The BANG! Files (Part 2 in Kanyon vision also!)
Mar 24, 2022 21:44:27 GMT -5
Dave D-Flipz, Venom đź•·, and 2 more like this
Post by Curtis D. Kanyon on Mar 24, 2022 21:44:27 GMT -5
**The University of the Balearic Islands, Ibiza, Spain. Dusk.**
*The BANG! Bus Tank pulls up to the front of a house with a banner, showing an upside down “V” a lower case “a” and a triangle. The lid pops open and Curtis Kanyon and El Combatiente emerge as the music fades. (For ease of reading and definitely not laziness, everyone is speaking Spanish and dubbed over with English for your ease of viewing pleasure, sorry Kira, dubbed over subbed 4 life.*
: Conspiracy sells, it buys bulletproof squared circles. All we can do El Combatiente is pull the thread, see what unravels. The truth… is out there.
: X-Files doesn’t do the “Dun dun.”
: Yeah, but you had it and it was cool. Plus, we got out the two cool kids already with Dylan and Mistress Discipline in the last promo. I have to help doll up this back half from going in the dumps since we’re dealing with a Jersey Shore wanna be dousche nozzle and a guy with fire roasted tomato for brains.
: Which one’s which?
: …you know what, I’m not sure now. Maybe they’re more similar than I thought.
: Well, we’re at the next stop. Lambda Alpha Delta.
: Ugh… here we go…
*They both climb down the tank and walk to the front of the Fraternity house. El Combatiente knocks on the door. It opens.*
: Hello losers, you are early, party is not for another hou– oh, I’m sorry, you’re that American wrestler President and a mask guy. Paul Smackage? You get a new look?
: Wow, you’re like four years behind on wrestling knowledge bud.
: What can I do for you sir?
: We are here to get into the mind of a murderer.
: WHAT!? I– I– I don’t know what you’re talking about, all our hazings have been on the up and up, there’s no body in the basement. No sacrificial knives here. No sir. No blood chalices– chalicie?
: Chaliceses.
: Right, sorry I didn't know since we only have one- er, none.
: We do not use the plural that ends with “i” in Spanish, thus unless someone was dubbing our promo, this joke would be lost.
: Thanks EC. Anyway, no I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about the murderer of fun, Evan Valentine Jr.
: I don’t think he goes here.
: No, he does not. But he thinks like you.
: Like me?
: Like you people. A frat boy. A jerk who only thinks of himself and was handed everything on a silver platter.
: Excuse me, don’t talk to my bro that way bro!
: Look, I had to work hard for everything I’ve ever had. I never had time to join a boys club and drink all nights away and get by because my daddy was going to put me in the family business no matter what I did, so you’ll excuse me if I have no sympathy for you devils.
: Whoa, I had to walk two miles a day to get to high school. I had to eat tuna out of a can for two years to afford to come to this place. We’re not like those American fraternities, we work hard and we play hard in Spain.
: Yeah bro! I had to bonk my head into other heads harder in Rugby to get here. My dad owns a dealership that I will be working when my sports career is over in two to five years.
: Okay, so he’s kinda like that, but most of us are not!
: Yeah man, relax. I know, as a guy who worked hard at getting into this business that my brother broke the barrier down for, and lucked into… becoming president… I’ll, I’ll just shut up now.
: I’m sorry, I came off on the wrong foot. Let me start over. We’re here to know you to know our enemy, who we assume is like you.
: You saying you want to party with us?
: FUCK YEAH! I mean… yeah?
*Combatiente sighs.*
: Sure.
**Flash forward.**
*The house is now full of college students of all sexes, and red solo cups are everywhere. El Combatiente is doing a keg stand as people are shouting “Chug, chug, chug.” Curtis is a little wobbly as he stares down the meat head from earlier.*
: Bang me Mr. President! Bang me!
*Curtis charges and hits the BANG!*
: Oh man, been a few decades since I BANG!ed a college student. Don’t tell the misses. HAHAHAHA!
*Combatiente is brought down and staggers over.*
: Why… why did no one tell me the keg was full of-hic- full of tequila?
