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View Full Version : [1. MBE vs. 6. NFW] Yori Yakamo, Jr. vs. Nova -- YYJ chooses stip



TH
10-10-06, 12:06 AM
One fall to a finish, no time limit. Because of MBE's higher seed, Yori will pick the stipulation for this match (God help us all).

Deadline for RP is Wednesday, October 18th at 11:59:59 PM.

Nova
10-14-06, 06:22 PM
(CUT TO: Two men, clad in black jumpers and ski masks, standing in the glow of a streetlamp on the sidewalk below an apartment complex.) One of them looks up at a third-floor balcony.

SKI-MASKER #1: Okay, it’s dark inside. He’s gotta be asleep.

SKI-MASKER #2: I…I dunno about this, man. We could get in real trouble for this.

Ski-Masker #1 slaps his co-conspirator gently upside the head and points a finger at him.

SKI-MASKER #1: Hey! No pussing out now, alright? MBE could be in real trouble if this mission isn’t successful! Do you want MBE to be in real trouble?

SKI-MASKER #2: (Looking both ways down the street) Of course I don’t!

SKI-MASKER #1: Are you MBE hardcore?

SKI-MASKER #2: You know I’m MBE hardcore.

SKI-MASKER #1: I SAID ARE YOU MBE HARDCORE?!

SKI-MASKER #2: MBE HARDCORE UNTIL THE DAY THEY PUT ME IN THE GROUND, BA-BAAAAAAAY!!

A light comes on in one of the second-floor apartments and a sliding glass door is heard opening. A balding middle-aged man sticks his head over the side of his balcony.

BALDING MAN: What the hell is all this racket?! It’s three-thirty in the morning!

SKI-MASKERS #1 & #2: !!!!

They scamper inside the apartment building. (CUT TO: The inside of an apartment, completely dark.) Only the peaceful sawing of the proverbial logs can be heard emanating from one of the rooms.

Clink! Jiggle, jiggle…clack!

That was the sound of a lock being jimmied. Don’t pretend you’ve never heard it before, you rascal. With a soft creeeeaaaakk, the front door to the apartment opens, allowing a sliver of hallway light into the living room. The Ski-Maskers tip-toe one after the other into the apartment…

SKI-MASKER #1: Whooooaaaa!!

SLAM!!

SKI-MASKER #1: ARGH! Oww! *hissing quietly* Are you serious?! Who really leaves Hot Wheels cars laying around in front of their door? That’s some Home Alone ****!

The pile of blankets on the bed in the side room groans loudly, and the Ski-Maskers pause momentarily in terror…but the snoring resumes. Ski-Masker #1 motions for his partner to secure the living room, and he quietly proceeds into the side room. In the light of the screensaver on the display of the laptop sitting on the desk, he grins. It’s a marquee, and it reads:

PROPERTY OF NOVA, MULTI-TIME BADASS CHAMPION OF THE WORLD AND PWNER OF SOULS FOR TIME IMMEMORIAL…

SKI-MASKER #1: Money.

He moves towards the desk and feels for the power-cord to the computer. He finds it, unplugs it, and begins rolling it up…

…when suddenly a lamp turns on, and reveals a very intrigued NFW Dupree Cup representative sitting upright in bed, cigarette somehow already lit and dangling from his mouth.

NOVA: Who the **** are you? And why are you stealing my laptop power cord?

For a moment, Ski-Masker #1 is frozen, his eyes gazing back at the front door from whence he came. Then his back straightens, and he steels his resolve.

SKI-MASKER #1: I’m MBE hardcore, you swine, and I’m acting on behalf of my fed although independently of them!

NOVA: (Exhaling smoke) Okay.

SKI-MASKER #2: And I’m here to steal the power supply to your laptop, so rendering your computer a useless drink coaster and thus preventing you from posting any roleplays for the Dupree Cup quarterfinals, thereupon securing victory for MBE! Muahahahaha!!! You’re ****ed~!

