CALGARY 2ND: Mr. Entertainment vs. Frankie Scott

[TH]

The Entertaining One battles Mr. Phenomenal.

Mr. E Beat
Promo

Scott Beat
Larry Tact

 

[EpyonMarx]

And we're back on the "Mr Entertainment is Better Than You" show!!

[FADE IN. The sky is a bright, brilliant blue, with small, fluffy clouds floating by. After a few seconds, the clouds start to form words]

Phenomenal: adj.
1) Of, relating to, or constituting phenomena or a phenomenon.
2) Extraordinary; outstanding: a phenomenal feat of memory.
3) Philosophy. Known or derived through the senses rather than through the mind.​

[Suddenly, the screen cuts out, like a TV screen being turned off. Some guitars and drums start to kick in, but they too fade… before kicking right back in again to the same chat-show studio Mr Entertainment used when he verbally destroyed Promo. The crowd go ballistic, as bouncing onto the stage is Chris Jericho, with his band Fozzy, playing one of their powerful songs]

See the broken man torn and twisted in grief
Screaming to the sky in pain and disbelief
How could it be that any man could allow this
Living in the filth of faded innocence

Through it all the hearts of men grow colder
Numb to the world as the cowards get bolder
Yesterday's success succeeds in tainting the mindset
Still we wonder where the good old days went

And I am nameless
There's no mistaking where the future lies
And I am faceless
In the bed you've made sleeps the failure in you tonight

Take a look around at the hell you've created
Self respect and dignity just memories faded
Each day a little closer to the fate you have made
Life wasted on myself and the stench of my decay

Refuse to accept the role that you would have me play
The call of its master I won't live to betray
Outstretching of your hand you are a man undone
No shame, no pride, no faith, your soul's a setting sun

[The crowd go wild again, as the camera pans round, focusing in on someone sitting on the steps. You know him, you love (or hate) him. He’s Mr Entertainment, with a message for YOU… and your dog]

ME: Hot DAMN. Come on folks, give it up fer FOZZY!!

[The crowd go wild, with several “Y2J” chants breaking out as Jericho and The Duke play to the crowd]

ME: ALMOST as entertainin’ as ME.

Mr Entertainment.

If they keep up the work, they’re gonna be HUGE all over the world, folks, and you saw ‘em fer the first time on a REAL TV show here.

But, someone who could do all the work he wanted and be nowhere near as good as me, is my next opponent in the TEAM invitational. But first, I just wanna relive somethin’… if we could get a close-up over there.

[The camera cuts to a view of the giant screen that’s appeared on stage. On the screen is a TEAM logo, which after a few seconds, with a WHOOSH, transforms into highlights from Mr Entertainment’s match with Promo]

JA: Mr. E picks Promo up again. He nails him with a right. Promo swings back, but Mr. E blocks the shot. There’s another right by Mr. E! Promo swings again.

MJ: Stun Gun! Mr. E ducked the right hand and caught Promo across the top rope for that Stun Gun!

JA: Wait! He’s got him in a waist lock!

MJ: Now That’s Entertainment! Mr. Entertainment just caught Promo with That’s Entertainment! There’s the bridge…

…one…

…two…

…three!

Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner… Mr. Entertainment!

[The screen fades into a portrait image of Promo – who rather quickly gets squashed in the same manner poor Proppet has in days gone by. The crowd cheers as the foot comes down, and we cut back to Mr Entertainment]

ME: Now THAT... was entertaining. And you know what else is gonna be entertainin’? Me on Epicentre again, because, as much as people like Promo don’t like it, I am that damn entertainin’.

Now, I was readin’ the matches fer the second round, and I saw I’ve got some guy called ‘Phenomenal’ Frankie Scott. He beat some guy… what’s his name, Fat Barry? Doesn’t matter, ‘cause that guy’s gone, and the guy who sounds like an unused character from Grease is up next to get the Entertainment Treatment.

But this guy, claims to be phenomenal. How does he count as ‘phenomenal’? Can we pull that definition back up?

[On the screen, the definition from earlier appears]

Phenomenal: adj.
1) Of, relating to, or constituting phenomena or a phenomenon.
2) Extraordinary; outstanding: a phenomenal feat of memory.
3) Philosophy. Known or derived through the senses rather than through the mind.​

[Mr Entertainment stands up, walking over to the screen and taking a pointer from a techie. He stands at the side of the screen, looking over each in definition in turn]

ME: Now, he ain’t no philosophy, is he? So that one’s out. He isn’t relating or constituting phenomena so that one’s out too. What about… this one? Can we roll some footage?

[We cut to more footage from the first round of the TEAM Invitational Tournament – this time from the recap show for the Calgary Area]

[Cut to Tact running the ropes.]

TH V/O: Tact just runs into this Arn Anderson-quality spinebuster.