: El Combatiente… this is Spain, everything is tequila! HAHAHAHA! Sorry, I get giggly on tequila.
: Oh boy, I don’t think I’ve ever ingested this much alcohol.
: Ruh roh! Get some buckets people!
: This is a fraternity, we have buckets everywhere.
*Curtis high fives the kid and then charges and randomly BANG!s another frat brother. Then stays on the floor and rolls over to the meat head he BANG!ed earlier.*
: So listen, we see you, we see what’s happening here.
: Oh, my ribs.
: Forget about that. Listen. Vevan Elantine is a massive prick, lives like your stereotypical frat boy. Now… now I get it. The partying, it's fun. The not giving a shit about the world. Fucking fantastic. For a night.
*Curtis sits up and helps up the boy next to him up, then puts an arm around him. The music decibels go down as the former President continues, everyone turns to pay attention as a spotlight seems to focus on him.*
: But the night doesn't last forever. Living this life day in day out, you can only do that when you're hollow inside. Do you understand son? Have fun in college, that's what it's for. But living this life after, it's just sad. I feel so much empathy for Evan now. Thank you.
*A tear rolls down the cheek of the frat boy as everyone is silent.*
: Thank you sir. I'll keep that to heart if I remember it in the morning.
*An eerie quiet rolls over the room.*
: LET'S GO STREAKING!
: Sir, we're in Europe, people are naked all the time, it's no big deal.
: Oh…
: Hey, is there any good Italian food around here?
**Fade out.**
**Fade in.**
*Curtis sits on a balcony of a hotel, holding an ice pack to his head.*
: Oh what a night. Okay, gotta take care of this part… right right.
*Curtis sits up.*
: Four hundred and seventy seven days. When I walk into Fuel for the Fire, that’s how long I’ll have been tag team champion. That’s how long I’ll have been a thorn in Caffrey’s side. Have you noticed how he somehow got geekier and twinkier after his laser eye surgery by the way? Anywho, I’m obviously a dominant champion. No denying that. And I can go on and on again about cutting the dead weight and finding a much better partner and yada yada, but my head hurts too much to go through all that.
*Curtis applies the ice again.*
: My good buddy Combatiente and I cooked up the Championship Open Challenge Kup presentado Curtis Kanyon to find the best team. Evan has been a hell of a competitor in Fireside. Raising hell almost as much as I have. Using cronies to help him out, I get it, rolling in packs is great. But I roll with a pack of alpha males, unlike Evan leading around a bunch of boobs. But it makes so much sense why he’s so good in the ring. All empty inside of feelings and emotions, probably riding 2 fast 2 furious in a sports car to make up for his frail ego and frailer dangle bits, he can use all that negative space to focus on wrestling and being a dick. Two things that go surprisingly hand in hand. No wonder he was one of the guys who got to hold my C.O.C.K.
*Curtis puts the bag of ice down and pops some aspirin before swigging down some water.*
: So now this wish.com Eminem is using his hyper focused powers to team with Dylan Black, the best amputee in the business, to come at the kings of the tag team division. I know, we don’t have the XHF tag titles, but we’ve made the Fireside ones mean more, and you can’t deny that. We fend off every challenge. That’s why we erected the C.O.C.K. To find a team to actually give us a fight. Thor be praised, I’ve been looking for a real fight in Fireside, and ask and you shall receive with those two! Just mano-a-mano would be a war. Throw in that other team, and hot damn we got a rumble! Not THE RUMBLE, just a rumble. You know what I mean.
*Curtis sits back.*
: Ahhh, my head is still pounding. Don’t worry though, after our excursion here in Spain, I’ll get plenty of rest for the match. I like to fight, I’m not one of those lazy champions who sits back for three months and waits until someone notices to have a match. I was a double tag champ for the better part of 2021. My white whale took my other titles away, but these Fireside babies, they aren’t going anywhere. We created the New Appendages out of necessity, and when we vanquish you, they’ll have to award Combatiente and I as tag champs for life. For Dylan, we’re the hydraulic press to his metal limbs. For Evan, we’re the lamp post to his Paul Walker. You boys are going to feel… the… BANG!
