Post by Dandy DiVito on Dec 16, 2018 23:58:23 GMT -5
The screen is blacked out, but we hear noise and whispering voice overs.
Announcer 1: Wow! Such exquisite form! A true professional in every sense of the word!
Announcer 2: In all of my years of calling this regal sport, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that is quite the beautiful example of finesse and savvy.
We hear the sound of soft claps.
Announcer 1: Simply perfect. Let’s see how his opponent handles it.
The sound of a sharp THWACK screams over the darkened screen followed by a voice yelling.
DD: FUCK!
The visual pops up to show Dandy DiVito dressed like the late, great golfer Payne Stewart. DD is slamming his club into the ground repeatedly. Americana is standing behind him dressed similarly laughing at DD’s outburst.
Americana: You shanked that ball like crazy, Dandy. I told you you should no tee off with the putter.
Announcer 2: The opponent makes a smart point there. Teeing off with one’s putter is widely regarded as a terrible strategic idea.
DD spins on his heels and stares into the soul of the two men who are standing just off the tee box. One of the men is holding a wireless speaker, and each of them hold a corded microphone that’s hooked up to literally nothing.
DD: I ain’t payin’ you two chucklefucks ta talk shit. I’m payin’ ya to make tha two a’ us feel like real golfin’ men. Tha’ shit from before? Exquisite! True professional! Finesse! Savvy! Make wit’ morea tha’ and less a’ tha’ negative shit.
The first announcer looks confused and asks a question at full, conversational volume.
Announcer 1: Look, I’m sorry, man. I just don’t think I really understand. You just want us here holding these mics that are hooked up to nothing so we can pretend to be TV announcers that compliment your golf game and we make a grand each? No catch? No bullshit? No funny business?
DD looks increasingly pissed and irritated.
DD: Yeah, dumbass. Tha’s wha’ we agreed on, an’ tha’s wha’ we need from you. Now shut the fuck up, an’ do wha’ I’m payin’ ya for.
Announcer 2: Yes, sir. Sorry. (under his breath to the other announcer) Man, shut the fuck up! I need this grand!
DD: I’m callin’ a fuggin’ mulligan and shootin’ that shit again.
Americana nods at DD, and the sound of a crowd giving a golf clap comes from the speaker. Americana stares down the announcers, saying “Only play that when good things happen” with his angry eyes.
Americana: Do what you need to do, Dandy.
DD pops another tee in the ground and loads up another ball on top of it.
DD: Give me the fuggin’ driva’ this time.
Announcer 1: Ah, yes. Using the driver off the tee! Brilliant.
Announcer 2: This should be a much better shot this time around!
DD takes a huge swing at the ball and whiffs, missing the ball completely.
DD: GODDAMN IT!
Americana stifles a giggle.
Announcer 2: Or… not.
Announcer 1: Oh come on! It’s not like it’s moving!
Americana approaches the announcer and gets directly in the man’s face.
Americana: You want me to fuck you up, man? I’d be happy to put your lights out if you’re looking to get you kicked ass!
The announcer smirks at Americana’s threats. Americana looks at DD for the go ahead, and DD gives him a nod. Americana swiftly drops the announcer with one stiff punch in the jaw. The announcer crumples to the ground in a pained, groaning heap.
Announcer 2: Oh, fuck. You knocked him the fuck out!
DD: An’ he ain’t gettin’ no money. We jus’ wan’ed ta’ feel like we was real golf guys. Can’t even pay for good help no more. These are dark days, Meri.
Americana nods in agreement as he clutches his sore hand.
DD: It’s a good thing this game fuggin’ sucks. Goddamn. Wha’the fuck made us wanna play this shit in the firs’ place?!
Americana: Dressing like a douchebag and only using such big land spaces for the entertainment of rich people is very American, Dandy. It just make sense for US champion to at least try to play this game.
DD reaches into his back pocket and retrieves his wallet. He takes a couple of twenties out of his wallet and throws them at the standing announcer. The announcer looks at him disappointed
DD: You barely did tha job, so I’m payin’ you for the quality of work ya did, not the quality of work ya agreed ta do. You lucky you fuggin’ gettin’ that an’ not a Meri special like your frien’ there. We got shit ta do anyway, so we gonn’ get outta here. Clean all this shit up.
