LQJT86C
Where's my money, Chad?
Post all RP here. Deadline is Friday, January 8th at 11:55 PM EASTERN TIME. Standard 48 hour stack rules apply.
'Electric' Eddie Patton v. Wanderlust (w/Trashy Romance)
- Thread starter LQJT86C
- Start date
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JLevinson
Diva Tree
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 707
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- 0
- Age
- 43
(FADEIN to the empty ring in what appears to be a small gym with a few bleachers setup. In the center of the ring, wearing a blue sweatsuit is a man, standing 5’11”, with short black hair and piercing blue eyes. When he speaks, he has a neutral accent.)
MAN: “Hello, NLW. My name is Eddie Patton and I… am about to be a professional wrestler.
“Maybe that doesn’t impress you much. I know my parents weren’t exactly doin’ cartwheels when I told ‘em the news.
“Well let me tell you something. For every man who stands before you, here, ready for this opportunity, are another twenty who didn’t make it. Guys who gave their everything and just came up a fraction short. A missed clothesline. An inverted cradle a second too late.
“In a flash, it could be over.
“But my name is Eddie Patton and I’m here because I am not one of them. I am one of the ones who made it.
“You can call it fate or destiny. I don’t know – I’ll leave it to smarter men than me.
“All I know is that now it’s my time. My chance. Opportunity doesn’t come knockin’ every day. For some of us, this is it. Now or never. Define yourself in that ring or get left behind by those that do.”
(He pauses for a moment and then walks to the ropes and bends down between the 1st and 2nd ropes, lowering himself to the floor. He begins to walk towards a door near the rear of the gym and stops.)
PATTON: “I know I should come out here and talk about why I’m the better man when Friday Night Vulgar comes around. I know I should talk about how Wanderlust couldn’t walk a mile in my shoes; how he’s some arrogant buffoon who spends too much time ogling women and not enough time training.
“Truth is, only a fool goes out there and guarantees to be the better man when he hardly even knows his opponent. And I hardly know you, Wanderlust.
“Nor do I know your liaison, Trashy… Romance.
“All I know is that if you think this is going to be some stroll on the beach and you conquering another damsel in distress, then I believe you’re going to find quite differently.
“I have no plans to back down or roll over for anybody. This is it. This is my shot. There won’t be any tomorrow for guys that can’t make it.
“Every man has a weakness, Wanderlust. Whether its vanity or his pride; or his desire for the glory of the fans. And if I can find yours before you can find mine, than you may find the electric current a little too much to handle…
“When the bell rings, NLW is going to witness the beginning of something electric. Something that will light it up for every man, woman, and child in attendance. You can feel it in the air. It almost hums. The energy of the place… the moments where there’s a charge… static hovering there…
“Can you feel it? It’s just about time… “
(He makes his way to the door and flips the circuit breaker that bathes the ring and gym in darkness. He pushes the door open and looks back for a moment before turning away.)
PATTON: “… to be electrified.”
(FADEOUT.)
MAN: “Hello, NLW. My name is Eddie Patton and I… am about to be a professional wrestler.
“Maybe that doesn’t impress you much. I know my parents weren’t exactly doin’ cartwheels when I told ‘em the news.
“Well let me tell you something. For every man who stands before you, here, ready for this opportunity, are another twenty who didn’t make it. Guys who gave their everything and just came up a fraction short. A missed clothesline. An inverted cradle a second too late.
“In a flash, it could be over.
“But my name is Eddie Patton and I’m here because I am not one of them. I am one of the ones who made it.
“You can call it fate or destiny. I don’t know – I’ll leave it to smarter men than me.
“All I know is that now it’s my time. My chance. Opportunity doesn’t come knockin’ every day. For some of us, this is it. Now or never. Define yourself in that ring or get left behind by those that do.”
(He pauses for a moment and then walks to the ropes and bends down between the 1st and 2nd ropes, lowering himself to the floor. He begins to walk towards a door near the rear of the gym and stops.)
PATTON: “I know I should come out here and talk about why I’m the better man when Friday Night Vulgar comes around. I know I should talk about how Wanderlust couldn’t walk a mile in my shoes; how he’s some arrogant buffoon who spends too much time ogling women and not enough time training.
“Truth is, only a fool goes out there and guarantees to be the better man when he hardly even knows his opponent. And I hardly know you, Wanderlust.
“Nor do I know your liaison, Trashy… Romance.
“All I know is that if you think this is going to be some stroll on the beach and you conquering another damsel in distress, then I believe you’re going to find quite differently.
“I have no plans to back down or roll over for anybody. This is it. This is my shot. There won’t be any tomorrow for guys that can’t make it.
“Every man has a weakness, Wanderlust. Whether its vanity or his pride; or his desire for the glory of the fans. And if I can find yours before you can find mine, than you may find the electric current a little too much to handle…
“When the bell rings, NLW is going to witness the beginning of something electric. Something that will light it up for every man, woman, and child in attendance. You can feel it in the air. It almost hums. The energy of the place… the moments where there’s a charge… static hovering there…
“Can you feel it? It’s just about time… “
(He makes his way to the door and flips the circuit breaker that bathes the ring and gym in darkness. He pushes the door open and looks back for a moment before turning away.)
PATTON: “… to be electrified.”
(FADEOUT.)
(FADE-IN: Wanderlust stands on a tropical beach, gazing out over the crystal-clear blue water, thinking about absolutely nothing at all. He does not like to think unless he is speaking. Having vexatious thoughts crash around inside his head like some sort of amusement park bumper-car ride wears on his nerves, fast! So, instead, he just pops Valium and strolls around in a daze most of the day. Now that the drug has begun to wear off, it’s time for a promo.
Trashy Romance is busy operating the camera like a good slave.)
WANDERLUST: “NLW fans, I’ve come to speak with you about a pressing matter. That, of course, being my professional wrestling debut! Sure, I’ve wrestled many a man in seaside saloon brawls from here to there and everywhere in between, but I’ve never done so in a so-called squared circle. This intrigues me. What is a squared circle? A priceless heirloom, a treasure buried deep, deep down in disturbed earth, or perhaps the sea... a golden trinket amidst murky blackness. It does not matter: the so-called squared circle I shall rule.