[Cut to Scott with Tact in a single crab.]

TH V/O: Scott with that single leg crab cinched in, and Tact gets out of it only because he's near the ropes.

[Cut to Scott with Tact over his shoulder.]

TH V/O: And to end the match, Scott finishes Tact with the Phenom Drop, that cradle piledriver he loves to use to finish matches with. Frankie Scott advances with the mild upset.

[We cut back to the studio, where Mr Entertainment is now leaning against the desk, his arms folded across his chest, his right leg resting over his left, and his head… dropped in a peaceful slumber. He stays there, seemingly asleep, until a techie runs on and nudges him]

ME: Wha? Damn – must’a dozed off fer a sec. I thought MAYBE watchin’ that short recap would show me somethin’ I missed when I dozed off backstage at the arena. Maybe that’s what makes him phenomenal – his ability ta bore me more than anyone I’ve ever seen in this damned business.

Where’s the glitz? The glamour? The razamenaz? Where is anything that’ll keep the people glued to their screens when I’m not around?

Phenomenal? Only in tha boring department, my poor, poor Frankenstein. Outside a that ability there is nothin’ you got that makes you anythin’ above…poor. You ain’t even average my friend.

I really hope you don’t have any intention of goin’ any further in this tournament. I dunno how they’d cope – the TV deal would be cut, that’s fer damn sure. That’s why TEAM needs someone like ME.

Mr Entertainment.

They need someone who can keep asses in seats and get it done in the ring. Just ask Proppet – I can get it done. Ya’ll look at the Vegas odds, and you see that only one of the three men they thought would win this group is still in it. Barry Fat and Proppet lost ta Frankstein and the most entertainin’ being on the planet. Beau Michaels, the only guy in wrestlin’ who even approaches the same level a weird as MWG, beat Cameo, an’ some nineteen eighties kiddie cartoon reject beat…some guy. Now, what’s the final gonna be? The best situation fer TEAM is ta have both Boo-boo and Bravestar injure themselves so I can finally wrestle somethin’ better than these guys they keep throwin’ at me. Gimme a broom or a moth – they’d be more entertaining.

But, alas, I gotta go through Frankenstein first. So, Frankenscott – here’s some advice fer ya. Get yer ass down the gym. Hit the weights, hit the treadmill. Then get yer ass down ta Hollywood an’ hire the best actin’ coaches ya can afford. Yer gonna need every damn bit a help you can get if ya think ya can beat me in that ring. Not only have you gotta prove the better wrestler, which you can’t, but you’ve also gotta show that, if some fluke does happen, you can deliver even half the viewers I do. If ya’ll can’t, all the lottery wins in the world ain’t gonna be enough ta keep this place afloat.

OR, you can be a good little Frankensnoozer, turn up, let me entertain the crowd, and go down fer the one, the two, the three. It ain’t like I’m an egotist like King Kong Bordey an’ wanna keep ya down fer the five, so ya’ll won’t feel quite so bad when I beat you.

Because that trophy they’re keepin’, it’s all for ME.

Mr Entertainment.

[Fozzy cue up another smash hit, Wanderlust, as we FADE OUT]

 

[Phenomenal]

Open: Frankie Scott is sitting at the same table at the same cafe in Calgary, Canada that Larry Tact sat at when he gave his interview to Frankie in the first round. Frankie is reading the final page of the sports section of the Calgary Sun. The caption right above the article for the Need For More Men on the LPGA Circuit states: WRESTLER GIVES KEYS FOR MINIVAN TO HOMELESS MAN AFTER MATCHES TO DRIVE LOSING OPPONENT TO THE AIRPORT. Frankie chuckles after reading the small article.

FS: "I told Larry Tact that I would send the "Loser Goes Home" bus for him after I was finished with him. Man, it feels good to move on to the next round. Now, I have Mr. Entertainment to deal with...definitely a tougher match than the ..."

A young boy with a medium sized box walks up to Frankie and puts it on the table.

Boy: "Are you Frankie Scott?"

Scott: "Yes. Yes, I am. Can I help you with something? "

Boy: " A guy around the corner asked me to deliver this box to you. He said you would pay the tip too."

Frankie: " Oh really? Did he now? Alright. Not a problem."

Frankie pays the kid a couple of bucks and the young man races away. Frankie looks at the brown corrugated box with skepticism. After a few moments he decides to open the box. An envelope with the word "Frankensnoozer" written across it is sitting on top of the inside of the box was the first thing to get recognized. Frankie moves the envelope to the table as he pulls out the items from inside the box.

Scott: " A small umbrella...a water bottle...a sock puppet...a bag of chicken fat with the word "Barry" written across it... a video tape labeled "Best matches of ME"... a container of No-Doze...a lighter...and a box of sparklers.... What is this all about?"

