Post by Visit Neom on Oct 17, 2022 8:11:10 GMT -5
THE DAY AFTER THE LA SHOW
(The shot fades up on the parking lot of a Bob’s Big Boy. Marty Donovan, sporting a Reedy Creek Racing shirt and a leather portfolio in his hand, limps towards the entrance. Phil Blauer, wearing the same Reedy Creek Racing shirt, stands by the door with a laptop bag slung over his shoulder. Phil waves to Marty and pantomimes a championship belt around the stomach. Marty smiles and begins to ham up his limp.)
Phil: Still in one piece, champ?
Marty: Barely! I texted AVB an invite, but I doubt he even made it back to the hotel yet.
Phil: Oh, let the kid have fun. This is a business lunch.
(Marty and Phil hug before heading inside. A zoomer waitress looks up from her cell phone.)
Waitress: Just you two?
Marty: Yes, my assistant Olivia called. She requested that table by the kitchen, you know the one, where we can really feel the “heat”.
(Marty and Phil give each other smug looks. The waitress doesn’t get it and leads them over to a random table. She expects them to sit, but they just look at it in awe for a moment.)
Waitress: Right here, guys.
Marty: You talking to me? Are you talking to me?
Phil: I’m the only one here!
(The ancient men laugh way too hard as they sit down, both gently touching the table top with an almost religious caution. The waitress places down their menus and bolts.)
Phil: Literal goosebumps. This table just has an energy of its own. What a perfect spot to start drafting these Costa Pacifica scripts.
(Marty continues to study the surroundings, doubt growing on his face.)
Marty: Are you sure this is the one where Pacino meets De Niro? Something is off.
Phil: Things always look different on the big screen. Trust me, I have that movie memorized.
Marty: They don’t even have a plaque or anything.
(Marty stands up and grabs a photo from his portfolio. It is a screenshot of the coffee scene from Heat. Marty attempts to line up the scenery in his hand with the table in front of him. It doesn’t work partially because that was a night shoot and partially because, despite Heat having several, that was not one of the Bob’s Big Boy scenes.)
Phil: Imagine if Gary Oldman and I redo that scene, coldy threatening each other while sharing Snow White’s apple. Disney could shoot at Skipper Canteen and then charge guests to sit at the same table.
Marty: You order some appetizers. I’ll be back.
Phil: Take your time. I’m going to see if the waitress can do anything about my laptop overheating.
(Marty begins to walk around the restaurant with the picture held out in front of him like a Geiger counter. He finally notices the camera crew, but is only half paying attention to them.)
Marty: Let me guess? You’re here to record another restaurant rampage? I knew that I wasn’t getting the title again. Johnnie’s top priority is to squash The Anointed. How else do you explain that rushed tag tournament announcement as the show went off the air? That was a fearful audible.
(Marty studies an empty booth for a moment. He rearranges the napkins and condiments on the table to see if it helps match the picture anymore. Having no luck, he continues to wander the restaurant.)
Marty: Think about it. How long did both of the previous tournaments drag on for? Suddenly, we have to do this one all in a single night? They honestly expect AVB and I to fly across the Atlantic ocean and then to take on the entire roster jet lagged? This is a hit job.
( Marty shakes his head in frustration before sitting down on a stool at the counter. He spins 360 degrees with the picture held up, desperately trying to find a match.)
Marty: I’m sorry, Val. I know you were hoping to kill The Anointed in the womb last night. Kilroy was the right pick. He is annoying as hell, but I won’t lie. Evans is the most dangerous man in the history of Hardkore World. The fact that he went toe to toe with Marty Donovan and the second coming of Cobryn speaks volumes. It is just a shame his partner was who his partner was.
( Marty stands up and continues to explore. He passes by a salad bar station where Phil is dipping his finger into various dressings and testing them. He samples the ranch and then motions a thumbs up to the kitchen.)
Marty: Lynx, I’ve been watching your stuff. I wanted to like you. We both left home as teenagers with nothing but a pair of boots and a dream. You’ve done well, even got inducted into some hall of fame. Must be a real prestigious organization since your illustrious career doesn’t even span back to the first season of Better Call Saul. Whatever, it's not your fault they have low standards.
( A furious waitress walks by carrying a cat hair covered laptop.)
Marty: Hey, does this place have an upstairs?
( The waitress doesn’t even look over as she storms off into the kitchen.)
Marty: You know what is your fault, Lynx? When you lied about being a Hardkore World fan. I knew you were a poser when I wasn’t among the legends you listed. There is no way you’ve ever watched a second. I innovated your hybrid style. Give Jojo Sushi or Platinum Pat a call. They’ve seen me soar off the top of cages and leap head first into a sea of barbed wire. I’m sick of this place trying to erase my accomplishments.
(Marty approaches a table where an old man is drinking coffee. He holds the photo up and studies them.)
Marty: Okay, I need you to yell “hoo-ah”.
Old man: What?