“You see, I have bedded women with nine fingers and three thumbs. I have kissed burned victims on their holiest of holies. I have flexed and felt the warm caress of a summer breeze as I stood atop a mountain peak, naked as the day I was birthed. I have done all this... but I have never pinned a spandex-clad man in a public forum.”
(Wanderlust retrieves a small piece of paper, the edges of which have been purposely burned to look old or treasure-mappy. He picks at a scab on the tip of his forefinger, then circles, underlines, and puts a star next to the eighth item: “Pin a spandex-clad man in a public forum and capture his glimmering waist accessory.” Wanderlust stuffs the note back in his pocket, and smiles at the camera, before running a hand through his sparsely beaded, shoulder-length mane.)
WANDERLUST: “I will not accomplish my ultimate goal in my match against you, Eddie Patton, for you do not possess a glimmering waist accessory! You are simply a stepping stone! A stone on which I shall step! I will defeat you with a plethora of “maneuvers” that will send the crowd into a frenzy, and I will climb to the second rope and pose! Pose triumphantly! And you... unfortunately... will be quietly ushered away. Because you don’t matter.
“I have photos of you. Trashy took them while you were ‘training,’ if that’s what you call it. I’d call it playing, but that’s just me. I run along terrain that would trip you up and snap one of your twig-like ankles. I’ve honed my Irish-whipping skills by pulling twenty school children into a bottomless ravine in a game of life-or-death tug-of-war! I am in peak physical condition; a walking, stalking, honey-dipped Man of Tomorrow, Today!
(Wanderlust slowly unbuttons his silk shirt and lets it fall from his shoulders, down onto the floor. He stands, bare-chested, the epitome of what human growth hormone and no job can do for a man of average athleticism. Now, make no mistake, Wanderlust is a beast. His legs are rail-thin, sure, but his upper body -- his glamor muscles -- is GQ.
Pectorals twitching and dripping with baby oil, Wanderlust strikes a rigid pose, every muscle in his arms, torso, and neck bulging, as a man-made breeze blows in from the side. This causes us to wonder if Wanderlust is actually standing on a beach, or if it's just some green-screen trickery. Most likely the latter. Anyway, the ‘breeze’ proves too powerful for Wanderlust to fully open his eyes, causing him to shout angrily.)
WANDERLUST: “Trashy, number-two! Setting number-two! I told you three’s too high!”
TRASHY: “Sorry, Lusty!”
(The intensity of the blowing air decreases, and Wanderlust returns his stoic, yet cocky, gaze to the camera ahead.)
WANDERLUST: “I will ride a beautiful white stallion to the ring... if I can find one for cheap. And I will do unspeakable things to you, Eddie Patton. I will ask that every fair-skinned individual present in the arena -- female or not -- avert their eyes, for I shall lay a beating on you that will spread from town to town, village to village! The name Wanderlust will become synonymous with TWO THINGS:
“1) Merciless knock-arounds
“2) Thirteen-inch members
“I will lace into you, Eddie Patton! 5,000 clenched fists will collide with your face! Surely, that number is a tad exaggerated, but nevertheless the same fate awaits you: a throbbing headache and soul-crushing disappointment!
“The Scourge of Monogamy has long since waged a war against married people.” (Grumbling: ...) ”Trying to keep the winsome, untainted (unsplooged-on?) smiles of ‘unavailable’ gentlewomen away from my adultery-inducing good looks and charm! I will not stand for it! Eddie Patton, I will not stand for you, orrrrrrrr your lightning tights! I have been thwarted in my quest to have sexual intercourse with every wedded woman alive! Time and geographic placement is a bitch! But I will not -- will not -- be thwarted by you! I have danced with lighting and snubbed thunder, and it’s not as glamorous as your lycra wear would have you, me, us believe! It is dangerous!”
TRASHY: “He knows! He’s been struck twice!”
WANDERLUST: “Trashy is correct. Twice the gods above have seen fit to lap at my scalp with their electrifying tongue, and twice I have survived! You, Eddie Patton, are not a god! You are not even a demi-god! You are not even a good wrestler!”
(Wanderlust arches his back and belly-laughs. Like: “Ha... ha... ha!” Pleasantly diabolical.)
WANDERLUST: “I look forward to our wrestling meet!”
TRASHY: “It’s going to be spectacular!”
WANDERLUST: “It shall! Now, back to hack squats and chasing after chickens! Good day!”
(FTB)
Trashy Romance is busy operating the camera like a good slave.)
WANDERLUST: “NLW fans, I’ve come to speak with you about a pressing matter. That, of course, being my professional wrestling debut! Sure, I’ve wrestled many a man in seaside saloon brawls from here to there and everywhere in between, but I’ve never done so in a so-called squared circle. This intrigues me. What is a squared circle? A priceless heirloom, a treasure buried deep, deep down in disturbed earth, or perhaps the sea... a golden trinket amidst murky blackness. It does not matter: the so-called squared circle I shall rule.
“You see, I have bedded women with nine fingers and three thumbs. I have kissed burned victims on their holiest of holies. I have flexed and felt the warm caress of a summer breeze as I stood atop a mountain peak, naked as the day I was birthed. I have done all this... but I have never pinned a spandex-clad man in a public forum.”
(Wanderlust retrieves a small piece of paper, the edges of which have been purposely burned to look old or treasure-mappy. He picks at a scab on the tip of his forefinger, then circles, underlines, and puts a star next to the eighth item: “Pin a spandex-clad man in a public forum and capture his glimmering waist accessory.” Wanderlust stuffs the note back in his pocket, and smiles at the camera, before running a hand through his sparsely beaded, shoulder-length mane.)
WANDERLUST: “I will not accomplish my ultimate goal in my match against you, Eddie Patton, for you do not possess a glimmering waist accessory! You are simply a stepping stone! A stone on which I shall step! I will defeat you with a plethora of “maneuvers” that will send the crowd into a frenzy, and I will climb to the second rope and pose! Pose triumphantly! And you... unfortunately... will be quietly ushered away. Because you don’t matter.
“I have photos of you. Trashy took them while you were ‘training,’ if that’s what you call it. I’d call it playing, but that’s just me. I run along terrain that would trip you up and snap one of your twig-like ankles. I’ve honed my Irish-whipping skills by pulling twenty school children into a bottomless ravine in a game of life-or-death tug-of-war! I am in peak physical condition; a walking, stalking, honey-dipped Man of Tomorrow, Today!
