Post by Visit Neom on Oct 17, 2022 8:01:20 GMT -5
(The shot opens on the blandest, most uninspiring, generic science fiction set. Actors wearing cheap green body paint and metallic clothing mill around fat, bored tourists. The shot zooms out and we see a sign that reads "Disney Galactic Star Cruiser". The camera turns to the left and we see Marty Donovan, drenched in sweat with a big beard, slumped in bar booth. His table, a science fiction chess board of sort, is covered with half empty bottles of blue milk.)
Marty: I guess the apple does fall far from the tree. Evan, you are the stupidest son of a bitch in the world. Let me give you a business lesson for free. Remember last month when I said I wouldn't be caught dead on this little reunion show? That means I was game for it, but your first offer was too low. You're suppose to come back with points on the ppv or a bigger cut of the merchandise.
(Frustrated, Marty takes off his shades and looks into the lens.)
Marty: What did you do instead? You had the nerve to book a Hardkore World show without me. Never mind the lack of a match, there wasn't a single clip or mention on commentary. Where were my roses? No thank you was given. I mean, it is no big deal. I just literally dove into a sea of barbed wire for your father. My blood, sweat, and tears made him rich. My hilarious antics carried the company through the joyless Syberus era and this is the thanks I get?
(Marty picks up one of the blue milk bottles and angrily shatters it on the floor. A roomba with some Christmas lights taped on top sweeps up the mess.)
Marty: Honestly, I shouldn't even blame you. No matter what you said, it still would have been an insult. Your old man needed to make that call himself. I'm part of House Mouse now. You think I get out of bed to chat with some third cousin intern?
(In the background, a lame ripoff of the opera alien from the 5th Element wanders on stage and starts to perform Lady Marmalade. Marty sighs and starts to speak louder.)
Marty: So I gave you enough rope to hang yourself. I let you have one show without me. How did that end up? Not well. Now you're running that noted B market San Diego. You're having intergender matches for crying out loud. You're wheeling out old Kilroy and Karnage. I used to think those guys were my friends, but I was wrong. Cobryn. Romero. Platinum Pat. Those were real friends. They showed me tough love. They hurt me, but it made me stronger. Mormon and the fat man just treated me like a little brother. It was all smiles to your face and knives in the back.
(A nervous waitress in an x-wing pilot costume approaches the table. She doesn't know if she should look at the camera or Marty when talking.)
Waitress: Apologies sir, but space pirates have blocked the Kessel run. We're unable to secure anymore chicken sliders. Will beef do?
(Marty lets out the worlds biggest sigh and thinks deeply for a minute.)
Marty: Bantha beef?
Waitress: Our finest.
(Marty nods and the waitress scurries off. He turns back to the camera.)
Marty: So now I find myself in some secondary tournament having to slap a girl around. What an insult. I will show up Evan, but you aren't getting anything special. You ain't seeing one moonsault. Hell, you're lucky if there is a dropkick. This is going to be a wrist lock, hip toss, pin and pay check kind of evening. I usually like to give the fans more. The performer in me wants to wow the world, but you made me mad. Guess what, Evan?
(Marty stands up and begins to yank at his shirt. Suddenly, he is replaced by the terrible CGI She-Hulk.)
She-Hulk Marty: YOU WON'T LIKE ME WHEN I'M MAD!
(Text on the screen teases the She-Hulk launch date as the shot fades to black.)
Marty: I guess the apple does fall far from the tree. Evan, you are the stupidest son of a bitch in the world. Let me give you a business lesson for free. Remember last month when I said I wouldn't be caught dead on this little reunion show? That means I was game for it, but your first offer was too low. You're suppose to come back with points on the ppv or a bigger cut of the merchandise.
(Frustrated, Marty takes off his shades and looks into the lens.)
Marty: What did you do instead? You had the nerve to book a Hardkore World show without me. Never mind the lack of a match, there wasn't a single clip or mention on commentary. Where were my roses? No thank you was given. I mean, it is no big deal. I just literally dove into a sea of barbed wire for your father. My blood, sweat, and tears made him rich. My hilarious antics carried the company through the joyless Syberus era and this is the thanks I get?
(Marty picks up one of the blue milk bottles and angrily shatters it on the floor. A roomba with some Christmas lights taped on top sweeps up the mess.)
Marty: Honestly, I shouldn't even blame you. No matter what you said, it still would have been an insult. Your old man needed to make that call himself. I'm part of House Mouse now. You think I get out of bed to chat with some third cousin intern?
(In the background, a lame ripoff of the opera alien from the 5th Element wanders on stage and starts to perform Lady Marmalade. Marty sighs and starts to speak louder.)
Marty: So I gave you enough rope to hang yourself. I let you have one show without me. How did that end up? Not well. Now you're running that noted B market San Diego. You're having intergender matches for crying out loud. You're wheeling out old Kilroy and Karnage. I used to think those guys were my friends, but I was wrong. Cobryn. Romero. Platinum Pat. Those were real friends. They showed me tough love. They hurt me, but it made me stronger. Mormon and the fat man just treated me like a little brother. It was all smiles to your face and knives in the back.
(A nervous waitress in an x-wing pilot costume approaches the table. She doesn't know if she should look at the camera or Marty when talking.)
Waitress: Apologies sir, but space pirates have blocked the Kessel run. We're unable to secure anymore chicken sliders. Will beef do?
(Marty lets out the worlds biggest sigh and thinks deeply for a minute.)
Marty: Bantha beef?
Waitress: Our finest.
(Marty nods and the waitress scurries off. He turns back to the camera.)
Marty: So now I find myself in some secondary tournament having to slap a girl around. What an insult. I will show up Evan, but you aren't getting anything special. You ain't seeing one moonsault. Hell, you're lucky if there is a dropkick. This is going to be a wrist lock, hip toss, pin and pay check kind of evening. I usually like to give the fans more. The performer in me wants to wow the world, but you made me mad. Guess what, Evan?
(Marty stands up and begins to yank at his shirt. Suddenly, he is replaced by the terrible CGI She-Hulk.)
She-Hulk Marty: YOU WON'T LIKE ME WHEN I'M MAD!
(Text on the screen teases the She-Hulk launch date as the shot fades to black.)