[MINNEAPOLIS] (3) High Flyer vs. (14) Doofus Ryan

[TH]

First round match held at the Hammons Sports Center in Springfield, MO on Missouri State University's campus.

RP deadline is 3/17/08, 11:59:59 PM EDT, give or take a second. No RP limit. One fall to a finish. All other regular rules apply.

 

[Linguistic]

[A man is standing in the middle of an open park area on Missouri State's large campus. He's not just any many, nor does he look like just any man. At first glance, he looks to be around six feet tall. What sets him apart, however, is the fact that he's wearing a Giant Gonzales-styled body suit (hair and all) with a bizarre-but-colorful clown mask.]

[Letting out a Krusty the Clown-like laugh, he addresses the viewing audience.]

Hey hey hey hey! I'd say that the "wrestler with the last name of Ryan" quota has been filled and then some for the NiPpLe... er... I mean TiT.

It's tournament time. March Madness.

What better way to kick things off for this brackett than to feature the man-thing that puts the E, A, and T (think about it) in TEAM? Yes, I'm talking about me!

[Krusty the Clown laugh]

I know I'm not a very portly man, but see... that's the magic of both my monike and my diet (both one and the same)... I am the Eggomuncher, and that means that I like to munch eggos. Well actually, "DEVOUR" is probably a better term.

Eggos make me feel great. Eggos make me lose weight. Eggos make a fantastic date!

Okay okay... they don't really make a fantastic date, but they can make a date GREAT! Trust me on that one. I've never had a date who was having a good time where eggos weren't involved. Um... so you got me there, I've never had a date who was having a good time... but you get the point.

I like eggos. I love eggos.

I would marry them if it were legal to, and if things continue down the current path of America, I may be able to court, marry, and have a sexual relationship with eggos.

But that is neither here nor there.

Although eggos are great (much better than egos, I might add... although another "Ryan" might disagree), they aren't the reason why I'm here. I'm here to compete in one of these wrestling matches I've heard so much about.

I understand that anybody can train a professional wrestler, so I found the best trainer that ten bucks could buy (I needed the rest for eggos and some cool Dan Ryan sunglasses, which can be purchased at www99.*empireprowrestling*.com for $19.99) , and tackled this crazy mixed up world.

One week later, here I am with High Flyer as an opponent.

They don't fly much higher than ol' High Flyer, I can tell you that much right there. He is one high flying High Flyer... and if he had to choose a military branch to serve in, I'd say he'd choose the Air Force. They aim high, you know, and that is exactly where a high flyer like High Flyer would aim... "high".

Other than that, I just don't know. "Cowboy" Doink Kamala III said that he taught me everything he knew, you know, like how to bump and how to do an arm drag and bodyslam, so I trust him that those will be all I need to know in order to continue in this thing.

Who knows? Maybe I'll meet up with one of those other "Ryan" guys and we can find out who the better Ryan is.

You know... because THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE!

[Another Krusty the Clown laugh.]

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You guys are still here?

Get outta hee-ah.

[THE END?]

 

[Linguistic]

That is all.

 

[TH]

Ahem... NO STACKING, RAY!!!1

 

[Ford]

(High Flyer stands in front of his television screen. He has just finished watching the latest and, to his knowledge, only promo ever from Doofus Ryan.

And it's left him absolutely speechless.

It's the first thing in... ever to leave the Lunatic speechless. For a man who rambles without any destination on a whim, to remain standing there slackjawed for five minutes without saying a word is quite the accomplishment.)

High Flyer: ...

(Flyer opens his mouth to say something, but still can not. His voice cracks. He drops his remote onto his feet, and winces in slight pain. Quickly and quietly, Harmen pulls a cigarette off his ear and a lighter from his jeans. Taking the first inhale, Flyer closes his eyes to really enjoy it.)

High Flyer: You Gillberg lookin' mother ****er!

(Flyer shouts, eyes flaring open. He flicks the cigarette into the camera, it bounces off the lens, and Flyer makes a move to pick it up. However, he doesn't, and just awkwardly leans forward for a moment.)

