Russian Roulette - James Irish w/Sergeant vs. Shawn Hart w/Frankie Scott - TV Title
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JIrish780
League Member
Re: Russian Roulette - James Irish w/Sergeant vs. Shawn Hart w/Frankie Scott - TV Title
Fade up to a still frame of James Irish sitting in a pagoda. Traditional Japanese music plays, and gets softer as James begins to speak via a pre-recorded voice over.
JIrish Voiceover: Russian Roulette match
Television Belt for grabs
Could be my last chance
With each subsequent haiku, we get a different shot of James looking thoughtful and reflective, as the peaceful music continues.
Shawn Hart's name's too long
To fit in Haiku format
I'll stick to basics
Wrestlestock was fun
So much talent assembled
I had hoped to shine
My match was a bomb
I came so close to the win
Fate instead turned worse
The field is crowded
Escalation runs rampant
More to watch out for
Frankie Scott's out there
Won't surprise me one more time
He'll find me quite wise
Sarge is in the mix
Back in good form, I might add
Odds now more even
I have lost a lot
Matches and a good valet
Can't get any worse
I won't allow it
My patience will persevere
And in time will win
The next step is here
On Pay Per View I will strike
(Order it today!)
A flute player suddenly comes in obviously out of step with the music being played, and quite loudly. The next picture is one of James looking obviously annoyed.
Why'd he miss his cue?
He didn't pay attention?
I paid him enough
Is it fitting, though?
My timing has been off, too
A warning, perhaps?
One that I will heed
I have no other choices
Only do or die
EPW
One line to itself, really
Need I say much more?
Time I reminded
The 'rasslin world who I am
It's own Mad Genius
The last shot suddenly unfreezes as James speaks.
JIrish: Okay, that last one was just pushing it! Needless to say, Shawn Hart, I'm not done with this chase yet. And this time, no amount of outside help can stop me.
Fade out as, finally, the flutist gets his cue right.
Fade up to a still frame of James Irish sitting in a pagoda. Traditional Japanese music plays, and gets softer as James begins to speak via a pre-recorded voice over.
JIrish Voiceover: Russian Roulette match
Television Belt for grabs
Could be my last chance
With each subsequent haiku, we get a different shot of James looking thoughtful and reflective, as the peaceful music continues.
Shawn Hart's name's too long
To fit in Haiku format
I'll stick to basics
Wrestlestock was fun
So much talent assembled
I had hoped to shine
My match was a bomb
I came so close to the win
Fate instead turned worse
The field is crowded
Escalation runs rampant
More to watch out for
Frankie Scott's out there
Won't surprise me one more time
He'll find me quite wise
Sarge is in the mix
Back in good form, I might add
Odds now more even
I have lost a lot
Matches and a good valet
Can't get any worse
I won't allow it
My patience will persevere
And in time will win
The next step is here
On Pay Per View I will strike
(Order it today!)
A flute player suddenly comes in obviously out of step with the music being played, and quite loudly. The next picture is one of James looking obviously annoyed.
Why'd he miss his cue?
He didn't pay attention?
I paid him enough
Is it fitting, though?
My timing has been off, too
A warning, perhaps?
One that I will heed
I have no other choices
Only do or die
EPW
One line to itself, really
Need I say much more?
Time I reminded
The 'rasslin world who I am
It's own Mad Genius
The last shot suddenly unfreezes as James speaks.
JIrish: Okay, that last one was just pushing it! Needless to say, Shawn Hart, I'm not done with this chase yet. And this time, no amount of outside help can stop me.
Fade out as, finally, the flutist gets his cue right.
JIrish780
League Member
Re: Russian Roulette - James Irish w/Sergeant vs. Shawn Hart w/Frankie Scott - TV Title
Fade in to James Irish stepping out of his locker room, wearing his usual duds and carrying a duffel bag.
JIrish: I'll explain the bag in a moment. First, a few simple truths, to begin this little session of jaw-jacking...
Economics boils down to supply and demand.
There is no such thing as a free lunch.
Even-numbered Star Trek movies are the better ones.
And those who do not learn from mistakes, will repeat them. No, it does not matter who made the mistake in the first place, so long as the lesson is heeded by those who need to learn.
James sets down the bag.
