"If there's anything you want to say to me, Blaine, now's the time."
Down the road from the Richmond Coliseum at the Blues Cafe & Bistro, Dan Ryan sits, sipping a beer. Ryan pulls a curtain around his booth, softening the sound of the music playing in the main room.
DAN RYAN: "So here we are, back on the road. I didn't really need to come to Richmond for Primetime. I'm not booked. Then again, you're not exactly giving me a whole lot to work with, are you, Blaine?"
"Maybe I'll just get a nice seat and watch Dirk Dickwood Presents, Team VIAGRA and Cameron Cruise do what they do out in the ring, just take it all in and enjoy the show for a change. It's good to see people I have a vested interest in do well. I could train some more, but I'm starting to think I'm training for a ghost."
"First it was Sean Stevens. And I get it, the man has things going on. I'll say nothing against that, yet still, I was met with silence. And I know, really I know, Hornet wants to make a big splash. He wants the big names. He wants his champion to get a real challenge inside that ring."
"But no, Stevens is gone, and Blaine Hollywood has made one appearance on top of an arena lecturing us all about safety and the proper way to sport an ascot. We all assume that when he's done with his Fred Jones from Scooby Doo impression, he'll get in the ring and show us all how it's done."
"Forgive me, however, if I'm just a little bit unimpressed. I know the pedigree, Blaine, but for some reason it's just not the butterflies-in-my-stomach moment that you probably think it should be. You fly in on a helicopter, you take time to point out your bloodline, your state in life and everyone else's lack thereof and really.... isn't it just a little bit boring? How many versions of this routine do I have to see?"
"At least one more, right?"
"For some reason, people always expect me to pretend like I'm something I'm not. I'm supposed to act like you deserve this, Blaine. But -- you don't deserve it. You've done nothing for the shot you're being given and I think it's highly ironic that your life story revolves around thinking that everyone else shouldn't breathe the same air as you when to me it's as clear as day that when it comes to wrestling, you don't belong breathing the same air as I do."
"I know I shouldn't be saying that, Blaine. You have the stench of entitlement on you, though, and I'm anything but a man who was handed his lot in life. No one really cares where you come from anyway. No one cares who your daddy is. No one cares about anything other than what you can do in that ring."
"Your 'thing' is telling people how much better you are than them. That doesn't bother me. I've accomplished enough of my goals to know who I am. I've built up enough in the character bank through actions to be secure in what kind of man I am --- and I've done enough in the ring to know how I really stack up."
"I'm the CSWA UNIFIED WORLD CHAMPION, Hollywood. You're here on a lark, on a field trip. Why don't you go back to where you belong? We both know that when it comes time to work, you'd rather a lackey do it than dirty your pretty little hands on doing it yourself."
"As long as I'm the champion, we're serious over here, and I have no intention of playing games with you. While you're at it, scoop up JJ Deville, who thinks people will just forget his history, and ease on down the road."
"You're not getting this belt -- not while I'm still around. Run tell daddy all that."
(FADEIN: To an opulent penthouse suite overlooking Greensboro in the O.Henry hotel. This suite takes up a large portion of the top floor, and is decorated in warm browns and creams, with several oak tables outfitted with freshly-cut flowers and a tray with just-eaten breakfast and a newspaper folded into eighths. From the left, a pair of French doors slide apart and out steps BLAINE HOLLYWOOD, shirtless and wearing silk, grosgrain Versace pajama bottoms in a brown-maize-white candystripe design. He picks up a matching shirt and starts putting it on, flipping up, than down his collar as he addresses the camera. On the heart of the shirt – the HOLLYWOOD family crest.)
BLAINE HOLLYWOOD: (Looking around, sneering) “Very good, Dan Ryan. Very good. I’ve seemed to have – shall I say ‘gotten your hackles up’ by leaving you hanging on my addressing of you – better yet, the soon-to-be VERBAL UNDRESSING. You see, Blaine Hollywood has decided to come to CSWA to bring some RESPECT to this armpit of wrestling, this disgusting sewer of puffery that you’re so quick to bellow that you are the standing champion of. It is … (looks to the side, smirking) UNFORTUNATE, that you happen to be standing here at this moment of time, because you will unfortunately be the greasy stain left behind after our eventual, fateful introduction in the ring at SHOWTIME, the thirtieth. And you may very well be correct on a few matters – yes, this IS a field trip for me, but I’m planning on acquiring a token of my stay while I’m here – (casually pantomimes the CSWA belt across his stomach) your CSWA World Championship.
