Post by scofield on Jan 10, 2014 19:48:53 GMT -5
“The Phonecall”
Stefan Lajoie Vs. M.A.N
Reloaded 1/12/14
Ring.
Ring.
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnn-gah!
“Alright fine I’ll answer it come on give me a second here.”
He walks out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, and he grabs his cell phone. He opens it and puts it to his ear as water drips off his nose and chin.
“Yeah?”
“You have to do something about this.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Grand larceny.”
“Uhhuh. And what do you want ME to do about it? She fights her own battles.”
“And MAN has been talking shit about you for weeks now. You really going to let any of this slide?”
“When I face him in the ring, he’ll find out what I’m made of, just like Real Steele did.”
“Stefan, you need to show this little shit what the wrestling world is about. It’s not about getting a win by cheating, especially when you’re new. It’s about winning using the resources you have available. It’s about respect, it’s about passion.”
“…You wanna fight this match, Marc?”
“You know I’m bound by an exclusive contract, Stefan. Just get the job done, I’m counting on you.”
“Yeah, fine, sure I guess. Kids enough of a shit now he has to go and try and make a fool of one of ours, while badmouthing us? I’ll show him who is boss.”
He closes the phone and puts it on the night table.
A new task, a new week. This is the life, is it not?
“So, because Mr. Douyard is quite upset, and twitter is a blaze with harassment and offensive slurs from MAN, I’m thrust into doing my duty this week. What is my duty? To stand up for what is right in the wrestling world, and that is certainly not stealing a win from the Princess who had it earned dead to rights. MAN, you are not some comic book hero, you are not some Joe Lunchpail common man. You are in the world of professional wrestling, buddy, and it’s time you learned exactly what this business is all about.”
He walks back into the bathroom, and we can hear the towel slump off of his waist.
The camera debates peeking into the bathroom.
“No, Tanja, not right now.”
The camera stays in the hotel room, and we can hear him putting clothes on.
“So, Max. You like to say a lot of things. Not only about me, but about my company, my friends, and about your company. You say these things, and I’m fairly certain that when you say them, you actually draw people away from MPW. You have no faith in anyone but your company to “do the right thing.” You have no faith in any other company, not to house “good” talent, not to give opportunities, not to even make true leaders, champions, or respectable wrestlers. You have no faith in any of my companies offerings, and what’s more, you will plug, to the death, your own company. You are the definition of a blind sheep, you are the exact carbon copy of a yes man. You are Mr. Smithers to someone in MPW’s Mr. Burns, and it sickens me. If you’d like a more “current” metaphor, MAN, you are the Dwight Shrute to MPW’s Dunder Mifflin. Do you follow me, MAN? Do you dare to follow me down the rabbit hole?”
We hear a giggle, and the camera shakes slightly.
“Let’s be honest. It’s not good business. When Kurt Newman called me over to MPW, it wasn’t because he had no faith in this company. It wasn’t because the doors were closing. It wasn’t because this company has had it out for him. It’s because this company, closing or not, out for him or not, needs a fire lit under his ass. Let’s face it: Kurt Newman, as good as he is, has defeated every champion in a match in this company, and he still has yet to see a title shot. Is that good leadership? Is that good business? The man can beat every one of your favored champions, MAN, and he hasn’t been fairly, justly rewarded. That is not good business. You, you managed to sneak away last week and steal the victory from Kayley Hale. You did this, well, not because you wanted some victory to be proud of, no no, but because it was an opportunity. It wasn’t good for business, it doesn’t make you look good, and it certainly doesn’t help your career. Would you like to know why, MAN? Would you like me to explain it?”
The camera nods.
“Because, once again, it’s not good business. Kayley Hale, someone that you consider a friend, you stole from. If you steal from your friends, you close your mind to other opportunities, and you ignore the talent and accomplishments that others earn in other avenues, you are ignorant to the very truths that lie before you: you are not good by any definition. You are not talented, you are not respectful, and you are certainly not a “real” professional wrestler. You are, simply, a boy.”
A voice comes from behind the camera.
“A lot like the girls I used to put down weekly, if you think about it.”
He nods in agreement.