Nova stares at him for a moment, scratching his beard.

NOVA: The only thing I understood out of that was the evil “Muahahaha” bit.

SKI-MASKER: The only thing you have to understand, NFW maggot, is that your hopes of taking home the Dupree Cup have just been reduced to mere pipe dreams! How does it feel? How does it feel for all that work to go to waste?!

NOVA: Give me back that power supply. I’m in the middle of downloading Vivid Video’s fall preview, and it won’t be done before my computer croaks out if I don’t have that battery.

SKI-MASKER #1: Sucks to be you, then! Our plan must see fruition!

NOVA: Oooooh-weee, I’m about to beat the fuc-(looking past him) Hey! HEY! Is that guy eating my French onion dip?!

SKI-MASKER #2: (Turning around) Oh, him? Yeah, it looks like he is.

NOVA: Awww! He’s double-dipping! WTF?!

SKI-MASKER #1: No he’s not.

NOVA: Dood, I just saw him. He bit the chip, and stuck it back in. I won’t stand for strangers double-dipping in my apartment while they rob me and sabotage my career! Now give me back that power supply, tell your friend to put my dip back in the fridge, and kindly get the **** out of my apartment before I kick your asses seven ways to next Wednesday.

Ski-Masker #1 pauses for a moment before looking back into the kitchen at his cohort.

SKI-MASKER #1: FRANK, BAIL!!

He grabs the Tom Berenger bobble-head doll off the desk and beans Nova in the head with it before turning and running out the front door, power supply in hand. Nova collapses back onto his bed, visions of Major League and the Indians dancing through his head.

(CUT TO: Nova, still lying on the bed, though now sunshine pokes through the drawn blinds of his apartment.) Groaning, he sits up, one hand gripping the bloody welt on his forehead.

NOVA: Ohhhhh…why did I have to have the stainless steel Berenger bobble-head instead of the cordwood?

Because Tom Berenger isn’t made out of cordwood, Nova. He’s hard as nails. You know that.

NOVA: Yeah, I do.

Leaning over, he moves his finger around the touchpad on his laptop, ready to be soothed by the righteously dirty pr0n that has to have finished downloading by now…and there’s nothing. His eyes widen as he remembers the successful goal of the crazed MBE fans/robbers.

NOVA: DAMN!

(CUT TO: Nova walking out of the apartment building.) He walks for a while as “Ode to Nova’s Perseverance in Light of Having His Laptop Power Supply Stolen” by the TEAM Marching Band is piped into the scene somehow.

(CUT TO: Nova standing outside a cyber café, Charlotte’s Webspace.) He pushes open the glass door and walks inside, plopping down in a swanky computer chair next to some nerd in one of those annoying-ass Mario Bros. retro shirts that seemed so hip until everyone realized they were being dumped onto the population by the truckload via Hot Topic.

NOVA: Can we smoke in here?

NERD: I don’t think so.

NOVA: Balls. Do you want to go outside and have a smoke with me?

NERD: I don’t smoke.

NOVA: Harrumph. Didn’t need one, anyway…

NFW’s Last Best Hope plops a few quarters into the CPU and logs onto his machine.

NOVA: Do you think they care if I look at some pr0n on their machine?

NERD: Yes.

The nerd goes back to his business, which is reading a magazine, strangely enough, since he’s in an internet café. He chuckles to himself, and Nova, ever intrusive, inquires as to the cause.

NOVA: What are you laughing about there, Nerd?

The nerd looks around to see if anyone is listening, and then leans in. Nova grins, feeling an air of confidentiality between them.

NERD: I know it’s lame, but I like to follow wrestling.

Nova stops himself from instinctively grabbing hold of the nerd by the throat, and listens on.

NERD: So there’s this tournament, kind of, called the Dupree Cup, where different wrestling federations…

NOVA: I know what it is. Tell me what’s so ******* funny.

