Harry Holocaust v. Eli Scheinberg

[LQJT86C]

Post all RP here. Deadline is Friday, January 8th at 11:55 PM EASTERN TIME. Standard 48 hour stack rules apply.

 

[Throbbin Wood]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]FADE-IN: In the neighbourhood of Crown Heights, Brooklyn, a gym called the Crown Heights Assembly knows no holiday break... unless it's one of the various Jewish holidays anyway... But New Year's Eve is no excuse. We see some kids, amateur fighters, and even a few SWIFT MMA guys from the gym's team training right now.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Sitting on a bathroom counter, away from the noise of heavy bags, speed bags, combo mits, and the various sounds of slamming on the canvases across the gym, is the nonchalant and fabulously lazy Eli Scheinberg. He's wearing black wind shorts and a white t-shirt that reads “CROWN HEIGHTS ASSEMBLY.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]He is taking one of his many breaks, snacking on a Snickers bar as he reads through a pile of magazines and newspapers he has with him.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Eli Scheinberg: “F-ck me, this SWIFT piece they did on our gym makes me sound like a real lazy c-nt. Huh...” He continues to flick through the newsletter. “Oh, look at what this man has to say... 'I think it's safe to say that NLW is the most Jewish league ever. What's next? Are we determining winners with dreidels? Title yamakas instead of title belts?' What, one Jew on the roster and now it's the most Jewish league ever? They have shows on shabbos! That's not frum at all!”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]He shakes his head and tosses the newsletter in the trash. He picks up another one and turns a few pages in.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Eli Scheinberg: Looks up at the camera. “When are we gonna start filming? What? We're filming now? Sh-t, you gotta tell me these things...”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]He sets the newsletter back into the pile and the knocks them all into the trash. He clears his throat, spits off into the distance, then looks back at the camera.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Eli Scheinberg: “It has been brought to my attention that my very first NLW match will be against a bloke by the name of 'Harry Holocaust.' Now, to be honest with you, I don't know much about... um... (cough) 'Harry Holocaust,' or 'Holocaust Harry,' or whatever it was suppose to be... As a matter of fact, I checked your profile on the NLW website and all it said was that you're from 'Parts Unknown,' which probably means Mexico or Guatemala or some dumbass sh-t... No background or anything, just 'Parts Unknown' and that's all you wish to tell the world.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]What I do know is that the Holocaust was an effort to exterminate the Jews. Being 'The Hebrew Hitman,' I'm obviously proud of my heritage. Now I'll admit that I don't always keep kosher, and sometimes I can't be f-cked to take part in fasting or shabbos, and I'm pretty terrible at being Jewish for the most part, but f-ck you buddy. You're probably not even a real Neo-Nazi. You're probably some little f-cker trying to shock his mum 'n' dad or some bollocks.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]The sound of one of the bathroom cubicle doors opening is heard, along with the sound of a snort.[/FONT]

“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]You won't even tell us where you're from because like all Neo-Nazis, you're a coward. The nerdy website guys come around for your pic and all you can give them is some shocking snap of you with blood all over you. What are ya? A f-ckin' zombie or something? Give me a break...”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Walking through the shot is SWIFT fighter Jimmy “The Hoboken Hammer” Luzzatto, carrying a whiskey flask and smoking a cig that he snuck in between his training.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Eli Scheinberg: “Jimmy, what the f-ck?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Jimmy Luzzatto: “Sorry...” He rips a loud belch and fart combo that plays to the bathroom acoustics.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Eli Scheinberg: “Oh come on! I'm trying to be serious here and you do that?! Get outta here! What are we? Twelve?!”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Luzzatto exits the bathroom. Eli shakes his head and pulls his shirt over his nose.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Eli Scheinberg: “I don't know much about you, 'Harry Holocaust.' There is nothing out there for me to know who you are. But I do know that I will shove the wannabe-punk-rock-shock-me-mum-n-dad-Neo-Nazi name up your ass and take all of the zombie make-up you have, melt it, stick it into a syringe, and shoot it up your f-cking cock.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Because everyone knows zombies aren't real... And I'll leave your life story to someone else to figure out who you are exactly and wherever the f-ck you come from. I'll be too busy winning f-cking title belts to give a sh-t, mate.”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Eli spits, jumps off the counter, and leaves back for the gym area. FADE TO BLACK[/FONT]

 

[John Doe]

A Manager or an Owner?

