Post by Deleted on Jan 25, 2013 23:09:31 GMT -6
[It’s friggin dark in here. Where is here? Good question. How would I know? It’s dark and can’t see shit. There’s a succession of loud bangs. Like someone knocking on a door. Oh, yea, that’s definitely knocking. There’s voices. Deep, manly voices. The knocking is getting louder. A female voice, very close, is heard.]
Heidi: Answer the fucking door already.
[Heidi’s in a good mood today. That’s a change from the norm.]
Rizzo: I feel like I just got gaped by Gorilla Grodd. What the fuck happened?
[The knocking is now getting violent. Rizzo, still unseen because it’s a virtual black hole, stumbles around his room. Based on the violent stream of profanity, including “I think I just broke my dick” it seems that Rizzo is having great difficulty navigating the black hole. He finally reaches the door. It opens, and the room is flooded with bright, painful sunlight. Nick and Sam are standing at the door, smiling from ear to ear. Rizzo knows this will not end well.]
Rizzo: Why are you cheesing like that?
Nick: You’ll see. How are you feeling this morning?
Rizzo: Did Hellboy fist my mouth and eye holes? Because if not, I might be dying.
Nick: You need to lay off the car bombs, kid. You’re being pretty fucking reckless considering you’re wrestling in a couple of days.
Rizzo: Crap, yeah, that’s right. Zortalk. IKEA shopper extraordinaire. Fucking Swedes.
Nick: Get your shit together and let’s get some breakfast. You have a very long day ahead of you.
Heidi: Yes, please, get this asshole out of here.
Rizzo: What the fuck did I do?
Heidi: Two words: Angry Dolphin.
[Nick and Sam shake their head at Rizzo. He simply shrugs.]
Rizzo: Sorry babe. You know I get a little frisky when I’m insploicated.
Heidi: No excuse! Now get out of here!
[Riz walks over to his suitcase and pulls out some shorts and a t-shirt. He dresses, takes a large swig of mouthwash, and exits the room. As they exit, Rizzo looks very confused. This is not the Ritz-Carlton. It’s not even close. It’s a very cheap motel. The EZ 8 motel to be exact. There’s a slightly dirty pool. There’s loud music and noises coming from a room down the way. Rizzo looks at Sam and Nick.]
Rizzo: What the fuck?
Sam: Well, mate, you told the cab river you wanted to go to a place where you could get, as you put it, some flap stabbing done, but you didn’t want it to be too rapey. This is where they brought you.
Rizzo: But I have a suite at the Ritz!
Nick: And we thank you kindly for giving us your key card. That mini bar was spectacular.
Rizzo: Bastards. Both of you are bastards. So did we get the new vehicle.
[Rizzo does not like the giggle Sam and Nick share.]
Rizzo: What did you fuckers do now?
Nick: Come on, I’m hungry.
[Rizzo follows Sam and Nick down the walkway. They turn left towards the parking lot. Even from a distance Rizzo can see the bad news. On the driver’s side, in big block letters, is “FREE CANDY” plastered on the RV (Rape Van will be henceforth known as RV.) Rizzo stops dead in his tracks, closes his eyes, and take a few deep, soothing breaths.]
Rizzo: What. The. Mother. Fuck.
Sam: Well, let’s face it, that van just wasn’t doing it. It was too white, too boring. We had to spice it up a bit.
Rizzo: Really? That’s what you call spicing I up?
[Rizzo walks to the van and inspects the other side. His worst fears have come true. On the other side of the RV, “I HEART KIDS” is written along the side.]
Rizzo: Seriously, you guys might be the dumbest assholes on the planet. Give me the fucking keys.
[Nick throws Rizzo the keys and he climbs into the driver’s seat. Nick and Sam both climb in, with Sam going to the seats behind the passenger seat. Rizzo turns the car on and he’s immediately greeted by “Du Hast” by Rammstein mid-song playing at maximum volume. Rizzo shakes his head disapprovingly and shuts the music off.]
Rizzo: Next thing I know, once I start riving, fucking ice cream truck music will start playing.
Sam: That can be arranged.
Rizzo: Don’t even think of it. Just don’t.
