Post by The Sitcom on Nov 12, 2023 4:10:33 GMT -5
(It’s a beautiful sunny day in the land of silver screen dreams…Hollywood, California. Johnny Beckman is looking through his mail as walks into his mansion. He notices his brother, Natural ICE, standing by the door to the library.)
“Can you please explain to me why I just got three different letters of resignation from the gardener, the maid and my driver?”
(Whispering) “Shhh…”
“And they all seem to mention three specific things”…(reading)…”a game of strip hide-and-seek, my naked drunken brother and getting punched three times for ‘peeking’.”
(Still whispering) “Shut up. I’m listening to Sitcom and Annie going at it.”
“Those two better not be having sex on my books! Those come highly recommended from Oprah!”
“Did you just admit you’re in Oprah’s book club? And they’re not fucking, they’re fighting.”
(Johnny joins ICE as they listen closely to Annie and Sitcom’s heated argument.)
“This shit again! Before the biggest match in my career!”
“I don’t even know how to talk to you when you’re like this.”
“Here’s a good place to start, try thinking before you speak.”
(ICE and Johnny still listening on the other side of the door.)
“He's going to pay for that one.”
“If she starts throwing my books at him, I’m going in there.”
“Relax, um sure your first edition Nancy Drew’s will be fine.”
“Those are an investment!”
“Shhh!”
(Back to listening to Sitcom vs Annie.)
“Say what you will about Johnny and ICE, but at least they never made me cry.”
“There you go again, talking about them. Why don’t you just let them double-team you already and get it over with!"
(Silence from the other room, as Johnny and ICE just stare at one another.)
“For the record, I don’t want to have a three-way with you.”
“Same for me.”
“Really? Because you had this look on your face.”
“What! No. I didn’t have a-“…(Suddenly the library door flies open)…”chance to inspect the fine craftsmanship on this door frame until just now.”
(Annie storms out of the library and out of the house. Sitcom slowly exits the library to see the Beckman brothers standing there awkwardly. ICE finally breaks the silence only like he can.)
“Johnny wants to have sex with me.”
(Johnny is quick to adamantly disagree with his brother, but Sitcom doesn’t care about their petty sibling shit. He slowly walks away from them, numb from the fight and lost in his own thoughts.
He didn’t feel guilty about what he said. Or sadness that she might not come back this time.
But Pride.
For he’d won the fight.
And like the villain he’s become…he grins.)
“And who needs Love when you have Hate. Right, Tatiana?”
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(On a completely dark sound-stage a single light appears to show Johnny Beckman. Dressed, groomed, and standing like a million-dollar man.)
Johnny: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome...The Savior of Action Wrestling...Your United States Champion...The Next Main Event...The Sitcom.
(All 400 pounds and seven feet of The Sitcom slowly walks out into a second spotlight. He seems just as confused about what is going on as the rest of us.)
Sitcom: If this is a ‘This is Your Life’ thing, remember I hate everyone from my past.
Johnny: No, this is a very unique opportunity for a wrestler of today to learn from wrestlers of the past.
(A much larger light appears over a table with 5 seats.)
Sitcom: This seems...cheap.
Johnny: Well, your past few productions have been a little pricey.
Sitcom: If you’re talking about the action scene from my last promo-
Johnny: It didn’t even make the final cut!
Sitcom: Once the 50-foot-tall Karlie robot caught fire the whole scene was a wash.
Johnny: And the week before, with the gorilla incident?
Sitcom: Who knew a gorilla would hate people dressing it up like Jessie Lee so much?
Johnny: According to the lawsuit issued to me today...we should have.
(The sitcom looks a bit sheepish.)
Sitcom: So, like I was saying, this seems...great!
(Johnny begins to lead Sitcom towards the table.)
Johnny: I have arranged a very valuable experience for you today, a chance for you to learn from wrestlers of the past.
Sitcom: Too early for me to hate this?
Johnny: Need I remind you of how poorly Death Ladder: A Murder Mystery did in the Chinese markets?
Sitcom: I’ll be good.
(Sitcom sits at the table for five as Johnny points towards off-stage.)
Johnny: Let me introduce the first guest to this little round table...straight from the black-and-white screens of the 1950’s...50’s Bruiser!
