Post by Slick Doctor on Sept 3, 2012 17:00:10 GMT -4
Scene opens on the streets of Springfield, Ma, home of the Slickster. He is signing autographs with his fans, holding a pen in one hand, and a 40 of Old English in the other. He stops when he sees the AWR camera crew.
Slick: You see how they love me! Back in my home, the wrestling ring, in my home, Massachusetts! What's better than that!I made easy work of Tracy this week. You could say the only thing Atkins will be dining on this week will be fully pureed. Felt good. Real good. Made me want a little more. Made me make a little train a little harder. Actually, instead of me telling you, here is a little video to prove it.
Slick hands the disc to the camera man. Scene cuts.
Scene cuts back in with Slick walking down a dimly lit street. He is holding a slip of paper that he double checks as he arrives at a back door of a club called "Silvio's Slamhole". There is an oddly shaped man working the door, smoking a cigarette. He weighs about 300 pounds, none of it muscle. He is wearing a leather vest, with no undershirt. And a name tag that reads GUNNER. But it obviously is not Gunner Hughes.
Slick: Excuse me. . .uhh . . Gunner? I'm looking for a guy who goes by the name Megala. Know where he is?
Gunner: Yeah. I know where he is. My name is Gunner. Cause guns are so hardcore. They shoot people, and are so violent. They kill people. And so do I. Cause I'm hardcore. You know, like a gun. Cause I am . .
Slick interupts. . .
Slick: I get it buddy. I didn't question your toughness. Obviously you are tough and hardcore. You are a bouncer. And your name is Gunner. I just wanna know where Sil. . . .
Slick stops talking as Gunner has just put his cigarette out on Slicks chest. Slick didn't like this. So Slick pulls a cheeseburger out from his own pocket and holds it up. Gunner looks at the burger, as if he was in a trance. Slick waves it back and forth and Gunner's eyes follow. Slick then chucks the burger as far as he could throw it. Gunner follows the burger as fast as his fat ass can take him. Slick shakes his head as he enters the club.
The club is a classy affair on the inside, but it is sparsely populated. Slick walks up to a table, which is inhabited by 5 "little people". And they don't look happy.
Fasho: My name is Fasho.
Kris: My name is Kris.
Destiny: My name is Destiny.
Slick interrupts before the next one could speak.
Slick: I feel like I know you guys from somewhere. Anyway, I am looking for a guy named Silvio. Know where he is?
Fasho: What's it to ya?
Kris: What's it to ya?
Destiny: What's it to ya?
Slick: Ok, ok. I get it. I am getting nowhere with you guys. I just want to know where. . .
Slick's eyes drift off to see a scantily clad waitress who is bringing 5 shot glasses to the table. Slick smiles at the waitress and takes one of the shots. And proceeds to drink it and spit it out.
Slick: BEER! IN A SHOT GLASS! WHAT THE FUCK!
Fasho: We are little. We can't drink that much.
Kris: We are little. We can't drink . . .
Slick: Enough!
Slick flips the table. All 5 little people start to cry and suck their thumbs. Slick starts to laughs as the waitress pulls him to the side. She whispers in his ear and then hands her a paper, with her phone number on it. Slick gives her a wink/finger gun point as he walks to a door which reads do not enter. Slick enters.
We are now in a fancy room, with velvet drapes. A skinny old man is sitting on a throne in the back of the room. He is holding a replica AWR title belt and wearing a bathrobe. He doesn't look happy Slick has entered the room.
Royal: My name is Royal. Get it, cause I am, well, royal. I am Silvio's handpicked champion. Now you see Silvio picked me. . .
Camera pans to Slick looking at his watch while Royal continues to speak. And speak. And speak. Slick is on the verge of falling asleep when he hears Royal yell.
Royal: Did you hear me? Silvio picked. .
Slick: I don't really care who Silvio picked. I don't care if I face you, the golden boy of the AWR. Or that so called "enforcer" Gunner. Or even that split personality freak Fasho. Or Kris. Or Destiny. Or whichever personality comes out to play. I am here to entertain the fans. And make some new ones along the way. And give them what they want, which would be an honorable champion. That being me. So where the hell is Silvio, I wanna tell him that in person.
Royal: You'll have to get through me first!
Royal grabs for the walker right next to him but falls in the process.
Royal: You'll never get Silvio. Also I think I broke my hip!
Slick: Don't worry about it. I'll see Silvio when he straps that title around my waist. Only a matter of time.