NERD: I was just reading this article about the quarterfinals which are going on this week. A1E is facing off against NEW, and MBE’s stars are being pitted against NFW’s team. The article I’m reading is talking about the Nova/Yori Yakamo Jr. match-up.

The Rising Star cocks an eyebrow.

NOVA: You don’t say? What, uh, what does it say about it?

NERD: This is priceless. “Nova’s brand of dick and weed jokes, which constitute practically the entire body of his comical approach, are trite, poorly-executed, and passé.” Hehehe…“His lame efforts to re-package old jokes, which he only even attempts half the time or less, have gone undeterred for far too long. YYJ has the Rising Star’s number, and this week, Yoriology is going to mushroom-stamp Nova’s face in permanent ink, forever branding him as a washed-out milquetoast face-in-the-crowd jokester. And we use that last term hesitantly.” Wowee, this guy must suck!

NOVA: Thanks for the commentary. Who the hell wrote this tripe?

The nerd shrugs, turning the page.

NERD: I dunno…the author is just listed as themarksman@fwrestling.com.

NOVA: AH! There’s your problem! “F-Wrestling”…I get no love around here! Tell me, my well-read chum, anybody from PTC’s neck of the woods write for this rag?

The nerd flips a few pages.

NERD: Yeah, actually…here’s an article by PTC_Watchman@primetimecentral.com.

NOVA: Attaboy!

NERD: It reads…hmm…“Nova’s chances of success in the first round of GTT6 against LoC’s Brock Metzer are very high, and I don’t think anyone will be surprised to see his name on the Round Two bracket match-up list…”

Nova claps his hands.

NOVA: HA!! Take that, Marksman!

NERD: “…but if he draws Yori Yakamo Jr. in the second round, he will summarily executed like the typical, almost-superstar that he is and has been since he arrived in November of 2004. LONG LIVE YORI!! <3 <3 <3 <3”

NOVA: ARRGHH!! (pausing, cocking an eyebrow at the nerd) Did you just sound out the “<3”s in that article?

NERD: Yes.

NOVA: **** this, I’m outta here. Fred Durst told me to have faith, and that’s what I’m going to do, and you haters can just bite my boner! HEAR THAT, WORLD?!

NERD: George Michael told you first. And yes, bite your boner. Got it. Loud and clear.

Nova lights a cigarette and gathers the bloody tattered remnants of his dignity.

NOVA: Good.

He storms out of the internet café, convinced that today sucks balls.

(CUT TO: A room with a folding chair in the center of it. Behind the folding chair is a black and yellow NFW banner.) An angry camera crew waits around, staring at their watches impatiently.

CREWMAN #1: Where the hell is he?

CREWMAN #2: Totally unprofessional, man. Totally.

Suddenly a third man walks briskly up to them.

CREWMAN #3: Pack it up, boys. Nova just called. He’s been mortally wounded in a freak Soapbox Derby accident, and he’ll see on in a day or two to re-shoot the video.

CREWMAN #1: Oh, thank Christ.

CREWMAN #2: Let’s go home.

(FTB)

Yori Yakamo jr
10-15-06, 12:52 PM
INT. YORI'S BASEMENT OF FUN AND SOME PORNOGRAPHY- NIGHT

YORI is chained to the wall. He has a leather S+M mask on his face. The camera only shoots him from the waist up, per FCC regulations. Smitty enters the scene, out of breath.

SMITTY: YORI! Jesus, I have been looking all over for you.

YORI: mumblemumblemumble

SMITTY: Oh! Right.

{Smitty unzips the mouth of the mask.)

YORI: I said, what is so important that it couldn't wait until I was done filming Yori's Halloween Funhouse Extravaganza.

(Yori suddenly looks down)

YORI: Darling, this will go a lot faster if you use your teeth a little more.

(The camera pans down past Yori's bullseye tiny thong and down to a Thai Hooker, unsuccessfully bobbing for apples)

SMITTY: Yori, listen to me. You have to start preparing for your match with Nova.

YORI: What? Are you serious?