**Fade out.**
**Fade in. La Tagliatella Restaurant. Ibiza, Spain.**
*Curtis and El Combatiente enter an Italian restaurant… in Spain.*
: Heya, how’s about it! Welcom-a to La Tagliatella, seating for-a four?
: Hold on I got this. I can speak Italioan-Spanish. A hello-a, we a would like that very much you gabba goo!
: What did you call me?
: What did you call him? No one disrespects my waiter, right boys?
*The seemingly extra oily man looks to his buddies sitting with him, who all nod in agreement.*
: I’mma sorry, I meant-a no harm to you and your goombas.
*The big man stands up, pushing his table and pasta a foot away from him.*
: You mudda fucka you!
: I uh… I think I’m still drunk, what is happening.
: Look Big Pussy, we ain’t here to cause no trouble. No sir. We’re just here to get a low down on the Eatalians so we can understand the spicy meatball that is Death Trap.
: Death Trap? The wrestler? The Italian mega man that I would do anything for because he represents the culture? That Death Trap.
: …no?
: Oh, okay.
: But there is a… different Death Trap that we wish to beat up, who’s also Italian.
: You come to me on this day, the day of my daughter’s wedding, and you ask me how to tell you to beat up a fellow Italian? You’re lucky I can’t deny a favor on this day.
*He looks at Curtis who apparently stole his food and is chowing down.*
: Mmff srrry, mmm hmbvoor nnn rrrurry nnnf ffss.
: You son of a–
: Wait! I’ve got this!
*El Combatiente jumps in between the waiter and the mobster.*
: I wasn’t going to intervene.
: Riiiiight.
*Combatiente walks over and snaps his fingers, getting the mobsters to stop as they all have their fists raises and Curtis to stop as his mouth is full of someone else’s spaghetti.*
: Boy, boy, crazy boy,
Get cool, boy.
Got a rocket,
In your pocket,
Keep coolly cool, boy.
*The mobsters look confused. Combatiente dances around the table.*
: Don't get hot,
'Cause man, you got
Some high times ahead.
Take it slow
And, Daddy-o,
You can live it up and die in bed!
*Curtis claps as the mobsters stare in amazement. While distracted, Curtis grabs the other pasta plates.*
: Boy, boy, crazy boy,
Stay loose, boy.
Breeze it, buzz it,
Easy does it,
Turn off the juice, boy.
*El Combatiente jumps up on the table!*
: Go man, go,
But not like a yoyo schoolboy.
Just play it cool, boy,
Real cool.
*There is a strong silence that fills the room for what feels like an eternity, but in reality is maybe 10 seconds. Then the head mobster starts clapping. Then his boys jump it.*
: How did you know I love musicals?
: Idunno, but can I have some water?
: Musicals!? That’s the kryptonite to Death Trap?
: No, I just love the–
: We can do that! Combatiente, you ready?
: AM I!?
: Please don’t–
: Iiiiiiii feel pretty,
Oh, so pretty,
I feel pretty and witty and gay,
And I pity
Any wrestler who isn't me today.
*Curtis grabs a meatball off the table and eats it, then jumps behind the head of the family and grabs him around the waist to dance.*
: I feel charming,
Oh, so charming,
It's alarming how charming I feel,
And so pretty
That I hardly can believe I'm real.
: Let go of me!
: See the pretty guy in that mirror there,
Who can that attractive guy beeeeee?
Such a pretty face,
Such a pretty dress,
Such a pretty smile,
Such a pretty me!
: Did he say dress? This isn’t France!
: I feel stunning
And entrancing,
Feel like running
and dancing
for joy,
For I'm loved by a pretty wonderful… tag team partner!
: Okay, I think you’ve done enough.
: Have you met my good friend Curtis,
The craziest guy on the block?
You'll know him the minute you see him,
He's the one who is in an advanced state of shock.