I made a rather large mistake myself, just a short while ago, here on the EPW stage. Professionally, at the time of my match with Sarge against Blitz, I was so over-stretched I wasn't adequately prepared to even be on time for the opening bell of the match. Seriously, does it get any more pathetic than that? Now, I have to put up with Leonard Johnson using my name as just another example of people afraid of his pair of brain-dead ubermensch. Which, when I think about it, isn't as bad as having to listen to that fellow from the Entourage ramble on and on about how smart he is, but then, listening to Yoko Ono records on three-hundred gigantic, fifty foot speakers, all with the treble set to the maximum, is preferable to that fate. And, furthermore, I have the stain of having "choked" on my first big opportunity here in EPW. No Heimlich maneuver could save me from that choke or that reputation.
A reputation that, after Wrestlestock, looks like it'll stick unless I do something drastic.
Drastic... heh. The actual art of Russian Roulette is a drastic act of a whole different sort, though, isn't it? Makes it all too appropriate that I take my next stand there.
James bends over and opens up the duffel bag, pulling out a classic revolver, one that looks right out of the old west, only this one is plastic, and opens the chamber, revealing one replica bullet inside.
Here it is. The proverbial threat of death, or at least a plastic imitation there-of. Trust me, I don't even own the real thing. I hate guns... Still, it's a good enough representation of our PPV's namesake for my purposes, the ultimate one in six chance. Now I know I can't be the first person to do this little visual aid this week, but frankly it's just too good for me to pass up. It makes my point more poignantly than my first idea...
The camera pans over to a gigantic papier-mâché rhinoceros, a plunger and a butterfly net. It pauses on these objects briefly before panning back to James.
Don't ask. I think I came up with that before breakfast this morning... I still can't remember what the net was for...
James takes out the bullet, and there appear to be markings on the casing.
Zoom in for me, please, Mr. Camera Man?
The camera gives the TV audience a closer look, and on the bullet is written "choke."
You intelligent folks at home are probably getting the idea by now. I'm basically putting my future here at EPW in my own hands. I blew it against Blitz. I took the high road where Beast and Anarky were concerned, and got a No Contest out of it. And I couldn't get the job done the first time against the TV Champ, Shawn Hart, at Wrestlestock.
Zoom back out, as James puts the bullet back in the chamber, and closes it.
Yeah, yeah, Frankie Scott interfered. So what? It may not be as pathetic an excuse as "professionally overstretched," but I'm not interested in making any more excuses for myself. I should have been able to win that match, no matter what Frankie Scott did, and I didn't. Even still, the Sergeant was more than kind enough to volunteer to jump in and stay in my corner, especially with my manager and friend, Erin Flanagan... okay, I'd rather go back to trying to figure out what I was going to do with that butterfly net than even think about what she's going through. So no more on that. Rest assured, though, she will be back.
So, with the "choke" reputation in the chamber once again, I'm taking one more shot. Not with this little plastic party favor, of course. I mean where it really counts.
James puts the fake gun back in his bag.
Point is, I'm better focused than ever on my in-ring career, no matter what you think of what I say and do out of it. If I didn't learn from my mistakes, I wouldn't be much of a Mad Genius, would I?
Now tell me, Shawn Hart... what have you learned?
Fade out.
Fade in to James Irish stepping out of his locker room, wearing his usual duds and carrying a duffel bag.
JIrish: I'll explain the bag in a moment. First, a few simple truths, to begin this little session of jaw-jacking...
Economics boils down to supply and demand.
There is no such thing as a free lunch.
Even-numbered Star Trek movies are the better ones.
And those who do not learn from mistakes, will repeat them. No, it does not matter who made the mistake in the first place, so long as the lesson is heeded by those who need to learn.
James sets down the bag.
I made a rather large mistake myself, just a short while ago, here on the EPW stage. Professionally, at the time of my match with Sarge against Blitz, I was so over-stretched I wasn't adequately prepared to even be on time for the opening bell of the match. Seriously, does it get any more pathetic than that? Now, I have to put up with Leonard Johnson using my name as just another example of people afraid of his pair of brain-dead ubermensch. Which, when I think about it, isn't as bad as having to listen to that fellow from the Entourage ramble on and on about how smart he is, but then, listening to Yoko Ono records on three-hundred gigantic, fifty foot speakers, all with the treble set to the maximum, is preferable to that fate. And, furthermore, I have the stain of having "choked" on my first big opportunity here in EPW. No Heimlich maneuver could save me from that choke or that reputation.