(Marty shakes his head disappointed and walks on.)
Marty: So now you’re in trouble. You’re across the ring from me in Belfast. Belfast. A city that loves the name Donovan. A city where I’ve only known victory and gold. Your best bet is to apologize. Admit you lied. Admit you’re not some luchador legend. Admit you’re a Juventus loving jabroni and take off that stupid mask. Take it off or I will tear it off.
(A group of busboys are huddled around a laptop on the counter. It shows the blue screen of death and they whisper frantically. Phil walks into the frame and looks at his watch annoyed.)
Marty: That brings me to Ruben Bowman. I never walked in your giant shoes, but I feel your pain. Society wants you in a boring box. They want you to just be some lumbering imbecile when you have so much more to offer. I was just supposed to be Karnage’s teen beat sidekick. Look at me now. I own a racing team, I am executive producing a streaming show, and will soon be crowned heavyweight champion of the world. Don’t let anyone put labels on you!
(Marty walks into the men’s room with the photo held out. A man at the urinal looks confused at the camera while Marty checks the stalls to see if they shot there.)
Marty: Look, you’re 6’7 and 285 pounds. No one can tell you what to do, but allow some advice. Do you really want to go all out in this match? Johnnie runs VFW shows in front of 800 people. Disney makes 31 films a year, many of them musicals. They’re going to need someone to write lyrics. I would never tell another wrestler to take a night off, but think long term.
(Marty walks back into the restaurant and picks up a piece of toast off a stranger's plate.)
Marty: Where is your bread buttered, Ruben?
(Marty takes a bite out of the toast for effect and then spits it out. He hands the bitten piece back to the shocked stranger.)
Marty: That was just for a visual, I try to avoid carbs.
(Marty passes by a table of elderly women who watch as Phil does unimpressive push ups for them. Marty squints and begins to move his hands doing a bad De Niro impersonation.)
Marty: A final message to Lynx, Ruben, and all the other competitors in the tournament. What if you do got me boxed in and I gotta put you down? Cause no matter what, you will not get in my way.
(Marty's eyes light up as he sees a table that finally seems to match the photo. A nerd sits alone at it with a gameboy and milkshake. Without warning Marty slaps the device out of his hands and throws the shake in the nerd's face. The surprised gamer begins to cry.)
Marty: Scram, you little geek. We booked the Heat table yesterday.
Nerd: They…filmed…in…Burbank. This…is…Northridge.
(Marty frantically grabs napkins to clean the nerd off. The shot fades out as he begins counting out 50 dollar bills for the geek as an angry manager storms over.)
(The shot fades up on the parking lot of a Bob’s Big Boy. Marty Donovan, sporting a Reedy Creek Racing shirt and a leather portfolio in his hand, limps towards the entrance. Phil Blauer, wearing the same Reedy Creek Racing shirt, stands by the door with a laptop bag slung over his shoulder. Phil waves to Marty and pantomimes a championship belt around the stomach. Marty smiles and begins to ham up his limp.)
Phil: Still in one piece, champ?
Marty: Barely! I texted AVB an invite, but I doubt he even made it back to the hotel yet.
Phil: Oh, let the kid have fun. This is a business lunch.
(Marty and Phil hug before heading inside. A zoomer waitress looks up from her cell phone.)
Waitress: Just you two?
Marty: Yes, my assistant Olivia called. She requested that table by the kitchen, you know the one, where we can really feel the “heat”.
(Marty and Phil give each other smug looks. The waitress doesn’t get it and leads them over to a random table. She expects them to sit, but they just look at it in awe for a moment.)
Waitress: Right here, guys.
Marty: You talking to me? Are you talking to me?
Phil: I’m the only one here!
(The ancient men laugh way too hard as they sit down, both gently touching the table top with an almost religious caution. The waitress places down their menus and bolts.)
Phil: Literal goosebumps. This table just has an energy of its own. What a perfect spot to start drafting these Costa Pacifica scripts.
(Marty continues to study the surroundings, doubt growing on his face.)
Marty: Are you sure this is the one where Pacino meets De Niro? Something is off.
Phil: Things always look different on the big screen. Trust me, I have that movie memorized.
Marty: They don’t even have a plaque or anything.
(Marty stands up and grabs a photo from his portfolio. It is a screenshot of the coffee scene from Heat. Marty attempts to line up the scenery in his hand with the table in front of him. It doesn’t work partially because that was a night shoot and partially because, despite Heat having several, that was not one of the Bob’s Big Boy scenes.)
Phil: Imagine if Gary Oldman and I redo that scene, coldy threatening each other while sharing Snow White’s apple. Disney could shoot at Skipper Canteen and then charge guests to sit at the same table.
Marty: You order some appetizers. I’ll be back.
Phil: Take your time. I’m going to see if the waitress can do anything about my laptop overheating.
(Marty begins to walk around the restaurant with the picture held out in front of him like a Geiger counter. He finally notices the camera crew, but is only half paying attention to them.)