FADEIN...

Boondocks nowhere, some random farm as we can tell. A very overweight African American gentleman in overalls stands in front of the camera, we are in a barn, that is apparent. What stands behind him is a cage and in it is something chewing on a pig. It seems to be a man, skin pals and thin, many blotches of decay and rot visible. He screeches and growls as he chews the pig that is in his cage. His back is turned completely to us, but that man in front of us, the African American happy as can be begins to talk.

MAN: I know what ya'll be thinkin', what da hell be dat thing right there behind meh. Well, be frank, hell if I know, found em. I even used last of my 'ere welfare check to get on of em priv'te 'vestagators to do dat der research. Found out what da hell dis thang here is.

MAN: I dink da guy was pulling my good leg ta be honest, said he's a zombie, can you believe tha, me, Clarence Williams findin' a zombie, one of em livin' dead type folk. Like imma believe dat. I just dink that there man is a craze ball.

He turns and looks at the zombie as it rips off a pigs leg and beats it against his own skull screaming as it does so, then begins to chew it to shreds.

CLARENCE: Ya know, like a popcorn kernel dat ain't popped all da way yet. Oh well, says here dat he was found in da..err...what da hell , how ya be saying dis here word? Out sh-t whiz, hell of I know, in de hole-la-cost. Den told me dat zombie der escaped some gov'ment es-spear-mints an such, dey call him Harry Hole-la-cost. Ha, what a name, who be namin' people dat, I call him Karl Timids if I had da chance, but I be stickin' to his der birth rights.

Clarence chuckles a bit as he picks up a straw from the floor and plops it in his mouth, good for chewing.

CLARENCE: Da hell is a hole-la-cost anyways? Dat Eli man, said it where bunch of dem jew folk died. Dat like a plague or somethin'? Don't matter, I jus' sayin' dat dis here thang is a gold mine! I thought, at first, dat dist thang here was just a circus folk, like one dem ladies with a beard, or dem little small white folk who eat knives. Nope, I was wrong. Caught em trying to eat my horses.

CLARENCE: Well...he ate one....

Clarence places a hand over his heart.

CLARENCE: Poor Betsy...

He shakes his head slightly as he sighs a bit.

CLARENCE: But dat not da point 'ere, point is dat this here place, NLW allowed me to let him get in dat der ring! Paying me money for it! Like hell imma be on welfare and gover'ment cheese!

CLARENCE: Las' one I be gettin' was rottin', every bit in fact. But fact is, dat I really don't know what dist thang gonna do it da ring. I don't think it's a zombie, I think he jist confused a bit.

Camera over shoots Clarence as the zombie named Harry Holocaust turns and faces the camera, he is breathing hard, eyes profuse with blood, mouth incased with pig intestines as he charges the cage slamming his whole body into it. Failing to break the cast iron bars he turns back to the pig.

CLARENCE: I really don't know where dat blood come from, in his eyes dat is, an mouth, or vomit, he do vomit quite lot.

CLARENCE: I suppose dat when I do let em go in da ring that Mr. Scheinberg know dat I really don't know what dat guy gonna do. Last time when I went and tried to fed em, he nearly bit my here hand.

Clarence lifts up his right hand chuckling as he talks.

CLARENCE: 'magine what woulda happen if dat happen, no more fun time with my magazine.

CLARENCE: Nope, none at all, now I know what ya be dinking der Eli, 'who be dis here spook to be tellin' me what to expect from dis zombie fella. Well, if he be a zombie, which dis 'ere documints say he be, den, I suggest ya see ya doctor, get one of dem in-mule-stations, Hear dey help lot.

CLARENCE: but till ya get dem, we can jist discuss what ya be sayin'. Be honest when dey told me dat dey would let me here prize get in a ring I was bit in shock, didn't know much bout him, I figure he'ed be kinna fun ta watch. *

Harry charges the gate again screaming insanely as he tries the climb the cage bar by bar even chewing the iron to get through.