A reputation that, after Wrestlestock, looks like it'll stick unless I do something drastic.
Drastic... heh. The actual art of Russian Roulette is a drastic act of a whole different sort, though, isn't it? Makes it all too appropriate that I take my next stand there.
James bends over and opens up the duffel bag, pulling out a classic revolver, one that looks right out of the old west, only this one is plastic, and opens the chamber, revealing one replica bullet inside.
Here it is. The proverbial threat of death, or at least a plastic imitation there-of. Trust me, I don't even own the real thing. I hate guns... Still, it's a good enough representation of our PPV's namesake for my purposes, the ultimate one in six chance. Now I know I can't be the first person to do this little visual aid this week, but frankly it's just too good for me to pass up. It makes my point more poignantly than my first idea...
The camera pans over to a gigantic papier-mâché rhinoceros, a plunger and a butterfly net. It pauses on these objects briefly before panning back to James.
Don't ask. I think I came up with that before breakfast this morning... I still can't remember what the net was for...
James takes out the bullet, and there appear to be markings on the casing.
Zoom in for me, please, Mr. Camera Man?
The camera gives the TV audience a closer look, and on the bullet is written "choke."
You intelligent folks at home are probably getting the idea by now. I'm basically putting my future here at EPW in my own hands. I blew it against Blitz. I took the high road where Beast and Anarky were concerned, and got a No Contest out of it. And I couldn't get the job done the first time against the TV Champ, Shawn Hart, at Wrestlestock.
Zoom back out, as James puts the bullet back in the chamber, and closes it.
Yeah, yeah, Frankie Scott interfered. So what? It may not be as pathetic an excuse as "professionally overstretched," but I'm not interested in making any more excuses for myself. I should have been able to win that match, no matter what Frankie Scott did, and I didn't. Even still, the Sergeant was more than kind enough to volunteer to jump in and stay in my corner, especially with my manager and friend, Erin Flanagan... okay, I'd rather go back to trying to figure out what I was going to do with that butterfly net than even think about what she's going through. So no more on that. Rest assured, though, she will be back.
So, with the "choke" reputation in the chamber once again, I'm taking one more shot. Not with this little plastic party favor, of course. I mean where it really counts.
James puts the fake gun back in his bag.
Point is, I'm better focused than ever on my in-ring career, no matter what you think of what I say and do out of it. If I didn't learn from my mistakes, I wouldn't be much of a Mad Genius, would I?
Now tell me, Shawn Hart... what have you learned?
Fade out.
P
Phenomenal
Guest
Re: Russian Roulette - James Irish w/Sergeant vs. Shawn Hart w/Frankie Scott - TV Title
(Frankie Scott is sitting on the tailgate of his Ford F-150. Scott wearing a White Team Phenom T-shirt, blue jeans and a slim white bandage on his forhead is on his cell phone. He sounds very intent on finding a missing person.)
"No. The last time I saw him was the day after Wrestlestock. We were at Denny's having an omelette. We were getting everything together for Team Phenom's return."
(Scott pauses. Listening to the person on the other line.)
"I understand that. Trust me. If I knew where he was I would have had him talk to an official by now. I don't know what to tell you. He's just vanished."
(Frankie's new flame, Delilah pulls up next to Frankie in a black Mazda MR-3 convertible. Delilah's dark hair is pulled back in a pony tail. She is sporting a White Team Phenom t-short and a pair of over sized Donna Karan sunglasses.)
"Jump in. I think I may have an idea where Shawn is."
"You have an idea? Awww hell. Don't tell me."
(Frankie hops into the passenger side of the car. Delilah throws it into reverse and speeds away.)
(Frankie Scott is sitting on the tailgate of his Ford F-150. Scott wearing a White Team Phenom T-shirt, blue jeans and a slim white bandage on his forhead is on his cell phone. He sounds very intent on finding a missing person.)
"No. The last time I saw him was the day after Wrestlestock. We were at Denny's having an omelette. We were getting everything together for Team Phenom's return."
(Scott pauses. Listening to the person on the other line.)