(Wanderlust slowly unbuttons his silk shirt and lets it fall from his shoulders, down onto the floor. He stands, bare-chested, the epitome of what human growth hormone and no job can do for a man of average athleticism. Now, make no mistake, Wanderlust is a beast. His legs are rail-thin, sure, but his upper body -- his glamor muscles -- is GQ.
Pectorals twitching and dripping with baby oil, Wanderlust strikes a rigid pose, every muscle in his arms, torso, and neck bulging, as a man-made breeze blows in from the side. This causes us to wonder if Wanderlust is actually standing on a beach, or if it's just some green-screen trickery. Most likely the latter. Anyway, the ‘breeze’ proves too powerful for Wanderlust to fully open his eyes, causing him to shout angrily.)
WANDERLUST: “Trashy, number-two! Setting number-two! I told you three’s too high!”
TRASHY: “Sorry, Lusty!”
(The intensity of the blowing air decreases, and Wanderlust returns his stoic, yet cocky, gaze to the camera ahead.)
WANDERLUST: “I will ride a beautiful white stallion to the ring... if I can find one for cheap. And I will do unspeakable things to you, Eddie Patton. I will ask that every fair-skinned individual present in the arena -- female or not -- avert their eyes, for I shall lay a beating on you that will spread from town to town, village to village! The name Wanderlust will become synonymous with TWO THINGS:
“1) Merciless knock-arounds
“2) Thirteen-inch members
“I will lace into you, Eddie Patton! 5,000 clenched fists will collide with your face! Surely, that number is a tad exaggerated, but nevertheless the same fate awaits you: a throbbing headache and soul-crushing disappointment!
“The Scourge of Monogamy has long since waged a war against married people.” (Grumbling: ...) ”Trying to keep the winsome, untainted (unsplooged-on?) smiles of ‘unavailable’ gentlewomen away from my adultery-inducing good looks and charm! I will not stand for it! Eddie Patton, I will not stand for you, orrrrrrrr your lightning tights! I have been thwarted in my quest to have sexual intercourse with every wedded woman alive! Time and geographic placement is a bitch! But I will not -- will not -- be thwarted by you! I have danced with lighting and snubbed thunder, and it’s not as glamorous as your lycra wear would have you, me, us believe! It is dangerous!”
TRASHY: “He knows! He’s been struck twice!”
WANDERLUST: “Trashy is correct. Twice the gods above have seen fit to lap at my scalp with their electrifying tongue, and twice I have survived! You, Eddie Patton, are not a god! You are not even a demi-god! You are not even a good wrestler!”
(Wanderlust arches his back and belly-laughs. Like: “Ha... ha... ha!” Pleasantly diabolical.)
WANDERLUST: “I look forward to our wrestling meet!”
TRASHY: “It’s going to be spectacular!”
WANDERLUST: “It shall! Now, back to hack squats and chasing after chickens! Good day!”
(FTB)
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JLevinson
Diva Tree
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 707
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 43
(FADEIN to an NLW backdrop, plain and simple, with ”Electric” Eddie Patton standing in front of it, his arms crossed, and a smirk on his face.)
PATTON: “I still remember it like it was yesterday. The night the NLW talent scout came and saw me live for the first time. Wrestling in some backwater bar back home in Indiana. Said he had an opportunity for me.
“Of course, he said, since NLW is just starting up, you may find yourself often arguing with bizarre entities, from holocaust surviving zombies to the actual physical manifestation of trashy romance novel heroes. Or perhaps porn stars. The line is so blurry these days, isn’t it?
“What does one say to a man of your… stature, Wanderlust? Would it even matter?
“I must admit I smiled, Wanderlust. Your quest for a glimmering waist accessory is not without its charm.
“But how far does charm go in the ring, Wanderlust? How big can your biceps be before that front facelock doesn’t fit quite right anymore?
“Let me tell you something, my friend. NLW might be young, but EVERY belt has dignity. It is a symbol in itself. Of greatness and excellence. Of achievement through will.
“And in this, it is defined by those who carry it. Those who wield it with power and strength. Not a sideshow like yourself.
“I admire your courage. It must have been difficult for your tanning schedule to even bother threatening me with your whimsical thrashings. Would it help if I told you I am fairly unnerved by the amount of coconut oil I anticipate will end up on the mat?
“Hey now… Wanderlust… truth is, you’re just the first. First man to come out here and tell me he’s gonna beat me in that ring. Thought he was gonna make an example of me.
“They don’t call me Electric for nothin’ buddy… and I’ll smile and shake your hand, but when the bell rings, the lights come up, and everybody knows that it’s MY time.
“I didn’t come here to play second fiddle to you or anybody else. And I’ll go pound for pound with anyone on this Earth, dead or undead alike. I’m gonna light that crowd up and every little hair on every kid’s head is gonna stand up because they’re gonna FEEL that electricity coursin’ through their veins, and they’ll know that I earned every hard-earned dollar they put up for the greatest show on canvas.
“I can feel it chargin’ me up, Wanderlust. I can feel it oozing out of every pore in my body. And I just can’t wait to show the whole world… what Eddie Patton brings to the table.
“Take it easy, Wanderlust. It’s not easy being the first chapter of a great story.”
(FADEOUT.)
PATTON: “I still remember it like it was yesterday. The night the NLW talent scout came and saw me live for the first time. Wrestling in some backwater bar back home in Indiana. Said he had an opportunity for me.
“Of course, he said, since NLW is just starting up, you may find yourself often arguing with bizarre entities, from holocaust surviving zombies to the actual physical manifestation of trashy romance novel heroes. Or perhaps porn stars. The line is so blurry these days, isn’t it?
“What does one say to a man of your… stature, Wanderlust? Would it even matter?
“I must admit I smiled, Wanderlust. Your quest for a glimmering waist accessory is not without its charm.
“But how far does charm go in the ring, Wanderlust? How big can your biceps be before that front facelock doesn’t fit quite right anymore?
“Let me tell you something, my friend. NLW might be young, but EVERY belt has dignity. It is a symbol in itself. Of greatness and excellence. Of achievement through will.
“And in this, it is defined by those who carry it. Those who wield it with power and strength. Not a sideshow like yourself.
