! Right in there. He points to a room on his right. Hart goes in, but as Wight starts getting up from where he's been sitting by Mr. Orange's side, Hulk again starts to moan in agony. Wight comforts him. Mr. Orange: Don't leave me, brutha. . . Mr. Wight: It's OK, I'm just gonna go in the other room. I'll be right in there, I'm right here lookin' at ya. . . Right in here. He gets up and walks through the open doorway into the other room. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Mr. Pink: What the screw am I doing here, man? You know I felt funny about this job, right off. Soon as I thought that, I should've said "no thank you" and walked, but I didn't screwin' listen! It's like that very time I got screwed in Montreal, same thing, man! I didn't trust the guy, I felt funny about it, but I wanted to believe him, you know, 'cause he swore on his children and all. I always say that if I thought that way about a job, I should've screwin' walked. I didn't, I didn't because I got too screwin' greedy!! I'm not greedy for money, I'm greedy for respect! And also, I'm greedy for getting to leave a company as the world champ! Mr. Wight: What's done is done. We need you to be cool. Are you cool? Mr. Pink: I am cool. But I just once again want to reiterate that Vince McMahon screwed me. Again. Mr. Wight: Splash some water in your face. It works for Hunter. Bret goes over to the faucet and splashes some cold water on his bitter face while looking at himself in the mirror. He's still very agitated. Mr. Wight: Take a deep breath. . . Relax. Have a cigarette. Mr. Pink: I quit. And I never smoked crack, despite what Dynamite Kid said in his book! He's a LIAR, I tell you! HE SCREWED ME!! And so did McMahon!! Why, you got one? The Big Show looks through his pockets. He can't find anything, so he goes back into the other room and finds them. Mr. Wight: Yeah. . . Here you go. He gives Bret a cigarette, and takes one himself. He then takes up a Zippo lighter and lights them. Mr. Wight: OK. Let's go through what happened. We're in the place, everything is going fine. Then the bell gets rung a bunch of times in succession. I turn around and all these company boys are outside. Right. . . bam, I blink my eyes, and they're there. Everyone starts going funky like a bunch of monkeys. Then Mr. Blonde starts to Lionsault all the--. . . Mr. Pink: That's not correct. Mr. Wight: What's wrong with it? Mr. Pink: OK. The company boys did not show up at the ringing of the bell. The company boys didn't show up until Mr. Blonde started Lionsaulting everybody. Mr. Wight: As soon as I heard the bell ring, I saw the company boys--. . . Mr. Pink: No, I'm telling you, it wasn't that simple. They didn't let their presence be known until after Mr. Blonde became a madman, alright. I'm not saying they weren't there, I'm saying they were there, but they didn't make a move until when Mr. Blonde started Lionsaulting everybody! I mean, that's how I know we got screwed! Come on, Mr. Wight. . . Mr. Wight: Look, look. Enough with this "Mr. Wight" shit! Mr. Pink: Wait, wait, wait, man, don't tell me your screwin' ring name, I don't wanna know it! Jesus Castillo, I'm not gonna tell you mine! Mr. Wight: You're right, this is bad. . . How did you get out? Mr. Pink: I shot my way out. Everybody started shooting, so I wrestled my way out of there. -------------------------------- FLASHBACK: Bret is shooting on one of the evil Hebner twins, but runs away as other referees are coming towards him. Next, he is being chased down a street by a couple of evil Hebner twins and a few other referees. As he is running, he encounters his sister Diana, who he promptly clotheslines down without losing a step. A few other Hart family members are also unfortunate enough to be in his way, and Bret shows that he's a man of his word by running them all down. The refs scream after him, but he manages to get into a car and drive away. --------------------------------- Mr. Pink: I squashed a couple of refs. You job anybody? Mr. Wight: A few refs. Mr. Pink: No real people? Mr. Wight: Just refs. Bret picks up a chair from the floor and sits down. Mr. Pink: Man, could you believe Mr. Blonde? Mr. Wight: It was the most insane fucking thing I have ever seen this side of booking Mae Young to take her shirt off. Why the fuck would Dust hire a guy like that? Mr. Pink: Now I don't wanna job anybody. If I gotta get out that fed as the world champ in order to show up on the competitions Monday Night show with the belt and you're standing in my way, one way or another, you're getting out of my way. Mr. Wight: That's the way I look at it. The choice between doing ten years in the prelims or ruining a title belt's credibility in order to make myself seem cool ain't no choice at all. But I ain't no madman either. What the fuck was Dust thinking?! Can't work with a guy like that. . . We're awful damn lucky he didn't squash us when he Lionsaulted the place up. I came this close. . . He shows the "AAAAHH THE