[Rizzo pulls out of the parking lot and he starts driving down the road. As would be expected, he and the boys aren’t getting very many friendly looks from the people around. Rizzo’s face becomes madder and angrier each tenth of a mile he drives. A loud sound is heard as someone throws a cup of soda at the van. Suddenly, Rizzo’s anger turns to a smile.]
Rizzo: I get I now. Holy shit, I get it. Boys, I think your little prank has some unintended benefits.
Nick: And what, pray tell, could you possibly find beneficial about riding a van marking you as a child rapist? I’d love to hear this one.
Rizzo: This whole time, I was making a giant mistake about my opponent. Like, it was so big that it might have really cost me the match. But now, I fully understand the guy. See, I thought he was just a joke, someone putting on an act. It’s like when a method actor goes full retard for a movie role. What I didn’t understand was that he understands that fear is just False Evidence Appearing Real. See, you don’t get what I give you. You get what I allow you to have. If you are able to take it without thinking you're being allowed to take it, you'll receive it truthfully. And it will be the heart of the matter of the truth of who you are and what you're doing.
Sam: Nick, did he just have a stroke? He’s speaking gibberish.
Nick: Um…
Rizzo: No, what I said makes perfect sense. The key is, I can’t allow him to take it. I cannot allow him to snatch victory from me. Seriously, if I lose to a guy who shops at IKEA, well, I can’t even fathom how embarrassing that will be.
Nick: Almost as bad as losing to a guy driving rape van that says I Heart Kids.
[Rizzo rolls his eyes in disgust and growls a bit.]
Rizzo: Goddamn it, I hate you. Anyway, as I was saying, as much as he’d like us to believe he’s not desperate, we all know this isn’t true. The guy is desperate for attention. He’s also desperate to wash the foul taste of defeat out of his mouth. As much as he’d like to convince us and himself that he’s not desperate, it’s just too obvious to ignore. This is good for us. Desperate people make really dumb mistakes. Now, the only question is will I be able to exploit those mistakes. Let’s be real here, I’m going to be rusty as hell in the ring. Five years out of the game is a long time. A very, very long time. But then again, it’s not like I’m some rookie coming in and wrestling his first match before a live audience.
Nick: Still, you can practice, spar, and work out as much as you like, but nothing can match the conditions and the speed of how everything happens in the ring. He’s already gotten his feet wet. Hell, who says you won’t get a serious case of the butterflies and lose your focus once you get in the ring?
Rizzo: I say so. I’m not nervous about getting in the ring. I’m quite excited, actually. Nothing beats the adrenaline rush one gets when the music hits, when the crowd reacts, and when you beat the fuck out of some poor slag in the ring.
[Rizzo and the boys stop at a stop light. As the RV sits idle, a girl, no older than 6, starts to approach the van. Her father, quite enraged, runs over and yanks the girl back by her arm. He starts shouting at Rizzo. He starts to approach the van, and Rizzo notices he slips on a set of brass knuckles. Despite the red light, Rizzo floors I and drives the van through the light and away from the pissed off father as fast as possible. Unfortunately, there was a police officer right behind the RV. Lights flash and sirens blare from behind. Rizzo checks the side mirror and lets out a very loud “FUCK!” Rizzo pulls the van over. A rather large police officer walks up the side of the van. He notices the “FREE CANDY” on the side. He is not amused. Rizzo roll down his window.]
Rizzo: What is the problem, officer?
Cop: You’ve got a sick sense of humor, you know that?
Rizzo: I’m sorry sir, my friends decided to play a cruel prank on me.
Cop: Right. Lying isn’t going to do you any favors, boy. Neither will running a red light. I need to see your license and registration.
Rizzo: Right away.
[Rizzo reaches into his right shorts pocket, but his wallet’s not there. His eyes become as wide as the Atlantic Ocean. He checks his left pocket, and then his back pockets. The proper term for this moment in time is Proper Fucked.]
Rizzo: Um, officer, it seems I left my wallet at the motel.
Cop: Step out of the vehicle, sir.
[If looks could kill, Nick and Sam would be corpses by now. Rizzo exits the vehicle and the officer orders him to put his hands on the side of the van. Oh shit, handcuffs.]
Cop: You are under arrest for driving without a license and for disturbing the peace with this disgusting van of yours.
Rizzo: Say what? Oh come on! [To Nick and Sam.] You’re fucking dead.