“I admire your courage. It must have been difficult for your tanning schedule to even bother threatening me with your whimsical thrashings. Would it help if I told you I am fairly unnerved by the amount of coconut oil I anticipate will end up on the mat?
“Hey now… Wanderlust… truth is, you’re just the first. First man to come out here and tell me he’s gonna beat me in that ring. Thought he was gonna make an example of me.
“They don’t call me Electric for nothin’ buddy… and I’ll smile and shake your hand, but when the bell rings, the lights come up, and everybody knows that it’s MY time.
“I didn’t come here to play second fiddle to you or anybody else. And I’ll go pound for pound with anyone on this Earth, dead or undead alike. I’m gonna light that crowd up and every little hair on every kid’s head is gonna stand up because they’re gonna FEEL that electricity coursin’ through their veins, and they’ll know that I earned every hard-earned dollar they put up for the greatest show on canvas.
“I can feel it chargin’ me up, Wanderlust. I can feel it oozing out of every pore in my body. And I just can’t wait to show the whole world… what Eddie Patton brings to the table.
“Take it easy, Wanderlust. It’s not easy being the first chapter of a great story.”
(FADEOUT.)
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(FADE-IN: Inside an upscale hotel room, Wanderlust stands, flanking two portly moving men, directing them as they push, pull, and drag an antique wardrobe toward the far wall. Wanderlust has no permanent ‘home,’ you see. He is nomadic; a true wayfarer. However, carrying all his clothes in a hobo spindle bag is, needless to say, quite impractical! Therefore, he has the previously mentioned wardrobe transported from city to city at great expense to... well, not him, but the sugar mommas whose pocket books open wider than their legs in the presence of the Scourge of Monogamy.
Wanderlust is dressed in a pair of silk pants and a painted-on white tank-top. He watches intently as the wheezing movers back the wardrobe against the wall and look to him for a gratuity. He simply laughs and offers a piece of advice originally told to him by an HIV positive opium dealer on his death bed: ‘Do your job. Do it well. And never -- never -- wear a rubber.’
How quaint.
With the moving men gone, Wanderlust turns to the camera. Trashy Romance is nowhere to be found; he’s gone in search of an eating establishment populated by extraordinarily beautiful, wedded gentlewomen -- Wanderlust’s favorite kind of female. Later, they will return to the spot, and Trashy will attempt to grope the most stunning of all the restaurant’s patrons, and Wanderlust will jump out and fuck him up horribly. Broken teeth, shredded gums, cracked orbital bone -- whatever’s needed to make it look legit. And Trashy’s happy to oblige.
Wanderlust stands in silence for a moment, thinking about the words of Eddie Patton. He’d viewed his promo not long before, and was taken aback by the kid’s unwillingness to lay down and admit his fragility and likeliness of getting trounced.)
WANDERLUST: “Eddie Patton, you foolish ectomorph, you try my patience. ...Do you not realize that if this were a novel, it would be a best-seller, and I would be the protagonist? Get it through your poorly developed skull: I am the one whom the plot is centered around.
“The story begins and ends with me. The bargain bin is thattaway, boy!
“Now, I may come across as an offbeat sideshow freak because I prattle on about my sexual conquests and far-out escapades, but make no mistake: Wanderlust is a dangerous man. A very dangerous man. You, on the other hand, look like a weakling; a scrawny, effeminate sissy-boy whom I shall thrash with relative ease!
“I understand that NLW is to be a haven for oddballs and lunatics. But I am neither of these things. I am simply a man blessed with an insatiable libido; a traveller whose feet have traversed every worthwhile plain and land formation in existence; a... pro-wrestler... bent on capturing the most important glimmering waist accessory available to me!
“But you stand in my way, and, because of this, I laugh! I laugh long and hard! I have to ask: What’s it like to have a penis that is smaller than your pinky finger? Do you stare at yourself in the mirror before bed every night, wondering why? You pathetic, namby-pamby wuss, fate did not bestow upon you the requisite dimensions needed to beat me!
“Forget what your fresh-faced high-school lover told you, Eddie Patton: Size does matter. It matters A LOT. It’s a sad fact of life, but a fact that you nonetheless must come to grips with sooner rather than later!
“I am a heavyweight phenom poised to dismantle those who compose the rank and file of this promotion! And I will do so with tarnished class and ceaseless bravado! Wanderlust shall flex his tightly compacted musculature, and women... impressionable young girls... will fan their bosoms as they cry out in biological urge!”
(The lecherous Wanderlust returns his skyward gaze to the camera. His arms lower to his sides momentarily, then cross over his chest. His eyes convey a sense of unmindful arrogance and perhaps even sociopathy.)
WANDERLUST: “Now, Eddie Patton, when I say I’m a heavyweight I’m not just referring to my impressive stature. I am a larger-than-life world-seer and world-beater. The tired masses, dispirited by the current U.S. economy, will see, in me, an escape. Underdogs are only popular when there’s a chance they might overcome and win.
“Against me, Eddie Patton, you have no chance. Electric or not, when the bell rings, you and I are going to tango, and I’ve tangoed with professional tango dancers. I know where to step; I know when to lead; and I know when to drop a bitch for another bitch of equal or greater beauty! ... Aren’t analogies fun? ... What I’m trying to say is, you and I will have our time, and it will be fleeting. When it’s all said and done, I will leave you face-down in a puddle of ‘coconut oil,’ and move onto bigger and better things.
“My time is valuable. I’ll give you four, maybe five minutes, before I put an exclamation mark on my NLW debut and be done with you forever... See, the Mystic-Traveller has to save his energy for the bevies in the bedroom.”
(Wanderlust smiles toothily.)
WANDERLUST: “You said you can’t wait to show the world what Eddie Patton brings to the table...
“Well, you’ve already shown me.
“I yawned.
“I chuckled.
“I looked right past you.
“You’re a loaf of grocery store white bread. I’m an exotic French baguette. Still piping hot. Fresh out the oven.”
(Wanderlust extends his arms out to the side, again. Right on cue, a fake breeze blows his shoulder-length dirty-blonde hair, preceded by the perceived opening and shutting of a door and the clamoring of feet. Yes, Trashy Romance has returned just in the nick of time to push the necessary button on the fan to create the effect of wind blowing through his guru’s luscious hair. Why they felt such a thing was plausible, seeing as they’re inside, no one knows.)
WANDERLUST: “Three words to describe Wanderlust: Classy... Frassy... Brassy.
