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| (The lights in the arena go out, as lightning flashes at the entranceway. No, we’re not in Manchester, we’re at yet another live TWW house show. As the show opens up, all the fans look on in anticipation. The camera scans around such signs as "I Pray to the New God", "Hot Shot-Back and Better", "I wanna be English" and "AMW-Please Save Me!". All of a sudden, the lights come back on, and Some Girls Do by Saywer Brown begins playing. Red and blue fireworks fly at the rampway, and out of the darkness comes a tall figure, dressed in a black suit and work trousers. He has a pair of shades on, and is wearing dark black boots. As the crowd realize who it is, they begin to boo, as the manager of Suicide, J.J, stands in front of them.) J.J:Please, learn some damn manners you filthy Americans. I’ve been sent out here to give you information, not to damn well be booed like Corx. My man Suicide seems to have a match tommorow. In a business kind of view, the fact that he must fly to America for that show sucks, but in a personal kinda view, I guess it’s just another chance to take out that damn son of a b**ch Shawn Chase. And Chase, you might be one SOB, but I’ll give you one thing. You’re one resilient SOB. You’ve held my man’s belt for God knows how long, despite defending it all of one time. Hmm, what the hell is wrong with management recently? Chase should either defend that belt or be stripped of the gold. It’s fairly simple. Don’t defend it, and somebody else’ll be doing it for you. But, unbelievably, that isn’t what I want to talk about. My man Suicide has a few points he wants to make clear. He wants that jerk Chase out of the title picture, but he always wants to take out the Hot Shot. Umm, I know. Hit Sh*t, my man’s comin’ for ya. And yes, I know. Hot Shot, you aren’t even the kinda guy that would dare challenge my man, but hey, if he feels like an off day, then he can have one. But, he does ask one thing. My man wants to know one thing. Please, can you put him in a match with a few damn ponces, aka Americans, or maybe Scots, and see what happens. It doesn’t matter if they’re main event material or not. He just wants Americans. That’s the only reason he wants the new Hot Shot, because he’s damn American. But the main reason I’m out here is not because of that. It’s because of a certain, ahem, superstar-WCW superstar, he seems to be being compared to of recent times. Suicide, my man, the Jeff Jarrett of TWW? Please. Sure, he admits openly, he’s a fan of Jeff’s. Hell, even goes as far as hanging out with him sometimes-yes, a decent American-but he is not a damn imitation. Suicide is Suicide. Jarrett is Jarrett. Bit of a difference. Besides, don’t be surprised if you see a new, meaner version to this man very, very soon. Oh, and Shawn. In the words of R.L.Stine, you better beware-I’m gonna change it here-you’re in for an ass kicking. (All of a sudden, the Tidal-Tron flickers on and off in black and white, as a scene begins to open up. We are in a small supermarket somewhere, probably America-or maybe Scotland-that’s full of mess, with rain pouring down outside. There is a large man stood at the door, holding back a smaller man. At closer inspection, the larger man appears to be wearing what looks like blue and black uniform and a Security badge. The smaller man is wearing jeans, with a black Adidas top. His hair is black and white on top, with a small ponytail hanging down behind him. The larger guy-a security guard-looks mad, and is shouting at the top of his voice.) Security Guard:Get the hell out of here. (As the camera catches a close up, they notice that the smaller man is none other than Suicide.) Suicide:Why? I need to get some groceries. Please? Security Guard:No. You’re not welcome here. Suicide:Aww, come on. Bandit’s gonna be gettin’ hungry. Security Guard:Bandit? What the hell are you on you little fool? Suicide:Bandit’s my cat. Little black and white cutie. I need to get some cat food. Please? Security Guard:What kinda cat food do ya need? I’ll get it for you. Suicide:Cat food? Umm. Pedigree Chum. Security Guard:OK. Pedig (He stops mid section and turns around. He gives Suicide a look of pure stupidity, and grabs a tin off the shelf. He shoves it in Suicide’s