WHOOP WHOOP! THAT'S THE SOUNDA BOOGIE STREET | Jamrockers A1

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Thanks For Tunin' In

Three

Two

One

Let's Jam!

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“The BOYS!”

“Are BACK!”

“IN!”

“TOWNNNNNNN-AH!!!!!!”

We open on The Jamrockers in their iconic double flex pose.

“And welcome…”

“...To Booo-GIE! STREET!”

Both Rockers stand aside and extend their arms in a welcoming gesture. Behind them is an exceedingly average New York Street.

We shift to a shot of apartment buildings with a classic sitcom jingle. The camera pans down to another empty street where we find “The Dukes Of Boogie Street” sauntering down the titular location. Both dressed in blindingly garish outfits. Jimi begins with a smirk.

“The news of everyone’s favorite Jamrockers makin’ their hotly anticipated debut on the XHF Network has been spreadin’ like wildfire. So, we figured it’s best to do it LIVE where everyone’s favorite Bit Boyz came from!”

“Ya know it’s ‘bout that damn time! It’s about DAMN time the XHF Network as whole get’s hit with a bit of Boogie Street Badness and gets a goddamn jolt of high voltage e-lec-tricity coursing through its veins courtesy of The Dukes of Boogie Street! Courtesy of The Jamrockers!”

“I’m Alastor Touchdown! The Crazy White Boy! The Man Of A Thousand Nicknames! The Big Pop Getter! ‘Cause baby, when The Touchdown drops!? THE POPS! DON’T! STOP!”

“I’m Jimi F’N Cooldown! I’m The Most Fucked of Fucked Fuckers! I’m Jimbo Slice! I’m THE SHIT! I’m Tellin’ YA! But, the ladies? The ladies call me “Ohhh, GAAAAWD!!!””

In a moment of self-awareness, Alastor looks around concerned at the empty street as Jimi moans ridiculously loud. Letting out a sigh of relief in the background as he realizes nobody heard. He pats his buddy on the shoulder.

“That was good, man.”

“Thanks.”

Jimi nods proudly and smiles.

“Unc - that’s Jason Long if you’re fuckin’ stupid - understands. Ya put your best foot forward! The Whisky Sipper and The Trash Man can feel good about ‘emselves for bein’ the “main event”, but make no mistake fellas! No matter WHERE we are on the card? EVERBODY! Jerks! The Jamrock curtain!”

“We’re the FIRST thing the IPW audience, the WRESTLING audience sees when they tire of the same old offerings, pick up a controller and change the channel, searching for two HEROES! Top Guys means being the act on the show that draws the DIMES. It’s more than a status, it’s a mind-set. TOP GUY MINDSET!”

“You only get one first impression. It’s zero surprise we were the guys chosen to make it for IPW.”

Nodding sagely and flexing in the background as they walk, Jimi again speaks up.

“Ya see, there’s people out there that know! They know what Boogie Street is all about! Uncie Jase KNOWS what Jamrock is about! But, more importantly? They know what The Jamrockers are all about. The people that already know? heh the Jamrock-ites?! The Jamrockerboys?! the Jamrock-aholics?! the Peanut Butter and Jamrocks?! the….JAMROCKIANS?! They already KNOW!”

“But, those who don’t know? The Britbongs that we’re gonna be makin’ our glorious IP-dubya debuts in front of? Maybe they don’t know! Pretty Judy and Steve-O? They definitely don’t know. But, they’re gonna find out! April 17th is fast approachin’ and The Jamrockers are ready to kick out some f’n jams, and kick some fuckin’ ass!”

Big high five and starwipe with royalty free “swooshing” sound effect to the next scene.

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Fade in on Central Park. Touchdown is hammering two small crosses into the soil. Both marked with hasty, haphazard carvings. The left marked ‘Pretee JuLdy’, the right scrawled with ‘Steev Oh’.

As Touchdown hammers on, Cooldown stands back and examines the crosses. He shakes his head.

“Okay. First off. What. The fuck? Secondly, “JuLdy”? Where--What--Huh? Why is there an ‘L’ there, bro?”

“L-look whatever, man! Get off my case! I’m- y’know I’m out here workin’ hard. In the sun. Just tryin-”

“Okay, man. Okay, okay..”

“Just tryin to, DO OUR THING. And you’re just standin’ there like an asshole!”

“Woah, woah, woah-calm down. Calm down, man. Hold that energy! Hold it!”

Cooldown gestures for his partner to calm himself. He sighs.

“They look lovely, bro. Good job.”

Touchdown looks down. Inhaling sharply before standing.

“Thank you.”

He turns to the camera, immediately switching gears to “Promo Mode”.

“We took a page outta Pretty Judy’s serial killer diary and decided to go with this to make our point!”

Touchdown gestures towards the shoddily made grave markers.

“Man, she’s really pretty.”

Side-eyeing his partner for a moment, Touchdown continues.

“...Uh, Yeah. Anyway.”

Cooldown looks off into the distance, ambivalent as his partner speaks.

“You wrote a LOTTA CHEQUES and boy is it gonna be embarrassing when you can’t cash a single one! All ya could do was talk about how Boogie Street’s Faithful Sons were two jokes. Dismiss us, dismiss tag wrestling. Why? S’cause you can’t feel pain? Cause you’re a “monster”? Lady, I could fight you a hundred times without losin’. Unlike you, I’ll explain why. Your strongest attribute is your biggest detriment. You don’t have any sense of pain and you don’t have anythin’ except an ‘Id’ in your brain. No ego and damn sure no superego to guide that head of yours.”

Cooldown looks in surprise at this application of Freud and mouths under his breath in the background.