*Curtis then hits one of the mobster’s buddies with a BANG! El Combatiente dances around the waiter.*
: He thinks he's in love.
He thinks he's in Spain.
He isn't in love,
He's merely insane.
: We… are in Spain…
*Curtis BANG!s the other buddy.*
: It must be the heat
Or some rare disease,
Or too much to eat
Or maybe it's fleas.
: I am kinda itchy, are there fleas in Spain?
: What did you do to my boys?
: Just what I needed to.
*Combatiente pulls the leader to him and holds him for a tango.*
: Keep away from him—
Send for BANG!
This is not the Cur—
: ENOUGH OUTTA YOU!
*Curtis BANG!s the mob boss.*
: I FEEL SO ALIVE!
: You guys have pizza?
: Your breath-a smells of tequila.
: Ugh… where’s the restroom? I’ll take that pizza to g–hggg!
*EC covers his mouth and runs in the direction the waiter points.*
: What do I have to do to get both of you to leave?
: Tell me the princess is in another castle.
*The waiter shakes his head.*
**Fade out.**
**Fade in.**
*Curtis is still on the balcony of a hotel, sitting on a chair, snoring under an ice pack on his head. A loud yacking is heard from inside that startles Curtis awake.*
: That’s right buddy! Get it all out!
*Curtis sits up.*
: Death Trap, we have learned of your people through the prism of Spain. I will melt your heart with my pipes. THEN CRUSH IT WITH MY FISTS!
*Curtis holds his head in pain after the scream.*
: Listen DT. I understand you are undefeated against my big brother. Hell, I can only remember beating you that one time that you hate to be mentioned, but it was with seven other men on top of you, so I wouldn’t count it as a true victory any way, so I’ve never really beaten you either. But when was the last time you were in the ring with a Kanyon? Well, mano-a-mano, not a triple threat or multi-man. Wait, I said mano-a-mano earlier. Must be all this Spanish I’m speaking. Look, this still isn’t mano-a-mano. It’s mano-mano-a-mano-mano-a-womano-mano. And she comes first because we all know she is carrying your ass. I’ve proven through multiple title defenses that I’m not afraid to hit a woman warrior in the middle of that ring, so don’t think you can hide behind her for this match!
*Curtis pops some more aspirin and drinks some water.*
: Wait… did I do that already? Eh, whatever. DT, why are you the way that you are. My partner and I come up with an awesome way to blow up the open door and have a great challenge to overcome and show our dominance and you just waltz right in like you own the place and skip the line. You insert yourself into this like you’re owed something. You just wedge your way in like that annoying fifth wheel on every sitcom prom episode. If you wanted a match, all you had to do was ask. I know, must people think beating you ain’t no thing since your brain’s been all loopy, but I know better, trust me. As much as it hurts right now, I know the kind of freedom you get from having an unhinged mind. Beating you would be an honor. Beating the Mistress is more of an honor don’t get me wrong, but having you both there is great. But no, instead of just asking for a shot, you wedge your way in, make us have a triple threat. Why? Because you’re scared that a Kanyon will finally one-up you? Because you know in your baked ziti filled heart that I’m betta than you? So you need a chaotic three way to hide behind should you lose? Or to take advantage of if you win? That’s the true Italian mobster mentality in there. Looking at all the angles, making everything in your favor. You see Trappy, I know you’re insane, but you ain’t dumb.
*Curtis puts the ice back on his head.*
: You’re going down. You’re going to be drinking lasagna through a straw after the things I do to you in that cage. I don’t want any excuses. And I don’t want you to be able to put a horse head in my bed after I embarrass you. I’m going to tie you up like a garlic knot, and then make you watch as I stomp on your stupid hat. You could have had a normal beating, but you wanted to try to throw a wrench in my plans, and now you have my attention. You decided to make yourself the biggest meatball in the bowl and now I really want to hurt you. More than the android, the Bluto, or the librarian. Luckily, it’s elimination, so once I’ve finished having my way with you, I can just eliminate you and focus on the others.
*Curtis removes the ice.*
: I need to check on Combatiente, then try and get some sleep. Ugh. But remember, you will feel… the… BANG!
