The Scales I'm In [FML NoC Part 3 CONCLUSION]
Jul 26, 2023 22:29:22 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dave D-Flipz, and 3 more like this
Post by flo on Jul 26, 2023 22:29:22 GMT -5
Tires screech as a hot pink jalopy speeds away from the harbour where the Triple X super yacht is docked. Swerving to avoid some parked cars, the driving is erratic, suggesting that the man behind the wheel has his mind elsewhere. Heavy rain obscures visibility, making the joy ride all the more dangerous. The Ultimate Warrior hangs onto the roof mounted bike rack for dear life.
Ultimate Warrior:
DING!
Inside the questionable vehicle, the driver – Florida Man – has a hard time focusing on the road with the thirty pigeons flying around. The birds have no respect for seatbelts, or staying in the back. He would threaten to turn the car around, but FML doesn’t want to return to the yacht without a crown – and the flock will just pretend they don’t understand English anyway. Beyond his unruly passengers, the Floridian’s lizard brain also seems to be distracted. Sitting next to him, Gazoo’s green hands are white knuckled from grasping the seatbelt, while using an imaginary break.
Gazoo:
I take it the meeting didn’t go well?
Florida Man:
Better than you might expect. Dylan and Zoran were very forthcoming, though just confirmed a lot of the advice you’d already given me about becoming a serious X*Crown contender... I... just...
Gazoo:
What’s eating you, Flo? Maybe slow down so we can discuss any concepts-
Florida Man (speeding up):
I knew there would be certain sacrifices with this rebranding. Aspects of my lifestyle that I take for granted...... that I’d have to minimize to get treated like a human being. ...I guess I just didn’t realize how much my life would be changing, Gaz.
Gazoo:
No, one said it would be easy.
Florida Man:
...I’m not sure it’s worth it.
Gazoo:
Don’t doubt it. Do you enjoy wrestling? Yes. Does J-RoK make it impossible for you to do that, because they sit on your contract and expect you to be content working once every six months? They do. If you rebrand into a more serious contender, yeah, the Epcot Mafia aren’t going to be able to see as much of you as we've all become used too... but this is the right move for you. You need to take it. Want to win over a paramount+ spokesperson? You can’t sign up for her company's service if your home address is a convenience store. I checked. Change is hard, and these are some pretty big ones, but this is important for your personal growth.
Florida Man:
There may not be any coming back from it...
Gazoo (forced smile trying to reassure his friend):
It’s not like we can’t play cards on the weekend.
Florida Man (trying to play along):
Sure Gaz... sure...
The first step. Taking a deep breath, Florida man opens his driver’s side window. Immediately the two-dozen pigeons swarm out of it – escaping to the horrible freedom of open skies. This takes Gazoo by surprise, who lets go of his seatbelt to reach out for the fleeing birds.
Gazoo:
Sky Force Delta!
The dwarf was expecting Florida Man to cut ties, but not in such a definitive way. Shocked, the image consultant picks up the glock that the flock had always attempted to carry with them. Looking to see if they have all abandoned the vehicle, Florida Man does up his window. First Marino, now Sky Force Delta. Their little family is shrinking. That is two.
Gazoo:
They left their gun... that doesn’t seem like Sky Force...
Florida Man (wiping away some rain that splashed on his mask):
If I could keep them I would... but... but... damn it, Gaz, we didn’t even have a 7-Eleven for them to spread their wings!
Gazoo (looking out the window):
Maybe we can still catch a few and heard them into the car?
Denial. There can be no half measures.
Florida Man (braking):
...I have to make a phone call.
The jalopy skids to a halt a few feet from a phone booth. The Ultimate Warrior is thankful for the breather.
Gazoo:
It didn’t have to be so final.
Unable to return his image consultant’s gaze, Florida Man quickly exits the vehicle into the heavy rain, charging for the booth. What are the odds that it is actually in service? A dial tone. It might be a miracle. Removing a croc, FML digs through his footwear piggy bank to retrieve his emergency fund. Phone calls to Japan are dang expensive. After putting close to a hundred quarters into the device, Florida man punches in a few dozen numbers with a confidence that suggests he’s made this particular call a thousand times and committed the extra digits to memory. It’s ringing. Maybe this time will be different.