High Flyer: I didn't know someone was that big enough of a Dan Ryan fan to go around pretending to be some fake version of his favorite character. Which, I mean, I have to question why Dan Ryan is anyone's favorite character. He routinely throws people through tables for no reason! I say that's a dick move. What's so special about that mother ****er? I swear, I get a chance to avenge that CSWA Unified Tournament loss against the real Dan Ryan, I'mma kick his head off. And I'm going to be giving a demonstration in a few sundays in Minneapolis, when I kick Doofus' head off.

(Flyer winces, groans, and rubs his eyes.)

High Flyer: I can't even make fun of your name because it makes fun of itself. Who DOES that!

(Flyer leans down to the ground and picks up the burning cigarette. Ash falls over his fingertips.)

High Flyer: I am going to disassemble you using a very hungry Homer Pez dispensor. Piece by piece like ****ing DEXTER. You're Krusty the Clown laugh has to have killed enough people now fo me to consider you a serial killer, at least of good taste! I'm gonna take the whoopie cushion from your mentor and shove it down your throat, so every time I punch you in the gut, you burp and fart.

(Flyer sighs)

High Flyer: See how much I'm not taking you serious? I'm making dick and fart jokes. For the love of, I swear. I feel worse than the Farrelly Brothers. I wish they were a tag team so I could slap them for wasting my time on Heartbreak Kid. I mean, you might as well give up after **** like that.

(Flyer winces.)

High Flyer: And I've gotten off task. Now, I remember when it was my first matchup. I was sixteen, in southern California, wrestling illegally understand in Odessa's Dungeon. I remember the first time I SAID it was my first match, January of 1998 against Edward Glide. I've FORGOTTEN more about wrestling than you could PRAY to learn for the cost of a cereal box toy and the education equivelant of a Substandard community college. A community that's not even a community, it's like a village college and you're dean has the intelligence of a GED program inside the movie Idiocracy.

(Flyer crosses his arms.)

High Flyer: You make me want to break the fourth wall with my skull.

(Fade out.)

 

[Ford]

(High Flyer sits in the corner of his apartment, holding a Wii remote in his hands. He is currently playing Super Smash Bros Brawl, and is too busy to come to the camera to do his scheduled interview.

Tony Davis, his life-long tag team partner and brother in law, sits inches away from the Lunatic. Every few moments, he reaches out to take the Wii-Remote from Flyer, who jerks it away from him at the last second. This routinely ends with Davis lowering his head in frustration and sadness.

Also in the room is Eddie Scott Poser, the supposed King of Poland. He is playing with a slinky. And he's not playing with it very well.)

Eddie Scott Poser: Is there some sort of reset button to this slinky?

(Flyer looks up for a moment at Poser, who's tangled himself in a slinky. Davis uses this second to reach into Flyer's hands, but before he can successfully pry the Wii remote out, Flyer returns to playing, and moves a few feet away from Davis.)

Eddie Scott Poser: I think that's what slinky's are missing.

Tony Davis: So Jack, I see the camera's are here. I think that means you're supposed to be cutting some sort of promo. You know, so you can let go of that Wii remote and let ol' Tony Davis have a turn, can't you?

(The familiar sound of a character dying is heard. Flyer turns to Davis with a frustrated look on his face.)

High Flyer: People who talk in the third person narrative never get a turn. We've discussed that.

(Flyer returns to playing, his character having respawned. That's when the camera nudges the Lunatic. Literally, forcing itself into the Lunatic's eyes. Flyer swats it like a bug, but just like a mosquito or a housefly or a gnat, right back into the Lunatic's face it flies.)

High Flyer: Man you're pushy. I mean, dude, the other guy didn't even do another interview. I've got this one in the bag. It's over there in the corner if you want to look at what concentrated victory is.

Eddie Scott Poser: You might want to disregard the first layer. I thought it was a bathroom.

(Flyer glares at Poser, and then returns to playing Smash Bros. The camera pokes him again, and Flyer's character dies. He throws the controller down in frustration.)

