The Final Weekend (Curtis RP)
Aug 14, 2019 20:03:10 GMT -5
Curtis D. Kanyon, Dave D-Flipz, and 3 more like this
Post by Curtis D. Kanyon on Aug 14, 2019 20:03:10 GMT -5
**White House. Lincoln Bedroom. Saturday, July 27th. 3 PM**
*We open on the Lincoln Bedroom. There are boxes of Kanyon merch everywhere! President Curtis Kanyon and first lady Esmerelda are standing with none other than Netflix star Marie Kondo.*
: This room need lot of work. Just pause and say hi to room. Let room know you care.
: Of course, of course, yes, right honey.
: Honestly, I don’t see a big problem.
: Please, close eyes and meditate with me. Feel room energy.
*Everyone closes their eyes and silence fills the room. Curtis opens one eye and looks around.*
Will this be over soon? I am so hung over. This is so stupid. What kind of promotional crap did I get into? But I must. Netflix has more pull than I do. I just want to train and sulk in my rage, I do not feel like I’m in the right head space for th—
*Little Pepito Kanyon comes running in with his Goldbear II action figure.*
: Mama! Papa! Momoko Honda! Look!
Thank goodness
*They all open there eyes as Pepito pulls a popsicle stick out of his back pocket. Then he makes his Goldbear II attack it.*
: Rrrraaa, arrgggg! Take that Copycat!
*Snap*
: Oh, he is so cute.
: Buddy, we have like… so many action figures of your dad in here, don’t you want to play with those?
: Nah, I’m good.
*Pepito runs off.*
: I beat Goldbear II you know! Ug, kids, I swear. Anyway, what the hell you want us to do in here?
: Well Mr. President, you need to keep only what sparks joy.
: Well, none of this crap sparks joy, it needs to be bought! Being on the shelf for three months did not help my merch table.
: Don’t worry, *looks at the camera.* my Salsa Atomica, in stores nationwide and at least thirteen other countries, is selling like crazy! So buy yours now before the shelves are empty! *back to Marie.* But still, we need to clean house.
: Yeah, this room can be ebay’d.
: That good Mr. President, but you need to do this in every room. Can you do that for me?
: Uh, yeah, sure.
*Curtis looks at the camera, then back at Marie.*
: Sorry, I don’t have a funny bit to go here.
: Funny bit?
: Nevermind.
**Fade out.**
**Fade in. White House. Trophy Room. Saturday, July 27th, 5 PM.**
*Curtis is standing in his trophy room, a box marked “toss” and a box marked “keep.” He’s holding a plaque.*
Let’s see, Nobel Prize for creating peace in the now unified Korea… I guess I’ll keep that.
*He tosses it in the “keep” box and shifts to the next wall.*
Okay, wrestling stuff, let’s see…
*Curtis pulls a noose off the wall.*
Does this spark joy? It’s a rope... where was this from? Oh fuck…right!
**Cut. Columbia Room Cocktail Bar. Friday July 26th, 10 PM.**
*We see Curtis Kanyon and Ron Gibson sitting at the bar. Secret Service keeps everyone else away.*
: How is Amber doing?
: Fine. I still make her do dishes in the RV, even though we have a maid service now.
: Ha! Oh Ron, never change!
: Don’t plan to.
: Oh man, this is great. Even though you’re my Vice President, we never get to hang anymore! By the way, thanks for covering for me for those first few weeks of my recovery. Other than those four days of martial law, I think you did pretty well.
: Yeah, country mostly runs itself. I just had to sit back and drink beer, just check on it occasionally. Like when I watch my nephews.
: Fuck man, I miss this. I miss us traveling the road together in the Dirty Deal RV. You should get back into the ring.
: I ain’t in no shape for that. Besides, we couldn’t be us in today’s society. Especially with our day jobs and all.
: What do you mean?
: We used to be racists dawg. In this political climate? Could you imagine a racist president!?
: Um… we kicked a lot of ass, but racist?
: We had a ring valet named Mr. Slave, our signature match was called a Lynch Mob Match, where we had to hang our opponents, not to mention those things we did in Arkansas.
: Huh…I never realized that. I was just there to kick ass and take names. Conquer the tag team division. And we did.
: Damn right!
*They clink their beer bottles.*
: Also, remember how I beat you in that Dirty Triathalon?
: You mother fu—
**Cut.**
**White House. Trophy Room. Saturday, July 27th, 5 PM.**
*Curtis throws the noose in the “keep” box. He continues to look around, and pulls up his NCW Hall of Fame plaque.*
Eh, I have three of these, I only need one.