“See, Max, can I call you Max? Good, because I don’t really want to call you “M.A.N.” it just doesn’t flow off the tongue nor make sense for you. But, see, Max, you’re not something special. You’re not some grade A kobe beef product that makes the world drool. You’re not your khakis, hell, your probably not worth what you paid for those tights you wear. Your worth is exactly what MPW wants it to be: minimal. You get a cheap win here or there to make you happy and feel accomplished, but the guys at the top will never give you a title shot. And would you like to know why? Because you have no fire. You have no passion. You have no heart for this business. You’re here to play pretend and play make believe. Don’t give me the nonsense of your “history” Max, I know your kind. You’re a lot like the kid in a college Theater 101 course: you think that just because you passed, you’re good. Here’s a subtle hint from the theater majors that were in the class and that watched from a far: you have no experience, you have no training, and you have no redeeming qualities. You passed, simply, because you were willing to try.”
He chuckles.
“Now, don’t get me wrong. The will to try is something that is smiled upon in this business. It’s what keeps people like Hellbender around, he’s always willing to “try.” Sure, he never has the attitude to get anywhere and sure he never actually shows up, but hey, he promises you that he will try! He’ll try real hard! You know what, let’s face it, Max, you’re one tenth the talent of Chrissy Star or Christian Carter, and they are maybe one fifth of the talent I am. You going to throw words around when you don’t know half of what they mean? You wanna play pretend and act on a stage, Max? Well go ahead, play, Max. You can be the “hero” of MPW, who has nothing but horrible things to say about everyone else except his company. And me? You wanna know who I am in this metaphor?”
Pause.
“I’m the guy who teaches you what it means to be an actual professional wrestler. A guy who is a part of the business. A guy who, despite only being here for two weeks, respects the talent that is in this building. When I took a cheap shot at Chrissy or Carter a moment ago, it wasn’t for them to shit their britches and get on my case, no; it was to get their attention. I don’t just aim low in this quest, Maxi-Pad, I aim as high as this company will let me. AS good as the talent is, everyone in this company needs the fire inside them lit up. And Kurt, Hawk, Kayley and I? We’re the people that are going to do that. So, go ahead, gloat all you want about how you got ONE victory over someone better than you. Gloat away, you certainly “earned” it. But come time for our match, come time that bell rings? You’re going to learn the hard way what a real wrestler does to survive. And against me, it’s not a matter of surviving the fight, not at all; it’s a matter of how long it takes to fall.”
A chuckle comes from behind the camera.
“And, as the old saying goes, Max: one must fall. Just ask Real Steel.”
Fade to black.
Stefan Lajoie Vs. M.A.N
Reloaded 1/12/14
Ring.
Ring.
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnn-gah!
“Alright fine I’ll answer it come on give me a second here.”
He walks out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, and he grabs his cell phone. He opens it and puts it to his ear as water drips off his nose and chin.
“Yeah?”
“You have to do something about this.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Grand larceny.”
“Uhhuh. And what do you want ME to do about it? She fights her own battles.”
“And MAN has been talking shit about you for weeks now. You really going to let any of this slide?”
“When I face him in the ring, he’ll find out what I’m made of, just like Real Steele did.”
“Stefan, you need to show this little shit what the wrestling world is about. It’s not about getting a win by cheating, especially when you’re new. It’s about winning using the resources you have available. It’s about respect, it’s about passion.”
“…You wanna fight this match, Marc?”
“You know I’m bound by an exclusive contract, Stefan. Just get the job done, I’m counting on you.”
“Yeah, fine, sure I guess. Kids enough of a shit now he has to go and try and make a fool of one of ours, while badmouthing us? I’ll show him who is boss.”
He closes the phone and puts it on the night table.
A new task, a new week. This is the life, is it not?
“So, because Mr. Douyard is quite upset, and twitter is a blaze with harassment and offensive slurs from MAN, I’m thrust into doing my duty this week. What is my duty? To stand up for what is right in the wrestling world, and that is certainly not stealing a win from the Princess who had it earned dead to rights. MAN, you are not some comic book hero, you are not some Joe Lunchpail common man. You are in the world of professional wrestling, buddy, and it’s time you learned exactly what this business is all about.”
He walks back into the bathroom, and we can hear the towel slump off of his waist.
The camera debates peeking into the bathroom.
“No, Tanja, not right now.”
The camera stays in the hotel room, and we can hear him putting clothes on.