“Of a litany of issues I have with this godforsaken city, one of it being that I had to make some phone calls to get my own personal cleaning service to show up and subcontract housekeeping duties – as I couldn’t FATHOM having an immigrant, who’s so poor, they wound up IN GREENSBORO, NORTH CAROLINA CLEANING PEOPLE’S TOILETS – that they must have NO OPTIONS left in life – that they couldn’t even find their way to a half-decent city for poor people, like, say – San Diego, or Houston Texas. I believe you’re from Houston, right, Ryan? (chuckles to himself) and with that, that I – yes, you are correct- AN OXONIAN, must be subjugated to being in this rat’s nest of a city just long enough to beat you within an inch of your life, Ryan, BREAK YOUR BACK and leave you laying. You saw the opening strike when I danced all over your match against Troy Windham. I DAMN NEAR KILLED TROY WINDHAM. He holds no weight here. Sean Stevens is NOT in your face, right now – it’s Blaine Hollywood – the FUTURE PERFECT. And there’s no jokes, or punchlines. You're not dealing with my bloodline, or my third-generation legacy, OR my father here: There’s just a 6-foot 8, 290 pound, brilliant athletic wunderkind, with some ‘minor’ rage issues and a thirst for gold. That’s all going to drop on your head, and then break you in half at SHOWTIME. Keep the rest of those surface things close to you at night if it comforts you - if it makes you feel better about meeting the HEIR APPARENT in the physical. No cartoon character, no man that FEARS DAN RYAN.
“So you want to talk about ‘ghosts’, Ryan? Mayhaps you’d like to talk about what’s going to become of you after our Ironman match. That spectre you’ll see when you open your eyes in a hospital bed after you’re revived, and in convalescence – you will be visited by the ghost of your CAREER PAST, Dan Ryan. Of dominating men who were BENEATH YOU, but I am not one of those men. I am planning on taking what’s around your waist, and ENDING YOU IF I MUST. It would (inhales) BEHOOOOOOOVE you to pay attention to what’s happening here. Don’t worry about what fork I use to eat my meals, prepared hourly by the world’s greatest chefs. Don’t concern yourself about my associations in other companies and with whom I do business with, or how to tie a cravat. Your usual run about how rich and successful and this and that rant won’t stick to me, Dan Ryan. You have the nerve to speak in my air about who is or isn’t BORING? (laughs!) HA!
"If I’ve seen one of your spots holding a microphone and pushing air through your mouth, I’ve heard ALL of them, Ryan. Black Shirt. Black Boots, Black knock-off Raybans, KICKING ASS, right? Well you’ve already been introduced to my special brand of entertainment, Ryan, when I snatched you by the face and dropped back and EXPLODED MY KNEES THROUGH YOUR BACK. THAT’S ENTERTAINMENT, Dan Ryan, and I can’t wait to do it again… (eyes get wide!) AND AGAIN. ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?! (smiles and composes himself, looking around and smoothing down his shirt)
"Don’t flatter yourself, Daniel. I give you all the respect in the world. I’m not those OTHER people who you have issue with – I’m another level, and I am NOT one to be trifled with, or marginalized. You will see that firsthand . . . (smiles and sits down on a long couch, and picks up the Los Angeles Times) when we can see who can SURVIVE the Ironman. My words are GOSSAMER STRANDS to your ears, and what an OXONIAN SAYS – is AS GOOD AS GOLD. BEGONE.”
(FADEOUT as BLAINE turns his attention to his paper, reaching for his tea)
Nashville, Tennessee - The Parlor Suite of the Gaylord Opryland Resort & Convention Center
Dan Ryan is sitting comfortably on a cushioned bench on the balcony, looking inward at the Delta Atrium level below. He’s wearing blue jeans and a red faded “Team Phenom” t-shirt. To the left, a valet cart holds an assortment of snacks and bottled water.
DAN RYAN: “Hey Blaaaaaaaaine. Only took two days to respond, eh? I guess I’m not particularly surprised that you’d prefer I lead the way. You’re so easily led. I don’t really expect that much out of you, Blaine, so don’t get these signals crossed. I’m much more annoyed than angry, mostly at you for coming over here and phoning it in and expecting me to pretend you’re something you’re not. But it’s okay. You’re a speed bump that I’m not even slowing down for.”
“I decided on a red shirt today, Blaine, because of how little you care for my drab outerwear. Do you like my little splash of color? I really want your approval. Really, I do. After all, you came here to bring respect to our little armpit of a wrestling company, and apparently, respect comes in the form of candy cane jammies worn by Tim Allen in The Santa Clause.”