*He throws it in the “toss” box. Then picks up a Whopper wrapper and throws that in the “keep” box. Then gets to the blonde wig. He looks it over as he goes back and forth between both boxes.*
**Cut.**
**White House. Presidential Suite Bathroom. Friday night/Saturday morning, July 27th, 3 AM.**
*The door creaks open. Curtis comes shuffling in and washes his hands.*
: Fuuuuuuck… Ron and I were out all night. Can’t believe we got into a bar fight after last call too. That was insane. Best bar fight you’d ever seen…
*Curtis bends down to splash water in his face. When he pulls up, he sees his reflection in that mirror above the sink. You know the one. Only his reflection isn’t just him, it’s him with a blonde wig on!*
: What the fuck? You piece of shit, look at yourself! What the fuck is this?
: What the fuck are you doing here?
: Look at ya! You lost to James Raymond! Again! You’re not allowed to celebrate!
: I needed to let off some steam. Fuck you.
: You obviously need to let me out and tear through everybody!
: Last time I let you out, YOU lost to James Raymond.
: Oh… right… well… WE BOTH LOST! NOW WHAT!?
: Now… fuuuuuck, I don’t know now. I guess… I guess we pass the torch to the next generation.
: Raymond retired.
: Double fuck!
: Yeah, you’re up shit’s creek without a paddle. Good luck with that one bub!
*DDK puts on a top hat and grabs a cane that was thrown at him.*
: Goodnight, ladies! Goodnight, ladies! Goodnight, ladies! We're going to leave you now!!!
*DDK does jazz hands and walks off mirror as Curtis just stares in bewilderment.*
**Cut**
**White House. Trophy Room. July 27th, 5 PM.**
Shit. We are going to toss this. But not here. Not now. I know what I have to do. There’s only one place for this to go. And these!
*Curtis grabs his boots.*
This is going to suck… but for the good of my family and my country, it must be done…
**Fade out.**
**Fade in. XHF Network Arena. Minneapolis, Minnesota. Sunday, July 28th, Backstage at N.O.C.**
*We see a monitor showing Dylan Black celebrating his win as "BLOOD, TEARS, DUST" by Lacuna Coil is playing in the distance. The camera pans to see Curtis Kanyon in his suit and tie. Esmerelda is standing next to him, holding his hand.*
Here we go. My segment is next.
: It’s been awhile since I’ve had butterflies.
: You got this babe.
: Okay… I’m heading to Guerilla.
: You’ll do great!
*Curtis exits his locker room and starts walking the hallway, secret service flank him.*
Here we go. How can this be so hard? Which way is Guerilla? Do we call it Guerilla? Yeah, if Jerry Lawler exists, Guerilla Monsoon must too, right? Of course he exists, I’m thinking of him. Focus, focus! I got this. I do promos like it ain’t no thing. Heck, now I do promos to the entire nation. This shouldn’t be hard, but fuck it is. But it has to be done. I’ve got too much responsibility now. Fun responsibility, different responsibility, but too much to do that and do this. So I have to go out there and end this.
*Curtis arrives at Guerilla. Mongo gives him the thumbs up. “Hail to the Chief” starts to play. Curtis gets his game face on, flips off Mongo, and then “Amerika” by Rammstein plays and Curtis exits through the curtain.*
**Fade out.**
**Fade in. XHF Network Arena. Minneapolis, Minnesota. Sunday, July 28th, Backstage at N.O.C.**
*It’s well after N.O.C. has gone off the air. Curtis, family, and friends are backstage in the Presidential locker room. Pepito is playing with his Goldbear II doll. Esmerelda is offering salsa and chips to Papa Kanyon and nephew Chuck.*
: What a day.
: What a career!
: Thanks Neph, sorry I couldn’t get you into more storylines after finding out you were my brother’s illegitimate son. Like, we still don’t know who your biological mother is.
: We’ve been working the case Mr. President, and it’s down to either Freya Kane or Hardcore Harry’s whore ex-wife.
: Dude!
: What, she is!
: You guys are still around?
: Thanks to Netflix, season four Streaming now, I am still around.
: Lucky jerk, I’m still around because I’m on NBC. But I wish I had that Netflix money.
: Netflix numba one!
: Funaki numba one!
...
: Anyway, both make sense. Just take your pick kid.
: I don’t want a whore mom. I’m not Mav.
: Freya it is, great! Speaking of family, what’s up with Pedro? We got Pepito here, but my oldest boy isn’t here on my biggest night?