(A hairy pot-bellied man comes walking out; his buzz-cut and worn-out face tells his tales from the squared circle without a word being mentioned.)
50’s Bruiser: The negro in the back said there’d be free drinks out here.
Sitcom: Well, that’s not going to help squash my feud with Doc.
50’s Bruiser: I don’t trust Docs, too smart for their own good.
Sitcom: Trust me, intelligence is not a problem with this Doc.
50’s Bruiser: Best Doc I ever had prescribed me a good night’s rest.
Sitcom: What was your illness?
50’s Bruiser: Dizziness, headache, nausea, and he was right, when I woke up, I didn’t even remember how I got hurt.
Sitcom: Sounds like you had a concussion.
50’s Bruiser: Yeah, of course the doctor was a white guy.
Sitcom: I said concussion, not Caucasian.
Johnny: Here’s our second guest...from the 1980’s Rock-n-Wrestling era...80’s Gold!
(With a burst of energy out pops the second wrestler from the past, complete with hot pink tights, long blonde hair and way too much energy.)
80’s Dude: Who wants a high five?!!
(Johnny, Sitcom, and 50’s bruiser say nothing.)
80’s Dude: You got it dudes!
(80’s dude receives reluctant high fives the three others before finding the third seat at the table.)
50’s Bruiser: Is this our waitress?
Sitcom: This is a man with long hair.
50’s Bruiser: So, not our waitress?
80’s Dude: The only thing I deliver is good times!
50’s Bruiser: So, she is our waitress.
Johnny: She...I mean he...is a wrestler from the 80’s.
Sitcom: Too late to pitch my idea for the Tatiana Jolee Broadway show promo? We could call it, Sham-a-ton!
Johnny: No! We’re doing this! Now here comes the final member of round table...90’s Attitude!
(The 90’s attitude wrestler comes out with a mow hawk, a demin vest, and a personality that’s TO THE XTREME!!! Johnny and him take the final two spots at the table.)
90’s Attitude: I’d fart in your faces, but I just wasted my best bombs on your mom!
Sitcom: Is that good news for me or my mom?
50’s Bruiser: My mother was a saint. Raised 13 kids on half a nickel a day.
Sitcom: How do you half a nickel?
80’s Dude: My mom was super cool. Every time she abandoned me to go partying, she came home with a new stepdad for me.
90’s Attitude: That’s super rad! Did you ever get to bang her?
80’s Dude: Gross man, that’s my mom.
Sitcom: I can see now how this is going to help me beat Tatiana.
(Johnny ignores Sitcom’s sarcasm and begins the “discussion”.)
Johnny: What advice can you three wrestlers from the past offer my client before the biggest match of his career?
50’s Bruiser: Ask to get off early from your day job.
80’s Dude: Don’t share the cocaine with the hookers until after the match.
90’s Attitude: SNAP INTO A SLIM JIM!!
Sitcom: Hmmm, not sure about the other job or the hookers, but I do enjoy salty meats.
Johnny: What advice you give him for beating a woman?
50’s Bruiser: Do it after dinner; a cold meal is the worst.
80’s Dude: Just make sure your agent has disposal cash on hand.
90’s Attitude: If she threatens to sue you; you’re going to have to marry her.
Sitcom: Tatiana as a wife? I could do without the daily conversations about the importance of following the chore wheel.
Johnny: No, I am saying, my client is wrestling a woman.
50’s Bruiser: ...
80’s Dude: ...
90’s Attitude: ...like in mud? With other women?
Sitcom: All of a sudden, I miss the 90’s.
Johnny: It’s a standard wrestling match, my client versus a woman.
50’s Bruiser: …
80’s Dude: ...frankly this question is really bumming me out.
90’s Attitude: Use 1-800-COLLECT to call for a new opponent?
Johnny: Okay, maybe we should move onto a new question since 50’s Bruiser hasn’t blinked since I mentioned the match is against a woman.
50’s Bruiser: …
Johnny: What advice would you give for creating fans?
50’s Bruiser: Stick with your animal-based moves, Monkey Flips, Bear Hugs, Camel Clutches.
