[FADE IN. Mr. Entertainment, freshly calmed down, is sitting in a director’s chair in a barren room. There’s a torn poster on the wall, but nothing else of note]
ME: Kid… I honestly cannot be-LIEVE ya had ME
Mister Entertainment
So worked up! I mean, look at ya! Do ya listen ta yerself? Ya “hope” ya can do the job? Yer “resolved” ta make yer mark?Not the best technician slash hardest hitter? I swear, I dozed of abou’ twenty times tryin’ ta take it all in, bu’ it sounded like ya’ll ain’t got a lot o’ confidence, have ya? Maybe ya took after yer trainer, I dunno. But my GODS man, can’t ya at least pretend ya’ve got a personality? Or is yer confidence saved fer two second bursts tossing guys outta Christmas lots?
I’m gonna let ya in on a lil’ secret, Greenhorn – in this business ya tend ta have ta be ENTERTAINING or a’ least decent in the ring, or d’ya know wha’ the fans’ll do?
Give ya wha’ the smarks call… the Hacker pop. Used ta be the Haas pop bu’ then someone watched some ol’ WFW matches. Go figure.
Listen, kid, ya got lucky at Unplugged. It happens. It’s like… winnin’ the lottery. Someone has ta do it, an’ at Unplugged, yer numbers came up. Bu’… an’ this is the truth… it ain’t gonna happen again. Ya wanna know why?
Because unlike you – who claims ta love pro wrestlin’ but complained abou’ bein’ booked fer a match outside a wrestlin’ ring – I’m number one, a professional, an’ number two, talented. I’ve starred in commercials across the PLANET because I can turn a script inta somethin’ more. I can sell ice ta penguins, an’ in the ring I can an’ have beaten the best. What’ve ya’ll done? Gotten lucky. An’ said tha’ a wrestlin’ match wasn’t a wrestlin’ match like a dimwit.
Ya see, Jeff, there’s this lil’ ol’ thing called… ENTERTAINMENT. Tha’s part o’ what we do. We put our bodies on the line in any number o’ wrestlin’ matches – ladders, tables, chairs, blindfolds, dildo-on-pole, throw yer opponent inta the water, ride a jetski – an’ all o’ it’s… wrestling. That’s what makes us so much better than wimps like… Floyd Mayweather Junior, or Manny Pacquiao, or Tito Ortiz. We don’t stop fer rounds, we don’t fight with paddin’ on, an’ hell if we have ta we’ll wrestle in a parkin’ lot. How many major MMA or boxin’ matches have ya’ll seen where the action spilled outta the ring, inta the water, an’ onta a nearby island? When’ll ya EVER see tha’, except in pro wrestling an’ the greatest company – World’s Finest Wrestling, the New Era?
I mean, ya talk abou’ havin’ a passion fer this business bu’ ya’ll spent so damn long complainin’ abou’ the Christmas Lot Brawl before it took place tha’ I have ta wonder. Is it high-school wrestlin’ ya want, or the big leagues?
If it’s the big leagues, yer gonna have ta do a lot, lot more.
Oh, bu’ I know, yer young, yer hungry. Yer tryin’ fer tha’ whole Rocky feelin’, workin’ yer way up, bein’ a “common person”, who maybe, jus’ maybe, will make it ta the top. It’s admirable, Jeff, tha’ ya’ve chosen such a guaranteed FAIL path fer yerself, bu’ lemme give ya’ll a lesson. Before we get ta RAUCOUS, I mean. It’s the difference between YOU… an’ ME
Mister Entertainment.
You… are tryin’ ta show yer passion. I, show my passion, fer wrestlin’ an’ being the greatest ENTERTAINER on the planet.
You… think you can earn admiration an’ respect. I… know I can do it.
You hope you can do the job… an’ I’m gonna show you tha’ you WILL do the J.O.B.
You also think tha’ I’m more concerned with bein’ entertaining than being a wrestler. I think HAL though’ tha’. So did Johnny Boy at the announce desk. And, erm… they both lost. Ta ME
Mister Entertainment.
Not because I thought I could beat them. I knew I’d beat them. Just like I know I’m gonna beat you. The fans, ya see, have certain expectations. An’ ya’ll’re just… so far beneath them… tha’ I’ll have ta bring a card-board cut-out o’ myself ta wrestle after I’m done with you, or the fans’ll feel cheated!
Tha’ an’ the cut-out’ll be more of a challenge.
I gave ya a chance, Jeff. I gave ya a shot a’ doin’ somethin’ people’ll remember in years ta come. Playin’ the part o’ the guy who comes back from injury just hopin’… jus’ tryin’ ta make it back, ta get ta the top after a bad injury. Tha’ kinda drama’s wha’ people want. They wanna be ENTERTAINED, but what ya’ve decided ta do is bore them ta tears. By bein’ the modest non-entity, the guy trained by a loser ta become a bigger loser. The fans, they ain’t gonna cheer fer you. They’re gonna cheer once yer outta the ring, outta this company, an’ outta this business, because it’ll be one less dull… borin’… nobody… tha’ they have ta watch.
People want a show, Jeff, an’ I intend ta give them one. They want ta see someone with personality, with skills, someone who’ll do the unexpected. Someone who’ll keep them on the edge of their seat; take them on a rollercoaster; an’ leave them either beggin’ fer more, or satisfied. They want the spectacle, the bright lights, the glitz, the glamour. They want ta ferget abou’ their tired miserable lives fer a couple o’ hours, not be reminded o’ it by a young punk who’s so dull, ya gave ta turn the contrast right the way up ta put some colour in him.
In short, Jeff, they want ME
Mister Entertainment.
So, turn up, lace yer boots fer the last time, an’ say goodbye ta yer dream. Because between yer lack o’ confidence, yer hatred o’ big time wrestlin’, an’ the same lack o’ personality as yer trainer…
This is gonna be the easiest win o’ my career.
[FADE OUT]