: His flight was running late sir. But I’m getting word that…
*The door busts open.*
: Mr. President sir! The eagle has landed! And limo’d. And… walked. Whatever! Here’s your son.
: Pedro!
: What’s up Dad! Sorry I missed the speech.
: Damn! You looking swol!
: College football will do that to ya.
*Curtis looks Pedro up and down.*
: Hmmm… worked for Price, maybe…
: What?
: Nothing, nothing. Just an idea for down the road.
: Whoa! Pops is here!
: Hey kiddo! How’s my grandson!
: Oh yeah! Grandpa Kanyon, meant to see you more often too. So much lost potential. Stupid responsibilities. But maybe, someday, someway, the whole family will be back.
: I mean, look at me, I grow up to be a hot womanizer, I’d make a great manager!
: And I’m a meat head, I might need a manager!
: I want to be a dancer!
: They do say kids are the future. <am. What a night. Feels like it’s lasted for two weeks! I’m not sure what’s coming tomorrow, but for now…
*Curtis pulls out a kazoo and blows that sound that it makes with the wax paper flailing. You know the one. Some light guitar strings start to play.*
: Turn around bright eyes!
: No! Not that song! Damnit Joe, you ruin everything!
: Awwww…
: Just kidding buddy. We’ll do that on karaoke night. Now, let’s try again.
*Curtis puts on DT’s hat, another lost storyline, blows the kazoo and then the guitar plays again.*
: Saying goodbye, going away, Seems like goodbye's such a hard thing to say
: Touching a hand, wondering why, It's time for saying goodbye
: Saying goodbye, why is it sad? Makes us remember the good times we've had
: Much more to say, foolish to try, It's time for saying goodbye
: Don't want to leave, but we both know, Sometimes it's better to go
: Somehow I know we'll meet again, Not sure quite where, and I don't know just when
: You're in my heart, so until then
All: It's time for saying goodbye
: Somehow I know we'll meet again, Not sure quite where, and I don't know just when
: You're in my heart, so until then
: Wanna smile, wanna cry, Saying goodbye
All: La la la la la la la la, It's time for saying goodbye
*Everyone is arm in arm, singing, as the scene fades out.*
**Fade out.**
**Fade in. White House. Master Bedroom Hallway. Monday, July 29th. 10 AM**
*Curtis Kanyon opens the door to his room and peaks out. He sees the camera and walks out wearing his bath robe.*
: You still here? It’s over! Go home!
*Curtis starts walking back to his room. He looks back.*
: BANG!
**Fade out.**
*We open on the Lincoln Bedroom. There are boxes of Kanyon merch everywhere! President Curtis Kanyon and first lady Esmerelda are standing with none other than Netflix star Marie Kondo.*
: This room need lot of work. Just pause and say hi to room. Let room know you care.: Of course, of course, yes, right honey.: Honestly, I don’t see a big problem.: Please, close eyes and meditate with me. Feel room energy.*Everyone closes their eyes and silence fills the room. Curtis opens one eye and looks around.*
Will this be over soon? I am so hung over. This is so stupid. What kind of promotional crap did I get into? But I must. Netflix has more pull than I do. I just want to train and sulk in my rage, I do not feel like I’m in the right head space for th—
*Little Pepito Kanyon comes running in with his Goldbear II action figure.*
: Mama! Papa! Momoko Honda! Look!Thank goodness
*They all open there eyes as Pepito pulls a popsicle stick out of his back pocket. Then he makes his Goldbear II attack it.*
: Rrrraaa, arrgggg! Take that Copycat!*Snap*
: Oh, he is so cute.: Buddy, we have like… so many action figures of your dad in here, don’t you want to play with those?: Nah, I’m good.*Pepito runs off.*
: I beat Goldbear II you know! Ug, kids, I swear. Anyway, what the hell you want us to do in here?: Well Mr. President, you need to keep only what sparks joy.: Well, none of this crap sparks joy, it needs to be bought! Being on the shelf for three months did not help my merch table.: Don’t worry, *looks at the camera.* my Salsa Atomica, in stores nationwide and at least thirteen other countries, is selling like crazy! So buy yours now before the shelves are empty! *back to Marie.* But still, we need to clean house.: Yeah, this room can be ebay’d.: That good Mr. President, but you need to do this in every room. Can you do that for me?: Uh, yeah, sure.*Curtis looks at the camera, then back at Marie.*
: Sorry, I don’t have a funny bit to go here.: Funny bit?: Nevermind.**Fade out.**
**Fade in. White House. Trophy Room. Saturday, July 27th, 5 PM.**
*Curtis is standing in his trophy room, a box marked “toss” and a box marked “keep.” He’s holding a plaque.*
Let’s see, Nobel Prize for creating peace in the now unified Korea… I guess I’ll keep that.