"I understand that. Trust me. If I knew where he was I would have had him talk to an official by now. I don't know what to tell you. He's just vanished."
(Frankie's new flame, Delilah pulls up next to Frankie in a black Mazda MR-3 convertible. Delilah's dark hair is pulled back in a pony tail. She is sporting a White Team Phenom t-short and a pair of over sized Donna Karan sunglasses.)
"Jump in. I think I may have an idea where Shawn is."
"You have an idea? Awww hell. Don't tell me."
(Frankie hops into the passenger side of the car. Delilah throws it into reverse and speeds away.)
ShawnHartXXX
The Phenom
Re: Russian Roulette - James Irish w/Sergeant vs. Shawn Hart w/Frankie Scott - TV Title
FADE IN: The Arizona Desert. High Noon. Our hero and his guide are bravely trekking through the desolate, moisture-starved dunes.
HART: "Are we near Nogales yet?"
The guide stops in his tracks and pauses a moment to scan the horizon.
GUIDE: "No señor. No Nogales."
HART: "You said dos dias! Dos dias have come and gone, Mr. Morales, and we've yet catch sight of civilized society! Don't you understand that I'm a professional?! A man of infallible integrity and an unparalleled sense of pride and honor; chartered by the powers that be at Empire Pro Wrestling to hold and defend their World's Television title on a live pay-per-view broadcast!! Do you even realize the magnitude of the situation?! What people might do if they shell over their hard-earned cash to see me go to work and I'm not there to do so?!"
MORALES: "No señor."
HART: "Well hot damn, man! Were you born in a barn or what?!"
MORALES: "Si. Si. Mis padres farmed maiz in Hidalgo."
HART: "Ohhh... right.... well, still... we had better make the city by nightfall or Ryan's gonna release the dogs on me!"
MORALES: "Señor, excuse me for asking, but if this lucha libre show es so importante, why did you go to Tijuana? Y.... uhhh... why you not just go back the way you came, eh? Why are you coming back through the Arizona desert?"
HART: "You ever heard of a Tijuana donkey show?"
MORALES: "¡Ay! ¡Jesucristo!"
HART: "You're tellin' me."
MORALES: "So es that why that burro is following us?"
CUT TO: 10 or 15 meters behind the men and the donkey in question.
HART: "Indeed it is, my esteemed comrade. And it's also the reason why I couldn't just cross the border back into San Diego. Honestly, you think border patrol is just gonna let that thing waltz in with me?"
MORALES: "Well...
HART: "Ehhh, who am I kidding. They'll let anything cross these days. This entire sordid affair should never have happened. Hell, I should've stayed in the US like Mr. Scott told me! He warned me about those Tijuana donkey shows!"
The Phenom stops and looks pensively to the sky. CUT TO: A flashback of Phenomenal Frankie Scott.
SCOTT: "Beware the Tijuana donkey shows! They'll ruin your life forever... forever... FOREEEEEVEEEEERRRR!!!!"
CUT TO: Morales, staring inquisitively at Hart.
MORALES: "Uhhh... señor Shawn?"
HART: "RIGHT! Yes! As I was saying, these Tijuana donkey shows are quite heinous, so I took it upon myself to rescue this fine animal and bring it back with me to my cabin in the hills of Montana... where we can live out the rest of our days TOGETHER!"
MORALES: "Si. Si. Es unnatural what those women do to the burros. They should all be locked up."
HART: "Amen. I mean, think of all the diseases they can catch!"
MORALES: "Si. Si. The burros are very dirty."
HART: "What? No... I meant the girls. But now that I've freed our furry friend, I'll make sure he gets ONLY the cleanest hookers! The kind of hookers that can only be found here in the US of A!"
MORALES: "Oh mi Dios!"
HART: "Indeed. But enough about that for now, I've got a wrestling show to get to! That Marxist Irish has somehow come to the conclusion that what's mine is his, and if he's allowed to continue believing such a socialist dictum, not only will I lose the TV title, but we may very well lose all that is good and just in this nation!"
MORALES: "Si. Si."
HART: "So for the sake of EPW, Capitalism, and the God-given right of my donkey to enjoy the BEST prostitutes on the continent... ONWARD TO NOGALES!"
FADE OUT.
