[OOC: Y’all mofos love putting Jimmy and me against each other. Swear to god, we’re gonna make a tag team one day to fuck all you people up lol.]
Date: January 22, 2017
Time: 7:00 AM
Place: Atlanta, Georgia, United States
[That’s right, fuckers. I’m the narrator. Figured I should be doing this job now that I’m on the outside looking in. What’s that? Don’t recognize me? Well, you will. Our scene begins inside a hotel room in Atlanta, Georgia. Classy joint. Has a name I can’t properly pronounce. Just know it’s a nice place. You know the type. Well, you actually probably don’t…Just picture a James Bond movie, and you should get the gist. A alarm clock goes off on the side table next to the king sized bed immediately as it hits 7 AM. A hand comes out from the covers and bangs on the clock so it shuts the fuck up. An audible groan is heard from the mattress as the Awesome One, the Canadian Crusader, your hero and savior Alex Scott rolls over from his slumber. That’s right, asshats. That’s me. And I bet you’re wondering how I got into this mess…wait, wait, wait. Fuck that. I’m not some stupid meme trying to rip off the Wonder Years and pretend I’m Fred fucking Savage…heh. Savage. Funny how that worked out. Didn’t even try to make that little nod. I’m just that damn good at this shit. First day on the job, and I’m already ruling the roost. Anyways, you’ll find out soon enough why I’m in this humid Hell. Mick Foley was wrong. The sweatbox is in Atlanta, not Rhode Island. I awake from my slumber looking like absolute shit. This is what wrestling really looks like after years of physical abuse to my body and my liver. Although, the liver part is PARTIALLY my fault. Whiskey every fucking promo will do that. So, I roll out of bed and stand up. Light barely peaks through my curtains. I walk over and open them the rest of the way. I’m blinding for a moment as I look across the city. It is beautiful, I have to admit. My phone suddenly starts to ring. Only one motherfucker would dare call me this early. I walk back to the side table and see “Orion” lit up across my iPhone…8? Whatever the fuck number it’s at. I pick up my phone and just stare at it for a few moments before I slide to answer.]
<>Alex Scott<>
(groggily) Hello, asswipe.
[The voice on the other end blasts into my ear like an airhorn.]
<>Orion Pax<>
Good morning, Alex! Did I wake your old ass up?
[Too. Damn. Early. Kid has probably been up for two hours already though. The fact that he called at 7 is a courtesy. Usually calls me at 6 after he’s finished his run or workout or some other bullshit. If he didn’t work so damn hard, I would hate his guts.]
<>Alex Scott<>
For once, no. I set an alarm just in case you were kind and let me sleep in. Can’t let you get too many hours on me. What’s going on?
<>Orion Pax<>
Just finished my gym time and breakfast. Ready for ring work?
[Told you. This kid is a workhorse. A cocky shit of a workhorse. But a workhorse nonetheless.]
<>Alex Scott<>
You’re gonna have to wait on that. Gonna have to do probably your most difficult trial.
<>Orion Pax<>
What are you talking about? Everything about wrestling is a cakewalk!
<>Alex Scott<>
Well, it isn’t necessarily wrestling, per se. You’re gonna have to cut a promo.
<>Orion Pax<>
…
[Silence permeates through the phone. It’s the one thing not a lot of people take into consideration when thinking about becoming a wrestler. Yeah, you’re an athlete. But can you talk? Are you charismatic enough to keep people engaged and interested in the product? You’re basically a salesman on that mic, and you’re the product. Sell yourself and you’re golden. Hell, some of the most valuable people ever to enter the world of wrestling could move for shit. Hulk Hogan was god awful, if you look at it objectively. Muscle or not, he could only do his five moves of doom and that is it. But damn he could talk. He made Hulkamania what it is. So charisma and the gift of gab mean everything. Unfortunately, even with his little bit of charisma, talking is not Orion’s forte.]
<>Alex Scott<>
You there, kid?