80’s Dude: Find the sickliest looking kid sitting ringside, then give him your sweaty headband, or your chewed gum, fans love that disgusting crap.
90’s Attitude: Cheap pops pay the bills, focus on local teams, hometowns, and use the word ass as much as possible.
Sitcom: This is ass advice from a couple of ass-
Johnny: What about ring gear?
50’s Bruiser: High waisted trunks, pulled high so your crotch can breathe.
Sitcom: I thought we were done talking about creating a fan base.
80’s Dude: Three words: colorful, androgynous, accessorize. Think, a box of crayons meets Rocky Horror meets a hardware store.
90’s Attitude: Just wear whatever your newest t-shirt is; unless you suck, then you wear whatever is in the ‘free’ bin in the back.
Sitcom: That’s why Dake Ken Jr. was wearing a CBS Presents Chaos shirt.
Johnny: What suggestions do you have for dealing with a sleazy promoter?
50’s Bruiser: Start by digging a hole, then call your “cousins”.
Sitcom: FYI, I'm now taking notes, Bolts.
80’s Dude: Pray the owner doesn’t make his son the boss, then when he does, do whatever the son says.
90’s Attitude: ...then hope for a rich southern asshole who wants to put the son out of business.
Sitcom: I don’t think we’re allowed to talk about that, here, on this board-
Johnny: Oh wow, Sitcom is breaking the fourth wall, how edgy of him!
(Sitcom shoots a glare towards Johnny, then grins towards the camera.)
Sitcom: Hey guys, what makes a good manager?
50’s Bruiser: He needs to be at least 50 years older than you.
80’s Dude: Where I come from, we have a saying, “Heels get dicks, Faces get chicks.”
90’s Attitude: I judge a good manager by the size of their tits.
Sitcom: 50 years older? Being a Dick? Having big tits? I think I have the ideal manager.
Johnny: Fine. You want to play it like that, hey gentlemen, what do you think of a gimmick centered around TV?
50’s Bruiser: TV is just another fade for rich people, like seat belts, iron lungs, and indoor plumbing.
80’s Dude: Sounds pretty cool to me. He could dress up as a big box TV, complete with TV antennas on his head! His nickname could be called the Boob Tube!
Johnny: Sounds like a good idea to me, what do you think, Boob Tube?
Sitcom: Johnny...my whole TV gimmick was your idea.
Johnny: Oh...yeah. God Damnit!
90’s Attitude: Who needs a gimmick when you have a first and last name?
Johnny: Okay, last question, what is the best piece of advice a wrestler from your era would give a wrestler from today?
50’s Bruiser: Smoking is obviously cool and healthy but remember smoking cigarettes in the ring can be dangerous, it's best to stick to cigars. Oh, and if you really want to be a bad guy, wait to the ref isn’t looking...then hit your opponent with a closed fist.
Sitcom: And if I really want to win, maybe I should try a pile driver.
50’s Bruiser: Pile drivers are no joke, that’s how I got a Caucasian!
80’s Dude: My advice would be cocaine.
Sitcom: And?
80’s Dude: That’s it. Cocaine. Who needs breakfast, when you have cocaine. Who needs medical attention, when you have Cocaine. Who needs friends, family, or a grasp of reality, when you have Cocaine.
Johnny: Now I miss the 80’s.
90’s Attitude: Fake it, until you make it. Boobs, skill, charisma...it all can be easily replaced via a good plastic surgeon, or silly catch phrase, or some well-placed cue cards.
Sitcom: If only Tatiana had heard that advice 20 years ago.
Johnny: Yes, maybe then it wouldn’t have taken her 2 decades to finally be on top.
Sitcom: No then, she’d at least be the waitress guys are hoping they don’t get at Hooters. Rather than an annoying hypocrite ass pimple I must defeat to prove I am The Next Main Event!
50’s Bruiser: Did he say he’s wrestling a woman?
80’s Dude: Who needs to worry about roids and ass pimples...when there is cocaine!
90’s Attitude: Good use of the word ass, but you forgot to sponsor it with a shout out to Clearasil!
Sitcom: Well, this roundtable has been completely useless.
Johnny: Oh, did I forget to mention you get to hurt them now?
Sitcom: Then again...