FADE IN: The Arizona Desert. High Noon. Our hero and his guide are bravely trekking through the desolate, moisture-starved dunes.
HART: "Are we near Nogales yet?"
The guide stops in his tracks and pauses a moment to scan the horizon.
GUIDE: "No señor. No Nogales."
HART: "You said dos dias! Dos dias have come and gone, Mr. Morales, and we've yet catch sight of civilized society! Don't you understand that I'm a professional?! A man of infallible integrity and an unparalleled sense of pride and honor; chartered by the powers that be at Empire Pro Wrestling to hold and defend their World's Television title on a live pay-per-view broadcast!! Do you even realize the magnitude of the situation?! What people might do if they shell over their hard-earned cash to see me go to work and I'm not there to do so?!"
MORALES: "No señor."
HART: "Well hot damn, man! Were you born in a barn or what?!"
MORALES: "Si. Si. Mis padres farmed maiz in Hidalgo."
HART: "Ohhh... right.... well, still... we had better make the city by nightfall or Ryan's gonna release the dogs on me!"
MORALES: "Señor, excuse me for asking, but if this lucha libre show es so importante, why did you go to Tijuana? Y.... uhhh... why you not just go back the way you came, eh? Why are you coming back through the Arizona desert?"
HART: "You ever heard of a Tijuana donkey show?"
MORALES: "¡Ay! ¡Jesucristo!"
HART: "You're tellin' me."
MORALES: "So es that why that burro is following us?"
CUT TO: 10 or 15 meters behind the men and the donkey in question.
HART: "Indeed it is, my esteemed comrade. And it's also the reason why I couldn't just cross the border back into San Diego. Honestly, you think border patrol is just gonna let that thing waltz in with me?"
MORALES: "Well...
HART: "Ehhh, who am I kidding. They'll let anything cross these days. This entire sordid affair should never have happened. Hell, I should've stayed in the US like Mr. Scott told me! He warned me about those Tijuana donkey shows!"
The Phenom stops and looks pensively to the sky. CUT TO: A flashback of Phenomenal Frankie Scott.
SCOTT: "Beware the Tijuana donkey shows! They'll ruin your life forever... forever... FOREEEEEVEEEEERRRR!!!!"
CUT TO: Morales, staring inquisitively at Hart.
MORALES: "Uhhh... señor Shawn?"
HART: "RIGHT! Yes! As I was saying, these Tijuana donkey shows are quite heinous, so I took it upon myself to rescue this fine animal and bring it back with me to my cabin in the hills of Montana... where we can live out the rest of our days TOGETHER!"
MORALES: "Si. Si. Es unnatural what those women do to the burros. They should all be locked up."
HART: "Amen. I mean, think of all the diseases they can catch!"
MORALES: "Si. Si. The burros are very dirty."
HART: "What? No... I meant the girls. But now that I've freed our furry friend, I'll make sure he gets ONLY the cleanest hookers! The kind of hookers that can only be found here in the US of A!"
MORALES: "Oh mi Dios!"
HART: "Indeed. But enough about that for now, I've got a wrestling show to get to! That Marxist Irish has somehow come to the conclusion that what's mine is his, and if he's allowed to continue believing such a socialist dictum, not only will I lose the TV title, but we may very well lose all that is good and just in this nation!"
MORALES: "Si. Si."
HART: "So for the sake of EPW, Capitalism, and the God-given right of my donkey to enjoy the BEST prostitutes on the continent... ONWARD TO NOGALES!"
FADE OUT.
Last edited:
JIrish780
League Member
Re: Russian Roulette - James Irish w/Sergeant vs. Shawn Hart w/Frankie Scott - TV Title
Fade up to a restaurant waiting area, filled with would-be patrons waiting to be seated. A beautiful young woman of Japanese descent stands wearing a fetching but modest light gray dress suit with a yellow silk handkerchief in her pocket and a clip-on microphone attached to her suit just above the handkerchief. She smiles for the camera as she begins to speak.
Miyoko Toyotomi: Good evening, fans, I'm Miyoko Toyotomi. Some of you might remember me as a former "Empire Girl." Now I'm EPW's newest interviewer, and frankly I'm a little nervous. My first subject is, well... unpredictable. He's the self-proclaimed "Mad Genius of Pro Wrestling," though his critics say he has yet to truly take his genius to the EPW stage. He's-
JIrish's Voice: He's getting impatient waiting for some service!