Cop: And now we have a death threat. You might want to be quiet son, you’re not doing yourself any favors. You have the right to remain silent.
[The scene fades out as the cuffs are put on and Rizzo has his rights read to him.]
Heidi: Answer the fucking door already.
[Heidi’s in a good mood today. That’s a change from the norm.]
Rizzo: I feel like I just got gaped by Gorilla Grodd. What the fuck happened?
[The knocking is now getting violent. Rizzo, still unseen because it’s a virtual black hole, stumbles around his room. Based on the violent stream of profanity, including “I think I just broke my dick” it seems that Rizzo is having great difficulty navigating the black hole. He finally reaches the door. It opens, and the room is flooded with bright, painful sunlight. Nick and Sam are standing at the door, smiling from ear to ear. Rizzo knows this will not end well.]
Rizzo: Why are you cheesing like that?
Nick: You’ll see. How are you feeling this morning?
Rizzo: Did Hellboy fist my mouth and eye holes? Because if not, I might be dying.
Nick: You need to lay off the car bombs, kid. You’re being pretty fucking reckless considering you’re wrestling in a couple of days.
Rizzo: Crap, yeah, that’s right. Zortalk. IKEA shopper extraordinaire. Fucking Swedes.
Nick: Get your shit together and let’s get some breakfast. You have a very long day ahead of you.
Heidi: Yes, please, get this asshole out of here.
Rizzo: What the fuck did I do?
Heidi: Two words: Angry Dolphin.
[Nick and Sam shake their head at Rizzo. He simply shrugs.]
Rizzo: Sorry babe. You know I get a little frisky when I’m insploicated.
Heidi: No excuse! Now get out of here!
[Riz walks over to his suitcase and pulls out some shorts and a t-shirt. He dresses, takes a large swig of mouthwash, and exits the room. As they exit, Rizzo looks very confused. This is not the Ritz-Carlton. It’s not even close. It’s a very cheap motel. The EZ 8 motel to be exact. There’s a slightly dirty pool. There’s loud music and noises coming from a room down the way. Rizzo looks at Sam and Nick.]
Rizzo: What the fuck?
Sam: Well, mate, you told the cab river you wanted to go to a place where you could get, as you put it, some flap stabbing done, but you didn’t want it to be too rapey. This is where they brought you.
Rizzo: But I have a suite at the Ritz!
Nick: And we thank you kindly for giving us your key card. That mini bar was spectacular.
Rizzo: Bastards. Both of you are bastards. So did we get the new vehicle.
[Rizzo does not like the giggle Sam and Nick share.]
Rizzo: What did you fuckers do now?
Nick: Come on, I’m hungry.
[Rizzo follows Sam and Nick down the walkway. They turn left towards the parking lot. Even from a distance Rizzo can see the bad news. On the driver’s side, in big block letters, is “FREE CANDY” plastered on the RV (Rape Van will be henceforth known as RV.) Rizzo stops dead in his tracks, closes his eyes, and take a few deep, soothing breaths.]
Rizzo: What. The. Mother. Fuck.
Sam: Well, let’s face it, that van just wasn’t doing it. It was too white, too boring. We had to spice it up a bit.
Rizzo: Really? That’s what you call spicing I up?
[Rizzo walks to the van and inspects the other side. His worst fears have come true. On the other side of the RV, “I HEART KIDS” is written along the side.]
Rizzo: Seriously, you guys might be the dumbest assholes on the planet. Give me the fucking keys.
[Nick throws Rizzo the keys and he climbs into the driver’s seat. Nick and Sam both climb in, with Sam going to the seats behind the passenger seat. Rizzo turns the car on and he’s immediately greeted by “Du Hast” by Rammstein mid-song playing at maximum volume. Rizzo shakes his head disapprovingly and shuts the music off.]
Rizzo: Next thing I know, once I start riving, fucking ice cream truck music will start playing.
Sam: That can be arranged.
Rizzo: Don’t even think of it. Just don’t.
[Rizzo pulls out of the parking lot and he starts driving down the road. As would be expected, he and the boys aren’t getting very many friendly looks from the people around. Rizzo’s face becomes madder and angrier each tenth of a mile he drives. A loud sound is heard as someone throws a cup of soda at the van. Suddenly, Rizzo’s anger turns to a smile.]