Frankie picks up the envelope and opens it, reading the letter

Frankensnoozer,

I can't take knowing that I will be the only one not putting the fans watching the match to sleep. Here are a few things to help you along in not being so dull. I doubt you will use them anyway... Break a leg. Seriously.

ME



Frankie looks back at the items on the table and picks a few of them up. He takes the bottle of water and the umbrella. He opens the umbrella and puts it over his head. A small crowd of on-lookers gather around the cafe tables to see what Frankie is doing. Frankie stands on the chair he was sitting in and starts to croon a medley.

Frankie: (shaking the open water bottle all around while twirling the umbrella)

Singing in the Rain. Just singing in the rain.
What a glorious feeling...I'm happy again.

Frankie stops long enough to throw the water bottle and umbrella down and grab the lighter and sparklers. He lights the sparklers and walks around the people who have gathered as he sings...


Frankie: (with a small chorus line) Start spreading the news.. I'm leaving today..
I want to be a part of it.. Can-a-da....a-a!

(Fans clap)


Frankie hands the half lit sparklers off to others that are watching and goes for more items on the table. He picks up the No-Doze and throws it to the ground. He also picks up the chicken fat, the video and the puppet. Scott throws the rest of the items to the ground except for the puppet.


Scott: "I got it...Barry Fat is about Larry Tact, yeah...I beat him!"

Scott stomps on the bag of fat and it explodes all over the ground.

Frankie: " A video of ME's greatest hits.. That should take about 30 seconds."

Scott stomps on the video tape and it explodes into tiny pieces.

Scott: " Just like I thought...30 seconds."

Frankie keeps the puppet and fits the sock on his hand.

Scott: " I got it. the sock is dressed like Prophet. Although I think I will call him Mr. Entertainment. So, Mr. Entertainment...what's it like to be an all out complete imbicile?"

ME: (Frankie Scott voice over in a high pitch) " Well, Mr. Scott...It just comes naturally. I can't seem to make myself into a bonfide star in the wrestling business. I don't think I have what it takes to make it count. I am jealous of everyone I face in the ring. I just don't have the penache to garner everyone's attention or the will power to keep that attention strong. If I were only...only...only...."

Scott: "Phenomenal?!?!"

ME: "YES! If I were only phenomenal like you."

Scott: "Well, maybe one day. If you strive for the best.. you will suceeded."

ME: " I don't know...I just don't..."

Scott: " Oh stop being such a loser! Grow up. Your being a whiny baby!" Let me show you something.."
Frankie pulls the sock off and grabs it at the ends until it rips apart.

Scott: " Oh.. I was right. You will never amount to anything."

(Crowd Laughs)


Scott: (Turning away from the comedy and becoming more serious.) " Mr. Entertainment... You speak of glitz...glamour, in being something that would keep the people glued to their seats. In truth and reality, it's getting the job done that counts. It's cracking you across the head with a steel chair, it's dropping you on your head with the phenom drop and then covering your lifeless body for the three count. I don't need a lame excuse from a semi talented B movie extra who thrives on the approval of others to tell me what I need to get over with the fans. I'm already there. The fans are behind me and have been from day one. The best part of this is that you are fully taking me for granted. You are so ready to go into the next round that your gigantic egotistical nature is taking over your pinhead sized brain. Keep thinking that I am below average and I will stomp you silly. I will be the one "Entertaining" this crowd all the way to the finals. Don't worry about me showing up. You should worry about if you have enough in the ability department to make it to a "third season". You are already cancelled. I think you are full of hot air. Just pop your balloon and away you go. Say goodnight to all of those viewers that tune in to watch you. Because you are out of time."

 

[Phenomenal]

bumpity bumpity bump bump bump

 

[EpyonMarx]

I'm... Mr Wonderful...

[FADE IN. Something is… very… odd about the picture today. On screen is a man looking into a hand mirror – fans of WCW might remember this scene, as it’s Mr Wonderful, Paul Orndorf, looking at himself during the classic era when he was having a self-esteem crisis]

MW: I’m Mister Wonderful. I am… Mister Wonderful. I’m Mister Wonderful.

[As he keeps going, the image warps, morphs… changing until we see an obese man with his shirt off (the kind of obese guy who really shouldn’t walk around with his shirt off) looking into the mirror the same way]

OM: I’m… Phenomenal… I am Phenomenal… I really am Phenomenal…

[Just as the obese man is feeling good about himself, he turns into a superkick from out of shot, dropping the mirror and falling like a ton of bricks. The camera gets a close-up of his face, the eyes glazed over, before an arm reaches over the bloated, unconscious body, and picks up the cracked mirror. The camera zooms out, to show Mister Entertainment, holding the mirror tenderly]

ME: For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers.
Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport,
How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face.

