WFW Road To Glory: Felix Red & Jared Wells vs. Original Showstoppers

[PaulNJ21]

This show will be set inside Disneyland to celebrate its 50th Anniversary. Gratitudous Disneyland references win brownie points.

This is a second round match in the WFW World Tag Tournament. The RP/Angle deadline is Wednesday, August 16th 11:59 PM EST. Send all angles to BOTH pmiller21@gmail.com and sedmunds@goucher.edu

 

[GreggG]

California, Here We Come

(CUT TO: A pickup truck outside a Winn Dixie, Anytown near the Gulf Coast, USA. Sitting in the back of the pick-up truck are "FABULOUS" FRANKIE FARGO and "THE NEW AMERICAN STUD" BRANDON MUELLER -- with bleach-blonde mullets flowing. Both are wearing Mouseketeer helmets, with the big dopey ears. In front of them stands "Manager of Champions" Calvin Carlton, wearing his Mouseketeer helmet AND a Mickey Mouse T-Shirt with a suit jacket over it.)

CALVIN: Oh boy oh boy oh boy! Yessiree! I can't wait to go to Disneyland! (Calvin clicks his heels in boyish excitement.) M-I-C! K-E-Y! M-O-U-S-U-C-K-M-Y-D-I-C-K.

(Calvin rips off his T-Shirt, getting tangled up as Fargo and Mueller help him unravel it, then he takes off his Mouse Ears and SPITS right in them, throwing it on the ground and stomping on it as his charges laugh behind him, doing the same with their Mouse Ears. )

CALVIN: What makes you -- the poor, wretched refuse yearning to steal money from my momma -- think for ONE SECOND I would go to a place like Disneyland? A half-assed, dimwitted amusement park filled with nothing but a bunch of poor Mexicans, poor blacks, poor whites and poor EVERYONE. A bunch of scrawny cancer kids with snot coming out of their nose, their bodies ravaged by depleted T-Cells, 104 degree body temperatures, skin blistering from being outside for more than 15 seconds in their pathetic, shortened lives. All for the chance to see a bunch of poor Mexicans, poor blacks and poor whites dressed in disgusting costumes dance around like the Commodores did at my mamma's birthday party... before she fired them for having some of her veggie dip without her permission. You think I wanna go to THAT hellhole?

(Calvin pauses.) Well, I DO! For two reasons. Reason number one -- Momma is looking to make a big real estate investment to further diversify her vast holdings and she thinks that there could be a great gated community-slash-condo complex right where The Matterhorn is sitting at right now. And then she wants to put a golf course for the world leaders she finds most favorable -- those who valulate her mutual funds the highest -- over by the snack bar! And what my momma wants, my momma gets. But what she wants MORE than that is reason number two, my sweet beautiful angel pricess momma told me last night that she doesn't want Atlantic Starr to perform this year for her birthday... SHE WANTS JEWELRY. GOLD JEWELRY. And the gold I plan on getting her aren't for her perky earlobes... they're going to be worn around the waists of her two favorite Southern Gentlemen. The Southern Sex Squad. Fabulous Frankie. The New American Stud. The Original ShowStoppers...

(The OSS get up, drape their arms around Calvin.)

CALVIN: So, Felix Red, Jared Wells. I'm not going to profess to say that I know much about you. Felix Red, I know you're pretty much a street walker, the type of "man" who in Victorian days would be locked up and laughed at by rich people making you perform for them. Sounds good, huh, Red? Kinda similiar, huh, Red? Kinda like what you do now, huh, Red? You act weird and everyone thinks you're a freak? Well, Red, my charges are going to knock some sense into you. And then after they do that, they're just going to knock you out. And Jared Wells? (Calvin chuckles.) Do you still call yourself The Rage-o-Fire? Well, I got another name for you... Retarded-As-Always. Or another. Gay-As-F*ck. Do you two honestly think you have a chance against the best tag team from yesterday, today and tomorrow? Fabulous Frankie and N-Ayy-Ess Brandon? Two men who tore through the south like a case of crab lice in the urinals at TommorowLand. Two men who ripped through the NFW's tag team ranks like a case of spinal menningitis in the FrontierLand water fountains?

Well, you don't. But you're going to be facing my charges in a few short weeks. California, Here We Come! Tell your daddys. Tell your sisters. But don't tell my momma... because she ALLLLREADY know. You're going to have to send out an S O S. Because you're about to cross paths with the O S S. Let's get struttin', boys! (All three do the Fargo Strut as the pickup trucks engine starts. FTB.)

 

[NotorisSTD]

The rabbit hole - Not as far down as we'd like to be

(Felix Red is hanging out in front of the Haunted Mansion after hours, in a grey long sleeved “Against Me!" shirt and dickies shorts, sipping B-E, appearing rather out of sorts….)

“the boy who destroyed the world”

A necrophiliac called me a schizoid.

Charming.

I was hoping that incorrigible Jared Wells would fill some camera time for me, in this, my time of epiphany and personal catharsis. I suppose I should’ve known better. Wells is a decent and well intended young man, but reliable he isn’t. This is my fault, to an extent, but not so much in this instance. Why did we think it would be easy to find drugs in Disney Land? Why did that seem like such a logical assumption on the plane ride?...

I can be bothered, of course, but only for so long….1987, a year I’m too young to remember, is pelting me with various slings and arrows. Verbal slings and arrows. And I don’t care.

Because 1987 was almost 20 years ago. The beginning is the end is the middle is the beginning, but my goodness…Does anyone remember anything at all about the Midnight Express? Aren’t they both dead now? I am no one….I cannot judge another for a lack of originality, when I myself am nothing but a composite of everything I’ve ever touched, but could we, for a change, entertain a different beginning? I’ve always wanted to visit Medieval times. Dragons and the roundtable knights and feudalism. I think I’d fit right in. Perhaps Carlton was correct, perhaps I’d be locked in a cage, good only to inspire awed, nervous laughter from the serfs…

Or I could be a warrior king. I am mad, but so were Joan of Ark, Charlemagne, Alexander, Napoleon, Andy Warhol….Again, I remind you, I am no advocate of incest. I do not approve of such things, but royalty at times must to keep their power solidified. This is where I will outshine them, you see. I have no sister, and if I did, I would have no intention of marrying her. I may have a cousin. There’s no way for me to know this, but if it is that I have a female cousin, and she is gamely, then still, I would not wed her or impregnate her. I am a traditional lad of moral and sexual integrity. I…Calvin Carlton…am not a mother f(bleep)ker. Nor do I f(bleep) the dead. I f(bleep) 17 year old girls…They are what is not yet, but will soon be. The past determines our present and the future never comes. So f(bleep) the future. You know. Literally. And while you can have sex with the past, stick it in where you came out….Why would anyone want to?

But demystification has never been for me. The best way to f(bleep) the future is to destroy the present. And then, well, no one’s going to much care for the before….

I don’t pay homage to what has been but is no longer. I just f(bleep) sh(bleep) up. I say everything and nothing. And to delicate ears, there is nothing more crass...

Tell your mother to shut her eyes, Calvin. Have her keep her eyes tightly covered. I am not to be witnessed by the gentile and tired. It’s simply not something I’ve ever had to consider. My father was a wolf. My mother was a whore.