*Curtis winces after screaming his catch phrase again, then stands up and walks inside his room as the scene fades out.*
**Fade out.**
*The BANG! Bus Tank pulls up to the front of a house with a banner, showing an upside down “V” a lower case “a” and a triangle. The lid pops open and Curtis Kanyon and El Combatiente emerge as the music fades. (For ease of reading and definitely not laziness, everyone is speaking Spanish and dubbed over with English for your ease of viewing pleasure, sorry Kira, dubbed over subbed 4 life.*
: Conspiracy sells, it buys bulletproof squared circles. All we can do El Combatiente is pull the thread, see what unravels. The truth… is out there.
: X-Files doesn’t do the “Dun dun.”
: Yeah, but you had it and it was cool. Plus, we got out the two cool kids already with Dylan and Mistress Discipline in the last promo. I have to help doll up this back half from going in the dumps since we’re dealing with a Jersey Shore wanna be dousche nozzle and a guy with fire roasted tomato for brains.
: Which one’s which?
: …you know what, I’m not sure now. Maybe they’re more similar than I thought.
: Well, we’re at the next stop. Lambda Alpha Delta.
: Ugh… here we go…
*They both climb down the tank and walk to the front of the Fraternity house. El Combatiente knocks on the door. It opens.*
: Hello losers, you are early, party is not for another hou– oh, I’m sorry, you’re that American wrestler President and a mask guy. Paul Smackage? You get a new look?
: Wow, you’re like four years behind on wrestling knowledge bud.
: What can I do for you sir?
: We are here to get into the mind of a murderer.
: WHAT!? I– I– I don’t know what you’re talking about, all our hazings have been on the up and up, there’s no body in the basement. No sacrificial knives here. No sir. No blood chalices– chalicie?
: Chaliceses.
: Right, sorry I didn't know since we only have one- er, none.
: We do not use the plural that ends with “i” in Spanish, thus unless someone was dubbing our promo, this joke would be lost.
: Thanks EC. Anyway, no I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about the murderer of fun, Evan Valentine Jr.
: I don’t think he goes here.
: No, he does not. But he thinks like you.
: Like me?
: Like you people. A frat boy. A jerk who only thinks of himself and was handed everything on a silver platter.
: Excuse me, don’t talk to my bro that way bro!
: Look, I had to work hard for everything I’ve ever had. I never had time to join a boys club and drink all nights away and get by because my daddy was going to put me in the family business no matter what I did, so you’ll excuse me if I have no sympathy for you devils.
: Whoa, I had to walk two miles a day to get to high school. I had to eat tuna out of a can for two years to afford to come to this place. We’re not like those American fraternities, we work hard and we play hard in Spain.
: Yeah bro! I had to bonk my head into other heads harder in Rugby to get here. My dad owns a dealership that I will be working when my sports career is over in two to five years.
: Okay, so he’s kinda like that, but most of us are not!
: Yeah man, relax. I know, as a guy who worked hard at getting into this business that my brother broke the barrier down for, and lucked into… becoming president… I’ll, I’ll just shut up now.
: I’m sorry, I came off on the wrong foot. Let me start over. We’re here to know you to know our enemy, who we assume is like you.
: You saying you want to party with us?
: FUCK YEAH! I mean… yeah?
*Combatiente sighs.*
: Sure.
**Flash forward.**
*The house is now full of college students of all sexes, and red solo cups are everywhere. El Combatiente is doing a keg stand as people are shouting “Chug, chug, chug.” Curtis is a little wobbly as he stares down the meat head from earlier.*
: Bang me Mr. President! Bang me!
*Curtis charges and hits the BANG!*
: Oh man, been a few decades since I BANG!ed a college student. Don’t tell the misses. HAHAHAHA!
*Combatiente is brought down and staggers over.*
: Why… why did no one tell me the keg was full of-hic- full of tequila?
: El Combatiente… this is Spain, everything is tequila! HAHAHAHA! Sorry, I get giggly on tequila.