DD and Americana drop their clubs and gear in the tee-box and turn to walk away. DD suddenly remembers something and marches back to the standing announcer. The guy is intimidated and flinching expecting to be hit as DD gets right up in his face. DD just smiles a cruel smile and grabs the wireless speaker out of his hand as Americana hits something on his phone and the speaker starts playing the audio of a golf clap and DD laughs in the man’s face.
------------------------------------------------------------
Much later, DD and Americana are backstage at the Clash arena. They are standing in the interview area standing by for Shia LaBeouf and a pre-show interview.
DD: Jus’ like the match tonight, I do the work here, an’ you just get my back if I need it.
Americana nods in agreement as Shia walks up with the camera crew.
Shia: Hey, guys. Thanks for joining me for this segment. Any questions? You ready?
DD: Nah. We good.
Shia: Ok, cool. 3...2...
DD: Wait. So all you motherfuggers really do that shit, huh?
Shia: What shit? The countdown? Uh, yeah. It’s pretty standard. You ready?
DD: Uh, yeah. Sorry, man. Jenna told me y’all do it, and I just though’ she was a lyin’ bitch. Whadda know, right? Wild shit.
Shia: Nope. She’s an honest bitch... in this case at least. So, we’re good then. 3...2…
Welcome, Action Wrestling viewers, I’m Shia LaBeouf, and I’m here with Dandy DiVito for this week’s DO IT! Interview. Dandy, you’re about to have your first ever cage match. What is going through your mind?
DD: Well, Shia… you were alright in Holes, by the way. But what’s goin’ through my mind? Well, I’ll tell you. It ain’t no dirty shit or jokes about Bull’s puppet hole. It ain’t no worries ‘bout Abbie or her constant desire ta fuck me. It’s just violence, Shia. All I got on my mind is pure ass violence.
Shia: Tell me more...
DD: You wan’ my game plan? Nah. I’ll tell you this. I’m finna leave every damn ounce a’ myself in that fuggin’ ring. I’m gonna go out there champ an’ come back here champ, but I’m gonna be a changed man. Corey Bull thinks he’s some kinda animal I oughta be afraid ‘a. He thinks he can break ma’ will and ma’ body down with sneak attacks and tricks. He thinks ‘a himself as a real bad man. Well, here’s the secret. Here’s what’s on my mind. He. Ain’t. Shit. I ain’t gonna be trapped in tha’ cage wit’ ‘im, Shia. He gonna be trapped in tha’ cage wit’ me, goddamnit. He thinks he the king shit ‘a this place. I can’t wait to tell that mothafugga once an’ for all tha’ he ain’t never been more wrong.
Shia: Bull had an interview earlier and he claimed that you were high.
DD: He ain’t wrong.
Shia: What?
DD: Man, I’m high as shit. Ain’t no thing, Shia. Ya ain’t never been workin’ on a li’l buzz? I mean, fuck, ZMAC fuckin’ snorts blow on his way to tha ring. High in this place ain’t shit. Bull tossin’ ‘roun accusations that don’t mean nothin’. You want an accusation? Corey Bull eats at leas’ three meals a day! You belie’ tha’?! THREE MEALS! Tha’ mothafugga eatin’ three whole ass meals an’ kids roun’ tha world be starvin’ to death an’ shit. Tha’ ain’t right… Shia, you see how fuggin’ dumb tha’ shit sounds? Yeah. I’m high. I’m high on a drug called FUCK COREY BULL. It’s a blend I’m growin’ myself. Smokes out real nice, man. Real nice.
Shia: Is it at all possible that you might walk away from this match singing a different tune about Bull? Is it possible that you might leave so much in the ring tonight that the two of you might even… respect each other in the end?
DD: Are you fuckin’ high?
Shia is silent.
DD: For real, Shia. You high?
Shia: Uh, maybe.
DD: Tha’s wha’ I thought. Look, man, you couldn’t pay my ass to say a good word or think a nice thought ‘bout the man. I ain’t got no respec’ for no man tha’ gets used like Bull does by his li’l lady. Ain’t no fuggin’ way I’ma respec’ no man tha’ feels he ain’t man ‘nough to attack me face-to-face. Ain’t no way I’ma respect a man who spews some dumbass, nonsense catch phrase through his fat lips, somet’in’ so stupid as “nailed by hate.” Nah, dude. Ain’t got no respec’ for tha’ motherafugga at fuggin’ all.
Shia: Who or what do you respect?
