Post by Visit Neom on Apr 29, 2023 11:07:04 GMT -5
The scene opens in a sleek and futuristic watering hole. Bartenders dressed in Star Wars-inspired attire mix up a variety of colorful concoctions. Video screens on the table allow the guests to play some sort of alien version of poker. One man, with a bandaged leg and bad attitude, seems to be on a cold streak. He drinks a blue cocktail and presses buttons on the table.
Marty:
Come on, just give me one Idiot’s Array. Lord knows it would suit me.
A concerned Ollie Oldham makes her way through the crowd.
Ollie:
Marty.
Surprised to see her here, Marty looks at one of the buttons on the table in awe.
Marty:
Ollie? No way, they must have invented hologram FaceTime! You’ll never guess where I am.
Ollie:
Disney’s Galactic Starcruiser.
Marty:
Oh, you can see my background? Your hologram doesn’t have one.
Ollie:
I'm not a hologram. The fact I have to explain that means you’ve had enough Hoth Icebreakers for one day. Let’s go home.
Marty:
I agree. Why drink and gamble when I can maturely discuss my feelings?
Marty frantically pushes a few buttons on the table.
Ollie:
Like I said, not a hologram you can turn off.
She sits down at the table. The glum Marty offers her some Mustafar tuber chips.
Ollie:
What can I do to help?
Marty:
Go pretend to flirt with the other players and glance at their cards. Let me know if someone has an Idiot’s Array because that’s unbeatable.
Ollie:
I don’t mean helping cheat at Sabacc! You've been in a funk since the match.
Marty:
Losing a title never gets easier. It sucks, especially when it's one you’ve been waiting twenty years for. I’ll be fine.
Ollie:
Are you sure? I mean, normally you get Donald Duck upset. This is more Eeyore.
Marty eats a chip and ponders for a moment.
Marty:
There was something Cross said that got in my head.
Ollie:
You know as well as anyone that wrestlers gloat after a win. Next month there’s a whole new set of winners gloating. Ignore him.
Marty:
No, this was before the match. Cross wasn’t even talking trash, just stating a fact, really.
Ollie:
A fact?
Marty sips his drink , debating to continue the topic for a moment.
Marty:
I had made you a promise to retire once Syberus was beaten.
Ollie:
You did.
Marty:
I beat him six months ago.
Ollie:
You did.
There is a long silence between them.
Marty:
Olivia, I’m sorry.
Ollie:
It’s fine.
Silence again. Marty loses a hand of Sabacc. On the screen is a button to continue and a button to cash out.
Marty:
No, it’s not. Every month I would tell myself this would be the last one and it never was. A Boston crowd, my first ever Palm Springs main event, Zoran’s big punchable nose, there was always some excuse to keep going.
Marty looks at his surroundings.
Marty:
It's like gambling. I couldn't quit when I was ahead and I don’t want to quit now that I'm behind. It figures a pit boss won. Listen, as long as it’s up to me, I'm going to keep wrestling.
Olivia nods disappointed.
Marty:
So we’re not going to leave it up to me.
Ollie:
What?
Marty:
I’m done making you worry. The second this gets to be too much, say “we’re cashing out”. I won’t fight it. I won’t ask any questions. It doesn’t matter if it’s ten years or ten seconds from now. I just can't get out of this funk until I know something.
Marty finishes off his Hoth Icebreaker.
Marty:
Was that my last match?
Now Olivia is the one deep in thought. Having a whole internal debate, she looks at Marty and then the buttons.
Ollie:
I was fine when you first started wrestling again at those little comic cons. I mean, you’d always win in like thirty seconds. Now there's psychos with barbed wire and fireballs and knives. I keep thinking I’ve seen the worst of it and then have to google “what is a wargames match”.
Marty:
They might let me just be a coach for that. I bought a Frozen clipboard!
Ollie:
No, they won’t. Please understand, Martin. I’m only making this decision because I love you.
Marty nods, but Ollie then presses the button to continue the game.
Ollie:
I would never let your last match be something that makes Peter happy. There’s only one Disney wrestler in the world. You deserve a Disney ending. Go get your belt back. We’ll figure everything out after that.
The couple embrace. Across the bar, a crowd of leeches cheer the sight of an Idiot’s Array. They congratulate the seven year old Sabacc genius. The boy, looking so dapper in his white tux, sips a (virgin) Bespin Cloud before tossing a credit to a Bith musician.
Tinto:
Play it again, D’an.
The cantina theme starts up as the shot fades out.