Florida Man:
Hello Charles? Hello!
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
Florida Man:
Sorry to wake you bud-
“Charles doesn’t want to speak with you.”
Florida Man (body sinks):
OH... Suzuki.
Nausicaä Suzuki (voice on phone):
Florida Man.
Florida Man:
You can’t keep him from me forever.
Nausicaä Suzuki (voice):
I’m not. Charles is a Super Real, Super Cool, Feline capable of making his own decisions. He decides who he spends time with, and he voted you out of Sky Force for a reason.
Florida Man:
I don't believe you for a second! Besides... y’all are going to be BEGGING for me to come back to your ratty little cathouse when I win the X*Crown.
Nausicaä Suzuki (voice):
I hope you do win it. That would look good for my administration.
Florida Man:
Yeah right, top wrestler in the XHF can’t even get booked in his home federation. You’ve had five big shows since I took control of the Overheated contract – and you didn’t have me appear on one of them.
Nausicaä Suzuki (voice):
Giving you time to rest, recharge, and focus on your training. The rest of the Night of Champions contenders have all been working hard since the Rumble, but you’ve basically been on vacation. We had your best interests at heart. You are the fresh man.
Florida Man:
I would be, if I wasn't working FIVE other federations to make up for your neglect. Hardly a vacation. Kind of difficult to build championship momentum when you have to beg rival feds for airtime.
Nausicaä Suzuki (voice):
I’m sorry you don’t see things from my perspective. But then, if your approach worked, you would probably still be in Sky Force.
Florida Man:
I’m gonna ring your ne-
Nausicaä Suzuki (voice):
You may not believe me – but we have the decorations in place for a lavish victory ceremony. Admittedly we believe they’ll be used to honour Charles for recapturing HIS Junior Heavyweight Title, but we are prepared to share the celebration... should you have another fluke victory over Fox.
Florida Man:
Lady, remember all the calls you could have picked up, and all the times you could have booked me because mark my words-
Nausicaä Suzuki (voice):
I sincerely wish you good luck at Night of Champions. Keep in mind, however, that even if you win the championship, Charles wants nothing to do with you. Belts are not how he judges the value of people, and believe me, you have been judged. In the future, I can be reached at my office during business hours, but don’t call this number again.
She hangs up.
Inside the car Gazoo tries to read lips, but can’t make out the conversation. Is he ordering a pizza? They don't have anchovies? Gazoo didn't know Florida Man liked anchovies. His new look can't keep that personality quirk. What kind of X*Crown champion would eat anchovies? Whatever the pizza store is saying, they seems to have thrown Florida Man into a violent rage. The dwarf thought it was odd to find a working payphone in this part of town, rarer than a triple rainbow. Gazoo is less surprised witnessing FML repeatedly slam the phone onto the receiver, breaking it.
Shaking with hate, Florida Man exits the booth, and slowly makes his way back to the car.
SLAM.
The image consultant can’t remember the last time he saw the happy go lucky Floridian so angry. Not that his foul moods are easy to read, the permanent toothy grin on his mask is a joyful enigma.
Gazoo:
...You alright, Flo?
Florida Man (shaking his head):
So, so flippant! ...How can HE write people off with such ease?
Gazoo (for fuck’s sake):
...please tell me we’re not talking about the toy...
Florida Man (ignoring his manager, talking to himself):
Is this how callous I have to be to get success? Cut people loose? Like BEEF did with Magnus?
Gazoo:
Don’t pull a Sam Sawyer emo act, and go silent. You’re not a child like them. Talk to me here, buddy...
Florida Man (deep breathe):
...this is the path we’ve decided to take.
The gator’s mind is having an argument with Nausicaä Suzuki – all the different responses to her barbs, laid out with sharper witticisms and more venomous counters. If only they could do that conversation over again, FML’d really put the J-RoK boss in her place! Though his head is still in the phone booth, Florida Man starts up the car.