—————————————————————————
{Why? Why does he want to do that? God damn it, I hate promos. Wrestling comes so naturally to me. Why do I have to talk? Why can’t I let my moves talk for me? I can wipe the floor with anyone I’m going to face. But talking? I don’t know what it is, but I freeze when you put a mic in my hands. I don’t know what to do.}
—————————————————————————
[In case you couldn’t tell, that was the kid’s narration. Clearly, this is the one area that he needs work in. Let’s move ahead to the promo because I’m on a time limit here. Let’s go watch the kid’s promo and cringe collectively.]
—————————————————————————
A Few Hours Later
[We come back in inside an abandoned warehouse. I’m behind the camera for once. It’s one of those Canon ones you hold. I figured it could give the promo a raw, uncut type of feel if I’m able to move with him and around him…Yeah, I have no clue about film so I’ll probably fuck it up. Either way, I got Orion in front of me, wearing a black leather jacket over a blue v-neck with blue jeans and black cowboy boots. It doesn’t matter what I’m wearing. Focus on the kid! I give him the sign to start and he begins.]
<>Orion Pax<>
Ladies and gentlemen…my name…is Orion Pax. Or as you all may call me…Your Supreme Overlord. I am the one you have all been waiting for…the one who save you all from the doldrums of your lives and actually make you expand your attention span…I am going to be the winner of this tournament and be crowned the first ever champion of the CQC. And Nate Savage…you are merely a stopping..stepping stone on my way to absolute domination.
[That’s it? Did he just fucking stop? I look at this jackass with a look of bewilderment. The camera falls to my side with my arm. I quickly turn it off and turn to him.]
<>Alex Scott<>
That’s all you have to say? Really? You’re not going to attack him verbally at all? Just the stepping stone comment? C’mon kid! That’s weak shit!
[He looks at me, wide eyed. Definitely has that deer in the headlights look down pat.]
<>Orion Pax<>
I figured that’s all I had to say.
<>Alex Scott<>
Not even close! First off, what’s with all the God damned pausing! You’re a human being. You don’t need to load your thoughts like a computer. Just fucking talk! Second, we watched this guy’s promo. Attack how stupid he fucking sounds. How boring this whole “CRAZY MAN” gimmick is. Hell, he calls himself Nasty Nate. Say he ripped off the Nasty Boys. Rip him a new one. Or hey, maybe back me up. He said I’m washed up and a piece of shit. Back me up! You have to acknowledge what your opponent is saying, at the very least. If you’re not going to ruin him piece by piece for sounding like a moron, you have to at least acknowledge him because to ignore anyone talking about you is career suicide. You will entice nobody if you don’t acknowledge your opponent in some way shape or form. How do you not know this?
<>Orion Pax<>
You didn’t tell me what to say, though.
<>Alex Scott<>
This isn’t WWE. I’m not going to make you deadpan a script, piss off a crowd, then expect everything handed to you like you’re some Super Samoan people actually hate. You have to think on your feet and react appropriately. You are used to having to work for everything you have. Guess what? This is no different. Luckily for you, wrestling isn’t all promo work. Because if it was, you’d be garbage. But thank the good lord he made you an athlete and competitor. There should be no reason why you won’t wipe the floor with this guy. However, it doesn’t matter if no one is interested in the fight. You could beat everyone in this place. But if no one cares one way or the other, it means nothing. You have to make people care. Plain and simple.
[I put my hand on his shoulder. I figured I’ve ripped him apart enough for one day.]
<>Alex Scott<>
Just focus on your ring work, for now. The promo work will come. Plus, we gotta get you a catchphrase! C’mon. Let’s get some food before in ring work. I’m fucking starving.
[So we walk off, heading in the direction of the exit. The scene then slowly fades to black…Not bad, eh? Christ, being a narrator is easy shit. I can’t imagine why the last guy quit and spray painted my car. Who knows.]
————————————————————————
{Alex may have a point about the promos and making people care. But quite honestly, I don’t need all the big words and funny catchphrases to make people interested in the product. Watch me decimate my opponent this next show. You’ll give a shit when I leave him lying in a puddle of his own blood and teeth. Then…you’ll have no choice but to care.}
END