[His mood changes, as he smirks, tossing the mirror over his shoulder]

ME: There’s somethin’ ta be said about the classics. Shakespeare took theatre outta the homes of the rich and made it so everybody could see what true genius is. Before that, you had ta wait fer the cart ta come round if ya wanted ta watch a play. Most plays back in ye olde England had amateur actors, unpaid. Then, good ol’ Bill Shake came along and BAM!! Paydays fer all.

THAT, my friends, is the power of ENTERTAINMENT!! And, this being the sports ENTERTAINMENT business an’ all, that means there’s a certain… show that needs ta be put on, lest we return ta the days when the fans turned their TV’s off and were bored outta their MINDS because wrestlin’ wasn’t fun anymore.

Quite frankly, Phenomebore – you can’t get the job done because you don’t even know what the job is. It’s not a case of winning this here shindig of a tournament – it’s about keeping the fans entertained, helping the TEAM get outta the blocks, and keeping guys like YOU in work. Now, how’s that gonna work with yer lame attempts at comedy? Sing about funky mopeds or something – steal more material, because we all KNOW you ain’t got anything original in that head o’ yours.

But, then again, you’ve deluded yerself about a few things, ain’tcha?

First – the fans behind ya, that’s so they can’t see yer face. The cheers ya hear? That’s when you leave, an’ they know a real ENTERTAINER is about ta take to tha stage. Hell, even Fat Daddy was more entertainin’ than you. But, you bored him outta the tournament.

Second – am I takin’ you fer granted? Nope. Why take fer granted somethin’ that doesn’t exist? Yer ‘talent’ as you think it… I saw better in John Adams when he got SLAUGHTERED by Dan Ryan over in Greensboro. Here’s a piece of info fer the folks at home – Frankenloser and Fat Daddy’s match was sped up so you guys didn’t think you were watching a pair of slugs in the ring.

Thirdly, and most importantly – telling yerself yer great, phenomenal, or wonderful…

[He looks down at the unconscious figure on the floor]

ME: Doesn’t mean you are, right? You gotta go out there an’ prove it. And so far, you’ve proved nothin’ except that yer, ta quote Jethro Tull, Livin’ In The Past.

Me? I’m the future. I’m the guy that folks tune in ta see. I’m the guy that’s gonna get you a nice little pay-packet so you can gracefully walk off into the sunset, keeping yer delusions about bein’ somebody an’ livin’ a nice, happy retirement.

Watch some tapes. Check my profile. Learn somethin’. Then, turn up like Proppet, let me do the work, and I’ll get ya that nice, fat cheque. You ain’t gonna get another royalty cheque fer one of your matches like the one you’ll get when ya lose this one. Then I’ll go on ta beat Bravestar or Yogi’s playmate, whoever they throw at me in the semis, and then take the whole tournament fer myself, jump-startin’ this company inta life like the good doctor did to you.

And THAT… will be ENTERTAINMENT!!

[FADE OUT]

 

[Phenomenal]

The darkness of a single hotel room. The only light glowing from a 27 inch television set bolted down to the entertainment center. Scratch marks cover the entertainment center and under the television set from past patrons who have tried to secure the tv into their possession as a lovely parting gift before checking out. In the darkness, Frankie Scott sits in a fabric worn chair engrossed in the telecast of the ABC BCS Bowl Selection Preview Show on satellite. The University of Southern California and the University of Texas have been hyped over and over as the game of the year for College Football. Coming from a commercial break John Saunders breaks the news that Penn State and Florida State will meet in the Orange Bowl while the newly crowned SEC Champions, University of Georgia Bulldogs will face the 10-1 West Virginia Mountaineers in the Sugar Bowl. In a howl of victory, Frankie (wearing his old college jersey from his Georgia football days) jumps up from his chair after learning that his alma mater is heading to a big bowl game. After the selections were told, Frankie restarts the DVD player to watch the first round TEAM tournament match between Promo and Mr. Entertainment. As soon as the match is over, Scott turns off the television and sits down quietly. Thirty seconds pass when Frankie finally looks up.

Scott: " First of all, watching the bowl selection show was kind of like watching the TEAM tournament bracket outcome. Being selected into this tournament was a big deal for me. I wasn't expecting to show up in Calgary, Canada but I have enjoyed every minute of being here. The fans are awesome and very respectful. But, being in college I was there when our guys went to the Cotton Bowl and defeated Texas A&M. I have felt that achievement of making it to the top. But, during that time in college. I had a huge chip on my shoulder. I wanted to have everything catered to me. I felt I deserved every single little thing right after I demanded every big thing. After I quit school, I went on to wrestling and demanded the same things. Because I was the big new star, the rookie of the year and known as the "blue chip prospect" of the wrestling world. It took a severe beatdown from Dan Ryan to help me see how dismal I was. It took a lot of maturity to get back on my feet and stand where I am today. Now, looking at you Mr. Entertainment... I see the old me. How much more dillusional can you be? You are the guy that the fans tune in to see? What station are you on? Nickelodeon? Animal Planet? SciFi Network? It's obviously somewhere that the people in Calgary aren't getting connection. Because the last time I checked, my picture is one of few guys on every single program that is going out to the fans that come to see the next round of matches. It's my t-shirt, my poster and my foam fingers that are selling while your merchandise is gathering dust on the shelves since day one. Seriously...Where are you? "