*He tosses it in the “keep” box and shifts to the next wall.*
Okay, wrestling stuff, let’s see…
*Curtis pulls a noose off the wall.*
Does this spark joy? It’s a rope... where was this from? Oh fuck…right!
**Cut. Columbia Room Cocktail Bar. Friday July 26th, 10 PM.**
*We see Curtis Kanyon and Ron Gibson sitting at the bar. Secret Service keeps everyone else away.*
: How is Amber doing?: Fine. I still make her do dishes in the RV, even though we have a maid service now.: Ha! Oh Ron, never change!: Don’t plan to.: Oh man, this is great. Even though you’re my Vice President, we never get to hang anymore! By the way, thanks for covering for me for those first few weeks of my recovery. Other than those four days of martial law, I think you did pretty well.: Yeah, country mostly runs itself. I just had to sit back and drink beer, just check on it occasionally. Like when I watch my nephews.: Fuck man, I miss this. I miss us traveling the road together in the Dirty Deal RV. You should get back into the ring.: I ain’t in no shape for that. Besides, we couldn’t be us in today’s society. Especially with our day jobs and all.: What do you mean?: We used to be racists dawg. In this political climate? Could you imagine a racist president!?: Um… we kicked a lot of ass, but racist?: We had a ring valet named Mr. Slave, our signature match was called a Lynch Mob Match, where we had to hang our opponents, not to mention those things we did in Arkansas.: Huh…I never realized that. I was just there to kick ass and take names. Conquer the tag team division. And we did.: Damn right!*They clink their beer bottles.*
: Also, remember how I beat you in that Dirty Triathalon?: You mother fu—**Cut.**
**White House. Trophy Room. Saturday, July 27th, 5 PM.**
*Curtis throws the noose in the “keep” box. He continues to look around, and pulls up his NCW Hall of Fame plaque.*
Eh, I have three of these, I only need one.
*He throws it in the “toss” box. Then picks up a Whopper wrapper and throws that in the “keep” box. Then gets to the blonde wig. He looks it over as he goes back and forth between both boxes.*
**Cut.**
**White House. Presidential Suite Bathroom. Friday night/Saturday morning, July 27th, 3 AM.**
*The door creaks open. Curtis comes shuffling in and washes his hands.*
: Fuuuuuuck… Ron and I were out all night. Can’t believe we got into a bar fight after last call too. That was insane. Best bar fight you’d ever seen…*Curtis bends down to splash water in his face. When he pulls up, he sees his reflection in that mirror above the sink. You know the one. Only his reflection isn’t just him, it’s him with a blonde wig on!*
: What the fuck? You piece of shit, look at yourself! What the fuck is this?: What the fuck are you doing here?: Look at ya! You lost to James Raymond! Again! You’re not allowed to celebrate!: I needed to let off some steam. Fuck you.: You obviously need to let me out and tear through everybody!: Last time I let you out, YOU lost to James Raymond.: Oh… right… well… WE BOTH LOST! NOW WHAT!?: Now… fuuuuuck, I don’t know now. I guess… I guess we pass the torch to the next generation.: Raymond retired.: Double fuck!: Yeah, you’re up shit’s creek without a paddle. Good luck with that one bub!*DDK puts on a top hat and grabs a cane that was thrown at him.*
: Goodnight, ladies! Goodnight, ladies! Goodnight, ladies! We're going to leave you now!!!*DDK does jazz hands and walks off mirror as Curtis just stares in bewilderment.*
**Cut**
**White House. Trophy Room. July 27th, 5 PM.**
Shit. We are going to toss this. But not here. Not now. I know what I have to do. There’s only one place for this to go. And these!
*Curtis grabs his boots.*
This is going to suck… but for the good of my family and my country, it must be done…
**Fade out.**
**Fade in. XHF Network Arena. Minneapolis, Minnesota. Sunday, July 28th, Backstage at N.O.C.**
*We see a monitor showing Dylan Black celebrating his win as "BLOOD, TEARS, DUST" by Lacuna Coil is playing in the distance. The camera pans to see Curtis Kanyon in his suit and tie. Esmerelda is standing next to him, holding his hand.*
Here we go. My segment is next.