Rizzo: I get I now. Holy shit, I get it. Boys, I think your little prank has some unintended benefits.
Nick: And what, pray tell, could you possibly find beneficial about riding a van marking you as a child rapist? I’d love to hear this one.
Rizzo: This whole time, I was making a giant mistake about my opponent. Like, it was so big that it might have really cost me the match. But now, I fully understand the guy. See, I thought he was just a joke, someone putting on an act. It’s like when a method actor goes full retard for a movie role. What I didn’t understand was that he understands that fear is just False Evidence Appearing Real. See, you don’t get what I give you. You get what I allow you to have. If you are able to take it without thinking you're being allowed to take it, you'll receive it truthfully. And it will be the heart of the matter of the truth of who you are and what you're doing.
Sam: Nick, did he just have a stroke? He’s speaking gibberish.
Nick: Um…
Rizzo: No, what I said makes perfect sense. The key is, I can’t allow him to take it. I cannot allow him to snatch victory from me. Seriously, if I lose to a guy who shops at IKEA, well, I can’t even fathom how embarrassing that will be.
Nick: Almost as bad as losing to a guy driving rape van that says I Heart Kids.
[Rizzo rolls his eyes in disgust and growls a bit.]
Rizzo: Goddamn it, I hate you. Anyway, as I was saying, as much as he’d like us to believe he’s not desperate, we all know this isn’t true. The guy is desperate for attention. He’s also desperate to wash the foul taste of defeat out of his mouth. As much as he’d like to convince us and himself that he’s not desperate, it’s just too obvious to ignore. This is good for us. Desperate people make really dumb mistakes. Now, the only question is will I be able to exploit those mistakes. Let’s be real here, I’m going to be rusty as hell in the ring. Five years out of the game is a long time. A very, very long time. But then again, it’s not like I’m some rookie coming in and wrestling his first match before a live audience.
Nick: Still, you can practice, spar, and work out as much as you like, but nothing can match the conditions and the speed of how everything happens in the ring. He’s already gotten his feet wet. Hell, who says you won’t get a serious case of the butterflies and lose your focus once you get in the ring?
Rizzo: I say so. I’m not nervous about getting in the ring. I’m quite excited, actually. Nothing beats the adrenaline rush one gets when the music hits, when the crowd reacts, and when you beat the fuck out of some poor slag in the ring.
[Rizzo and the boys stop at a stop light. As the RV sits idle, a girl, no older than 6, starts to approach the van. Her father, quite enraged, runs over and yanks the girl back by her arm. He starts shouting at Rizzo. He starts to approach the van, and Rizzo notices he slips on a set of brass knuckles. Despite the red light, Rizzo floors I and drives the van through the light and away from the pissed off father as fast as possible. Unfortunately, there was a police officer right behind the RV. Lights flash and sirens blare from behind. Rizzo checks the side mirror and lets out a very loud “FUCK!” Rizzo pulls the van over. A rather large police officer walks up the side of the van. He notices the “FREE CANDY” on the side. He is not amused. Rizzo roll down his window.]
Rizzo: What is the problem, officer?
Cop: You’ve got a sick sense of humor, you know that?
Rizzo: I’m sorry sir, my friends decided to play a cruel prank on me.
Cop: Right. Lying isn’t going to do you any favors, boy. Neither will running a red light. I need to see your license and registration.
Rizzo: Right away.
[Rizzo reaches into his right shorts pocket, but his wallet’s not there. His eyes become as wide as the Atlantic Ocean. He checks his left pocket, and then his back pockets. The proper term for this moment in time is Proper Fucked.]
Rizzo: Um, officer, it seems I left my wallet at the motel.
Cop: Step out of the vehicle, sir.
[If looks could kill, Nick and Sam would be corpses by now. Rizzo exits the vehicle and the officer orders him to put his hands on the side of the van. Oh shit, handcuffs.]
Cop: You are under arrest for driving without a license and for disturbing the peace with this disgusting van of yours.
Rizzo: Say what? Oh come on! [To Nick and Sam.] You’re fucking dead.
Cop: And now we have a death threat. You might want to be quiet son, you’re not doing yourself any favors. You have the right to remain silent.
[The scene fades out as the cuffs are put on and Rizzo has his rights read to him.]