Possessive Noun (Supremacy)

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We see a public park on a beautiful evening. Music is faintly heard. Marty Donovan walks into frame. His attire is vintage, a tweed norfolk suit with a bow tie and straw hat. He holds a giant suitcase that reads "PROF. HAROLD HILL", confirming he is dressed as the lead of a broadway play called The Music Man.

Marty:

Phil?

Phil Blauer, Hardkore World's pompous commentator, emerges from the bushes wearing a marching band conductor uniform.

Phil:

Martin! Thanks for finding a costume on short notice.

Marty:

No problem. Your wife is a big Broadway fan?

Phil:

Nope! The surprise birthday party was a lie to get you here. Manipulating people is a breeze when you have a nonagenarian spouse on death’s door. You’ve got to bag one, Marty!

Marty:

Phil! I have to catch a plane to Denver tonight.

Phil:

Relax, I’ve figured out a plan to ensure you win the parking lot fight.

Phil motions for the wrestler to follow him. Marty notices the camera. He addresses it while tailing the commentator.

Marty:

Peter, everyone on the planet knows why I agreed to this match except you. I’m not sure if you’re gaslighting or actually going insane, but I will clarify regardless. This is about Olivia. I’m not flying to Denver to make a name for myself at your expense. Let’s be real.

Marty stops walking and looks down the camera.

Marty:

If I wanted to make a name for myself, I would fight someone actually capable of winning the X*Crown.

He starts walking again.

Marty:

I wouldn't waste my time against an undersized midcarder whose claim to fame is going 0-5 against Zoran. What the hell can a multiple time world champion gain from fighting Mister Rumble Runner-Up? If I suddenly cared about the XHF, I would just call out the stabber. He’s been wanting a piece of me since I banned his family from Disneyland. Mongo would book that match in a heartbeat. It certainly would sell more tickets than another installment of The Failure Fox hexalogy. So no, our date is only about keeping my race car driver’s name out of your fucking mouth.

Phil leads them to an outdoor stage with a set for The Music Man. This is a tech rehearsal with no audience. Marty is confused.

Marty:

Look Phil, can I change clothes? I don't think Harold Hill is good for my brand. He’s a traveling, snake oil salesman that seduces women and tricks idiots into wasting their money. We can’t have people associating a well dressed, pretty boy, bullshit artist with Disney’s Marty Donovan.

Phil:

No, the costumes are to help us sneak on stage. This is training for the match in Denver. You need to be up close to watch the most famous parking lot brawl in history, The Sharks and The Jets.

Marty:

PHIL! THAT WAS WEST SIDE STORY!

Phil:

Are you sure? Regardless, musical theater battles are the future. Zoran is even defending his title against Rumpleteazer from COPYCATS. Let’s sneak up there. No one will know.

The entire cast walks on stage for a number and it becomes clear this is a children's production. Marty sighs and turns back to the camera.

Marty:

You have no idea what you’re signed up for, claiming I’m lower down on the priority list than Zoran and the X*Crown. Dumbass, multiple priorities are not a luxury you can afford right now. You’ve pissed off Marty Donovan. Not the Disney employee, but the Harkore Helloween winner. It is just like the rumbles you squandered, but with barbed wire. Cain, there are no world title matches in your future. There are no matches, period. No one is going to book a wrestler who can’t walk. I heard you enjoyed some fried steak recently. I’m glad because pretty soon you’ll be having all your meals through a straw. Honestly, you lost to a one-armed man, imagine what happens when I use both. Our fight is not the first stop on your cheesy road to redemption. No, I am what finally derails the little engine that couldn’t.

Marty sits down on a bench and watches the rehearsal.

Marty:

It’s a shame my Disney synergy isn’t your cup of tea. Try to understand that not every wrestler has the charisma needed to meander out in their vaguely Slenderman looking mask from Party City while screeching electronica drives the crowd to the beer stands. We’re not all as special as you, Petey. I will admit that you saved my life in the WUK match and it was cheap to attack you right after. Don’t forget I had every reason to be mad though. I never would have met Zoran’s blade if you had just pinned me at the start of the fourway as planned. Instead, you literally stepped on me, eagerly running towards the next beating from Papa Z.

He adjusts his bowtie.