Gazoo:
What are we up to now? About your new image, I’m thinking you walk around with a boom box all the time. It’s still loud, but retro enough to be hipster chic. Youth oriented enough so you don't alienate your existing fans, while appealing to a more refined demographic.
Florida Man (glum):
We have to drop something off.
Gazoo (trying to get control back over this rebrand):
...or maybe walk around with a record player, and dispense stereo system advice? Or you have a walkman that gives you predictions of the future!
Communication breaks down, as neither man addresses the real issues that threaten the Epcot Mafia.
The car speeds off into the night.
A desolate stretch of beach at night.
The rain has stopped. Strolling a few hundred feet north or south along the surf will lead to large packs of pedestrian traffic, even this late into the evening, the parties never stop. This particular portion, however, has trees growing out to the edge of the land – an example of soil erosion more than an area that inspires sunbathing. With the tide in, it is difficult to even traverse – making it the perfect spot for teenagers to drink, or to dump refuse. A rusty shopping cart breaks up the otherwise visual consistency of candy bar wrappers and empty water bottles.
It is here that the Floridamobile has come to a rest. Our protagonist removing his faithful bike from the roof, even as his concerned manager desperately tries to calm him down.
Gazoo:
You clearly have something on your mind, Flo. Did you watch one of those needlessly angry Fox promos where he’s talking heavy shit because that is the only way he knows to communicate? You can’t let those rile you up. His manager sounds like a tampon brand. Heavy flow? Try Submaxiwear. And that tampon is the brains of the outfit! With an entourage like that, you’d be pissed off all the time too.
Florida Man gentle lifts The Ultimate Warrior off the roof. Or at least pretends to lift him, and lets the bike climb down itself. Our protagonist has some muscles on him, but doesn’t want to throw his back out, as the mountain bike formerly known as Jim Hellwig is huge.
Ultimate Warrior:
DING!
Gazoo:
So let’s just grab a drink – I feel the new you could probably knock back a few hundred virgin Marys before getting his buzz on.
Florida Man:
...Thanks Gaz, but I’m going to go for a quick bike ride.
Gazoo:
Whatever clears your head, Flo.
Taking a deep breath, Florida Man hops up onto his muscular bicycle’s back – spinning his feet on the imaginary pedals.
Ultimate Warrior:
DING!
With a snarl, the bicycle that won the WWF championship in front of 65,000 fans at the Sky Dome – but now brags about having 27 gears – charges off! If this was a cartoon, there would be smoke coming off of his feet.
SPLASH!
Charging straight into the murky waters.
By the time the Ultimate Warrior is up to its waist in salt water, Florida Man jumps back to shore.
Ultimate Warrior:
DING!
The former world champion turns, looking more hurt than that time Jake the Snake betrayed him.
Florida Man (looking down at the ground):
I... I’m sorry.
Gazoo (trying to run out to save the bike, but doesn’t want to get wet):
What are you doing!
Ultimate Warrior:
DING!
Florida Man:
It’s the only way... I can’t take care of you anymore.
Gazoo (trying to use a branch to fish the Ultimate Warrior back):
Then give him to goodwill – I’m sure there are plenty of dying make-a-wish kids that have a bike like that on their “this somehow makes up for the pain” lists. Even if he is no longer with us, he can still have a use! A purpose! A LIFE!
Picking up a large dead branch, Florida Man shoves it into the Ultimate Warrior’s ripped chest – lightly pushing him further into the water.
Florida Man:
...It would be too painful to see someone else riding him.
Gazoo (trying to pull the branch away, only to be shoved over):
THIS IS NOT THE ANSWER! DON’T BE INSANE!
Florida Man:
I’m not. ...That was the old me.
Gazoo (wiping away a tear):
You can't... this isn’t right! THIS IS MURDER!
Florida Man (sigh):
Forget about it, Gaz. ...This is Night of Champions.
Feet sliding on mud, the Ultimate Warrior starts to drift into deeper waters. As the former Dingo Warrior starts to submerge further, the bicycle keeps its eyes locked on the hurting Floridian.
Ultimate Warrior:
DING! (I have to go away.)
Despite this acceptance, Florida Man still can’t make eye contact.