“Oh, I know, you’re all class, Blaine. ALL CLASS. You’re all class hanging out in the penthouse suite in the nicest hotel in a city you hate, that we don’t have any shows scheduled for. I mean, we did just have PRIMETIME in Richmond, and I took that in, and we have our match in Nashville. Maybe you should be less concerned about the unfortunate lives of janitorial workers and the half-decent cities for poor people they could live in, and be more concerned with your agents sending you to the wrong town.”
“Am I wrong, Blaine?”
“Am I the asshole?” (Ryan holds up a sheet of paper) “I’ve got the show bill right here, and clear as day, right at the top, it says ‘The CSWA’s return tour hits Nashville, Tennessee! SHOWTIME returns with one of the biggest hours on television so far this year! LIVE on ESEN!’”
“Wait a second, is somebody playing a joke on me, Blaine? Did you and Papa Monty cook up a scheme to confuse Ol’ Dan into showing up at the wrong city? YOU RASCAL. Why, I’m in the wrong city! Goshdarnit, dagnabbit, rackin’ frackin’ and other old prospector words, you’ve done it again, Blaine Hollywood. Your Oxonian education has outsmarted this poor ol’ Texan.”
“Or, maybe it’s not me. Maybe Oxford doesn’t prepare people for such challenging life situations as --- reading the correct city on your itinerary, flying to the proper city for your event. My God, Blaine, you’re standing there in your candy cane panties giving me a VERBAL UNDRESSING…… from the wrong city. How did this happen?? Who can you fire? How are you gonna be able to leave a greasy stain after our eventful, fateful introduction in the ring at SHOWTIME, if you’re standing in an empty Greensboro Coliseum and I’m in Nashville, the UNIFIED World Championship around my waist, wondering why I’m standing in the ring without an opponent?”
“You see, Blaine? This is what I’m talking about. How can I think that this is anything more than a half-assed lark on your part that you can’t be bothered to put even the most basic amount of effort into when you can’t even show up in the right fuckin’ city? You’ve done nothing to indicate that you’re anything other than what I’ve already said you were --- a not-ready-for-primetime second tier athlete who has a place on this show because people know your daddy.”
“I would absolutely LOVE for you or anyone else to explain why you deserve a main event slot in an Iron Man match with me, but you can’t, because you don’t, Blaine, and that’s the problem. It’s one thing to sashay into an arena and drop from the rafters on your tied-together-like-you’re-escaping-a-burning-building designer scarves and ’MAKE AN IMPACT’. It’s quite another thing to actually get into the ring with one of the best professional wrestlers of the past fifteen years and back your bullshit actions up. I don’t give a shit about your little sneak attacks. You have to back it up now, and you haven’t even been taught the basics.”
“Break my back, drop me on my head --- all empty words, kid. I’ve been doing it for years.”
“What the fuck have you done?”
“Don’t worry…. I’ll wait.”
“AM I NOT ENTERTAINED? No Maximus, I’m not. I thought you were the ‘FUTURE PERFECT’, Blaine, not the ‘turn-of-the-century-steals-lines-from-thirteen-year-old-movies perfect’. Let me guess, this is Sparta, life is a box of chocolates and why so serious? I’m sorry, but you’re wrong, there is a joke and punchline, and you’re both. I don’t have to stick a rant with you. I just have to stick your shoulders to the mat. I don’t respect you, so your respect doesn’t amount to a pile of dog shit as far as I’m concerned.”
“Get on that fucking helicopter of yours and find your way to Nashville so I can kick your million dollar dental work down your goddamn throat. That’s all I need. Get in the ring and then get your ass back to where you belong, so I can defend this belt against people who deserve it and people who really give a damn.”
“You’re family crest is cute, Blaine. Take it and six bucks and bring me back a fuckin’ latte’, junior.”
“When you get back, you’ll get YOUR introduction to the reality of getting into the ring with the CSWA UNIFIED World Champion and getting your head spiked into the mat, because that’s what I do. You have ZERO chance of winning this match. And yes…”
FWrestling.com was founded in 1994 to promote a community of fantasy wrestling fans and leagues. Since then, we've hosted dozens of leagues and special events, and thousands of users. Come join and prove you're "Even Better Than The Real Thing."
Add Your League
If you want to help grow the community of fantasy wrestling creators, consider hosting your league here on FW. You gain access to message boards, Discord, your own web space and the ability to post pages here on FW. To discuss, message "Chad" here on FW Central.