The camera pans over and finds James Irish sitting alone in a booth. No silverware has been set yet, no drink, no nothing. The place is pretty busy, but James is nonetheless looking a little antsy. More importantly, he's dressed up as Groucho Marx; the black suit and tie with white shirt, greasepaint to make his moustache and eyebrows look bigger, the classic glasses, and even an unlit cigar in hand, which upon closer inspection, is hiding a pretzel rod. Miyoko walks over, and she's not sure what to make of it as she sits down.
Miyoko: Umm, Mister Irish...? Is that you under those silly glasses?
JIrish: What silly glasses? You mean these? Why, these are a priceless family heirloom! I got these from my grandmother, who made them by hand with wire mined from the iron mines way up north! With glass fabricated in Taiwan by elder glass makers!
Miyoko: You're putting me on.
JIrish: I only wish. Still, that's what the peddler tells me, anyway, and there was a "Made in Taiwan" sticker on them... excuse me for a minute.
James puts two fingers to his mouth, and whistles, trying to get the attention of a passing waiter.
JIrish: Waiter! Yes, waiter, do you have any milk-fed chicken?
Waiter: Uh... yeah! Actually, yeah, I think we do.
JIrish: Well, squeeze the milk out of one and bring me a glass.
The flabbergasted waiter walks away, shaking his head. Miyoko, however, is trying to suppress her laughter.
Miyoko: Mister Irish, shouldn't you be more serious? This TV title match with Shawn Hart is no joke.
JIrish: Please, Miyoko, call me James. And this match may not be a joke to you, or the wrestling community at large, but to Shawn Hart? Obviously, he's taking this so seriously he's wandering around in the desert trying to find the secret to beating me! Or at least that's what he better hope he'll find out there, because no number of Donkeys can stop me. I'm an Independent! Politics don't stop me from doing what I believe to be right! Why, just this last election season, I voted for Melinda Doolittle!! *James looks at the camera* I better stop there or else people will think I'm really serious.
Miyoko: I don't think that's he meant by a donkey show.
JIrish: And how would you know that?
Miyoko: Well... I did see Clerks 2 at a friends house.
JIrish: Good answer, young lady, we'll get along great you and I. Now, going into this match, my EPW career has consisted mostly of dirty breaks. Do you get nothing but dirty breaks yourself? Well, I can help you fix that, but then you'll need to spend all night in the garage.
Miyoko lets out a little snicker, smiling broadly.
Miyoko: I had no idea Charlie Chaplin was so funny!
James suddenly sits up right, then just sighs.
JIrish: Folks, what they say is true. You really do have to get up early if you want to get out of bed.
Miyoko: We're running out of time, James, so do you have any last words for your opponent, or his corner man?
JIrish: Frankly, yes I do. Call me a Marxist, will you Shawn Hart? You wound me. You wound me so deep in my heart, that even clubs or diamonds might beat it. But I will not sit idly by and let your slander keep me from my task. Bring Frankie Scott. Bring Mr. Morales. Bring the donkey. I've brought the Sergeant. And where he's involved... of course, you know, this means WAR!
Miyoko giggles a little.
Miyoko: Thank you, James. I look forward to interviewing you again!
JIrish: All joking aside, it's been a pleasure.
Miyoko gets up, and walks away, the camera getting a perfect shot of her back as she walks. James watches her leave for a moment, then turns to the camera with a sly smile.
JIrish: That reminds me, I need to get my watch fixed.
Suddenly, the waiter from earlier comes into the shot, and sets down a glass of beige-looking milk. James stares at it in shock, and that's the visual we fade out on.
Fade up to a restaurant waiting area, filled with would-be patrons waiting to be seated. A beautiful young woman of Japanese descent stands wearing a fetching but modest light gray dress suit with a yellow silk handkerchief in her pocket and a clip-on microphone attached to her suit just above the handkerchief. She smiles for the camera as she begins to speak.
Miyoko Toyotomi: Good evening, fans, I'm Miyoko Toyotomi. Some of you might remember me as a former "Empire Girl." Now I'm EPW's newest interviewer, and frankly I'm a little nervous. My first subject is, well... unpredictable. He's the self-proclaimed "Mad Genius of Pro Wrestling," though his critics say he has yet to truly take his genius to the EPW stage. He's-
JIrish's Voice: He's getting impatient waiting for some service!