: It’s been awhile since I’ve had butterflies.: You got this babe.: Okay… I’m heading to Guerilla.: You’ll do great!*Curtis exits his locker room and starts walking the hallway, secret service flank him.*
Here we go. How can this be so hard? Which way is Guerilla? Do we call it Guerilla? Yeah, if Jerry Lawler exists, Guerilla Monsoon must too, right? Of course he exists, I’m thinking of him. Focus, focus! I got this. I do promos like it ain’t no thing. Heck, now I do promos to the entire nation. This shouldn’t be hard, but fuck it is. But it has to be done. I’ve got too much responsibility now. Fun responsibility, different responsibility, but too much to do that and do this. So I have to go out there and end this.
*Curtis arrives at Guerilla. Mongo gives him the thumbs up. “Hail to the Chief” starts to play. Curtis gets his game face on, flips off Mongo, and then “Amerika” by Rammstein plays and Curtis exits through the curtain.*
**Fade out.**
**Fade in. XHF Network Arena. Minneapolis, Minnesota. Sunday, July 28th, Backstage at N.O.C.**
*It’s well after N.O.C. has gone off the air. Curtis, family, and friends are backstage in the Presidential locker room. Pepito is playing with his Goldbear II doll. Esmerelda is offering salsa and chips to Papa Kanyon and nephew Chuck.*
: What a day.: What a career!: Thanks Neph, sorry I couldn’t get you into more storylines after finding out you were my brother’s illegitimate son. Like, we still don’t know who your biological mother is.: We’ve been working the case Mr. President, and it’s down to either Freya Kane or Hardcore Harry’s whore ex-wife.: Dude!: What, she is!: You guys are still around?: Thanks to Netflix, season four Streaming now, I am still around.: Lucky jerk, I’m still around because I’m on NBC. But I wish I had that Netflix money.: Netflix numba one!: Funaki numba one!...
: Anyway, both make sense. Just take your pick kid.: I don’t want a whore mom. I’m not Mav.: Freya it is, great! Speaking of family, what’s up with Pedro? We got Pepito here, but my oldest boy isn’t here on my biggest night?: His flight was running late sir. But I’m getting word that…*The door busts open.*
: Mr. President sir! The eagle has landed! And limo’d. And… walked. Whatever! Here’s your son.: Pedro!: What’s up Dad! Sorry I missed the speech.: Damn! You looking swol!: College football will do that to ya.*Curtis looks Pedro up and down.*
: Hmmm… worked for Price, maybe…: What?: Nothing, nothing. Just an idea for down the road.: Whoa! Pops is here!: Hey kiddo! How’s my grandson!: Oh yeah! Grandpa Kanyon, meant to see you more often too. So much lost potential. Stupid responsibilities. But maybe, someday, someway, the whole family will be back.: I mean, look at me, I grow up to be a hot womanizer, I’d make a great manager!: And I’m a meat head, I might need a manager!: I want to be a dancer!: They do say kids are the future. <am. What a night. Feels like it’s lasted for two weeks! I’m not sure what’s coming tomorrow, but for now…*Curtis pulls out a kazoo and blows that sound that it makes with the wax paper flailing. You know the one. Some light guitar strings start to play.*
: Turn around bright eyes!: No! Not that song! Damnit Joe, you ruin everything!: Awwww…: Just kidding buddy. We’ll do that on karaoke night. Now, let’s try again.*Curtis puts on DT’s hat, another lost storyline, blows the kazoo and then the guitar plays again.*
: Saying goodbye, going away, Seems like goodbye's such a hard thing to say: Touching a hand, wondering why, It's time for saying goodbye: Saying goodbye, why is it sad? Makes us remember the good times we've had: Much more to say, foolish to try, It's time for saying goodbye: Don't want to leave, but we both know, Sometimes it's better to go: Somehow I know we'll meet again, Not sure quite where, and I don't know just when: You're in my heart, so until thenAll: It's time for saying goodbye
: Somehow I know we'll meet again, Not sure quite where, and I don't know just when: You're in my heart, so until then: Wanna smile, wanna cry, Saying goodbyeAll: La la la la la la la la, It's time for saying goodbye
*Everyone is arm in arm, singing, as the scene fades out.*
**Fade out.**
**Fade in. White House. Master Bedroom Hallway. Monday, July 29th. 10 AM**
*Curtis Kanyon opens the door to his room and peaks out. He sees the camera and walks out wearing his bath robe.*
: You still here? It’s over! Go home!*Curtis starts walking back to his room. He looks back.*
: BANG!**Fade out.**
