Off IR

[EAho]

(FADE IN)

In a drab hotel room, Evan Aho sits on a bed resting his elbows on his knees. He nonchalantly holds a playing card between his index and middle finger. The rest of the deck is gripped in his left hand.

AHO - As strongly as Rudy Seitzer believes that Merritt wants a Windham/Aho rematch, I'm not seeing any progress made towards it. That's probably my fault, but here I am sitting on injured reserve...waiting.

With a flick of his wrist, Evan sails the card across the room towards an empty ice bucket. The card narrowly misses and lands among the dozen or so others that have collected around the container.

Well not really anymore, but this is the summation of my last couple of months. I got a phone call yesterady saying my rematch with Stanley is cancelled and I'm up against not one, but both of The Professionals. One Professional couldn't get the job done the first time around, so pitting me against both is the next logical step. At least we're going in chronological order. My last streak of luck all started with Eddie Mayfield.

Aho flings another card at his target.

Go ahead, pat yourself on the back Eddie. You did a number on my shoulder. Two muscle tears and a separation, nothing that time can't heal but definitely a cramp in my style for the past few months.

Yeah I got injured before Fish Fund. Real shocker there, but that's my story. Everyone has heard yours, Eddie. Something about...it took paratroopers from the One Hundred Thirty-third Airborn Division and divine intervention to prevent you from becoming the CSWA World Heavyweight Champion. We remember, no need to repeat it.

The harsh reality of Oklahoma City was that not only did you fail to beat me...but I left you lying in a heap. You were WRECKED beyond recognition. A man with a stutter could have counted to forty before you were ready to peel yourself off the mat.

And when the ref came to wake you up, did you tell 'em how long it was before you regained consciousness? Did you tell the truth? Two minutes...

Evan shakes his head and flicks another card toward the bucket.

...no, wait. A minute and thirty seconds, because you did start mumbling "pee-are-oh" around that time.

But we've both had time to recover and now you've got your buddy, Craig Miles, to keep the pesky paratroopers off your case. No more extenuating circumstances.

A long silence ensues. Evan continues to toss cards at the bucket. Aho looks at the camera.

Hey, I'm done. You need a snappy interview, go talk with the Pros. I just wrestle here.

(FADE OUT)

 

[EastPrez]

Eddie gives the Gift of Gab this season

(SFX: A shrill piercing alarm! The screen fills into a movie-style countdown, and then the INTRUDERS logo, all black and white and grainy.)

(FADEIN: To the sunken living room of 'Mister MUST-SEE TV, Hot Property, ad nauseum' EDDIE MAYFIELD. He's sitting on a deep leather couch, shoes off, wearing black nylon warmup pants and a black T-shirt with an image of Plastic-Man on the front, giving an elongated thumbs-up. In the corner is a nice-sized Christmas tree, with a bunch of stuff under it, a small Lionel train chugs around the circumfrence of the tree every few seconds. MAYFIELD has in his hands a clear-colored GameBoy Advance, and in his face, the everpresent Camel cigarette.)

MAYFIELD: (Cursing at the game as he works the controls) "F(BLEEEEEP!) Freaking metroids... (Turns the game off and tosses it over on the couch) Santa Anne was good to me this year, and hooked a brother up with all sorts of loot. One of them was this stupid game that occupies me when I'm bored, or now, whenever I need to cut a hot-assed promo on Evan Aho - which, yunno, pretty much sums up to the same state for me. (Smirks)

Welcome to lovely Jacksonville, Florida, where the weathers always good, and my girl is upstairs, snoozing after I put her down for her noontime nap. (Smirks) And here we are, after a little rerun down-time, the good forefathers over at CSWA decide that it's time to go back to work. And when it's time for a new season of television, you know what you need, and I know it too - you need to call up the Nielson household, and you ask them - what's the new hotness? And they of course, will reply, 'why the MSTV Network' - and that's ALL me, MISTER MSTV - MUST-SEE TELEVISION. (Smiles). And Evan Aho - you're the first recipient of another beatdown, curtosey of The Intruders, and more personally, the Professionals - your (Pulls up one of the CSWA World Tagteam Title belts and lets out a huge Kool-Aid smile) CSWA FOREVER AND-A-DAY WORLD TAGTEAM CHAMPIONS. Now that's just groovy.

Now Aho, let me just tell you that the first thing on the MSTV Network season schedule wasn't exactly having you in a handicap match with me and my man Cocky Craig, and you're only dismally 59% healthy. You can call me whatever you want, but I'm not a big vulture fan. I don't get anything outta beating your shoulder into paste when you're already hurt, Aho, even though I'm the reason your in the sorry state your in. But regardless of who-put-who-where, here we are, in Norfolk, Virginia, a town full of just a little less toothless inbreeds than North Carolina. These people are gonna fill up those seats and watch some down-home 'WRASSLIN', and get their welfare check's moneys worth, because I think what may be in order is just to put you back on the IR list, for good.

Yasee, Evan, I'm a kind, gentle man. I'm no chest thumping ogre who wants to take you outta the sport, no, that's not my deal. Because if we ran around ending everybody's careers, then I wouldn't have anybody to drop aural gems on anymore. And where would I be without that? What we're gonna do, Mr. Ex-champ, is end you, quick and clean. I know, the world would LOVE to see you pull the superhero card and whup up on the tagteam champions all by yourself, but bro-ham, that sh(BLEEEEP!) ain't gonna happen. There ain't no comicbook sh(BLEEP!) happening in the Professionals ring come ON TIME, and if you think you're gonna come outta this looking like a million bucks, then you're better off throwing your hopesand dreams into that bucket rather than those playing cards. (Takes a deep drag on the camel)

We'll see you in a few, buddy. Happy Holidays."

(FADEOUT)