“Eddie Patton, the only thing that’s going to stand up during the course of this match is my thirteen-inch member as I inflict gorgeous punishment to your unattractive face. So don’t you worry about the hairs on the heads of NLW’s least important demographic. Kids are a nuisance, and they serve only to render the mothers that birth them useless to me as a giver and getter of sexual pleasure. Too loosey-goosey does nothing for me. Kids are terrible, plain and simple. So, please understand, there won’t be electricity coursing through their veins. I won’t allow it. Firing that night will be the synapses in your feeble, little brain as worry and panic sets in, and you come to the realization that no measure of will and determination, both of which you no doubt possess, will be enough to defeat Wanderlust. Physically, mentally, spiritually, I am the superior being. 5,000 times the being that you are.
“Super human isn’t just a comic book ideal anymore. It stands before you, crystallized, sharpened at every corner. Perfection achieved.
“Perfection personified.”
(FTB)
Wanderlust is dressed in a pair of silk pants and a painted-on white tank-top. He watches intently as the wheezing movers back the wardrobe against the wall and look to him for a gratuity. He simply laughs and offers a piece of advice originally told to him by an HIV positive opium dealer on his death bed: ‘Do your job. Do it well. And never -- never -- wear a rubber.’
How quaint.
With the moving men gone, Wanderlust turns to the camera. Trashy Romance is nowhere to be found; he’s gone in search of an eating establishment populated by extraordinarily beautiful, wedded gentlewomen -- Wanderlust’s favorite kind of female. Later, they will return to the spot, and Trashy will attempt to grope the most stunning of all the restaurant’s patrons, and Wanderlust will jump out and fuck him up horribly. Broken teeth, shredded gums, cracked orbital bone -- whatever’s needed to make it look legit. And Trashy’s happy to oblige.
Wanderlust stands in silence for a moment, thinking about the words of Eddie Patton. He’d viewed his promo not long before, and was taken aback by the kid’s unwillingness to lay down and admit his fragility and likeliness of getting trounced.)
WANDERLUST: “Eddie Patton, you foolish ectomorph, you try my patience. ...Do you not realize that if this were a novel, it would be a best-seller, and I would be the protagonist? Get it through your poorly developed skull: I am the one whom the plot is centered around.
“The story begins and ends with me. The bargain bin is thattaway, boy!
“Now, I may come across as an offbeat sideshow freak because I prattle on about my sexual conquests and far-out escapades, but make no mistake: Wanderlust is a dangerous man. A very dangerous man. You, on the other hand, look like a weakling; a scrawny, effeminate sissy-boy whom I shall thrash with relative ease!
“I understand that NLW is to be a haven for oddballs and lunatics. But I am neither of these things. I am simply a man blessed with an insatiable libido; a traveller whose feet have traversed every worthwhile plain and land formation in existence; a... pro-wrestler... bent on capturing the most important glimmering waist accessory available to me!
“But you stand in my way, and, because of this, I laugh! I laugh long and hard! I have to ask: What’s it like to have a penis that is smaller than your pinky finger? Do you stare at yourself in the mirror before bed every night, wondering why? You pathetic, namby-pamby wuss, fate did not bestow upon you the requisite dimensions needed to beat me!
“Forget what your fresh-faced high-school lover told you, Eddie Patton: Size does matter. It matters A LOT. It’s a sad fact of life, but a fact that you nonetheless must come to grips with sooner rather than later!
“I am a heavyweight phenom poised to dismantle those who compose the rank and file of this promotion! And I will do so with tarnished class and ceaseless bravado! Wanderlust shall flex his tightly compacted musculature, and women... impressionable young girls... will fan their bosoms as they cry out in biological urge!”
(The lecherous Wanderlust returns his skyward gaze to the camera. His arms lower to his sides momentarily, then cross over his chest. His eyes convey a sense of unmindful arrogance and perhaps even sociopathy.)
WANDERLUST: “Now, Eddie Patton, when I say I’m a heavyweight I’m not just referring to my impressive stature. I am a larger-than-life world-seer and world-beater. The tired masses, dispirited by the current U.S. economy, will see, in me, an escape. Underdogs are only popular when there’s a chance they might overcome and win.
“Against me, Eddie Patton, you have no chance. Electric or not, when the bell rings, you and I are going to tango, and I’ve tangoed with professional tango dancers. I know where to step; I know when to lead; and I know when to drop a bitch for another bitch of equal or greater beauty! ... Aren’t analogies fun? ... What I’m trying to say is, you and I will have our time, and it will be fleeting. When it’s all said and done, I will leave you face-down in a puddle of ‘coconut oil,’ and move onto bigger and better things.
“My time is valuable. I’ll give you four, maybe five minutes, before I put an exclamation mark on my NLW debut and be done with you forever... See, the Mystic-Traveller has to save his energy for the bevies in the bedroom.”
(Wanderlust smiles toothily.)
WANDERLUST: “You said you can’t wait to show the world what Eddie Patton brings to the table...
“Well, you’ve already shown me.
“I yawned.
“I chuckled.
“I looked right past you.
“You’re a loaf of grocery store white bread. I’m an exotic French baguette. Still piping hot. Fresh out the oven.”
(Wanderlust extends his arms out to the side, again. Right on cue, a fake breeze blows his shoulder-length dirty-blonde hair, preceded by the perceived opening and shutting of a door and the clamoring of feet. Yes, Trashy Romance has returned just in the nick of time to push the necessary button on the fan to create the effect of wind blowing through his guru’s luscious hair. Why they felt such a thing was plausible, seeing as they’re inside, no one knows.)
WANDERLUST: “Three words to describe Wanderlust: Classy... Frassy... Brassy.
“Eddie Patton, the only thing that’s going to stand up during the course of this match is my thirteen-inch member as I inflict gorgeous punishment to your unattractive face. So don’t you worry about the hairs on the heads of NLW’s least important demographic. Kids are a nuisance, and they serve only to render the mothers that birth them useless to me as a giver and getter of sexual pleasure. Too loosey-goosey does nothing for me. Kids are terrible, plain and simple. So, please understand, there won’t be electricity coursing through their veins. I won’t allow it. Firing that night will be the synapses in your feeble, little brain as worry and panic sets in, and you come to the realization that no measure of will and determination, both of which you no doubt possess, will be enough to defeat Wanderlust. Physically, mentally, spiritually, I am the superior being. 5,000 times the being that you are.