High Flyer: Okay, listen here Team cameraman; I'm playing a game, a game which requires team work. And for someone who's been named after the very essence of teamwork, you certainly have no clue what teamwork is. So go get a dictionary, learn the definition of Team, and come back to me in a few hours.

(Tony Davis has picked up the Wii remote, and Flyer swats his hands. The controller falls out of Tony's hands and into the Lunatic's.)

Tony Davis: Can't we just buy a second controller?

High Flyer: You think I'm just made of gold bars and doubloons?

Tony Davis: You're not?

High Flyer: And you. I thought I told you to go away. Shoo. When Doofus says something, come back and get me. Until then, I’ll be playing Smash Brawl.

(The camera reluctantly leaves the Lunatic’s apartment. Like the sad Charlie Brown caricature it is.)

 

[Linguistic]

[Fade in...]

[An empty talk show set. Empty, as in there is nobody around.]

[Strangely enough, a voice comes booming through. A stereotypical gameshow announcer's voice.]

Ladies and Gentlemen... the one and only "Eggomuncher" Doofus Ryan!

[Doofus comes awkwardly staggering onto the stage. Canned applause plays.]

[Yes, he's still in his "costume"... which actually isn't a costume. El Gigante bodysuit and clown mask? He was born that way, honest!]

Hey, hey, hey!

[Embarrassing Krusty the Clown laugh follows.]

I just got back from eating a couple of Eggos, and I'm on my way to eating a couple more. Figured I might stop by for a moment to talk about something unrelated to Eggos.

I'm super totally stoked to the max about my first ever wrestling match! This is the greatest thrill of my life, with a close second being the first time I was introduced to... you guessed it... the Eggo Waffle!

I'm so surprised that somebody would think I was some sort of tribute to one of the other "Ryans" in the NiPpLe! I'm sure it's an honor for Dorian and Dan, but Doofus is here for a completely different reason.

What reason is that?

I forget.

For someone as high flying as High Flyer to fly that idea that particularly high, I can only assume that I've done something wrong. I mean, usually the only thing flying high in high Flyer's life is High Flyer himself. For something else to fly that high, particularly a rumor such as the high flying one that flew high out of High Flyer's mouth... well, needless to say it must be my fault.

I apologize.

I'll throw a few hail mary passes to attone.

I obviously won't fly them as high as High Flyer, but I hope he'll understand.

I hope he'll also understand that the cost of a cereal box toy and the education equivelant of a Substandard community college would be considerably less than a fair price at "Cowboy" Doink Kamala III's professional wrestling seminar.

The price is ten dollars. If you don't have it, talk to me after the match. I got a payday loan based on my NiPpLe first round match with you. I've got twenty bucks in my pocket. Ten dollars is nothing. It's yours.

I've heard that a Wii and that cool new game you were playing cost a pretty penny. Maybe you'd rather pawn them.

"Cowboy" Doink Kamala III might even take the Wii as collateral. I don't know.

That's neither here nor there.

I just hope you don't get to train under him until after our match. All of my work on the front facelock the past couple of days will have been in vain.

I mean, the high flying High Flyer is a much faster learner of wrestling hold than little old Doofus Ryan, probably.

[Canned applause, followed by an abrupt cut to black and more than likely a commercial.]

 

[Ford]

(The scene opens up to a talk show set. Yes. A talk show set. But this is no ordinary talk show. This isn't Oprah, or Jon Stewart, or that empty room that Doofus called his talk show set but was in actuality a very large closet.

No, this is the Neighborhood, a talk show High Flyer has run in the past for NFW. Quickly, he sets up his stage for the big PRIME spectacle, the first time it's been set to run on PRIME television.

As Flyer does his running around, frantically pretending he's a chicken without his head, Tony Davis sits in a large easy chair that reminds him of Pee Wee's Playhouse. He's busy playing Nintendo DS when a stage hand knocks him upside the head with a ladder. Davis rubs the back of his head, and continues on.)