: Oh boy, I don’t think I’ve ever ingested this much alcohol.
: Ruh roh! Get some buckets people!
: This is a fraternity, we have buckets everywhere.
*Curtis high fives the kid and then charges and randomly BANG!s another frat brother. Then stays on the floor and rolls over to the meat head he BANG!ed earlier.*
: So listen, we see you, we see what’s happening here.
: Oh, my ribs.
: Forget about that. Listen. Vevan Elantine is a massive prick, lives like your stereotypical frat boy. Now… now I get it. The partying, it's fun. The not giving a shit about the world. Fucking fantastic. For a night.
*Curtis sits up and helps up the boy next to him up, then puts an arm around him. The music decibels go down as the former President continues, everyone turns to pay attention as a spotlight seems to focus on him.*
: But the night doesn't last forever. Living this life day in day out, you can only do that when you're hollow inside. Do you understand son? Have fun in college, that's what it's for. But living this life after, it's just sad. I feel so much empathy for Evan now. Thank you.
*A tear rolls down the cheek of the frat boy as everyone is silent.*
: Thank you sir. I'll keep that to heart if I remember it in the morning.
*An eerie quiet rolls over the room.*
: LET'S GO STREAKING!
: Sir, we're in Europe, people are naked all the time, it's no big deal.
: Oh…
: Hey, is there any good Italian food around here?
**Fade out.**
**Fade in.**
*Curtis sits on a balcony of a hotel, holding an ice pack to his head.*
: Oh what a night. Okay, gotta take care of this part… right right.
*Curtis sits up.*
: Four hundred and seventy seven days. When I walk into Fuel for the Fire, that’s how long I’ll have been tag team champion. That’s how long I’ll have been a thorn in Caffrey’s side. Have you noticed how he somehow got geekier and twinkier after his laser eye surgery by the way? Anywho, I’m obviously a dominant champion. No denying that. And I can go on and on again about cutting the dead weight and finding a much better partner and yada yada, but my head hurts too much to go through all that.
*Curtis applies the ice again.*
: My good buddy Combatiente and I cooked up the Championship Open Challenge Kup presentado Curtis Kanyon to find the best team. Evan has been a hell of a competitor in Fireside. Raising hell almost as much as I have. Using cronies to help him out, I get it, rolling in packs is great. But I roll with a pack of alpha males, unlike Evan leading around a bunch of boobs. But it makes so much sense why he’s so good in the ring. All empty inside of feelings and emotions, probably riding 2 fast 2 furious in a sports car to make up for his frail ego and frailer dangle bits, he can use all that negative space to focus on wrestling and being a dick. Two things that go surprisingly hand in hand. No wonder he was one of the guys who got to hold my C.O.C.K.
*Curtis puts the bag of ice down and pops some aspirin before swigging down some water.*
: So now this wish.com Eminem is using his hyper focused powers to team with Dylan Black, the best amputee in the business, to come at the kings of the tag team division. I know, we don’t have the XHF tag titles, but we’ve made the Fireside ones mean more, and you can’t deny that. We fend off every challenge. That’s why we erected the C.O.C.K. To find a team to actually give us a fight. Thor be praised, I’ve been looking for a real fight in Fireside, and ask and you shall receive with those two! Just mano-a-mano would be a war. Throw in that other team, and hot damn we got a rumble! Not THE RUMBLE, just a rumble. You know what I mean.
*Curtis sits back.*
: Ahhh, my head is still pounding. Don’t worry though, after our excursion here in Spain, I’ll get plenty of rest for the match. I like to fight, I’m not one of those lazy champions who sits back for three months and waits until someone notices to have a match. I was a double tag champ for the better part of 2021. My white whale took my other titles away, but these Fireside babies, they aren’t going anywhere. We created the New Appendages out of necessity, and when we vanquish you, they’ll have to award Combatiente and I as tag champs for life. For Dylan, we’re the hydraulic press to his metal limbs. For Evan, we’re the lamp post to his Paul Walker. You boys are going to feel… the… BANG!