“Super human isn’t just a comic book ideal anymore. It stands before you, crystallized, sharpened at every corner. Perfection achieved.
“Perfection personified.”
(FTB)
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JLevinson
Diva Tree
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 707
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 43
(FADEIN to what appears to be a dive bar somewhere in New York, from the plethora of New York Yankees, Mets, and Knicks banners adorning the walls. An older man sits at the bar and watches SportsCenter along with a few quiet locals muttering to themselves.
A door pushes open and in walks Eddie Patton wearing a blue work jacket along with a gray t-shirt and blue jeans. He takes a seat at the bar.)
PATTON: “Can I get a, uh… Brooklyn Lager?”
(The bartender looks up and stops for a second, peering long at the man trying to order a drink.)
BARTENDER: “Hey, uh… you remind me of someone from back in my days in the Midwest… tell me, your name wouldn’t happen to be…. “
PATTON: “… Eddie? Yeah, it sure does old man!”
(The bartender’s face lights up.)
BARTENDER: “EDDIE! Oh man! It’s great to see ya, kid! God, are you even old enough to drink?”
PATTON: (Laughing.) “Yeah, I sure am. You said to come look ya up if I ever made it to the city, and, well… here I am.”
BARTENDER: “Well I’ll be damned. I saw a flyer for Next Level Wrestling here in the city, and I saw your name, and I thought, no, couldn’t be, it’s a common name… not you.
PATTON: “Funny where the hand of fate takes ya. Always said I was gonna move on to bigger and better things, you know.“
BARTENDER: “So I see you’re up against some guy named Wanderlust. Poster said he was a might bigger than ya.”
PATTON: “Yeah, well, they’re all bigger’n’Iam… so what? Didn’t Vince Lombardi say that it wasn’t the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog? I got a lotta fight in me, you know that… “
BARTENDER: “Nobody ever pushed you around, Eddie, that’s for sure. I sure know the other kids tried. Few of ‘em ended up in the hospital that way. Can’t say I felt too much pity, even for kids. Some of ‘em got evil hearts.”
PATTON: “Yes they do. Like Wanderlust. Dark hearts with dark intentions. Shimmering gold to fit around the waist.
“I don’t expect much from a man who spends as much time regaling me with tales of his member as he does trying to understand the basic mechanics of an actual wrestling match. He’s so consumed with himself, so far beyond any cusp of reality, it’s hard to believe he’ll even find the venue, much less actually put up a fight.”
BARTENDER: “I dunno, Eddie… you don’t wanna get hurt. This guy could be high on paint fumes or something.“
PATTON: (Chuckling.) “I see your point. And believe me, I have no intention of underestimating this guy. I know full well that he has no intention of just going in there and laying down.
“But don’t think for one second that just cause size matters that I ain’t got no motion to my ocean, I’m plenty charged ‘n ready to go, and all the conquered housewives across this great country are gonna save him from the Circuit Breaker.
“I’m not here to teach anybody a valuable moral lesson. I show by example. Excellence speaks for itself, and potential is just another word for what you could’ve been.
“It begins and ends in that ring. Not on some beach somewhere. Not in between someone’s or, let’s face it, some THING’s thighs…
“It’s about the greatness of the moment, of achievement and desire and glory all borne out of the self-actualization of willpower. I am more than these scrawny bones. I am tenacious and ready.
“Don’t worry, though, cause when the whole world is SHOCKED by what ‘Electric’ Eddie Patton can do.. you can say, you were there, you witnessed it…
“… you saw the spark that began it all.”
(He raises his glass and drinks with the bartender. FADEOUT.)
A door pushes open and in walks Eddie Patton wearing a blue work jacket along with a gray t-shirt and blue jeans. He takes a seat at the bar.)
PATTON: “Can I get a, uh… Brooklyn Lager?”
(The bartender looks up and stops for a second, peering long at the man trying to order a drink.)
BARTENDER: “Hey, uh… you remind me of someone from back in my days in the Midwest… tell me, your name wouldn’t happen to be…. “
PATTON: “… Eddie? Yeah, it sure does old man!”
(The bartender’s face lights up.)
BARTENDER: “EDDIE! Oh man! It’s great to see ya, kid! God, are you even old enough to drink?”
PATTON: (Laughing.) “Yeah, I sure am. You said to come look ya up if I ever made it to the city, and, well… here I am.”
BARTENDER: “Well I’ll be damned. I saw a flyer for Next Level Wrestling here in the city, and I saw your name, and I thought, no, couldn’t be, it’s a common name… not you.
PATTON: “Funny where the hand of fate takes ya. Always said I was gonna move on to bigger and better things, you know.“
BARTENDER: “So I see you’re up against some guy named Wanderlust. Poster said he was a might bigger than ya.”
PATTON: “Yeah, well, they’re all bigger’n’Iam… so what? Didn’t Vince Lombardi say that it wasn’t the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog? I got a lotta fight in me, you know that… “
BARTENDER: “Nobody ever pushed you around, Eddie, that’s for sure. I sure know the other kids tried. Few of ‘em ended up in the hospital that way. Can’t say I felt too much pity, even for kids. Some of ‘em got evil hearts.”
PATTON: “Yes they do. Like Wanderlust. Dark hearts with dark intentions. Shimmering gold to fit around the waist.
“I don’t expect much from a man who spends as much time regaling me with tales of his member as he does trying to understand the basic mechanics of an actual wrestling match. He’s so consumed with himself, so far beyond any cusp of reality, it’s hard to believe he’ll even find the venue, much less actually put up a fight.”
BARTENDER: “I dunno, Eddie… you don’t wanna get hurt. This guy could be high on paint fumes or something.“
PATTON: (Chuckling.) “I see your point. And believe me, I have no intention of underestimating this guy. I know full well that he has no intention of just going in there and laying down.
“But don’t think for one second that just cause size matters that I ain’t got no motion to my ocean, I’m plenty charged ‘n ready to go, and all the conquered housewives across this great country are gonna save him from the Circuit Breaker.
“I’m not here to teach anybody a valuable moral lesson. I show by example. Excellence speaks for itself, and potential is just another word for what you could’ve been.