CHOKESLAM!" gesture, but with his fingers and his thumb only an inch or so apart. Mr. Wight: . . . to taking his ass out myself! Mr. Pink: I mean, everybody panics. Everybody. You just get tense. It's human nature to panic, IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOUR NAME IS, you can't help it. Screw, man, you panic on the inside. In your head, you know. You give yourself a couple of seconds, you get a hold of the situation, you deal with it. I mean, maybe you punch him in the face and break your own hand, but what you don't do is start Lionsaulting people and squashing people! Mr. Wight: No, what you're supposed to do is act like a fucking professional. An ad-libber ain't a professional. Can't work with an ad-libber. You don't know what those sick assholes're gonna do next. I mean, Jesus Castillo, how big do you think that black girl's boobs were? Triple D? Maybe double D? She bares them at PPVs again and again, and Blonde Lionsaults on to them! Mr. Pink: Sure hope they didn't get punctured. Hey look, did you see what happened to anybody else? Mr. Wight: Me and Orange jumped in the car, Brown floored it. After that I don't know what went down. Mr. Pink: Oh, that's like the Royal Rumble, it's every man for himself, man. As far as Mr. Blonde and Mr. Blue went, I ain't got the slightest screwin' idea, 'cause once I got out, I never looked back, not even with bitterness and resentment. Mr. Wight: What do you think? Mr. Pink: What do I think? I mean, you know, the company boys either screwed 'em or jobbed 'em. Mr. Wight: Any chance they punched through? You found a hole. Mr. Pink: Yeah, and that was a screwin' miracle. Even if they did get away, then where the screw are they? Mr. Wight: You don't think it's possible one of them got a hold of the belts and. . . ? He does a "strut" to signify them taking off. Mr. Pink: No. Don't worry. Mr. Wight: How can you be so sure? Mr. Pink: I got the belts. The Big Show smiles, and pats Bret on the shoulder. Mr. Wight: My boy! Where? Mr. Pink: I stashed them. Look, if you wanna come with me, let's go get 'em right now. Right this second, man. 'Cause I think staying here, man, we should get our screwin' heads examined. Mr. Wight: That was the plan: Wait here. Mr. Pink: Then where the screw is everybody? I say the plan becomes no important once we find out we've got a Stasiak in the house. We ain't got the slightest screwin' idea what happened to Mr. Blonde or Mr. Blue. I mean they could both be jobbed, or maybe they’re taken into 'creative evaluation' programs; the suits could have them down at the Dojo right now, sweating 'em down. Yeah, they don't know our names, but they could be singing about this place. The Big Show doesn't answer Hart's paranoid rantings, but simply looks into the mirror at himself. Mr. Wight: I swear to God, I think I'm fucking jinxed. Mr. Pink: What? That's my thing, don't you be starting to steal the whining! You're probably trying to screw me as well--. . . Mr. Wight: I had always been under the illusion that my father, Andre the Giant, had died of a heart attack in 1993. I then found out that he was alive, but as fate would have it, he came down with cancer and died a few months later. Boss Man surfed on his casket and all. . . I find out one of the company boys had scripted it all. I mean, the cruelty of bringing my deceased father back to life only to kill him off so soon is just low, man. Mr. Pink (after looking long and hard at Wight with a look of disbelief): No shit. Mr. Wight: Thank God that the company boy who scripted it was let go, or he'd have killed my entire family. . . Mr. Pink: So who's the Stasiak this time? Mr. Blue? Mr. Brown? Dusty. . ? You know, listen, Dusty set this whole thing up, maybe he set it up just to screw me! Maybe he's an evil bastard just like McMahon, and sees it as his only purpose in life to screw me! I'm just saying, what if!? Mr. Wight: I don't buy it. Me and Dust go back a long time. I can tell you definitely, he doesn't know a fucking thing about this bullshit. Mr. Pink: Hey look, I've known Dusty since I was a kid. And me saying he definitely had nothing to do with it is ridiculous. I mean, I can say I definitely didn't do it, because I know what I did and I didn't do. I can't definitely say that about anybody else, because I don't definitely know. For all I know, you're the Stasiak. Mr. Wight: For all I know you're the fucking Stasiak! Mr. Pink: Alright, know you're using your screwing head! For all we know, he's the Stasiak. He motions to the other room, where Hogan is still lying. Mr. Wight: Well it's a big "hey, that old man is dying from a fucking bullet I saw him take", so don't you be calling him a Stasiak! Mr. Pink: Look, I'm right, OK. Somebody's a screwin' Stasiak. Wight doesn't answer. Mr. Pink: Where's the commode in this dungeon, I have to take a sharpshooter. Mr. Wight: Well it's a big way down the hall, go up a couple of stairs, and then a right. Bret goes. |
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