**Fade out.**
**Fade in. La Tagliatella Restaurant. Ibiza, Spain.**
*Curtis and El Combatiente enter an Italian restaurant… in Spain.*
: Heya, how’s about it! Welcom-a to La Tagliatella, seating for-a four?
: Hold on I got this. I can speak Italioan-Spanish. A hello-a, we a would like that very much you gabba goo!
: What did you call me?
: What did you call him? No one disrespects my waiter, right boys?
*The seemingly extra oily man looks to his buddies sitting with him, who all nod in agreement.*
: I’mma sorry, I meant-a no harm to you and your goombas.
*The big man stands up, pushing his table and pasta a foot away from him.*
: You mudda fucka you!
: I uh… I think I’m still drunk, what is happening.
: Look Big Pussy, we ain’t here to cause no trouble. No sir. We’re just here to get a low down on the Eatalians so we can understand the spicy meatball that is Death Trap.
: Death Trap? The wrestler? The Italian mega man that I would do anything for because he represents the culture? That Death Trap.
: …no?
: Oh, okay.
: But there is a… different Death Trap that we wish to beat up, who’s also Italian.
: You come to me on this day, the day of my daughter’s wedding, and you ask me how to tell you to beat up a fellow Italian? You’re lucky I can’t deny a favor on this day.
*He looks at Curtis who apparently stole his food and is chowing down.*
: Mmff srrry, mmm hmbvoor nnn rrrurry nnnf ffss.
: You son of a–
: Wait! I’ve got this!
*El Combatiente jumps in between the waiter and the mobster.*
: I wasn’t going to intervene.
: Riiiiight.
*Combatiente walks over and snaps his fingers, getting the mobsters to stop as they all have their fists raises and Curtis to stop as his mouth is full of someone else’s spaghetti.*
: Boy, boy, crazy boy,
Get cool, boy.
Got a rocket,
In your pocket,
Keep coolly cool, boy.
*The mobsters look confused. Combatiente dances around the table.*
: Don't get hot,
'Cause man, you got
Some high times ahead.
Take it slow
And, Daddy-o,
You can live it up and die in bed!
*Curtis claps as the mobsters stare in amazement. While distracted, Curtis grabs the other pasta plates.*
: Boy, boy, crazy boy,
Stay loose, boy.
Breeze it, buzz it,
Easy does it,
Turn off the juice, boy.
*El Combatiente jumps up on the table!*
: Go man, go,
But not like a yoyo schoolboy.
Just play it cool, boy,
Real cool.
*There is a strong silence that fills the room for what feels like an eternity, but in reality is maybe 10 seconds. Then the head mobster starts clapping. Then his boys jump it.*
: How did you know I love musicals?
: Idunno, but can I have some water?
: Musicals!? That’s the kryptonite to Death Trap?
: No, I just love the–
: We can do that! Combatiente, you ready?
: AM I!?
: Please don’t–
: Iiiiiiii feel pretty,
Oh, so pretty,
I feel pretty and witty and gay,
And I pity
Any wrestler who isn't me today.
*Curtis grabs a meatball off the table and eats it, then jumps behind the head of the family and grabs him around the waist to dance.*
: I feel charming,
Oh, so charming,
It's alarming how charming I feel,
And so pretty
That I hardly can believe I'm real.
: Let go of me!
: See the pretty guy in that mirror there,
Who can that attractive guy beeeeee?
Such a pretty face,
Such a pretty dress,
Such a pretty smile,
Such a pretty me!
: Did he say dress? This isn’t France!
: I feel stunning
And entrancing,
Feel like running
and dancing
for joy,
For I'm loved by a pretty wonderful… tag team partner!
: Okay, I think you’ve done enough.
: Have you met my good friend Curtis,
The craziest guy on the block?
You'll know him the minute you see him,
He's the one who is in an advanced state of shock.
*Curtis then hits one of the mobster’s buddies with a BANG! El Combatiente dances around the waiter.*
: He thinks he's in love.
He thinks he's in Spain.
He isn't in love,
He's merely insane.