Marty:

I got a big kick out of mocking my lack of friends. Isn’t there a saying about throwing stones from glass motel rooms? Doesn’t seem like you’re too popular either at the moment. Yes, I hate Wesley Crane. Astute observation, Peter. Wes is annoying as hell, but that is one of the sad realities of wrestling. Sometimes it pays to keep jobbers around. They are useful goons and easy to manipulate. I've had a lot of success doing it and apparently so has Submaxiswear.

Phil walks over flipping through a script he found.

Phil:

I don’t see anything about The Sharks or Jets, but I believe Hamilton has a duel soon.

Marty:

Why are you so interested in helping me train?

Phil:

I don’t want you to die in that parking lot.

Marty:

I’m glad you care, Phil.

Phil:

No. Who would pick up my Denny’s order? I want to try famous Denver cuisine!

Marty:

They actually have Denny’s all over. There is one like ten minutes from here.

A shocked Phil drops the script and grabs his phone to make a call, running off.

Marty:

You were right about one thing. Ollie could certainly do better. I can at times be an egotistical, self-serving, obnoxious jerk. You only need to check the Hardkore World tape library to know that. Hell, even when I try to plan nice stuff for her, it often seems to backfire. I must be history's only cruise related stabbing. I won't sit here waxing on about how I’m the perfect Disney prince. It’s not true. There is something I am certain of though.

Marty glares into the camera once more.

Marty:

Whatever it is she sees in me is the same thing Brendan can no longer find in you.

He keeps staring down the lens and there actually is pity in his eyes.

Marty:

You asked me if I know what real love is, Peter. During CAR’s Sippy Cup, when Reedy Creek Racing was falling behind, I prayed to the big mouse in the sky. I was willing to trade anything to see Ollie win. I didn’t care what, Syberus submitting me in three seconds, losing the title to Wes, getting traded to SeaWorld for three penguins. If it meant she achieved her dream then the price was fine with me. You, on the other hand, couldn’t even stay out of the spotlight long enough for Brendan to deal with one lousy boston crab. That’s the difference between you and me. Professor Sainovic dissected both of us for the class, but he only found one heart.

Phil storms back into frame.

Phil:

Bad news, the Denny’s in Denver won’t overnight my egg across the country. You’ll have to win the parking lot brawl and pick them up. Surely, some of these children have performed in West Side Story before. Let's kick their asses for practice.

Marty:

I think it is a bad idea for grown men to fight child thespians.

Phil:

A bad idea for mortal men, perhaps, but phantoms?

Phil puts on the Phantom of the Opera mask and waltzes around.

Marty:

You’re right there will be a bleeding heap of muscle and bone on the ground when this ends. It just won’t be me. It will be the little idiot that threw away the one good thing in his life for nothing. The perennial loser who decided it to wrack up medical bills when he should have been saving for a divorce attorney.

Marty gets a facetime request and completely forgets about the camera and promo. We see a blonde woman brushing her teeth.

Ollie:

Eugene! Did you remember to pack your Epipen? Why are you dressed like Woodrow Wilson?

Marty:

Olivia, I love you.

The toothbrush is flung across the room in shock.

Marty:

I’m sorry that I kept chickening out, calling you things like my work associate, drinking buddy and wookiee co-pilot.

Ollie:

Yeah, the Chewbacca one just made me paranoid about my eyebrows. What brought this on?

Marty:

Last time there was an XHF show I hid my feelings and then almost didn’t make it back to ever tell you the truth. Never again. I love you. It doesn’t matter what company pays to be in front of my name. I promise the only thing I will ever really be is Olivia’s Marty Donovan.

Ollie:

Boy this is awkward. I just accepted a lucrative offer to be Thomas’ Ollie Oldham.

For once in twenty years, Syberus has made some people laugh. The two needed that after all the Fox drama.

Marty:

You little jerk. Don’t even joke about that.

Ollie:

I love you too, Marty. Now explain the outfit.

Marty:

It’s all Phil’s fault. Wait, where is he?

Cut to backstage. We see a terrified Phil in the fetal position. The little thespians kick him continuously.

Phil:

Please! I’m not really a phantom. I’m just a man who dreams of a moon over my hammy!

The kids stop attacking and Phil is relieved. The crowd parts and we see their feared leader, Tinto. He is dressed as the character Winthrop and approaches with his slingshot drawn. He sings his solo menacingly.

Tinto:

Gary, Indiana! Gary, Indiana! Not Louisiana, Paris, France, New York, or Rome…

The shot fades out as Phil screams.