Frankie gets up from the chair, grabs a bottle of water sitting on the small table beside the single bed. He sits on the bed, takes a long drink from the bottle and looks back toward the camera.

Scott: " I'll admit... I tried to stoop down to your level and tried to be something I wasn't. I tried the comedy aspect of a video spot. I used YOUR technique of getting MY point across to YOU. I was wrong in doing that. I tried to make you look stupid and what I realized is that I didn't need to help you. You make stupid look good all by yourself. I didn't need props to get over or to tell you what I think of you or where you will end up when I am done with you. "

Takes another drink of water.

Scott: " You asked me what the job was?.. Then you came up with some ridiciulous idea that it's not a case of winning the tournament but keeping the fans entertained. If you actually cared about the fans they would tell you that they want to see an outcome of the tournament...they want to see a winner... they are being entertained every second that a wrestler comes out to the ring and puts on a show for them because they know what the tournament means for the winner. Not because you stand up and give them your weak rendition of "American Idol".

Frankie walks over to a larger table with dvd's, papers and a laptop on it. He sifts through the papers to find exactly what he was looking for.

Scott: " This is your bio. I've read it a few times and realized that we aren't that much different. We are both 6'2". I weigh 8 pounds more, clean cut, clean shaven, dark hair. Both have had modeling jobs. Both have had the same attitude, arrogance and cockiness in our careers. But, I did go back to college and earn my degree while I was injured. I will be able to make something of my life once I am retired from this business. You won't be able to do it on looks and personality alone. Your 15 minutes of fame will be up sooner than you think. Getting back to the wrestling aspect of all this, we do have the same kind of basic moves... dropkicks, suplexes, even the sharpshooter. I did notice that you threw your moves out the window when it came to Promo getting the best of you. You panicked. You rushed yourself. When you knew you were losing you went to fight mode. Threw punches and threw your arsenal right out the window. You could've lost as easily as you won. All I need to do is keep you on the back of your heels... to keep you out of you rhythm and you will never gain composure. At the same time, keep thinking that I don't exist. You refuse to acknowledge me in the ring... you seem tho think that I am just the next stepping stone in your walk through the bracket. Get a clue, Papparazzi. I'm not your stepping stone to anywhere. I'm your one way ticket back to the rock you crawled out from in Oregon. I just love to see how full of yourself you are. Because, when it's all said and done, it's going to be sweet watching you ball up into the fetal position and cry your eyes out like a little toddler who just lost his little fuzzy bunny, when you realize that you are flat on your back after getting pinned for that three count or even better... when you tap out to my sharpshooter after feeling the agonizing unbearable pain of the strain and the pop in your back from the twist and turns that help you remember that you just gave up to me that you are a quitter and won't be going anywhere but to pack those bags and find that seat next to Larry Tact on the "Loser Goes Home" Bus to the airport. I'll be sending you a postcard from Portland... better yet. I'll buy you a ringside seat to watch my match in the finals."


FADE OUT....

 

[Phenomenal]

bump this

 

[EpyonMarx]

Phenomebore (Doo doo dedoo doo)

[FADE IN. Mr Entertainment is standing in an office. All about, people are busily typing and working away, making him look very out of place in a leather biker’s-jacket. On a desk to his left is a TV/Video combo, and on a desk to his right sits a pile of folders and papers, neatly organised. He’s holding his head in one hand, looking sad and sobbing]

ME: Boo-hoo-hoo… such a sad, sad tale. The Phenomebore Frankensnoozer Skunk had an ego problem. [sniff] He got hurt because he had an ego problem. [sniff] He thinks I’m like he was.

[He lifts his head, with not a trace of a tear – on the contrary, he looks calm, composed, and happy]

ME: Now, ain’t that a scary thought, folks? That I’m as bad as he was? If he’s better now than he was before some jacked up, steroid shootin’ ass-clown with the IQ of a dead amoeba beat him up, then how bad was he back then? I didn’t know Ray Rock had a brother. But at least he found time ta go out an’ improve, right folks?