High Flyer: No! Don't do that! Don't just drop it! What are you doing! You can't move something by breaking it! Oh no! Don't hang from that! It can't support more than a small child's weight! I tried it with a teenager! Get down from there!

(Flyer is being pulled in just about every direction. Eddie Scott Poser wheels by on a scooter, crashing into a large makeshift train set, filled with plastic replicas of PRIME and TEAM wrestlers in precariously bad situations. Lindsay Troy is... well... she's doing what Sonny Silver believes she's famous for, no doubt.

Flyer lowers his head into his hands.)

High Flyer: I SWEAR to whatever holy God there may or may not be, this show WILL go off without a hitch!

(Flyer looks out of the corner of his eye, and notices the camera with a large TEAM logo on it.)

High Flyer: How many classes did you have to take to learn to become so annoying? Did you get to the three hundred level?

Tony Davis: I DID!

High Flyer: I know you did. It's the only diploma you have hanging on your study's wall.

Tony Davis: Well, I burned my high school diploma.

High Flyer: I was there for that. It really didn't keep us warm that long.

Tony Davis: Eating that pilot was just amazing.

High Flyer: You shouldn't talk about cannabalism fondly. Anyway, what are you doing here? Doofus doofed himself?

(The camera nods, and a hand stretches out, holding an old VHS tape.)

High Flyer: Did he go back in time to 1999 to record this? I mean, Christ. Why don't you guys just use beta.

(Flyer tosses the tape into Davis' hands. Davis studies it in the light.)

Davis: Vintage.

(Davis rushes over to a VCR, and on a large jumbo tron, Doofus Ryan's interview begins to play. Flyer and Davis take time to watch it, as stage hands and production crews rush all around them.

Eddie Scott Poser picks himself up from the wreckage, and then falls promptly into the jumbo tron, destroying it.)

Davis: I can't live my life without the ending to the Doofus Ryan promo!

(Tony rushes over and grabs the TEAM cameraman by his lapel.)

Davis: If you have any decency, you'll take me to Team Headquarters THIS INSTANT and get me another copy. DO IT BEFORE I GET BORED WITH EVERYTHING!

(Davis takes a seat on the floor, indian style.)

Davis: Too late. Bored now.

(Flyer stares down at Davis awkwardly. Poser, behind him, picks himself up from the debree, and causes more wreckage as he bumps into a stage hand carrying a large glass swan.)

High Flyer: As you can see, I'm much too busy, y'know, buying glass swans and putting Lindsay Troy's action figure in precarious positions. I'm rigging that chair to say "Get the **** off me you fat ass" when people sit in it. It's very complicated. I had to buy this speaker set from logitech and a wireless receiver. It's like hooking 8 televisions together, that's how complicated those wires are running underneath this stage. And all those open panels and such? I be Doofus Ryan's never lived in a place half the size of my stage for the Neighborhood. And that alone is reason enough for his defeat. As for selling my Wii? Let me answer that with a hearty **** you. I will smash your face into spicy curry if you touch my Wii. It's my third child. Fourth if you count my illfated run as IWO North American Champion. Then again ,what title run isn't ill fated? Eventually you lose it or the promotion collapses and you can't carry it around with you everywhere and it becomes a moot point. I mean, I walk around with the fWo World Championship around my waist everywhere, I get curious glances. But if it's PRIME's belt, all of a sudden it's alright. Well, I swear I'm going to make a fashion statement. Not only will I wear around the IWO World tag team titles everywhere I go, but I'm going to don a 1980 Phillies World Championship cap. Y'know why? BECAUSE I CAN.

(Flyer glares at a stage hand carrying a ladder.)

High Flyer: What are you doing. You've been running around with that ladder on your shoulder for the last hour. Are you even DOING work! I swear. THIS is why Lincoln was assassinated.

(Davis and Poser gasp.)

High Flyer: He was obviously *****ing about props at the theater before the show went on the air. I mean, obviously.

(Flyer tugs at his collar. He shoos the camera away as the awkward remark lingers in the air. FADE.)

 

[Fusenshoff]

Well that was smooth. Posted my promo in the wrong thread.