“So, Max. You like to say a lot of things. Not only about me, but about my company, my friends, and about your company. You say these things, and I’m fairly certain that when you say them, you actually draw people away from MPW. You have no faith in anyone but your company to “do the right thing.” You have no faith in any other company, not to house “good” talent, not to give opportunities, not to even make true leaders, champions, or respectable wrestlers. You have no faith in any of my companies offerings, and what’s more, you will plug, to the death, your own company. You are the definition of a blind sheep, you are the exact carbon copy of a yes man. You are Mr. Smithers to someone in MPW’s Mr. Burns, and it sickens me. If you’d like a more “current” metaphor, MAN, you are the Dwight Shrute to MPW’s Dunder Mifflin. Do you follow me, MAN? Do you dare to follow me down the rabbit hole?”
We hear a giggle, and the camera shakes slightly.
“Let’s be honest. It’s not good business. When Kurt Newman called me over to MPW, it wasn’t because he had no faith in this company. It wasn’t because the doors were closing. It wasn’t because this company has had it out for him. It’s because this company, closing or not, out for him or not, needs a fire lit under his ass. Let’s face it: Kurt Newman, as good as he is, has defeated every champion in a match in this company, and he still has yet to see a title shot. Is that good leadership? Is that good business? The man can beat every one of your favored champions, MAN, and he hasn’t been fairly, justly rewarded. That is not good business. You, you managed to sneak away last week and steal the victory from Kayley Hale. You did this, well, not because you wanted some victory to be proud of, no no, but because it was an opportunity. It wasn’t good for business, it doesn’t make you look good, and it certainly doesn’t help your career. Would you like to know why, MAN? Would you like me to explain it?”
The camera nods.
“Because, once again, it’s not good business. Kayley Hale, someone that you consider a friend, you stole from. If you steal from your friends, you close your mind to other opportunities, and you ignore the talent and accomplishments that others earn in other avenues, you are ignorant to the very truths that lie before you: you are not good by any definition. You are not talented, you are not respectful, and you are certainly not a “real” professional wrestler. You are, simply, a boy.”
A voice comes from behind the camera.
“A lot like the girls I used to put down weekly, if you think about it.”
He nods in agreement.
“See, Max, can I call you Max? Good, because I don’t really want to call you “M.A.N.” it just doesn’t flow off the tongue nor make sense for you. But, see, Max, you’re not something special. You’re not some grade A kobe beef product that makes the world drool. You’re not your khakis, hell, your probably not worth what you paid for those tights you wear. Your worth is exactly what MPW wants it to be: minimal. You get a cheap win here or there to make you happy and feel accomplished, but the guys at the top will never give you a title shot. And would you like to know why? Because you have no fire. You have no passion. You have no heart for this business. You’re here to play pretend and play make believe. Don’t give me the nonsense of your “history” Max, I know your kind. You’re a lot like the kid in a college Theater 101 course: you think that just because you passed, you’re good. Here’s a subtle hint from the theater majors that were in the class and that watched from a far: you have no experience, you have no training, and you have no redeeming qualities. You passed, simply, because you were willing to try.”
He chuckles.
“Now, don’t get me wrong. The will to try is something that is smiled upon in this business. It’s what keeps people like Hellbender around, he’s always willing to “try.” Sure, he never has the attitude to get anywhere and sure he never actually shows up, but hey, he promises you that he will try! He’ll try real hard! You know what, let’s face it, Max, you’re one tenth the talent of Chrissy Star or Christian Carter, and they are maybe one fifth of the talent I am. You going to throw words around when you don’t know half of what they mean? You wanna play pretend and act on a stage, Max? Well go ahead, play, Max. You can be the “hero” of MPW, who has nothing but horrible things to say about everyone else except his company. And me? You wanna know who I am in this metaphor?”
Pause.
“I’m the guy who teaches you what it means to be an actual professional wrestler. A guy who is a part of the business. A guy who, despite only being here for two weeks, respects the talent that is in this building. When I took a cheap shot at Chrissy or Carter a moment ago, it wasn’t for them to shit their britches and get on my case, no; it was to get their attention. I don’t just aim low in this quest, Maxi-Pad, I aim as high as this company will let me. AS good as the talent is, everyone in this company needs the fire inside them lit up. And Kurt, Hawk, Kayley and I? We’re the people that are going to do that. So, go ahead, gloat all you want about how you got ONE victory over someone better than you. Gloat away, you certainly “earned” it. But come time for our match, come time that bell rings? You’re going to learn the hard way what a real wrestler does to survive. And against me, it’s not a matter of surviving the fight, not at all; it’s a matter of how long it takes to fall.”
A chuckle comes from behind the camera.
“And, as the old saying goes, Max: one must fall. Just ask Real Steel.”
Fade to black.