Marty: Let me guess? You’re here to record another restaurant rampage? I knew that I wasn’t getting the title again. Johnnie’s top priority is to squash The Anointed. How else do you explain that rushed tag tournament announcement as the show went off the air? That was a fearful audible.
(Marty studies an empty booth for a moment. He rearranges the napkins and condiments on the table to see if it helps match the picture anymore. Having no luck, he continues to wander the restaurant.)
Marty: Think about it. How long did both of the previous tournaments drag on for? Suddenly, we have to do this one all in a single night? They honestly expect AVB and I to fly across the Atlantic ocean and then to take on the entire roster jet lagged? This is a hit job.
( Marty shakes his head in frustration before sitting down on a stool at the counter. He spins 360 degrees with the picture held up, desperately trying to find a match.)
Marty: I’m sorry, Val. I know you were hoping to kill The Anointed in the womb last night. Kilroy was the right pick. He is annoying as hell, but I won’t lie. Evans is the most dangerous man in the history of Hardkore World. The fact that he went toe to toe with Marty Donovan and the second coming of Cobryn speaks volumes. It is just a shame his partner was who his partner was.
( Marty stands up and continues to explore. He passes by a salad bar station where Phil is dipping his finger into various dressings and testing them. He samples the ranch and then motions a thumbs up to the kitchen.)
Marty: Lynx, I’ve been watching your stuff. I wanted to like you. We both left home as teenagers with nothing but a pair of boots and a dream. You’ve done well, even got inducted into some hall of fame. Must be a real prestigious organization since your illustrious career doesn’t even span back to the first season of Better Call Saul. Whatever, it's not your fault they have low standards.
( A furious waitress walks by carrying a cat hair covered laptop.)
Marty: Hey, does this place have an upstairs?
( The waitress doesn’t even look over as she storms off into the kitchen.)
Marty: You know what is your fault, Lynx? When you lied about being a Hardkore World fan. I knew you were a poser when I wasn’t among the legends you listed. There is no way you’ve ever watched a second. I innovated your hybrid style. Give Jojo Sushi or Platinum Pat a call. They’ve seen me soar off the top of cages and leap head first into a sea of barbed wire. I’m sick of this place trying to erase my accomplishments.
(Marty approaches a table where an old man is drinking coffee. He holds the photo up and studies them.)
Marty: Okay, I need you to yell “hoo-ah”.
Old man: What?
(Marty shakes his head disappointed and walks on.)
Marty: So now you’re in trouble. You’re across the ring from me in Belfast. Belfast. A city that loves the name Donovan. A city where I’ve only known victory and gold. Your best bet is to apologize. Admit you lied. Admit you’re not some luchador legend. Admit you’re a Juventus loving jabroni and take off that stupid mask. Take it off or I will tear it off.
(A group of busboys are huddled around a laptop on the counter. It shows the blue screen of death and they whisper frantically. Phil walks into the frame and looks at his watch annoyed.)
Marty: That brings me to Ruben Bowman. I never walked in your giant shoes, but I feel your pain. Society wants you in a boring box. They want you to just be some lumbering imbecile when you have so much more to offer. I was just supposed to be Karnage’s teen beat sidekick. Look at me now. I own a racing team, I am executive producing a streaming show, and will soon be crowned heavyweight champion of the world. Don’t let anyone put labels on you!
(Marty walks into the men’s room with the photo held out. A man at the urinal looks confused at the camera while Marty checks the stalls to see if they shot there.)
Marty: Look, you’re 6’7 and 285 pounds. No one can tell you what to do, but allow some advice. Do you really want to go all out in this match? Johnnie runs VFW shows in front of 800 people. Disney makes 31 films a year, many of them musicals. They’re going to need someone to write lyrics. I would never tell another wrestler to take a night off, but think long term.
(Marty walks back into the restaurant and picks up a piece of toast off a stranger's plate.)
Marty: Where is your bread buttered, Ruben?
(Marty takes a bite out of the toast for effect and then spits it out. He hands the bitten piece back to the shocked stranger.)
Marty: That was just for a visual, I try to avoid carbs.
(Marty passes by a table of elderly women who watch as Phil does unimpressive push ups for them. Marty squints and begins to move his hands doing a bad De Niro impersonation.)
Marty: A final message to Lynx, Ruben, and all the other competitors in the tournament. What if you do got me boxed in and I gotta put you down? Cause no matter what, you will not get in my way.
(Marty's eyes light up as he sees a table that finally seems to match the photo. A nerd sits alone at it with a gameboy and milkshake. Without warning Marty slaps the device out of his hands and throws the shake in the nerd's face. The surprised gamer begins to cry.)
Marty: Scram, you little geek. We booked the Heat table yesterday.
Nerd: They…filmed…in…Burbank. This…is…Northridge.
(Marty frantically grabs napkins to clean the nerd off. The shot fades out as he begins counting out 50 dollar bills for the geek as an angry manager storms over.)