[He gives one of those exaggerated ‘thumbs-up/smile’ combos, holding the pose for a few seconds, before reaching down to the folder on the top of the pile to his right]

ME: Shame he couldn’t get the intelligence ta do some research, right? I have here, the merchandise sales figures from the Calgary prelims. If you’ll pull up… right… here, you’ll see Jess Chapell’s signature statin’ this is all legit and safe ta go on file. Now… if we turn ta these here figures… you’ll see Frankie Scott merchandise sales just about beat John Adams, who wasn’t even there. Turn ta here… ya’ll see sales of the “I’m Simply More Entertainin’ Than You” shirts alone beat all o’ his. So, where he’s getting’ that there idea he’s outsellin’ me, is anyones guess.

[He tosses the folder over his shoulder]

ME: But I suppose his lack o’ sense kinda makes sense, in a twisted way. After all, he’s the ONLY person I’ve ever seen who thinks the fans are happy so long as they see a winner. SO, I went around Calgary, around Ashland, hell, I even went down inta Mexico, and found out what the fans think about that.

[He reaches across, pressing the play button on the video. Several shots of streets and fans follow, all of them answering the question would they rather a boring winner, or an exciting draw]

Fan#1: If the match is dull I don’t care who wins, I’d rather not watch it.

Fan#2: Who cares who wins or loses? I wanna watch somethin’ exciting.

Fan#3: Frankie Scott won and his match was dull. Viva la Entertainment!!

Fan#4: Most of the matches from Stamford have winners, but who cares? They’re all kick-punch, kick-punch – they’re no fun to watch.

[Smiling, Mr Entertainment appears on the screen]

ME: Well, there ya have it. Proof positive the fans don’t want winners, they want fun and entertainment. Back to Mr Entertainment in the studios.

[Cut back to the live Mr Entertainment]

ME: Thanks Mr Entertainment, fer that great tape.

Frankensnoozer – are you really that stupid ta think all the fans want is some greased up, steroid injected guy in a swimsuit coming out and wafflin’ away on some other greased up guy in a leotard fer a few minutes before one gets their hand raised? Hell, that ain’t gonna keep the fans watchin’ the shows now, is it? But, by your logic, the fans should be FLOCKING ta see it. After all, there was a winner!! There were sixteen winners in the first round, the fans shoulda LOVED that, right?

Then, how come the fans ain’t exactly bashing down the doors ta the Philadelphia, Greensboro or St Louis arenas ta watch a combined six more winners? Could it be because those twelve guys are… boring in the ring?

THAT’S the job of the pro-wrestler, my friend. Win all the matches ya’ll want, if, like you, yer crap in the ring, if yer boring inside the squared circle, the fans are gonna walk away, and you’ll be outta job.

Rule number one in any entertainment profession such as ours – send the punters home feelin’ ENTERTAINED!!

[He picks up another folder from the pile, flicking through it for a few seconds before tossing it over his shoulder in apparent disgust]

ME: An’ by the looks of the sob story you got as yer history, you haven’t mastered that skill yet.

[He picks up another file, but instead of reading them, just casually tosses it over his shoulder, before brushing the rest into the bin]

ME: Ya know, I never said I saw Frankensnoozer as a steppin’ stone. Grain o’ sand maybe. I mean, anyone… DUMB enough… ta think I was scared of Proppet can’t be much of a stone now, can they? But, hey, I am a great actor.

It’s called CARRYING the other guys ass ta a great match. Which is exactly what the fans got – you remember that, doncha? Whose match was shown in full on TV, and whose was kept to a couple minutes of highlights?

Who’s gonna be living off of royalties and TV show appearances, and who’s gonna be using a piece of paper any jackass with some cash can get?

If you answer Mr Entertainment for the TV royalties and great match, YOU ARE THE WINNER!!

[The entire office comes alive, throwing streamers and confetti as they cheer wildly, before going straight back to work]

ME: I could go on and on and on about how great I am in the ring, and how I’m gonna carry Frankensnoozer to a great match, but that might get the baby whinin’ again. An’ a whinin’ Frankensnoozer, even when he’s facin’ me, scares people away. So, I’ll leave with a few words ta Frankie.

Get a clue. Get yerself some actin’ lessons. Get yer head outta yer ass and stop whinin’ about some jacked up nobody who gave you a boo-boo. Make the fans give a damn about you. Because it ain’t about if you win or lose, it’s about how much the fans enjoy the match. And they’ll enjoy it, Phenomebore Frankensnoozer o’Sand, because I’m gonna be there carryin’ yer ass, givin’ you the last ticket back ta Loserville, before goin’ on ta win this whole shebang. Because when it’s all said and done, it’s all about ME.

Mr. Entertainment.

[As he finishes his catchphrase, a load of Muppets pop up, singing the tune of “mana mana” with new lyrics]

Phenomebore

Doo doo dedoo doo

Phenomebore

Doo doo de doo

Phenomebore

Doo doo dedoo doo dedoo doo dedoo doo dedoo dedoo de doo doo doo doo doo.