Slick walks out of the door, as the waitress puts her arm around his waist. They both leave the club, and Slick gives the camera a thumbs up/wink as the scene fades.
Slick: You see how they love me! Back in my home, the wrestling ring, in my home, Massachusetts! What's better than that!I made easy work of Tracy this week. You could say the only thing Atkins will be dining on this week will be fully pureed. Felt good. Real good. Made me want a little more. Made me make a little train a little harder. Actually, instead of me telling you, here is a little video to prove it.
Slick hands the disc to the camera man. Scene cuts.
Scene cuts back in with Slick walking down a dimly lit street. He is holding a slip of paper that he double checks as he arrives at a back door of a club called "Silvio's Slamhole". There is an oddly shaped man working the door, smoking a cigarette. He weighs about 300 pounds, none of it muscle. He is wearing a leather vest, with no undershirt. And a name tag that reads GUNNER. But it obviously is not Gunner Hughes.
Slick: Excuse me. . .uhh . . Gunner? I'm looking for a guy who goes by the name Megala. Know where he is?
Gunner: Yeah. I know where he is. My name is Gunner. Cause guns are so hardcore. They shoot people, and are so violent. They kill people. And so do I. Cause I'm hardcore. You know, like a gun. Cause I am . .
Slick interupts. . .
Slick: I get it buddy. I didn't question your toughness. Obviously you are tough and hardcore. You are a bouncer. And your name is Gunner. I just wanna know where Sil. . . .
Slick stops talking as Gunner has just put his cigarette out on Slicks chest. Slick didn't like this. So Slick pulls a cheeseburger out from his own pocket and holds it up. Gunner looks at the burger, as if he was in a trance. Slick waves it back and forth and Gunner's eyes follow. Slick then chucks the burger as far as he could throw it. Gunner follows the burger as fast as his fat ass can take him. Slick shakes his head as he enters the club.
The club is a classy affair on the inside, but it is sparsely populated. Slick walks up to a table, which is inhabited by 5 "little people". And they don't look happy.
Fasho: My name is Fasho.
Kris: My name is Kris.
Destiny: My name is Destiny.
Slick interrupts before the next one could speak.
Slick: I feel like I know you guys from somewhere. Anyway, I am looking for a guy named Silvio. Know where he is?
Fasho: What's it to ya?
Kris: What's it to ya?
Destiny: What's it to ya?
Slick: Ok, ok. I get it. I am getting nowhere with you guys. I just want to know where. . .
Slick's eyes drift off to see a scantily clad waitress who is bringing 5 shot glasses to the table. Slick smiles at the waitress and takes one of the shots. And proceeds to drink it and spit it out.
Slick: BEER! IN A SHOT GLASS! WHAT THE FUCK!
Fasho: We are little. We can't drink that much.
Kris: We are little. We can't drink . . .
Slick: Enough!
Slick flips the table. All 5 little people start to cry and suck their thumbs. Slick starts to laughs as the waitress pulls him to the side. She whispers in his ear and then hands her a paper, with her phone number on it. Slick gives her a wink/finger gun point as he walks to a door which reads do not enter. Slick enters.
We are now in a fancy room, with velvet drapes. A skinny old man is sitting on a throne in the back of the room. He is holding a replica AWR title belt and wearing a bathrobe. He doesn't look happy Slick has entered the room.
Royal: My name is Royal. Get it, cause I am, well, royal. I am Silvio's handpicked champion. Now you see Silvio picked me. . .
Camera pans to Slick looking at his watch while Royal continues to speak. And speak. And speak. Slick is on the verge of falling asleep when he hears Royal yell.
Royal: Did you hear me? Silvio picked. .
Slick: I don't really care who Silvio picked. I don't care if I face you, the golden boy of the AWR. Or that so called "enforcer" Gunner. Or even that split personality freak Fasho. Or Kris. Or Destiny. Or whichever personality comes out to play. I am here to entertain the fans. And make some new ones along the way. And give them what they want, which would be an honorable champion. That being me. So where the hell is Silvio, I wanna tell him that in person.
Royal: You'll have to get through me first!
Royal grabs for the walker right next to him but falls in the process.
Royal: You'll never get Silvio. Also I think I broke my hip!
Slick: Don't worry about it. I'll see Silvio when he straps that title around my waist. Only a matter of time.
Slick walks out of the door, as the waitress puts her arm around his waist. They both leave the club, and Slick gives the camera a thumbs up/wink as the scene fades.