SMITTY: Yes.

YORI: The day I have been waiting for has finally arrived?! Summon the million soliders of Yorilogy. For today, the day of reckoning has finally arrived. Some scoffed at me and said it would never happen in their lifetime. But here it is. THE SECOND ROUND OF THE NFW PLAYOFFS HAS FINALLY ARRIVED!

(Cue thundercrack and trumpets)

SMITTY: Um, no.

YORI: What?

SMITTY: It's just the semifinals of the Dupree Cup. You are representing MBE. And Nova is representing NFW.

YORI: What? I'm representing MBE? I'm like the best wrestler in NFW. And their only godhead.

SMITTY: You own MBE. And you drugged Hida when you invited him over for cocktails, so you could take his place. He's still tied up over there.

(Cut to: Hida tied up and being used as a pinata by a bunch of blindfolded thai hookers)

YORI: I remember none of this. But that does not mean it didn't happen. TO THE CASA DE YORI!

(spinny bulleye transtition, takes us upstairs to Casa De Yori, where Yori has assembled his team. ROBOYORI, Smitty, Riki Yakamo, Justin Evitable, former Boston Bruins Goldtender Pete Peters, a mini luchador with a rhemus monkey on a leash, a redheaded stripper, and the entire covert operations Thai Hooker Assassins/Dance team)

YORI: You are probably all wondering why I brought you all here.

SMITTY: I don't even know who half these people are.

YORI: YORI TEAM EAST meet YORI TEAM SOUTH.

SMITTY: YORI TEAM SOUTH?

YORI: And you know the Thai Hooker Assassins/Dance Team already.

PETE PETERS: Yori relegated us to missionary work in New Zealand for our failures in MBE. There is no hockey in New Zealand.

YORI: Well, you have earned the opportunity to redeem yourself. We must come up with a gimmick match that will allow me to defeat Nova for the honor of MBE. And so my brother will only beat me up a little when I finally have to untie him. Or the police show up. Whichever comes first.

SMITTY: He doesn't have a long lost twin you can replace him with temporarily?

YORI: No, but I have the Thai Hooker Design Team working round the clock on ROBOHIDA. He's quite annoying and pretentious, but we can't get the fleshtone quite right.

(As if on cue, the Thai Hooker Design team rolls in the Prototype.)

YORI: Excellent, flip the switch, let's see how it works.

ROBOHIDA: ROBOHIDA DAN.....I MEAN ROBOHIDA QUOTE DOSTEYOVSKY NOW?

YORI: Close enough. Ship him over to Warfare immediately.

ROBOYORI: ROBOYORI HAVE FRIEND! ROBOYORI DANCE!

YORI: Whatever.

(ROBOYORI starts doing The Bump. ROBOHIDA starts reading from The Idiot)

YORI: Now as, for the gimmick match.

PETE PETERS: Something involving dildos?

YORI: It's that kind of limited thinking that got you sent to New Zealand in the first place.

ROBOYORI: DANCE CONTEST!

YORI: I think it does have to be a wrestling match

ROBOYORI: NO! DANCE CONTEST!

(ROBOYORI jumps up on the table, promptly smashes through it, and starts dancing. ROBOHIDA joins in shortly after, still reading from the Great Russians)

YORI: DAMN IT YOROBOT! Get the Thai Hookers back in here, and tell them to get back to work on ASIAN WONDROBOT.

(The Thai Hookers come in and shut down ROBOHIDA)

ROBOYORI: YOROBOT IS CHAMPION! YOROBOT SUPER SEXY DANCE MASTER!

YORI: Aagh. I need time to think. YORI TEAM SOUTH, go back to New Zealand and keep preparing for the apocaly....I mean, the second round of the NFW playoffs. Until then, the MARCH OF DESTINY will have to take the scenic route.

PETE PETERS: I don't know if we can get the rhemus monkey through customs again.

YORI: Look, I have gotten larger, and more super intelligent primates out of the country before. And they didn't fit comfortably in my rectum.

