Post by Slick Doctor on Sept 25, 2012 23:55:30 GMT -4
Scene opens with Slick at a local bar. He is sitting inside a car racing arcade game with a brew in hand. Slick winks at the waitress who just delivered his drink.
Slick: First I'd like to address Mr. Neal Steal. Actually, Mama Steal addressed him well enough already. I would be surprised if he shows his weasely face. Your welcome, Saturn. Neal you might be out of a job soon. You saw the way I rocked the mike for that Hell v Tracy match. I turned that snooze fest into must see TV.
Tracy, I served you that win up on a silver platter. And what did you do when I gave you that celebratory brew? You turned your back on it. If there is one thing I don't tolerate, it is the waste of a good beer. Unless, that is, I am pouring it on the lifeless body of a sucker I knocked out. Cause everyone knows I got the skills to pay the bills!
Alas, Tracy is a story for another day. This week it is that big, inbred doofus Hell that will try match wits with the ole Doc. Hell is a proper name for ya, ya big oaf. As in "who the HELL would want to ever go on a date with this guy". Or "what the HELL would this guy be doing for a living if he wasn't 30 feet tall". Maybe "What the HELL was he thinking when he ruined Slicky D's title shot". I do know that there is no chance in . . .well . . .HELL for him to beat me this week. I'm going to send him straight to . . . HELL. He'll look like, you guessed it, HELL after I get done with him. Oh HELL with it, I am getting the HELL out of this place.
Slick walks up to get out and bumps into two burly biker dudes, who don't look too happy. One bikers beer spills out a little, and the other man puts his arm on Slick's chest
Slick: Sorry dudes. Let me get you a . . .
Biker 1: Look who spilled our beers Butch. If it isn't that drunk wrestler on the TV, Slick.
Biker 2: Much smaller in person. Did he spill your beer, Brute?
Biker 1: Quite right. What do we do to people like him? People who stick their noses into others businesses, like he did with that Hell guy.
Biker 2: We murderize them. Let's see if Mr TV star knows how to apologize. . . .
Slick makes a motion to gently remove the man's hand from his chest. The other man grabs Slick by the wrist, and puts him in a wrist lock.
Slick: Dudes, I wasn't meaning any trouble. Can you let me apologize, and we can settle this?
Both men jack Slick up against the arcade machine, while one goes for Slick's pocket. Slick then snap mares the man behind him into the game. He spins around, and puts the other one in sleeper hold faster than you can blink. Slick winks at the camera as the man falls to the floor.
Slick: What the Hell? Well that probably was Hell of lot harder than whatever the Hell I am facing this week.
Slick looks disgustedly at the fallen foes. He then slaps come cash on the bar, and heads for the door. Scene fades.
Slick: First I'd like to address Mr. Neal Steal. Actually, Mama Steal addressed him well enough already. I would be surprised if he shows his weasely face. Your welcome, Saturn. Neal you might be out of a job soon. You saw the way I rocked the mike for that Hell v Tracy match. I turned that snooze fest into must see TV.
Tracy, I served you that win up on a silver platter. And what did you do when I gave you that celebratory brew? You turned your back on it. If there is one thing I don't tolerate, it is the waste of a good beer. Unless, that is, I am pouring it on the lifeless body of a sucker I knocked out. Cause everyone knows I got the skills to pay the bills!
Alas, Tracy is a story for another day. This week it is that big, inbred doofus Hell that will try match wits with the ole Doc. Hell is a proper name for ya, ya big oaf. As in "who the HELL would want to ever go on a date with this guy". Or "what the HELL would this guy be doing for a living if he wasn't 30 feet tall". Maybe "What the HELL was he thinking when he ruined Slicky D's title shot". I do know that there is no chance in . . .well . . .HELL for him to beat me this week. I'm going to send him straight to . . . HELL. He'll look like, you guessed it, HELL after I get done with him. Oh HELL with it, I am getting the HELL out of this place.
Slick walks up to get out and bumps into two burly biker dudes, who don't look too happy. One bikers beer spills out a little, and the other man puts his arm on Slick's chest
Slick: Sorry dudes. Let me get you a . . .
Biker 1: Look who spilled our beers Butch. If it isn't that drunk wrestler on the TV, Slick.
Biker 2: Much smaller in person. Did he spill your beer, Brute?
Biker 1: Quite right. What do we do to people like him? People who stick their noses into others businesses, like he did with that Hell guy.
Biker 2: We murderize them. Let's see if Mr TV star knows how to apologize. . . .
Slick makes a motion to gently remove the man's hand from his chest. The other man grabs Slick by the wrist, and puts him in a wrist lock.
Slick: Dudes, I wasn't meaning any trouble. Can you let me apologize, and we can settle this?
Both men jack Slick up against the arcade machine, while one goes for Slick's pocket. Slick then snap mares the man behind him into the game. He spins around, and puts the other one in sleeper hold faster than you can blink. Slick winks at the camera as the man falls to the floor.
Slick: What the Hell? Well that probably was Hell of lot harder than whatever the Hell I am facing this week.
Slick looks disgustedly at the fallen foes. He then slaps come cash on the bar, and heads for the door. Scene fades.