hand and holds his hand out for money.) Security Guard:Two pounds seventy six pence. Suicide:Two seventy six? Can’t you round that up. Or down. Whichever. Security Guard:Look, what the hell do you really want? Suicide:Well, actually, now you come to think of it. Have you got one of those really funny cards. The Birthday cards. Security Guard:When’s the birthday? Suicide:Last Monday. Why? Security Guard:Last Mond (He stops mid sentence and stares at Suicide. He sighs, and grabs a card off the shelf.) Security Guard:Who’s it for? Suicide:Sexy young babe called Vicky. (Suicide looks at the camera, as he notices the live green button flashing.) Suicide:S**t. We’re on air. I meant Stephanie. Security Guard:Well I’ll let you borrow a pen, you can sign it, pay for a stamp, and post it. Suicide:Post it? God, she lives in the same apartment. Security Guard:Then it’ll save money, won’t it? Suicide:Yeah, but it won’t save lives. Anyway hand it over. Quick. (Suicide grabs the card, and a pen out of his pocket. He opens up the card and starts writing.) Suicide:"Love ya always. Sorry I never remember your Birthday. Love Shawn. P.S.Vicky, have you got my trousers still?" Security Guard:Thought she was Stephanie? (Suicide sticks the card into a post box and then realizes what the security guy just said.) Suicide:Stephanie? Stephanie? Security Guard:Your girlfriend? Remember? Suicide:No. Girlfriend? Umm, which one? (Suddenly Suicide’s face lights up like a lamp. Then it suddenly sinks.) Suicide:Oh crap. Security:"To Stephanie. Blah, blah, blah. Love Shawn. P.S.Vicky, have you got my trousers still?" Man, she is gonna be soooo pleased with you. How’d she get ‘em? Suicide:How’d she get ‘em? You mean the trousers? (The security guy nods his head.) Suicide:Well, it’s a funny story actually. She’s a huge fan of mine, so I agreed to let her have my trousers for a while. Security Guard:So you’d drop your pants for any old fan? Suicide:Yeah. I mean, no. God no. What do you take me for? A stripper? Erm, that excuse just is not gonna work is it? Security Guard:Nope. Suicide:Right. Right then. In that case, Vix is the name of the dry cleaners. Yeah, she’d believe that. Security Guard:Would she? Suicide:Of course she wouldn’t. What am I gonna do man? Please, God help me. Damnit. She has done some damn bad things to me before, but this is gonna be the hardest slap of all. (The screen cuts back to ringside, where J.J is watching in disvelief in the ring, as the crowd laugh at the video. All of a sudden, the Tidal-Tron flickers off, then on again. We are now in a small apartment. There is a young man there with a black top and jogging bottoms on, and a young blonde dressed in nothing but a bra and knickers. The fans instantly recognize them, as Suicide’s girlfriend, Stephanie, walks out of the bedroom.) Stephanie:Have a good night last night David? (The fans start to remember David, the one who nearly broke up Stephanie and Suicide first time. Now he’s back, and the fans are going crazy. Well, growing jealous is more like it.) David:So, did you like that music I played last night while we were locking horns in that epic battle. Stephanie:David. Have you seen Suicide? David:Thank God no. He’d kill me if he knew what we did last night. Stephanie:What? Watching movies? David:The bit after the movies. Stephanie:Well, I didn’t intend telling him we slept together did I? Anyway, I’ve gotta go to work now. It’s just that he forgot my Birthd (Her sentance is broken halfway as something slips through the letterbox. Stephanie runs to the door and scoops up the card that is lieing there. She opens it up and starts to read.) Stephanie:"Love ya always. Sorry I never remember your Birthday. Love Shawn. P.S.Vicky, have you got my trousers still?" Vicky? What the hell? I am gonna kill that good for nothing piece of trash. (Stephanie drops down on the sofa. David sits down beside her, and puts an arm around her.) David:Maybe you should go back to bed. Stephanie:OK. (Stephanie walks into the bedroom, as David follows after her. A few minutes later, after a long silence, a red bra is thrown out of the bedroom, and lands on top of the camera. The screen fades to black, soaked in red, as we cut to a commercial.) |
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