PETE PETERS: Jesus, Yori.

YORI: Don't take my name in vain, heathen. And leave Jesus out of it. I hear he's a pretty cool cat. If only I could meet him one day...

(Yori ponders this bit of foreshadowing for a moment)

PETE PETERS: Um, Yori

YORI: BE GONE!

-LATER THAT DAY-

(Yori is in his study, contemplating. There is a knock)

YORI: Enter. Sexily.

(Smitty enters with a package in her hands)

YORI: Is that for me?

SMITTY: Yeah, your ex-wife had it sent over.

YORI: Did you let the bomb sniffing Thai Hookers have a go at it

SMITTY: It's clean.

YORI: Cool. She remembered our anniversary.

SMITTY: The card reads, for those cold lonely nights, or those cold lonely mornings.

YORI: So it's either a double ended dildo, or an espresso maker.

SMITTY: Why can't it be both?

YORI: Why CAN'T it be both!

SMITTY: Oh dear.

YORI: TO THE UNDERGROUND YORI LABS!!!!!!!!!

SMITTY: You need to think of a stipulation for your match first.

YORI: I think we both know there is only one match that Yori Yakamo jr has established worldwide supremacy over.

SMITTY: You can't travel to the future and fight Nova in a Marquis of Apesberry Rules Match. The YORabbit is too fragile right now. And I am tired of scaring off time travelling ape bounty hunters.

YORI: Fine, we'll just do a bullrope, pudding, kendo stick on a pole, casket match, then.

SMITTY: Fine.

YORI: Fine.

SMITTY: That is...

YORI: Exactly what it sounds like.

SMITTY: Gotcha.

YORI: So....

SMITTY: You can go build your coffee-making dildo now.

YORI: SEXCELLENT!

(exeunt)

Nova
10-18-06, 11:40 PM
(CUT TO: Nova, seated across from NFW comrade Jason Payne, both men sitting comfortably under the delicious haze of a smoke cloud.) This isn’t the delicious haze of a smoke cloud that usually hangs over the head of the d00b connoisseur, however. They’re in a local BBQ restaurant, getting their grub on like only Dupree Cup quarterfinalists do. Since I don’t have any ****ing clue where we are, it’s just “local”…dig?

NOVA: (taking a drag from his cigarette) Why are you being such a freakin’ sour-puss, Payne my man?

JASON PAYNE: Because filling water balloons with paint and lobbing them at the front of a house that you heard somewhere is where the MBE competitors in the Dupree Cup are staying…is quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say, ever.

NOVA: It’s brilliant! How could it possibly fail?

JASON PAYNE: The same way your plans to extort money from Mischa Barton with Photoshopped pictures of her having sex with you failed…because of their monumental stupidity and the holes in your logic that always plague them like enormous, cavernous holes in the road that you’d be blind not to see.

The NFW-ite-ate-iac takes a moment, scratching his beard before looking back up at Payne, slightly wounded.

NOVA: Sheesh, Payne, don’t sugarcoat it. Say what you mean.

JASON PAYNE: All I’m saying is there’s happy hour at Jimmy Joe’s all night, half-priced appetizers, and a waitress whose ass, I swear to God, about clears off the table every time she turns around after taking my drink order. We should be there, not off somewhere attempting some prank that will only leave us unsatisfied in the end. We’ll see those MBE cats in the ring in a few days.

NOVA: Cool. And all I’m saying is that I thought you were the DOG OF WAR~! You sound more like the Hound of the Asskervilles to me.

Nova pauses to take a sip of his beer, and Jason rolls his eyes impatiently, running a hand through his hair. The waitress walks up, steaming platter of random meats in hand, and sets the tray down on the table between the hungry superstars.

WAITRESS: Can I get you guys anything else?

NOVA: One of those big metal skillets so I can beat some sense into my colleague here would be pretty nice.