The camera pans over and finds James Irish sitting alone in a booth. No silverware has been set yet, no drink, no nothing. The place is pretty busy, but James is nonetheless looking a little antsy. More importantly, he's dressed up as Groucho Marx; the black suit and tie with white shirt, greasepaint to make his moustache and eyebrows look bigger, the classic glasses, and even an unlit cigar in hand, which upon closer inspection, is hiding a pretzel rod. Miyoko walks over, and she's not sure what to make of it as she sits down.
Miyoko: Umm, Mister Irish...? Is that you under those silly glasses?
JIrish: What silly glasses? You mean these? Why, these are a priceless family heirloom! I got these from my grandmother, who made them by hand with wire mined from the iron mines way up north! With glass fabricated in Taiwan by elder glass makers!
Miyoko: You're putting me on.
JIrish: I only wish. Still, that's what the peddler tells me, anyway, and there was a "Made in Taiwan" sticker on them... excuse me for a minute.
James puts two fingers to his mouth, and whistles, trying to get the attention of a passing waiter.
JIrish: Waiter! Yes, waiter, do you have any milk-fed chicken?
Waiter: Uh... yeah! Actually, yeah, I think we do.
JIrish: Well, squeeze the milk out of one and bring me a glass.
The flabbergasted waiter walks away, shaking his head. Miyoko, however, is trying to suppress her laughter.
Miyoko: Mister Irish, shouldn't you be more serious? This TV title match with Shawn Hart is no joke.
JIrish: Please, Miyoko, call me James. And this match may not be a joke to you, or the wrestling community at large, but to Shawn Hart? Obviously, he's taking this so seriously he's wandering around in the desert trying to find the secret to beating me! Or at least that's what he better hope he'll find out there, because no number of Donkeys can stop me. I'm an Independent! Politics don't stop me from doing what I believe to be right! Why, just this last election season, I voted for Melinda Doolittle!! *James looks at the camera* I better stop there or else people will think I'm really serious.
Miyoko: I don't think that's he meant by a donkey show.
JIrish: And how would you know that?
Miyoko: Well... I did see Clerks 2 at a friends house.
JIrish: Good answer, young lady, we'll get along great you and I. Now, going into this match, my EPW career has consisted mostly of dirty breaks. Do you get nothing but dirty breaks yourself? Well, I can help you fix that, but then you'll need to spend all night in the garage.
Miyoko lets out a little snicker, smiling broadly.
Miyoko: I had no idea Charlie Chaplin was so funny!
James suddenly sits up right, then just sighs.
JIrish: Folks, what they say is true. You really do have to get up early if you want to get out of bed.
Miyoko: We're running out of time, James, so do you have any last words for your opponent, or his corner man?
JIrish: Frankly, yes I do. Call me a Marxist, will you Shawn Hart? You wound me. You wound me so deep in my heart, that even clubs or diamonds might beat it. But I will not sit idly by and let your slander keep me from my task. Bring Frankie Scott. Bring Mr. Morales. Bring the donkey. I've brought the Sergeant. And where he's involved... of course, you know, this means WAR!
Miyoko giggles a little.
Miyoko: Thank you, James. I look forward to interviewing you again!
JIrish: All joking aside, it's been a pleasure.
Miyoko gets up, and walks away, the camera getting a perfect shot of her back as she walks. James watches her leave for a moment, then turns to the camera with a sly smile.
JIrish: That reminds me, I need to get my watch fixed.
Suddenly, the waiter from earlier comes into the shot, and sets down a glass of beige-looking milk. James stares at it in shock, and that's the visual we fade out on.
ShawnHartXXX
The Phenom
Re: Russian Roulette - James Irish w/Sergeant vs. Shawn Hart w/Frankie Scott - TV Title
Hey there. Just wanted to let you know that I'm going to be posting something more for this after the deadline, but am fully aware that it won't count... so I'm not trying any funny business. That is all.
Hey there. Just wanted to let you know that I'm going to be posting something more for this after the deadline, but am fully aware that it won't count... so I'm not trying any funny business. That is all.