: We… are in Spain…
*Curtis BANG!s the other buddy.*
: It must be the heat
Or some rare disease,
Or too much to eat
Or maybe it's fleas.
: I am kinda itchy, are there fleas in Spain?
: What did you do to my boys?
: Just what I needed to.
*Combatiente pulls the leader to him and holds him for a tango.*
: Keep away from him—
Send for BANG!
This is not the Cur—
: ENOUGH OUTTA YOU!
*Curtis BANG!s the mob boss.*
: I FEEL SO ALIVE!
: You guys have pizza?
: Your breath-a smells of tequila.
: Ugh… where’s the restroom? I’ll take that pizza to g–hggg!
*EC covers his mouth and runs in the direction the waiter points.*
: What do I have to do to get both of you to leave?
: Tell me the princess is in another castle.
*The waiter shakes his head.*
**Fade out.**
**Fade in.**
*Curtis is still on the balcony of a hotel, sitting on a chair, snoring under an ice pack on his head. A loud yacking is heard from inside that startles Curtis awake.*
: That’s right buddy! Get it all out!
*Curtis sits up.*
: Death Trap, we have learned of your people through the prism of Spain. I will melt your heart with my pipes. THEN CRUSH IT WITH MY FISTS!
*Curtis holds his head in pain after the scream.*
: Listen DT. I understand you are undefeated against my big brother. Hell, I can only remember beating you that one time that you hate to be mentioned, but it was with seven other men on top of you, so I wouldn’t count it as a true victory any way, so I’ve never really beaten you either. But when was the last time you were in the ring with a Kanyon? Well, mano-a-mano, not a triple threat or multi-man. Wait, I said mano-a-mano earlier. Must be all this Spanish I’m speaking. Look, this still isn’t mano-a-mano. It’s mano-mano-a-mano-mano-a-womano-mano. And she comes first because we all know she is carrying your ass. I’ve proven through multiple title defenses that I’m not afraid to hit a woman warrior in the middle of that ring, so don’t think you can hide behind her for this match!
*Curtis pops some more aspirin and drinks some water.*
: Wait… did I do that already? Eh, whatever. DT, why are you the way that you are. My partner and I come up with an awesome way to blow up the open door and have a great challenge to overcome and show our dominance and you just waltz right in like you own the place and skip the line. You insert yourself into this like you’re owed something. You just wedge your way in like that annoying fifth wheel on every sitcom prom episode. If you wanted a match, all you had to do was ask. I know, must people think beating you ain’t no thing since your brain’s been all loopy, but I know better, trust me. As much as it hurts right now, I know the kind of freedom you get from having an unhinged mind. Beating you would be an honor. Beating the Mistress is more of an honor don’t get me wrong, but having you both there is great. But no, instead of just asking for a shot, you wedge your way in, make us have a triple threat. Why? Because you’re scared that a Kanyon will finally one-up you? Because you know in your baked ziti filled heart that I’m betta than you? So you need a chaotic three way to hide behind should you lose? Or to take advantage of if you win? That’s the true Italian mobster mentality in there. Looking at all the angles, making everything in your favor. You see Trappy, I know you’re insane, but you ain’t dumb.
*Curtis puts the ice back on his head.*
: You’re going down. You’re going to be drinking lasagna through a straw after the things I do to you in that cage. I don’t want any excuses. And I don’t want you to be able to put a horse head in my bed after I embarrass you. I’m going to tie you up like a garlic knot, and then make you watch as I stomp on your stupid hat. You could have had a normal beating, but you wanted to try to throw a wrench in my plans, and now you have my attention. You decided to make yourself the biggest meatball in the bowl and now I really want to hurt you. More than the android, the Bluto, or the librarian. Luckily, it’s elimination, so once I’ve finished having my way with you, I can just eliminate you and focus on the others.
*Curtis removes the ice.*
: I need to check on Combatiente, then try and get some sleep. Ugh. But remember, you will feel… the… BANG!
*Curtis winces after screaming his catch phrase again, then stands up and walks inside his room as the scene fades out.*
**Fade out.**