JASON PAYNE: (Waving dismissively) We’re fine. Thank you.

NOVA: Why are you not more down for this? This is gonna rule. This is totally gonna be the morale boost we need, and it’s gonna **** with their heads, man. We need that. We need these cats off their game…‘cuz we’re in a tight spot, Payne, in case you forgot. That ridiculous tag-team? Lone Wolf and WildStar? Dude, they’ve been getting their ASSES KICKED. And believe you me, dawg…it’s gonna stay that way. They’re dead weight. A guaranteed loss, for this week and for the finals if we make it. That leaves you and me, and we both have to win this week and next week if we don’t want all this work to be for nothing. So I say we roll out, and go show these MBE bastards that Team NFW is two-strong and ready to stomp them into the ground and melt their FACES UNDER THE WHITE-HOT JAM-NASTY GLARE OF ROCK-N-ROLL, BABY!! OH YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!

As Nova finishes his monologue, arms raised and hands curled into devil horns, he and Payne look around the restaurant to find they’re now the center of attention.

NOVA: (Arms still raised) I really don’t know why I threw in that Randy Savage “Oh Yeah” at the end there. That’s not even really my style.

JASON PAYNE: (Eyes scanning the room at the spectators) I’ll forgive it this time. *Sigh* Look, if it means so friggin’ much to you to pull off this infantile prank…I guess I can come along and make sure you don’t wind up dead or arrested.

NOVA: THAT’S MY DOG!! … Of War. And teammate. And confidant. And WoW guild partner. And…

JASON PAYNE: Stop it.

(CUT TO: The woods, outside a large house that’s completely dark.) Nova and Payne crouch in the woods, dressed in all black. Nova has black streaks under his eyes, and Payne can only stare down at his get-up and shake his head with embarrassment.

JASON PAYNE: How I somehow agree to…

NOVA: Shhhhhh!! d00d! Why don’t you just walk up to the front door, announce that we’re here from NFW, and that our mission is deface their property?

Jason starts to get up like he’ll do just that, and Nova yanks him back down.

NOVA: Okay, here’s how it’s gonna go down. We…

JASON PAYNE: Not to interrupt the briefing, Admiral Ackbar, but how again did you find out about this place?

NOVA: The internet. Now, as I was…

JASON PAYNE: The internet?!?

NOVA: Shhhhhhhh!!! Holy crap, man! Shut up!

JASON PAYNE: I can’t believe you. You read on some nerd’s blog that MBE superstars were staying together, which is the first dumbass thing about this whole plot, in this house, which is the second dumbass thing about this whole plot, in the middle of…middle of…where the hell are we?!

NOVA: Actually his blog didn’t say they were staying here, per se, but rather that they were in this general area. I figured this house looked kind of big, so maybe they…

JASON PAYNE: Dude. Let’s get the **** out of here.

NOVA: I completely agree. CHARGE!!!

Nova takes off out of the brush, bucket of paint balloons in hand, and races towards the house, screaming “EN-EFF-DUB!!” at the top of his lungs and hurling the acrylic receptacles at maximum velocity. They splatter against the beautiful white wooden siding on the house, and lights immediately come on inside. Jason Payne slips quietly away from the scene as Nova stands in broad porchlight, pants around his ankles as he gives the supposed MBE stronghold the Full Moon. He’s out of balloons, yo.

VOICE: WHAT. THE. HELL.

NOVA: ENN-EFF-DUB!! ENN-EFF-DUB!! EN...uh...en...eff...****.

A middle-aged man stands on the front porch, gut hanging out over his belt, girth barely contained by his white undershirt.

CLICK CLACK.

He cocks a shotgun and levels it at the Rising Star.

MAN: You better explain somethin’ real quick, son.

Nova takes a cautious step backwards.

NOVA: Oh, I’ll explain, you gaseous mound of Americana! You Earthquake-lookin’ mother-****er! You silly, camo-wearin’ middle-of-the-woods-livin’ crazy son of a whore! I’LL EXPLAIN! GET ‘IM PAYNE!!