“It begins and ends in that ring. Not on some beach somewhere. Not in between someone’s or, let’s face it, some THING’s thighs…
“It’s about the greatness of the moment, of achievement and desire and glory all borne out of the self-actualization of willpower. I am more than these scrawny bones. I am tenacious and ready.
“Don’t worry, though, cause when the whole world is SHOCKED by what ‘Electric’ Eddie Patton can do.. you can say, you were there, you witnessed it…
“… you saw the spark that began it all.”
(He raises his glass and drinks with the bartender. FADEOUT.)
(FADE-IN: ... on the baby oil-slathered chest of WANDERLUST~! Skin golden brown like buttered toast. Fabio hair permed; the odd tress beaded. Describe Wanderlust in three words? Well, using his own surreal words: Classy. Frassy. Brassy. Get it right and get it hetero (straight, ya hurrrd?): it’s gonna be a shirt-seller.
Wanderlust: 1980s GQ, for sure. A phantasmagoria of sleaze and charm.
The scene stays with Wanderlust for two or three minutes, the entire duration in which he does nothing. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t bat an eye. He just lets us marvel at his physique.)
(FTB)
...
...
(FADE-IN, AGAIN: Wanderlust stands, as the camera pulls back, revealing the rest of his surroundings -- a posh hotel bathroom. His waist is wrapped with a towel; he’d just stepped out of the shower long enough to apply his very expensive ‘shine serum’ to his entire body.
Trashy Romance’s odd sexual attraction to his guru practically resonates through your TV set. He’s in what scientists call ‘gay heat.’
Every child rape, ever, can be attributable to gay heat.
Okay, now for some TALKING!)
WANDERLUST: “Back so soon, envious swine?”
(Wanderlust sports a cheeky grin. He de-towels and begins drying off his hair, which is already dry as though it never actually got wet. Because it didn’t. It doesn’t. **** has a preternatural force-field around it -- product of a fuck-ton of hairspray.)
WANDERLUST: “Ha! ... No, I joke. I kid. You are not swine. Envious, yes; swine, no. I once owned a pet pig, and he was a great, great friend. Then, one day, a young gentlewoman -- a debutant -- remarked to me that bacon made her horney. We were up at the Wanderlodge, a ski cabin that was gifted to me by the needy wife of an limp-di[/i]ck investment banker (excuse my French!), and there was no a slab of pig product in a ten-mile radius. So, I walked into the living room, steak knife in hand, gazed down upon my pink-skinned friend of eight years, and ... ran out the door in a frenzy; far, far into the very dense surrounding wilderness! I would not betray my friend for untouched vagina, and I didn’t! I am not an animal!
“So, no, fans of NLW, I do not consider you swine. You are dirt. Dirt that’s wives and girlfriends I will no doubt bed in the very near future!
“As a side note, I bid good-morrow to said wives and girlfriend.” (Wink) “Wanderlust will be with you soon enough!
“And as for my opponent, Eddie Patton, I find humor in your bar-dwelling ways! Watch me laugh at you! Ha... ha... ha. You spent enough time at that bar to shoot a wrestling promo, and the only person you struck-up a conversation with... was the bartender? The only person in that entire vermin-infested hole-in-the-wall that would listen to you sugary small-talk was a guy that was probably grossly intoxicated and thought, due to your effeminate stature, you to be a cheap prostitute worth a sloppy 2 a.m. railing?”
(The almighty face-palm says, with a chuckle, ‘You’re fuckin’ pathetic, dude!’)
WANDERLUST: “I feel for you, Eddie Patton. In fact, I will even lone out Trashy -- he’ll teach you how a skinny man with no ability makes a living in this world. That is, following yours truly around, and occasionally performing fellatio on the intrusive, closeted husband of my latest conquest! I like to keep EVERYONE happy!
“If you decline, I will crush you. Mark my words. However, afterwards I’ll take you out to a real bar -- somewhere classy and dimly lit -- and we’ll find you a mate. I’m a nice person, you see. I’ve been so blessed -- physically, mentally, and physically, yet again. I’ve been so blessed that I like to perform charitable acts. And since this is my first ‘bout’ inside the ‘squared circle,’ I cannot afford a loss. I cannot. You must be ‘out wrestled’ for I am the superior ‘wrestler,’ utilizer of holds and slams and the odd open-handed punch-slap!
“...You can enunciate your stillborn inspirational message in a bar, or, better yet, in front of a mirror like a nervous ninth-grader before junior prom -- but you will fail to convince even yourself. You will enter the squared circle a scared, regretful young man. And Wanderlust will punch-slap and D-D-T and execute finishing holds~! until you’ve got no spirit left to crush. Then I’ll cover you for whatever the required amount of time is, and I’ll be declared the victor! Another conquest for Wanderlust! The Mystic-Traveller! The Lustful One!
“I will take my winnings and go somewhere tropical for a period of time that is presently indeterminable. Trashy will stay behind and no doubt freeze on the streets.
“Such is life.
“Such is... WANDERLUST~!”
(Dramatic eye-closure as we FTB)
Wanderlust: 1980s GQ, for sure. A phantasmagoria of sleaze and charm.
The scene stays with Wanderlust for two or three minutes, the entire duration in which he does nothing. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t bat an eye. He just lets us marvel at his physique.)
(FTB)
...
...
(FADE-IN, AGAIN: Wanderlust stands, as the camera pulls back, revealing the rest of his surroundings -- a posh hotel bathroom. His waist is wrapped with a towel; he’d just stepped out of the shower long enough to apply his very expensive ‘shine serum’ to his entire body.
Trashy Romance’s odd sexual attraction to his guru practically resonates through your TV set. He’s in what scientists call ‘gay heat.’
Every child rape, ever, can be attributable to gay heat.
Okay, now for some TALKING!)
WANDERLUST: “Back so soon, envious swine?”
(Wanderlust sports a cheeky grin. He de-towels and begins drying off his hair, which is already dry as though it never actually got wet. Because it didn’t. It doesn’t. **** has a preternatural force-field around it -- product of a fuck-ton of hairspray.)
