Silver and GOLD Inc. Present: Sonny's Masterpiece
(FADE-IN: A boardroom in heart of a Manhattan hotel building. We're not talking rinky-dink, fit-five-people-if-you're-lucky, we're talking Donald Trump "Apprentice" sized here. Sitting around the table are a few very young, entry-level reporters, who look bored as all get-out just sitting around waiting for this meeting to start. They're jostled to attention by a loud BANG! behind them, as the boardroom's doors are kicked in. In marches Sonny Silver, CHAIRMAN OF PRIME, with Lindsay Troy, the Queen of the Ring, following him, rolling her eyes the entire way.
Sonny struts right up to the front of the room and stands at the head of the table, surveying the mass of reporters (four) that have packed themselves (they're sitting quite comfortably) into the room. Troy, meanwhile, stands off to the side, knowing that this is going to, most likely, wind up a disaster.)
Silver: Thank you, thank you, thank you. Please, folks, let's settle down and get today's proceedings underway, lest you all wish to schedule an appointment with Dr. Pimphand.
(The reporters get uncomfortable quickly, knowing most likely that Sonny will do it. After all, this is the guy who once held a PPV hostage with racial slurs. Troy sighs quietly, wondering why he couldn't have waited until a couple minutes in before he opened up with the insanity. Silver takes a drink of water on the table and sets the glass down before he begins.)
Silver: Now on today's docket of Mr. Silver, Chairman of PRIME and The CHAIRwoman, Ms. Lindsay Troy, we discuss a future tag team bout against some smelly British people and their pet Asian, Karate Kid. MCW's PPV is right around the corner and in order to prepare for such an undertaking, we find that its absolutely necessary to discuss proper strategy in order to take on the team of the Sheffield Wednesday Lot.
Ms. Troy, you have the floor.
(She walks over to where Sonny's standing and waits for him to move. He doesn't.)
Troy: You going to move so I can do this?
(He folds his arms and lets out a heavy sigh. Finally, and with great hesitation, he moves over, but just a couple feet.)
Silver: Fine, but the second you're done, I get this whole space back. You're dangerously close to breaking my Personal Three Feet of Comfort Room Rule.
Troy: Oh, gee, far be it for me deny you your grand stage.
(Troy reaches down to a console panel built into the table and begins fiddling with a few buttons. A large screen begins to retract down from the ceiling and a projector rises up from underneath the table. She removes the lens cap and turns the device on, then walks to the back of the room to hit the lights.)
Troy (returning to the front): All yours, ****head.
(Sonny beams with pride as pushes a button, then looks on at the first clip of this presentation: SILVER AND GOLD OWN THE SHEFFIELD WEDNESDAY LOT IN THREE EASY STEPS. Slightly to Sonny's right and in her chair, Troy's got a hand over her forehead, still not believing she's going through with this travesty of a meeting and cursing herself for letting Sonny handle the presentation prep.)
Silver: Ladies, gentlemen, and Amazon to my right…
Troy: Piss off…
Silver: Love you, too, hon. I proudly bring to you the very plans that shall be placed into effect at the conclusion of this meeting, SILVER AND GOLD OWN THE SHEFFIELD WEDNESDAY LOT IN THREE EASY STEPS!
(The next slide is a picture of a flaming bag of you-know-what left upon a doorstep. Hovering above that is a flashy little 38-point Tahoma graphic marked "Step One.")
Silver: Step one. We leave a flaming bag of Wuh-We programming on their front doorstep. As you all know, THAT PLACE puts out nothing but literal commercialized crap. This, wrapped in a nice little paper bag, creates the perfect mixture of combustible elements necessary to distract the likes of these British bastards.
Troy: It's our hope that the overwhelming odor will disorient them enough that they fall off the island and into the sea. We'd prefer using the White Cliffs of Dover as their ledge of choice, given the possibility of them hitting some sharp rocks on the way down, but we're not going to be picky.
(Next slide: a picture of the stereotypical British man stomping out the bag of doody. Red royal guard uniform, crooked yellow teeth, and a teacup in one hand. Predictably, the picture depicts him having the remnants of the crap smeared all over his shoe. Some people chuckle, others gasp and look on offended. Guess which one Sonny is?)
Silver: Step Two. They come out and experience the horror of not being able to wash out ****e programming from their shoes. Cheap plug: We at the mega-conglomerate known as PRIME brings to you the greatest, purest, most exciting forms of sports entertainment and wrestling for all to see around the world. Plus, PRIME's got me, MISTER SILVER, CHAIRMAN!
(Troy clears her throat, which causes Sonny to look down at her and stare.)
Silver: What?
(A pause.)
Silver: Oh. Right. And I granted you your return last week.
(On-cue, Troy hits the eyeroll.)
Silver: Back to the plan, they get discomforted, get all depressed and stuff because their new crap-stomping shoes have been ruined.
(Once more, presentation moves on over to the last slide: a picture of Sonny Silver connecting with a brutal right hook directly into the breadbasket of a doubled-over British man with crap all over his shoe. Mr. Silver smirks proudly while some of the people look on, not truly believing that this bigotry is happening in front of them.)
Silver: And finally Step Three. As they are all depressed from having their new shoes ruined, I come in and save the day by punching the fags so hard in the stomach that they cough up whatever Tea and Crumpets they had the night prior.
(One slide takes us to the end of the clip with a crayon drawing of Lindsay Troy and Sonny Silver standing over a pile of what appear to be dead bodies while holding a banner marked "TOURNEY WINNERS!")
Silver: The end. Thank you for this presentation. Now… the floor is open for any questions you may have about today's presentation.
(All bodies in the room - save that of Troy and Sonny - have their hands raised. Sonny sighs, then presses on.)
Silver: …Bearing in mind that prior to today's conference, I've already explained in memo form that I actually harbor no feelings of prejudice towards the British and the Chinese, but merely harbor deep-seeded ill will towards both their kinds for making inferior tea, butchering the English language by replacing a lot of "R" letters, and for both of them not hailing from this country.
(All hands go down.)
Silver: Thank you for your time. You may leave now.
(The reporters file out of the room, stunned, leaving only Sonny and Lindsay.)
Troy: I'm so blaming you if we lose this match, ****head.
(Fade-out....thank God.)