There’s a moment of awkward silence, and the man continues to focus Nova in his sights.

NOVA: GET ‘IM, PAYNE!!!

MAN: Son, “pain” might just be in order.

NOVA: Payne?

Looking around, Nova realizes his back-up has fled the scene, and he stomps his foot in frustration.

NOVA: I bought that mother-****er BARBEQUE!!

CLICK CLACK.

MAN: You got bigger things than barbeque to deal with right now, son. Like how you’re gonna get that **** off of my house.

Now, when confronted at gunpoint without a wealth of feasible options, one can either:

A)Curl up into a ball and cry until you’re either murdered or spared out of sheer inability to off someone so pathetic.

B)Rage against the gun-toting machine. >=)

NOVA: I DON”T WANNA DIE!!!



What’s behind Door Number One?

MAN: Huh?

Nova collapses on the ground, curled up like a fetus (with no hands or feet to complete us, w3rd).

NOVA: I DON’T WANNA BE A LAMPSHADE!! PLEASE, LEATHERFACE! PLEASE! I HAVE A DAUGHTER WHO NEEDS A DADDY WHOSE BODY ISN’T THE CONSISTENCY OF BUSH’S BAKED BEE-HEE-HEEEEEAAAANSS!!!!

MAN: What in the Sam Hell…

NOVA: WAAAAHH!! THE HILLS REALLY DO HAVE EYES!! I’M TRAPPED IN A HOSTEL ON ELM STREET AND IT’S ALMOST THE FRIDAY AFTER NEXT!!

MAN: Son, I just wanted you to clean that **** off my…

NOVA: I’M IN A HOUSE AND I SEE THE THOUSAND CORPSES WITH MY SIXTH SENSE!! I WANNA SCREAM, BUT I KNOW THAT THEY KNOW WHAT I DID LAST SUMMER!!

MAN: I just wanted…I just…*******, you’re a dumb son of a *****.

The man lowers his shotgun and turns, walking back into his house. Not realizing he’s clear, Nova continues to sob and roll around overdramatically on the lawn.

God knows how long he’ll be there. Hopefully he doesn’t miss his match.

(FTB)

Yori Yakamo jr
10-19-06, 04:10 PM
INT. YORI’S SECRET UNDERGROUND THAI HOOKER DEVELOPMENT LABS/BASEMENT- NIGHT

(SMITTY, armed with flashlight, mills about trying to locate Yori.)

SMITTY: Yori, where the hell are you? You need to cut another spot for your TEAM match. I swear to god if you are down here with my sister aga….OWWW

(Smitty shines the flashlight down to see what she bumped into. The light reflects off the chrome bumper of the infamous YUGO THAT MAY OR MAY NOT BE GOD.)

YORI: Ahhh, don’t hurt the Yugo!

(Smitty fumbles around and finally locates a light switch. Yori sits on the hood, in his playboy bunny PJs holding a shotgun and obviously tweaked on…something.)

SMITTY: Yori get down from there this instance.

YORI: No, I must protect the Yugo.

SMITTY: What?

YORI: Jason Payne and Nova are going around trying to vandalize my property. Only that blasphemous Jason Payne would try and deface the smooth Maaco Paint job of GOD!

SMITTY: I am pretty sure it was Nova’s idea.

YORI: Impossible. Nova is a completely harmless lovable pothead. Sure, he may not be much of a wrestler, but his zany antics have entertained me for years.

SMITTY: You’ve known about him for like a month.

YORI: Jason Payne on the other hand, is an evil, corrupting influence over everything he touches. He turns off lighthouses to run ships carrying my dildos aground on the rocky Hokkaido shores. He sabotaged my all-nude Thai Hooker production of South Pacific by having some tainted beef sent to the show’s dress rehearsal party, and when I was in the sixth grade he touched me inappropriately.