DD: I respec’ the damage tha’ cage is gonna do ta Corey Bull’s flesh an’ bones. I ain’t promisin’ ta break the man. He too big for tha’ shit. I am promisin’ ta handle shit though. I told y’all I was gonna get my fucking win back. I’m finna do that. I respec’ my record. I respec’ cham-peen status. I know I’m the best thing goin’ in this goddamn company, an’ I ain’t ‘bout to let no big fella swingin’ a li’l dick come up in my house an’ take my title. I come to tha ring to my music for one reason: I’m a fuggin’ Pitbull Terrier, Shia. I sink ma fuggin’ teeth in, an’ I don’ let go ‘til I’m dead or victorious. I respec’ tenacity. Bull fakes it. I’m tha real fuggin’ deal.
Shia: Do you have any reservations about the size difference between you and Bull? You don’t seem to be intimidated at all.
DD: Tha’s ‘cause I ain’t intimidated at all. Bull always been big. Whole life, he been big. I been alright on tha’ front, but I know I ain’t nothin’ to write home about. I ain’t impressin’ many folks in public if they too dumb ta know who Dandy DiVito be. Corey Bull is big enough to stop folks in their tracks. Yup. I see that. You see that. Here’s the trouble for that big sumbitch. When you big, people know their limits and ain’t nobody try ta fuck wit’ you. Ain’t nobody think it’s worth the pain and ass whoopin’. Well, I ain’t smart enough ta know my limits. I ain’t smart enough to look at a motherfucka like Bull and think “Man, I should really leave that big ol’ hoss alone.” Nah. I poke tha’ bear. I welcome the challenge. I wanna prove how fuggin’ tough I am ‘gainst big bastards, and since nobody else is willin’ to step to ‘em, they usually ain’t got the experience I do. Corey Bull ain’t got shit on me. I’m more tough actin’ than motherfuckin’ Tenactin. I’m more tenacious and violent than a starving Jeffrey Dahmer… no homo. I worn more blood I took outta other people than the mothafugga that killed the Black Dalliah. I ain’t scared ‘a shit. NOTHING. Corey Bull gonna haveta kill me tonight if he wan’ this belt.
Shia: Those are certainly strong words. Got any last thoughts?
DD: Yeah. One more time: FUCK! COREY! BULL!
DD storms off with Americana following close behind.
Shia: Well those are certainly strong words. We’ll see what happens when Bull and DiVito enter the cage tonight on Clash!
The scene fades.
Announcer 1: Wow! Such exquisite form! A true professional in every sense of the word!
Announcer 2: In all of my years of calling this regal sport, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that is quite the beautiful example of finesse and savvy.
We hear the sound of soft claps.
Announcer 1: Simply perfect. Let’s see how his opponent handles it.
The sound of a sharp THWACK screams over the darkened screen followed by a voice yelling.
DD: FUCK!
The visual pops up to show Dandy DiVito dressed like the late, great golfer Payne Stewart. DD is slamming his club into the ground repeatedly. Americana is standing behind him dressed similarly laughing at DD’s outburst.
Americana: You shanked that ball like crazy, Dandy. I told you you should no tee off with the putter.
Announcer 2: The opponent makes a smart point there. Teeing off with one’s putter is widely regarded as a terrible strategic idea.
DD spins on his heels and stares into the soul of the two men who are standing just off the tee box. One of the men is holding a wireless speaker, and each of them hold a corded microphone that’s hooked up to literally nothing.
DD: I ain’t payin’ you two chucklefucks ta talk shit. I’m payin’ ya to make tha two a’ us feel like real golfin’ men. Tha’ shit from before? Exquisite! True professional! Finesse! Savvy! Make wit’ morea tha’ and less a’ tha’ negative shit.
The first announcer looks confused and asks a question at full, conversational volume.
Announcer 1: Look, I’m sorry, man. I just don’t think I really understand. You just want us here holding these mics that are hooked up to nothing so we can pretend to be TV announcers that compliment your golf game and we make a grand each? No catch? No bullshit? No funny business?
DD looks increasingly pissed and irritated.
DD: Yeah, dumbass. Tha’s wha’ we agreed on, an’ tha’s wha’ we need from you. Now shut the fuck up, an’ do wha’ I’m payin’ ya for.
Announcer 2: Yes, sir. Sorry. (under his breath to the other announcer) Man, shut the fuck up! I need this grand!
DD: I’m callin’ a fuggin’ mulligan and shootin’ that shit again.
Americana nods at DD, and the sound of a crowd giving a golf clap comes from the speaker. Americana stares down the announcers, saying “Only play that when good things happen” with his angry eyes.