[FADE OUT]

 

[Phenomenal]

("Phenomenal" Frankie Scott arrives at the Saddledome to a bevy of reporters awaiting an interview with the returning superstar for his round two tournament match with Mr. Entertainment. Scott clad in a black EPW t-shirt and blue jeans carrying his usual blue garment bag stops at the interview table for the reporters.)

Scott: " Ok guys. You have 30 seconds. While I'd give you a million interviews on any other given night. Tonight isn't one of those nights. I've got a match to prepare for and I don't want any interruptions. The only thing I am focusing on tonight is the biggest match in Mr. Entertainment's short lived career. So, give me a question or two and then I gotta go."

Reporter #1: " Frankie, are you worried that tonight is your last night in Calgary. That you are going to get beat by Mr. Entertainment?"

Scott: " Not in the least. I'm not losing to over inflated jerk. Just like I told him before. His 15 minutes of fame are up tonight. He had a good run in the ring and a good run of of his mouth. But, it all ends here. Let him tuck his tail between his legs and run home. In fact, let's skip all the analogies and I'll send him home with nothing. That's the point of all this. When I beat him... he is so sure of himself that he has this tournament all locked up. It will literally mess him up to lose to me. It's something I want a front row seat for to watch. "

Reporter #2: " Mr. Entertainment put you down a lot. He put the idea in people's heads that you can't carry this tournament. What do you think of his claims?"

Scott: " That's his job. What is he supposed to do? Hug me and we go have Christmas dinner together? It's just a bunch of words backed up by a lot of nothing. He can blow all the hot air he wants to. He can use three different dictionaries, a thesaurus, a couple of history books and Reader's Digest to tell me how he will advance into the tournament, how much I suck and how much he is loved by the entertainment world. Until he actually gets into the ring and beats me...He is exactly what he will always be right now.. nothing."

Reporter #3: " Can you give us a rundow...

Scott: " Sorry for the interruption. I don't have any more time tonight. Let me say one more thing to my opponent and then I need to go get into the ring...."

"Mr. Entertainment. I'm sure you are listening somewhere back here. It's all come down to this. Two men in the ring ready to beat the living daylights out of each other. Guess what, your big mouth should've stopped while it was ahead. I coudn't be ready for you any more than I already am. All the name calling, disrespecting me and feeling that I am not worth stepping in the ring with you.. All the fire and brimstone is falling on you tonight. You put your foot so far down your throat in the last two weeks that you should be crapping Air Jordans for the next month. You hide behind all of this "Gotta have Entertainment" mumbo jumbo...when all it is, is that you need every once of attention in front of you. If the spotlight isn't on you then you are ready to throw a little fit. You're like a toddler needing to be picked up and patted on the back. Give me a stinking break! I've had enough. I'm done with all of the little acting scenes and one man shows you need to put on. Get yourself in the ring and let's do this thing. "

Frankie grabs his bag out of the chair beside him turns around as flash bulbs go off and other reporters try desperately to ask more questions. Scott storms through the interview exit and into the wrestlers area.

 

[EpyonMarx]

*singing* What's it all about, Frankie?

[FADE IN. Mr Entertainment is standing backstage at the arena, watching Frankie Scott’s latest diatribe unfold on a small TV screen. He’s resting his arm on a flight-case and holding onto a water-bottle. As the scene ends on the screen, he smiles to himself, shaking his head before talking]

ME: Poor, poor Frankensnoozer. Despite all the help I’ve given him, he still can’t see a thing. Ya know, fer the first time in my career, I may actually have met someone I feel sorry for.

[He takes a drink, stopping to compose his thoughts]

ME: Nah. I don’t pity the Frankenator. That would suggest I care about him, and there’s nothin’ there ta care about. He still can’t see the most fundamental aspect o’ this business is ta keep the crowds ENTERTAINED!! THAT’S how I know I’ve gotta get through him, through Bravestar or Boo-boo, and all the way through to the finals – otherwise, all that money the backers have pumped inta TEAM would be goin’ ta waste, as they STILL wouldn’t be able to open up the fed. The trophy would be nice, but that warm, fuzzy feelin’ I’d get from knowing I helped a federation in turmoil find its legs… I’m getting’ goosebumps already.

Ya see, it ain’t that I am gonna beat ya, Frankenzzzzzzzzz… it’s that for this company ta succeed, I’ve gotta win. And are you so self-centred you’re willin’ ta put all those nice, kind, caring office folk outta work? What about their little kiddies? Their wives and dependants? What about their drug-dealers?

Come ta think about it, what about the drug-dealers of most of the roster? You’re obviously trippin’ if ya’ll think you’ve got a chance against me, and I’d hate ta see yer poor dealer goin’ outta business. Stay off the brown acid, man, stay away from it.