WANDERLUST: “Ha! ... No, I joke. I kid. You are not swine. Envious, yes; swine, no. I once owned a pet pig, and he was a great, great friend. Then, one day, a young gentlewoman -- a debutant -- remarked to me that bacon made her horney. We were up at the Wanderlodge, a ski cabin that was gifted to me by the needy wife of an limp-di[/i]ck investment banker (excuse my French!), and there was no a slab of pig product in a ten-mile radius. So, I walked into the living room, steak knife in hand, gazed down upon my pink-skinned friend of eight years, and ... ran out the door in a frenzy; far, far into the very dense surrounding wilderness! I would not betray my friend for untouched vagina, and I didn’t! I am not an animal!
“So, no, fans of NLW, I do not consider you swine. You are dirt. Dirt that’s wives and girlfriends I will no doubt bed in the very near future!
“As a side note, I bid good-morrow to said wives and girlfriend.” (Wink) “Wanderlust will be with you soon enough!
“And as for my opponent, Eddie Patton, I find humor in your bar-dwelling ways! Watch me laugh at you! Ha... ha... ha. You spent enough time at that bar to shoot a wrestling promo, and the only person you struck-up a conversation with... was the bartender? The only person in that entire vermin-infested hole-in-the-wall that would listen to you sugary small-talk was a guy that was probably grossly intoxicated and thought, due to your effeminate stature, you to be a cheap prostitute worth a sloppy 2 a.m. railing?”
(The almighty face-palm says, with a chuckle, ‘You’re fuckin’ pathetic, dude!’)
WANDERLUST: “I feel for you, Eddie Patton. In fact, I will even lone out Trashy -- he’ll teach you how a skinny man with no ability makes a living in this world. That is, following yours truly around, and occasionally performing fellatio on the intrusive, closeted husband of my latest conquest! I like to keep EVERYONE happy!
“If you decline, I will crush you. Mark my words. However, afterwards I’ll take you out to a real bar -- somewhere classy and dimly lit -- and we’ll find you a mate. I’m a nice person, you see. I’ve been so blessed -- physically, mentally, and physically, yet again. I’ve been so blessed that I like to perform charitable acts. And since this is my first ‘bout’ inside the ‘squared circle,’ I cannot afford a loss. I cannot. You must be ‘out wrestled’ for I am the superior ‘wrestler,’ utilizer of holds and slams and the odd open-handed punch-slap!
“...You can enunciate your stillborn inspirational message in a bar, or, better yet, in front of a mirror like a nervous ninth-grader before junior prom -- but you will fail to convince even yourself. You will enter the squared circle a scared, regretful young man. And Wanderlust will punch-slap and D-D-T and execute finishing holds~! until you’ve got no spirit left to crush. Then I’ll cover you for whatever the required amount of time is, and I’ll be declared the victor! Another conquest for Wanderlust! The Mystic-Traveller! The Lustful One!
“I will take my winnings and go somewhere tropical for a period of time that is presently indeterminable. Trashy will stay behind and no doubt freeze on the streets.
“Such is life.
“Such is... WANDERLUST~!”
(Dramatic eye-closure as we FTB)
Last edited:
JLevinson
Diva Tree
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2000
- Messages
- 707
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 43
(FADEIN to a simple Next Level Wrestling backdrop. In front of it stands ”Electric” Eddie Patton. He’s smiling and his arms at his sides. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that simply says “Electric.”)
PATTON: “Can you feel it? That cracklin’ in the air? The soft hum of potential energy? Do you know what I’m talkin’ about, Wanderlust?
“I’m not what you’d call a complex man. I like hot dogs and fireworks and big fields and soft kisses. I love my country and I love that I come from a place that has given me this opportunity to stand here before you with something to prove.
“And something to give.
“See… I’ve been a fan for a long, long time. I know the legends. I’ve seen the evolution of the sport. I know we can’t go back to the way things were.
“But there is still beauty in the simplicity, Wanderlust. There is something glorious and magnificent about a well-executed Russian Leg Sweep. Or a crucifix armbar. Like watchin’ the sunrise with a cute girl.
“And in my love for this sport, for everything I’ve witnessed, I have something to give back. And that ain’t good for you, Wanderlust.
“Cause I didn’t come here to lay down for you. And while your… lifestyle choices… aren’t exactly how I was raised, I ain’t here judgin’ ya, buddy.
“I am not too little. I am not too short. I am not too weak.
“I have all the strength I’ll need right here, buddy (Points to his chest.) and I just DARE you to walk into THAT ring and try to push me around, cause you’re gonna be the first person to know that there’s more to this sport than you and me…
“This is my destiny. This is everything I was born to do. And NLW has given me this chance, this blessing, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
“No matter who wins, I know my name will ring out and the fans… they’ll be witness to the birth of something. And they’ll know in their hearts that I have every intention of earnin’ this nickname…
“My name’s Eddie Patton, and I’ve come to NLW to light it up, and I promise… you ain’t gonna be disappointed.”
(FADEOUT.)
PATTON: “Can you feel it? That cracklin’ in the air? The soft hum of potential energy? Do you know what I’m talkin’ about, Wanderlust?
“I’m not what you’d call a complex man. I like hot dogs and fireworks and big fields and soft kisses. I love my country and I love that I come from a place that has given me this opportunity to stand here before you with something to prove.
“And something to give.
“See… I’ve been a fan for a long, long time. I know the legends. I’ve seen the evolution of the sport. I know we can’t go back to the way things were.
“But there is still beauty in the simplicity, Wanderlust. There is something glorious and magnificent about a well-executed Russian Leg Sweep. Or a crucifix armbar. Like watchin’ the sunrise with a cute girl.
“And in my love for this sport, for everything I’ve witnessed, I have something to give back. And that ain’t good for you, Wanderlust.
“Cause I didn’t come here to lay down for you. And while your… lifestyle choices… aren’t exactly how I was raised, I ain’t here judgin’ ya, buddy.
“I am not too little. I am not too short. I am not too weak.
“I have all the strength I’ll need right here, buddy (Points to his chest.) and I just DARE you to walk into THAT ring and try to push me around, cause you’re gonna be the first person to know that there’s more to this sport than you and me…
“This is my destiny. This is everything I was born to do. And NLW has given me this chance, this blessing, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
“No matter who wins, I know my name will ring out and the fans… they’ll be witness to the birth of something. And they’ll know in their hearts that I have every intention of earnin’ this nickname…
“My name’s Eddie Patton, and I’ve come to NLW to light it up, and I promise… you ain’t gonna be disappointed.”
(FADEOUT.)
- Status