Americana: Do what you need to do, Dandy.
DD pops another tee in the ground and loads up another ball on top of it.
DD: Give me the fuggin’ driva’ this time.
Announcer 1: Ah, yes. Using the driver off the tee! Brilliant.
Announcer 2: This should be a much better shot this time around!
DD takes a huge swing at the ball and whiffs, missing the ball completely.
DD: GODDAMN IT!
Americana stifles a giggle.
Announcer 2: Or… not.
Announcer 1: Oh come on! It’s not like it’s moving!
Americana approaches the announcer and gets directly in the man’s face.
Americana: You want me to fuck you up, man? I’d be happy to put your lights out if you’re looking to get you kicked ass!
The announcer smirks at Americana’s threats. Americana looks at DD for the go ahead, and DD gives him a nod. Americana swiftly drops the announcer with one stiff punch in the jaw. The announcer crumples to the ground in a pained, groaning heap.
Announcer 2: Oh, fuck. You knocked him the fuck out!
DD: An’ he ain’t gettin’ no money. We jus’ wan’ed ta’ feel like we was real golf guys. Can’t even pay for good help no more. These are dark days, Meri.
Americana nods in agreement as he clutches his sore hand.
DD: It’s a good thing this game fuggin’ sucks. Goddamn. Wha’the fuck made us wanna play this shit in the firs’ place?!
Americana: Dressing like a douchebag and only using such big land spaces for the entertainment of rich people is very American, Dandy. It just make sense for US champion to at least try to play this game.
DD reaches into his back pocket and retrieves his wallet. He takes a couple of twenties out of his wallet and throws them at the standing announcer. The announcer looks at him disappointed
DD: You barely did tha job, so I’m payin’ you for the quality of work ya did, not the quality of work ya agreed ta do. You lucky you fuggin’ gettin’ that an’ not a Meri special like your frien’ there. We got shit ta do anyway, so we gonn’ get outta here. Clean all this shit up.
DD and Americana drop their clubs and gear in the tee-box and turn to walk away. DD suddenly remembers something and marches back to the standing announcer. The guy is intimidated and flinching expecting to be hit as DD gets right up in his face. DD just smiles a cruel smile and grabs the wireless speaker out of his hand as Americana hits something on his phone and the speaker starts playing the audio of a golf clap and DD laughs in the man’s face.
------------------------------------------------------------
Much later, DD and Americana are backstage at the Clash arena. They are standing in the interview area standing by for Shia LaBeouf and a pre-show interview.
DD: Jus’ like the match tonight, I do the work here, an’ you just get my back if I need it.
Americana nods in agreement as Shia walks up with the camera crew.
Shia: Hey, guys. Thanks for joining me for this segment. Any questions? You ready?
DD: Nah. We good.
Shia: Ok, cool. 3...2...
DD: Wait. So all you motherfuggers really do that shit, huh?
Shia: What shit? The countdown? Uh, yeah. It’s pretty standard. You ready?
DD: Uh, yeah. Sorry, man. Jenna told me y’all do it, and I just though’ she was a lyin’ bitch. Whadda know, right? Wild shit.
Shia: Nope. She’s an honest bitch... in this case at least. So, we’re good then. 3...2…
Welcome, Action Wrestling viewers, I’m Shia LaBeouf, and I’m here with Dandy DiVito for this week’s DO IT! Interview. Dandy, you’re about to have your first ever cage match. What is going through your mind?
DD: Well, Shia… you were alright in Holes, by the way. But what’s goin’ through my mind? Well, I’ll tell you. It ain’t no dirty shit or jokes about Bull’s puppet hole. It ain’t no worries ‘bout Abbie or her constant desire ta fuck me. It’s just violence, Shia. All I got on my mind is pure ass violence.
Shia: Tell me more...
DD: You wan’ my game plan? Nah. I’ll tell you this. I’m finna leave every damn ounce a’ myself in that fuggin’ ring. I’m gonna go out there champ an’ come back here champ, but I’m gonna be a changed man. Corey Bull thinks he’s some kinda animal I oughta be afraid ‘a. He thinks he can break ma’ will and ma’ body down with sneak attacks and tricks. He thinks ‘a himself as a real bad man. Well, here’s the secret. Here’s what’s on my mind. He. Ain’t. Shit. I ain’t gonna be trapped in tha’ cage wit’ ‘im, Shia. He gonna be trapped in tha’ cage wit’ me, goddamnit. He thinks he the king shit ‘a this place. I can’t wait to tell that mothafugga once an’ for all tha’ he ain’t never been more wrong.