SMITTY: Umm, the ship ran aground because you were captaining it… drunk. The beef was from Yori Brand discount cattle. And you were touched inappropriately by your apartment building’s janitor, Nicky.

YORI: All lies spread by Jason Payne.

SMITTY: How did you get the Yugo in here, anyway.
YORI: I had the Thai Hooker design team disassemble it and reassemble it down here piece by piece.

SMITTY: And how do you intend on getting it out.

YORI: DIVINE WILL!

SMITTY: So you are going to drive it up the stairs and through the kitchen wall?

YORI: THAT SOUNDS GOOD TOO!

SMITTY: Tell you what, why don’t I just leave you be. And that shotgun doesn’t work, it’s a prop from The Man Who Cockblocked Liberty Valance.

YORI: NOVA DOESN’T KNOW THAT.

SMITTY: Well, he does now. Maybe. Well, maybe not.

-SOME TIME LATER-

(Yori is in the passenger’s seat of the Yugo passed out and drooling. The car starts and he awakes with a shutter. He looks over to the driver’s seat.)

YORI: TOONCES!

(indeed, Toonces, the cat who can drive a car, is sitting next to him)

TOONCES: MEEEEEEOW

YORI: Let’s go TOONCES!

(TOONCES puts the car in gear and it begins to spin around. Soon it is transported to Yori’s Psychedelic Discothèque. THE GIANT GREEN RABBIT WHO ALSO MAY OR MAY NOT BE GOD is waiting for them)

RABBIT: Good job Toonces, the cat who can drive a car, now put a quart of oil in the old broad and have her back by eight.

TOONCES: MEEEEEEOW

YORI: Why did you bring me here, Giant Green Rabbit

RABBIT: Because, you have been neglecting me, Yori.

YORI: I only take the green Quaaludes for NFW matches, Rabbit.

RABBIT: I know, but soon you will fight in NFW once again.

YORI: How soon.

RABBIT: I don’t know, okay. Soon. Quit bugging me.

YORI: Like in a week or two, or something.

RABBIT: Yeah……sure……that sounds…..good.

YORI: Sexcellent

RABBIT: But you are facing off against NFW this week, but instead you went to the Yugo for counseling.

YORI: It may or may not be god, and just birthed a miracle Hobo baby.

RABBIT: Yes, but can it do the mashed potato.

YORI: The Mashed Potato?

RABBIT: Can it do the twist?

YORI: Can it do the twist?

RABBIT: Tell me baby, do you like it like this?

YORI: You are freaking me out, Rabbit.

RABBIT: Listen, you cannot defeat NFW.

YORI: Why?

RABBIT: Because otherwise these poor souls won’t wrestle for months.

YORI: You said one or two weeks.

RABBIT: Time gets…..distorted in the psychedelic discothèque…yeah, that’s it.

YORI: I don’t like what you have to say Rabbit.

RABBIT: Awww, let’s dance.

YORI: Okay.

(Yori starts to dance, but The rabbit promptly smacks Yori upside the head with a tire iron. Yori drops like a ton of bricks. The picture grows fuzzy. When it returns to normal. Yori is in a back lot with a dude in a green rabbit costume and Jason Payne dressed like a woman. The man in the rabbit suit removes his headpiece to reveal Nova)

NOVA: Well that went pretty well, but that damn cat better get back here with the Yugo soon.

PAYNE: You realize they are just gonna swap in his twin brother with an eyepatch now.

NOVA: You know, you make a very pretty girl.

PAYNE: That’s it. I’ll be in my trailer.

-A SHORT TIME LATER-

(YORI is back in the passenger seat, asleep. He awakes with a start.)

YORI: AHHHHHHHH……oh, it was all a dream.

(He looks over to the driver’s seat)

YORI: AHHHHHHHH TOONCES

TOONCES: MEEEEEOW?

YORI: LET’S ROLL TOONCES!

“Toonces
The Driving Cat
The cat that could drive a car
He drives around
All over the town
Toonces
The Driving Cat”