“What the fuck?”

“Self-preservation and survivability don’t come naturally for you, cause it can’t! When me or Jimi do some insane shit, we do it knowing EXZACTLY how bad it’s gonna hurt. We do it anyway. Feelin’ every drop of it. So both of us are acutely aware of ourselves. Our limits and our capabilities. It might not hurt, but I know exactly how much a ‘TOUCHDOWN’ from the top rope’ll knock every drop of wind from your chest. How a ‘Touchdown To Boogie Street’ might not give ya a headache, but’ll damn sure turn your lights out whether ya feel it or NOT!”

“Ya talk about inflicting pain, but baby, I love pain. ‘Cause pain reminds me the victories I’ve won are real. BALLIN!”

Jimi looks at his partner, confused.

“You’re such a little freak, dude. But, I’ll give Pretty Judy this; she looks impressive. She’s big, she’s strong, she’s built just how ya boy likes EM! She’s taller than a glass of milk, and brother? I’m finna go climb it. Why? ‘cuz Big Sexual is THIRS-TAY!!!!!!”

“What?”

Jimi Cooldown proudly gestures to himself with his thumbs. Alastor shakes his head but gets back that elusive “Promo High”.

“Call yourself the “Boogeyman”? Babe, we’re the Boogie Men. And we’ll be dancin’ on that grave of yours come Adrenaline”

“But this other frrrrrrrEAK!?”

The two look at each other and smirk. Simultaneously answering.

“DEAD AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIR!!”

“This dude seems like he’d be the type to talk a big game, but so far? Radio. Silence, baby! Send out the search party! Put up the flyers. Someone has to find this dude so we can then BEAT! HIS! ASS! Mr. Amazing? Mister? Amazing? What’s so AMAZIN’ about ya, huh? What kinda half assed sorta nickname is that? Ya pull it out of a cereal box? Ya come up with that one yourself? How about somethin’ with a little Jamrockin’ razzle dazzle? I’ll give ya one of my rejects. How about “Mr. Worldwide”? Sounds good don’t it? Trust me, after we get finished runnin’ through you and Pretty Judy like a hot knife through buttah, you’ll need everything you can to get a leg up in OUR company. Yeah, that’s right, baby, I said it. It ain’t no thang!”

“THANG!”

“Ya wanna talk about how fuckin’ great you might be? Well, that’s all well an’ good. But, when ya step foot in the ring against New York’s Favourite Sons, in OUR ring, you’re gonna realise that your dick ain’t big enough to FUCK GOD! I know we ain’t made our presence known on the good ol’ XHF Network, but as I said, we got people who are in the know and those people? They’re just waitin to see their boys EXPLODE!”

“EXPLODE! WE’RE EXPLODIN’ BABY!”

“WE! Are THE Lethal WEAPONS! That’s what we’re bringing to the f’n table! People might think that what we’re doin’ is Killin’ the Business. But, that’s far from the truth. We’re KILLIN’ it in THIS BUSINESS! These graves may look like jokes, but you’ll be dead and buried here all too soon.”

In the background the citizens of New York, already unnerved by two blindingly dressed men hammering funeral crosses into the ground, react with visible panic at the mention of “explode”, “killing”, “weapons” and “business”. Some even running off frame entirely. Despite the sounds of obvious panic behind them, both Rocker Boys remain oblivious.

“We got two people who FUN-DA-MENTALLY, cannot co-exist! About the only thing these two got in common is lovin’ the sound of their own voices. WHICH IS FUNNY, SINCE ONE ‘EM AIN’T SAID A DAMN THING! Their respective egos make em straightforward one on one. But in a tag match? In OUR domain? OHHHHHHHHH baby! Your chances of winning? DRASTICALLY BAD! We can cut em off from each other so fast their heads’ll spin! They might be strong and maybe even talented if ya squint enough. But the scales of experience is beyond tilted in The Jamrockers favour. With their delusion not even given’ em the benefit of SEEIN’ IT!”

“Maybe if and when you two get booked against someone else, Unc can get his moneys worth from ya. But right now? Your chances are NOTHING!”

“You have ZERO chance to win!”

“You should quit this match NOW!”

“Yeah, that’s true. That’s for DAMN TRUE”

“OH AND BY THE WAY!? SPELLING JUDY WITH AN ‘L’ WAS INTENTIONAL! ‘CAUSE AFTER WE’RE DONE!? THAT’S WHAT SHE AND STEVIE ARE GONNA BE HOLDING!”

“Oh nice, did you really mean to do that?”

“...No… Woulda been cool though!”

“Uhh...Yeah…It woulda been!”

Both men begin yelling and “WOOO”’ing incessantly as sirens begin to blare in the background. The sound of cars pulling up off-camera and doors slamming shut knock the duo from their self-perpetuating madness.

“POLICE! ON THE GROUND! NOW!”

“Oh, SHIT! OH, SHIT! IT’S THE-”

“FIVE-OH! FIVE-OH!”

“GRAB THE SIGNS! I’M DIPPIN!’ I AIN’T GOIN’ BACK!” (he’s never been)

Both men run around in place for a second before Touchdown drops to the ground and fruitlessly tries prying the crosses out of the ground with his bare hands. Cooldown takes the initiative to start running by himself, vaulting and tripping over a fence immediately.

“GET THAT FUCKING CAMERA OFF! NOW!”

The final shot is officers surrounding Touchdown on the ground. Cooldown in the background trying to disconnect his pants caught in the railing. We see an extreme close up of a moustached officer before he knocks the camera to the ground.

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Thanks for Jammin’...

See ya Rocker Boys…