CLARENCE: Shat up in der gawd damn it!

CLARENCE: Dat be why he from parts unknown Mr. Eli. I know dat ya der Jews be hatin' when people be, um, judging ya all, I mean same wit me, I not be likin da average, black man is ignorant don't know nothing, un ed-you-cat-ate-it, jist like ya hate when people be sayin stuff like you pinch da penny.

CLARENCE: Ev'rybody knows ain't nobody pinch no pennies, dey too hard to pinch, I jist put em in my pocket. But dat be a different story all together I do believe. I jist hope ya know what ta expect Mr. Eli, cause be honest I can't handle one of em lawsuits again, too much money. So, jist be careful der sir, promise you may be able to survive suppose.

CLARENCE: So, if ya'll 'cuse me, gotta milk da cows. Good day.

Camera turns to Harry one last time as he rips an eyeball from a socket of the pig and rams it in his mouth.

FADEOUT

 

[Throbbin Wood]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]FADE-IN: On a mostly cloudy day in Brooklyn, Eli Scheinberg is walking through an open cemetery with his hands behind his back. He's wearing a fitting black winter jacket and black jeans, observing the rows of gravestones covered in snow as he walks down the trail. As he speaks, the fog goes with his Mancunian accent. There is something quintessentially English about all of it.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “I never thought I would be out here doing promos in graveyards. Every loser in the damn world does promos in graveyards at some point, and it sure didn't take me long to end up here, did it? F-ck me...”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]He continues down the trail, the names on the headstones unfamiliar to him.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “I know it may sound odd to most of you, but seeing all of these headstones doesn't make me sad. In Judaism, death is not a tragedy, even if it occurs early in one's life or in the case of an unfortunate event. There is honour in death. Death, much like life, has meaning.”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Now, uh, unless Moshiach has come, there's no living dead. Ever since that Clarence Williams bloke came out and went on about all these bloody documents, apart from all that other rubbish I could barely make out from him, I've had everyone come up to me and go, 'Eli, it looks like you're fighting a f-ckin' zombie on Vulgar! Holy sh-t! What are you gonna do?' What am I gonna do? Well, I refuse to believe in zombies, so I'll probably train the exact same way. Every other idiot in NLW thinks it's for real, but have you seen the rest of the people around here? It's not a f-cking science fair, is it?”[/FONT]

“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Now, perhaps he is a zombie. I mean, something's wrong with him if he's tearing up pigs and eating them... which is not kosher... If he is, in fact, an animated corpse, ol' Eli Scheinberg isn't dumb enough to go into battle without a Plan B. Ladies and gentlemen, I have my Plan B right here...”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Eli finally stops holding his arms behind his back and reveals a cricket bat, Shaun of the Dead style. He holds it up to the camera, a smirk comes across his face.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “In England, we have a game called cricket. It's actually pretty sh-t and not as good as football, but the cricket bat is a weapon that has been proven effective in the case of a zombie outbreak. Harry, if you are what...(cut off)”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]A ragged creature emerges from one of the rows of headstones and lunges at Eli from his right side.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]???: “AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “HOLY SH-T! ZOMBIES!”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Eli winds up and cracks them flush in the face with the cricket bat. They instantly go down, completely out cold. He stands over it and pokes it in the ribs three times.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “Just a homeless person...”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]He looks around to see if anybody else is around before searching the knocked out hobo. He pulls a five dollar bill out of the inside pockets of the man's coat.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “He was just gonna spend this on booze anyway. How'd he get a fiver?”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]He reaches into another pocket and pulls out a flask.[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]ELI SCHEINBERG: “Hmm... Jimmy [Luzzatto, SWIFT fighter] might like this. I'll give it to him and say it's a late Chanukah present... Christmas... whatever...” He gets up and starts walking again, stuffing the $5 and flask in his coat. He shoots a look at the camera. “You didn't see anything...”[/FONT]

[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]FADE TO BLACK[/FONT]

 

[John Doe]

FADEIN...