Shia: Bull had an interview earlier and he claimed that you were high.
DD: He ain’t wrong.
Shia: What?
DD: Man, I’m high as shit. Ain’t no thing, Shia. Ya ain’t never been workin’ on a li’l buzz? I mean, fuck, ZMAC fuckin’ snorts blow on his way to tha ring. High in this place ain’t shit. Bull tossin’ ‘roun accusations that don’t mean nothin’. You want an accusation? Corey Bull eats at leas’ three meals a day! You belie’ tha’?! THREE MEALS! Tha’ mothafugga eatin’ three whole ass meals an’ kids roun’ tha world be starvin’ to death an’ shit. Tha’ ain’t right… Shia, you see how fuggin’ dumb tha’ shit sounds? Yeah. I’m high. I’m high on a drug called FUCK COREY BULL. It’s a blend I’m growin’ myself. Smokes out real nice, man. Real nice.
Shia: Is it at all possible that you might walk away from this match singing a different tune about Bull? Is it possible that you might leave so much in the ring tonight that the two of you might even… respect each other in the end?
DD: Are you fuckin’ high?
Shia is silent.
DD: For real, Shia. You high?
Shia: Uh, maybe.
DD: Tha’s wha’ I thought. Look, man, you couldn’t pay my ass to say a good word or think a nice thought ‘bout the man. I ain’t got no respec’ for no man tha’ gets used like Bull does by his li’l lady. Ain’t no fuggin’ way I’ma respec’ no man tha’ feels he ain’t man ‘nough to attack me face-to-face. Ain’t no way I’ma respect a man who spews some dumbass, nonsense catch phrase through his fat lips, somet’in’ so stupid as “nailed by hate.” Nah, dude. Ain’t got no respec’ for tha’ motherafugga at fuggin’ all.
Shia: Who or what do you respect?
DD: I respec’ the damage tha’ cage is gonna do ta Corey Bull’s flesh an’ bones. I ain’t promisin’ ta break the man. He too big for tha’ shit. I am promisin’ ta handle shit though. I told y’all I was gonna get my fucking win back. I’m finna do that. I respec’ my record. I respec’ cham-peen status. I know I’m the best thing goin’ in this goddamn company, an’ I ain’t ‘bout to let no big fella swingin’ a li’l dick come up in my house an’ take my title. I come to tha ring to my music for one reason: I’m a fuggin’ Pitbull Terrier, Shia. I sink ma fuggin’ teeth in, an’ I don’ let go ‘til I’m dead or victorious. I respec’ tenacity. Bull fakes it. I’m tha real fuggin’ deal.
Shia: Do you have any reservations about the size difference between you and Bull? You don’t seem to be intimidated at all.
DD: Tha’s ‘cause I ain’t intimidated at all. Bull always been big. Whole life, he been big. I been alright on tha’ front, but I know I ain’t nothin’ to write home about. I ain’t impressin’ many folks in public if they too dumb ta know who Dandy DiVito be. Corey Bull is big enough to stop folks in their tracks. Yup. I see that. You see that. Here’s the trouble for that big sumbitch. When you big, people know their limits and ain’t nobody try ta fuck wit’ you. Ain’t nobody think it’s worth the pain and ass whoopin’. Well, I ain’t smart enough ta know my limits. I ain’t smart enough to look at a motherfucka like Bull and think “Man, I should really leave that big ol’ hoss alone.” Nah. I poke tha’ bear. I welcome the challenge. I wanna prove how fuggin’ tough I am ‘gainst big bastards, and since nobody else is willin’ to step to ‘em, they usually ain’t got the experience I do. Corey Bull ain’t got shit on me. I’m more tough actin’ than motherfuckin’ Tenactin. I’m more tenacious and violent than a starving Jeffrey Dahmer… no homo. I worn more blood I took outta other people than the mothafugga that killed the Black Dalliah. I ain’t scared ‘a shit. NOTHING. Corey Bull gonna haveta kill me tonight if he wan’ this belt.
Shia: Those are certainly strong words. Got any last thoughts?
DD: Yeah. One more time: FUCK! COREY! BULL!
DD storms off with Americana following close behind.
Shia: Well those are certainly strong words. We’ll see what happens when Bull and DiVito enter the cage tonight on Clash!
The scene fades.