(Beethoven's no.9 plays...in slow motion...we see Sitcom put out 50’s Bruiser’s cigar on his forehead before throwing him off the stage. Then Sitcom lifts 80’s Dude high in the air, yanking a bag of white powder from his back pocket before crashing him down through the table! And finally...The Mountain Dew SLAM OF THE NIGHT happens as Sitcom chokeslams 90’s Attitude through the stage! Sitcom finds his composure...)
I’ve learned a few lessons in my short time here in Action Wrestling.
First, the term “number one contender” seems to come with a lifetime supply. See Madrox and the TV title. Jessie and My U.S. title. And Tatiana and the World title.
Second, heels versus faces is a thing of the past. Now a days, it’s veterans versus rookies. And nothing scares a veteran more than a young buck, like me, threatening to take their place.
And finally, winning comes with all sorts of wonderful things: titles, fame, money; but I think my favorite part about winning is hearing my opponents attempt to talk trash about me.
They linger on the assumptions: my massive gut, my television obsession, my odd approach. They’re forced to focus on my perceived problems; because focusing on my truths, all the winning, the long title reigns, doesn’t really sell their case against me.
However their assumptions are my victories.
My massive gut is a sign of strength. I’ve carried years of anger, sadness and frustration inside my giant body. However no longer is my excess an excuse; now it’s 400 pounds of ready-to-come-down-on-you for reasons you weren’t even around for.
My television obsession is a sign of passion. I’ve lost hours to fictional stories; it was my favorite escape from reality. However it bred hope in me creating my own story, a lighted path out of the darkness, and it conveniently gifted me the skills needed to express myself while entertaining the masses.
My odd approach has opened up this place to talents of all ages; from the bitter and contempt rants of the elders to the gummed raw talk of the newborns. I’ve fueled the old gases and flamed the new fires; I’ve redefined the definition of a champion. Because of me no longer is an idea something to be feared, but something worth being embraced.
Those truths make me scary, dangerous, powerful.
And that brings me to Action Wrestling’s newest and biggest liar….Tatiana Jolee.
She gave it all up, her honor, her dignity; all for a lifetime where hate now makes sense, and a title reign she’s beginning to fear losing more than she’ll ever truly enjoy.
But Tatiana, when you speak about me, which path are you choosing?
Will you play the role you see when looking into the mirror? The hard-nosed victim, who has fought her whole life to finally find the top of the mountain. The tough as nails chick who’s brutally honest, no matter what it might cost you in the ring on Monday night. (Monday is the night us every-weekers usually wrestle, unlike you pick-and-choose PPVer’s.)
Or will you find safety and comfort in the same shadows you claim to hate? Whispering lies to yourself repeatedly until they’re so polished they seem like a reward. Becoming nothing but a false icon more addicted to success than a moral code.
And my favorite part about her choice, is either way, I Win.
Either honest Tatiana says words like impressive, winner, respect, when referring to me.
Or hypocrite Tatiana says words like fat, television, odd, when referring to me.
…
But let’s give her a moment, it takes awhile for a fallen hero to calculate the value of her morality.
In fact, let’s show her how good it feels to speak the truth…
Tatiana didn’t win her World Title, she was gifted it. Jill saw a lifetime of feuding with Tatiana and choose retirement over boredom. Tatiana is nothing more than a scavenger, feasting on the remains of a beloved champion like a disgusting rat.
Tatiana isn’t a hard worker. If it’s not an unearned title shot, it’s not worth her time. Her fans speak about seeing her wrestle on free TV like it’s a myth passed down through generations.
Tatiana is on her retirement tour. She doesn’t know it yet, but there are far more sunsets than sunrises left in her career. Her World Title reign will more of a place holder than a historic moment. She’s no O.J. verdict, no 9/11; but more of a disappointing Seinfeld finale.
Her lies versus my truth, my confidence versus her ego, might as well make it title vs. title. My historic U.S. Championship versus her Gifted world title.
Come on Tatiana, there’s plenty of show segments available. Sign up for one, make our match Title vs. Title, prove this tournament is for veterans only.
Or prove you’re just another vet, afraid to lose it all to a fat fucking joke.
Again…either way…I Win.