[He takes another quick drink before continuing]

ME: I do find it funny though – yer so far gone off inta your own little world ya think there’s a mirror in front of ya all the time. That’s the only ‘you’ I can think of when ya’ll say someone’s gonna be throwin’ a tantrum as they join Fat Belly on the train outta the TEAM IT. I mean, you whine, b!tch and cry more than MWG did when he got stripped o’ the NEW TV title. Hell, ya even whined more than that talentless hack Jason Payne did right before he took matters into his own hands and kept the greatest entertainer on the planet from winning the TV title. Seriously, Snott… one a, you ain’t the biggest match o’ my career thusfar, and two, b

[Just then, he lifts his arm from the flightcase, and a guy wearing a Frankie Scott mask pushes the lid up and off, bawling his eyes out like a baby smacked for doing nothing more than entering the world a few moments earlier]

Man in mask: WAAAAH!!! WAAAAAH!!! WAAAAAAAH!!!! WAAAAAAH!!!

ME: Oh, shut up!!

[He snaps off a sickening Bakat Hooryu Chagi (out to in crescent kick), knocking the masked man unconscious, as well as sending him flying behind the TV to land in a crumpled mess somewhere out of shot]

ME: I hate when grown men cry, don’t you? So, Frankenskum, if ya’ll can hear this, there’s a little somethin’ you can do ta make sure you’ve still got some kinda reputation left by the time the final bell rings.

Stay in the locker-room, an’ get someone ta bring me a broom ta wrestle in yer place. The fans, in their own words, don’t want a borin’ match, regardless if there’s a winner or not. They want somethin’ that’ll make ‘em get outta their seats and not sit down fer a week. And you? Well, against anyone else, your match would be shown as short, itty-bitty highlights. But tonight… oh, tonight, you’re gonna be main-event of the evening against the most entertainin’ man on the planet!! Tonight, for one night only, you become someone that the fans give a damn about!! Tonight you get ta leave the ring knowing you just had the most entertaining match of your entire LIFE!! Tonight, you get the chance ta live off the royalties from sales of one match alone. Tonight… you get ta go home, and let the fans continue to watch the rise and rise of the greatest entertainer and professional wrestler on this planet in peace.

Because win, lose, or draw, it’s all about ME.

Mister Entertainment

[He walks away from the TV screen, as the camera pans down to see the masked man, mask partially torn from his head, lying in a heap on the floor. FADE OUT]

 

[EpyonMarx]

Re: *singing* What's it all about, Frankie?

OoC:

Just 16, a pickup truck,
Outta money, outta bump...

 

[Phenomenal]

Calgary, Canada... The Saddledome....Standing Room Only...The first semi-final match, Wildstar vs. Beau Michaels is finally over...Frankie Scott is sitting in a corner of the dressing room alone. Sporting black tights with "Phenomenal" in Neon Orange script running down the sides. Scott gets up to check the door, looking for the page to tell him when to come up to the main entrance. Scott can hear the roars of the crowd. Awaiting the main event of the night. Frankie turns away from the door...

" Mr. Entertainment. No more words, no more promises. It has all come down to this. One of us is holding up his end of the bargain in the next hour. Tonight you brought up that I still havent understood what this tournament is all about. Are you kidding me. I know exactly what this tournament is all about. We are all a part of something special. This tournament didnt come together out of someone's backyard. It was a long process of dreams, a catalyst to someone's beliefs in this business and to start something new for the fans to enjoy. I didn't show all of my true feelings. I know what I need to do to get ahead. There are two things. One, Is to put on the greatest show on earth. A show that you couldn't possibly imagine in that head of yours. See, I'm out to make TEAM a succcess...to make this tournament a success... to make this show a success so that the city of Calgary will pay top dollar to host another show like this again. It's all about the business and bringing butts into the seats. It's all about the tonight and making an impression. And two, To show you all about what the Phenomenon is. You have seen one single match that I have wrestled in. Now you get a taste of what a match with me feels like. I'll start by slapping the taste out of your mouth and then I'll end it all by giving you something you never saw coming. The real me emerges tonight. Something like a Phenomenon!! Whether it be high flying, technical or street fighting. I've got it all covered. The best part of all this is that I'm ready to put on that show you thought you were going to give them. And when I walk out of that ring tonight with a win and your respect. I'll be the one that will be called Mr. Entertainment! And you? Don't worry... the names "Mr. Trailer Park Manager", "Mr. Burger Flipper" and "Mr. Bowling Attendant" are still available. I'm sure you can give those place all the entertainment they need. Countdown begins... You've got five minutes..."

The page knocks on the dressing room door and peeks his head in.

"Your up, Mr. Scott. Entrance is set. Main Event Time."


Frankie walks to the door and turns out the light as he walks out...