[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]FADE-IN: It's a cloudy Monday in New York City and there were showers a few hours back, making for a misty day. In the neighbourhood of Crown Heights, Brooklyn, we zoom in on a row of houses in the Orthodox Jewish community, and the camera zooms in on one particular house. Stumbling out of the front door and down the small set of steps is Eli Scheinberg, engaged in a conversation with someone back inside.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “I can't get groceries, dear! I told you! I have fucking promo bollocks to do!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI'S WIFE: “I told you I didn't want any cameras around our house! Besides, how come ya can't get groceries and do your wrestling thing at the same time? If they're just going to film you walking and talking then you might as well get SOMETHING done around here instead of run your mouth off!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “You're humanising me, dear! You're humanising me to the masses!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI'S WIFE: “Oh please, Eli! Everyone knows you go to the toilet like every other person in the world. Who are you trying to impress?!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “Nobody! I don't need to impress anybody! Ya know what? Gimme the fucking shopping list...”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI'S WIFE: “Oh now ya wanna go shopping!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “Just give me the fucking list!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]A notepad flies through the door and hits Eli in the face. He stares back into the house, expressionless.[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “That's real fucking mature, babe.” Snatches the notepad off the ground, stuffs it in his inner coat pocket and shuts the door hard. He continues down the steps and down the sidewalk. “I tell ya, Jewish women are curses put on men. I know what you're thinking, Mr. Wanderlust, and no... Besides the fact that Orthodox women adhere to some bullshit halacha that I can't keep track of, preventing them from even brushing up on someone of the opposite sex, you wouldn't want to bark up that tree. Trust me, if you can get them to stop nagging and complaining in the sack, you must be a stud... Like me...”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]He's quick to jump on a dime that's on the ground and pick it up.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]It's something I don't think you could handle, sir. Yes, I know, I could have called the camera out here and talk bollocks about how I'll have no trouble stringing together a series of suplexes and submission holds to defeat you on Vulgar. I could have talked about how I'm going to snap your chicken legs and shove your crotch stuffing down your throat, but that's too easy. Instead, I wished to attack your love-making ability and tell you that I have you trumped there as well.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]He crosses the street, pissing off some honking drivers. All he does is give them the British V sign and keep on down the street, careless to their frustration.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]I don't even think you have seen a vag in your life, honestly. It shows in your exaggerated arrogance and mannerisms that someone is compensating for something. And ya know what? Another reason I called the camera out here was to prove a point. Even if you really are this love machine, I don't care. I read some t-shirt the other day that said, 'Pornography is for poseurs. It takes a real man to love and care for a woman.' Or some bollocks like that... Ya see, you may have those dumbass muscles and the retarded tan, but I don't give a sh[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]i[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]t because I know it's all a cover. I wanted to show you what a real family looked like...”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]He stops at a charity booth outside of a shop. He goes into his pocket and pulls out a fistful of change. He begins counting the change up and makes sure to give exactly four quarters for a dollar. He puts the rest back in his pocket, confusing the lady at the booth. [/FONT]
“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Yeah, the silly b[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]i[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]tch thinks promo time means it's time to go shop for the f[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]u[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]cking groceries, but she's smart and beautiful and all that other sh[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]i[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]t. She challenges me on an intellectual level, something that isn't too hard for you because all you need is some f[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]u[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]cking Crayons to keep you busy. Isn't that right, Mr. Muscles-For-Brains? It's why you'll never wrap your mind around how meaningless and shallow your whole act is.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Goes into a shop real quick, compares prices, and picks the candy bar that is ten cents cheaper before meeting the camera back outside.[/FONT]
“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]What was I saying again? Eh, f[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]u[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ck if I know. All I know is that I can't be f[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]u[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]cked to chew and talk at the same time, since I'm not an expert knob sucker or anything. But yeah, f[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]u[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ck you Wanderlust, suck my circumcised dick and all that sh[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]i[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]t. Doesn't matter how much muscle you have if you don't know how to throw a punch. Gonna beat you on Vulgar, I'm sure... Right, get out of here cameraman, I don't need you all to see what brand of toilet paper I like.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]The cameraman stops, leaving a seemingly more-disgruntled-than-usual Eli to walk off with his stereotypical Manchester arm-flapping strut. FADE TO BLACK[/FONT]