We are back on the Williams farm, owned and operated by CLARENCE Williams himself. Last time we were here we encountered NLW newest wrestler, well, zombie, well, what ever the hell he is. We witnessed him eat a pig, which was disgusting because it was raw. Camera pans right, we catch CLARENCE outside leaned against a rusty beat up tractor, overalls, white t-shirt, his favorite apparel. *Across from him though, in plain site is the zombie known as Harry Holocaust, he is tied to a tree it seems in the middle of a field. Clawing at the ground and trying to charge towards the camera crew and CLARENCE, but of course Mr. Williams takes no notice of this.

CLARENCE: "Dat be what I be sayin' too Mr. Eli! I be sayin' its, sayin' its, be sayin' its! I curious too what dis guy 'ere be, like ya said, got dem doc-cue-mints, dat be tellin' dat he be a zombie."

CLARENCE: "Gotta trust dem gov'rnment type folk, ya know? But dat not what dis all 'ere 'bout. Guess you figure dat out by now, sar. I know what cha be dinkin', der ain't no livn' dead type folk, but ya gotta dink outside dat der box, sar."

He shakes his head slightly waving his *hand in the air as Cameras focus on what Harry is doing.

CLARENCE: "I mean jist look at 'em go. He be runnin' 'round like he on sum dem pills, ya know, the type that play wit cha noggin' an' such. I know da feelin' though, how 'xactly ya gonna go fight dat sorta thang."

Harry full sprints to the left only to be yanked to the ground by a chain, he screeches loudly.

CLARENCE: "Ya look like a strong type der, sar, Mr. Eli. But I be sayin' he a bit loose in da upper region, ya know the noodle. Eatin' my pigs, ain't no worries though, I got plenty o' dem pigs."

CLARENCE: "And I be readin', ya know, one dem books, guy gave to me, learn bout dat hole-la-cost, I really don't get it much, but I guess it happen quite bit ago, I don't know, ain't just-if-i-cation for it, but, it is what it is der, sar."

Harry then decides to charge to the right, yanked down again as he painters heavily.

CLARENCE: "I even, ta be honest, when I first say him eat dat der poor Betsy, dat be my horse. Well, was my horse, he ate her, didn't I tell ya dat? Well when I went out der, to see wot all tha' raucous was in da' back, I shot dat man with my gun, he didn't die."

CLARENCE: "I know, I know, sounds bit off, but it truth der, sar. I ain't tell no lies, dat be honest, der, sar. I wouldn' be so pointy though, not ev'rybody be an idiot fo' believin' dat he a zombie."

CLARENCE: "Crazier things people be believin' now days, like dat, well I dunno, just stuff, oh, like dat boy, JFK got shot be some bullets. Somethin' like dat, but, ain't dumb to believe."

A rabbit hops past CLARENCE.

CLARENCE: "I believe my der prize, he can do 'bout anything, and people will like 'em. He a bit out side dat der box, but he a likable type guy. Just like you Mr. Eli, sar. You a bit out der, with ya funny accent and be sayin' thangs like bloke, don't know really wot dat be. I ain't one to be honest, I'm CLARENCE.

CLARENCE: "Now dat we got dem thangs in order 'round 'ere, I dink you outta owe dat der guy an 'pology for hittin' 'em in his head with ya bat. Dat not right Mr. Eli, dat be rude der, sar. And If I be him, I'd be awful sore at ya."

SNAP! The chain that was keeping Harry down has snapped. A bloody vomit to follow.

CLARENCE: "Jist hope ya ain't do that to Harry over der, he don't take likin' to being hit too much sar, get him a bit mad and such."

CLARENCE: "But I do hope fo' da best 'ere Mr. Eli, ya know in ra-gards, to ya getting' in da ring wit dat der zombie, lawrd knows I wouldn' do nut-ing like dat. Ya a brave soul der Mr. Eli, jist keep ya head on straight, and you be good 'ere, so will Harry."

CLARENCE: "Well, wot be left in dat der head of his. Good luck ta ya Mr. Eli, trust me 'ere on dis, Sar, dis ain't gonna be no pony show. Don't let 'em bite ya."

Harry leaps at the rabbit sinking his teeth on it as blood squirts all over, CLARENCE is taken back as the camera crew backpedals fast to get away.

CLARENCE: "Oh Jesus 'ere we ga 'gain!"

FADEOUT.