xiii. Now you see us
(FADEIN: West 34th Street, NYC, right in front of the Manhattan Center. ZESTY MORDANT, bruised and beat up from his match earlier, clad in a tattered button down shirt, black track pants and a wide assortment of vomit and drink stains, staggers down the sidewalk to his apparent destination: the hard brick wall of a building)
ZESTY: Gadamat, Corey! Corey!
(The anorexic giraffe, COREY TREVOR, comes running to Zesty’s side)
COREY TREVOR: What is it, Zesty?
ZESTY: Huh? What’s what, Corey?
ZESTY: God, you’re shtupid.
(Zesty takes a flurry of steps, the sort that a drunk takes with his head leading the way and the rest of his body angled behind; ya know, the sort that doesn’t last long and he trips over himself, falling to the pavement)
CT: Yeah, Zesty?
ZESTY: I won, right?
CT: I don’t know yet Zesty. I didn’t watch.
ZESTY: Fack. Help me up.
(Corey does so, with great effort. As they stand and plot their next move, Zesty spies a wheelbarrow in an alley across the street)
ZESTY: Corey, see that? The red thing there. Fetch!
(Corey nervously runs into the clogged city street- taxis, limos, and others vehicles beep at him and a couple narrowly miss ending his life on the spot. Eventually he makes it to the other side, grabs the wheelbarrow, and repeats his run across the street. One taxi actually tags him, but he gets back up and makes it to the side where Zesty awaits)
(CUTTO: Zesty in the wheelbarrow, ass firmly entrenched with arms and legs akimbo. Corey pushing with all his might)
ZESTY: Ya know, Corey, ssso fackin’ much depends onnn red wheelbarrowsh and things like rain and watering chickens. Like, uah, ya know I thinksh thish Chink isha chicken, a Chinken yaknoamean?
CT: No, Zesty. Am I going the right way?
(Camera gets a quick shot of Mordant’s face, staring directly up at the sky)
ZESTY: Looks good so far, bud.
(Just then Corey hits a crack in the pavement. The wheelbarrow spikes upwards and Corey runs face first into the back wheel as Zesty crashes out in a heap, splayed across the curb with his head into the street and legs dangling next to the now overturned wheelbarrow. Never down for very long, Zesty stumbles to his feet and finds a miraculously unharmed nip of Red Stag)
ZESTY: Corey, get up!
(He downs the nip)
ZESTY: Get up, Corey, I got a nip a Stag for ya.
(Corey doesn’t budge as Zesty finds the second nip, its top broken off and drinks down the whiskey, holding the broken little bottle above his mouth. He belches, spits out some shards of glass)
ZESTY: Good stuff.
(CUTTO: Front entrance to the Manhattan Center. There’s a small crowd of wrestling fans gathered in a semi-circle, a few of them smoking cigarettes. They have no idea that Zesty is coming straight at them, full speed)
(He (accidentally?) releases the wheelbarrow, which now houses a still unconscious Corey Trevor and it crashes into the crowd, sending one or two bodies flying and the rest scattering to safety. Zesty shoves past anyone who hasn’t already cleared out until he’s just a few feet away from the door. Suddenly, he bumps into a man who seemingly came out of nowhere- CARLOS CANYETA)
CANYETA: Going somewhere, Zesty?
ZESTY: Soorry, bud, sh*t.
(He pulls a quarter out of his underwear and flips it to Canyeta, motions towards the overturned wheelbarrow)
ZESTY: Keep it close for me, eh? And see if you can find my Bastard costume, I got no fackin idea where it is. Maybe check the crapper, I donno. Got some smokes?
(ARCANGEL IV now appears in the shot, and start shoving Zesty HARD)
ARCANGEL: What the f[BLEEP]k you just say? You wanna get your teeth smashed tha F[BLEEP]K out? This ain’t no valet service, holmes. Now get your WHITE, RACIST, OPPRESIVE, stupid gringo American piece of sh[bleep]t face outta here before we crucify you, homie.
ZESTY: You can f[BLEEP]k right off with exampling me as an American, bud, I’m Canadian. But if you’re not gonna park my ‘barrow and find my Bastard I’m gonna need that twenty-five cent piece right the f[BLEEP]k back, pronto.
(Canyeta throws the quarter in Zesty’s face and immediately him and Angel start socking him in the head with punches, eventually getting Zesty to the ground. Zesty though, more powerful than the both of them, reverses Arcangel and gets on top of him. Before he can do much damage, Canyeta comes into the scene with a 2x4 and smacks it over Zesty’s back)
ARCANGEL: Thas’ right Carlos! End his f[BLEEP]king career! CHINGA A TU MADRE, MARICON!
CANYETA: (on top of Zesty, choking him with the wood plank) You go to your boss, and you tell him what I did to you. Got it, white rat? (spits in Zesty’s eyes)
ARCANGEL: YO YO! Get tha f[bleep]k outta here, holmes! We gotta move!
(Two NYPD officers come charging in as Canyeta and Angel make a run for it. Instead of chasing after them, the cops restrain Zesty and Corey Trevor)
COP#1: That’s it, that’s enough! Cuff these two idiots.
ZESTY: Whoa, hey wait, take her easy there fackin Turner and Hooch, I’m an innocent man here.
(Zesty stops to belch and massage his throat)
ZESTY (cont): I’m just tryin’ to get to work here, ya know. I got mouths to feed and clothes and roofs to put over things and this guy jumps me. He’s jumping my entire family here man. I’m wanting to push charges and things, sh*t just look at him, you know he’s guilty! With his black clothes like a robber and you know he’s Mexican, that can’t be good, no offense, it’s just human naturalities. Like Gypsies, you know they’re gonna steal something.
COP#2: I don’t give a sh[BLEEP]t who started it. You’re all disturbing the peace, now get the f[BLEEP]k outta the road- MOVE!
COP#1: Go back in there with the rest of the wrestling sideshow. And if we see any more of you idiots out here taking the show to the streets, we’re gonna take you in and book you.
(Zesty’s eyes enlarge with shock and fear as he looks down to his crotch before he lets out a big sigh and tracks his skull with his left hand, eventually finding marks they left on the back of his head)
ZESTY: Just another Friday night, officer. We’re leaving, thank you!