Ultimate Warrior:
DING! (I know now why you cry…)
Florida Man starts to waiver...
Ultimate Warrior:
DING! (But it’s something I can never do.)
Florida Man falls to his knees.
Ultimate Warrior:
DING! (Goodbye.)
With that the kickass bike from One Warrior Nation sinks beneath the dark waves. Only this part of the surf is rather shallow, so his handlebars still stick up in the air – multi-coloured tassels blowing in the evening breeze. Three down.
Gazoo:
DAMN IT, FLO! You’ve lost it! For all his bluster, do you honestly think Fox wouldn't trade his crown in a second, if he could get his marriage back! No title is worth this kind of personal loss!
Florida Man:
Had to be done, Gaz. You said it yourself.
As his manager berates him, Florida Man stalks back to his car – leaving the scene of the illegal dumping. A sign suggests this carries a five hundred dollar fine. That somehow feels like a light penalty.
Gazoo:
You’re losing sight of who you are, man!
Florida Man:
I’m just rebranding. Who needs to be a decent person when you can be a success. They don't want to laugh, I'm not forcing them. I'm just becoming the kind of athlete that the XHF can accept... the kind of man who can hold the X*Crown...
Walking around back, Florida Man pops open the trunk.
Gazoo:
Well I don’t want any part of this new “you.” Take me home...
Florida Man:
...We have to make one more drop first.
Slamming the trunk door shut, Florida Man produces a burlap sack. His long-suffering manager looks at the bag for a moment, and then shakes his head in disgust.
Gazoo (look of resigned horror in his eyes):
...fucking Night of Champions.
As the gator that walks like a man stalks towards his long-suffering manager, the scene slowly fades to black.
Ultimate Warrior:
DING!
Inside the questionable vehicle, the driver – Florida Man – has a hard time focusing on the road with the thirty pigeons flying around. The birds have no respect for seatbelts, or staying in the back. He would threaten to turn the car around, but FML doesn’t want to return to the yacht without a crown – and the flock will just pretend they don’t understand English anyway. Beyond his unruly passengers, the Floridian’s lizard brain also seems to be distracted. Sitting next to him, Gazoo’s green hands are white knuckled from grasping the seatbelt, while using an imaginary break.
Gazoo:
I take it the meeting didn’t go well?
Florida Man:
Better than you might expect. Dylan and Zoran were very forthcoming, though just confirmed a lot of the advice you’d already given me about becoming a serious X*Crown contender... I... just...
Gazoo:
What’s eating you, Flo? Maybe slow down so we can discuss any concepts-
Florida Man (speeding up):
I knew there would be certain sacrifices with this rebranding. Aspects of my lifestyle that I take for granted...... that I’d have to minimize to get treated like a human being. ...I guess I just didn’t realize how much my life would be changing, Gaz.
Gazoo:
No, one said it would be easy.
Florida Man:
...I’m not sure it’s worth it.
Gazoo:
Don’t doubt it. Do you enjoy wrestling? Yes. Does J-RoK make it impossible for you to do that, because they sit on your contract and expect you to be content working once every six months? They do. If you rebrand into a more serious contender, yeah, the Epcot Mafia aren’t going to be able to see as much of you as we've all become used too... but this is the right move for you. You need to take it. Want to win over a paramount+ spokesperson? You can’t sign up for her company's service if your home address is a convenience store. I checked. Change is hard, and these are some pretty big ones, but this is important for your personal growth.
Florida Man:
There may not be any coming back from it...
Gazoo (forced smile trying to reassure his friend):
It’s not like we can’t play cards on the weekend.
Florida Man (trying to play along):
Sure Gaz... sure...
The first step. Taking a deep breath, Florida man opens his driver’s side window. Immediately the two-dozen pigeons swarm out of it – escaping to the horrible freedom of open skies. This takes Gazoo by surprise, who lets go of his seatbelt to reach out for the fleeing birds.
Gazoo:
Sky Force Delta!
The dwarf was expecting Florida Man to cut ties, but not in such a definitive way. Shocked, the image consultant picks up the glock that the flock had always attempted to carry with them. Looking to see if they have all abandoned the vehicle, Florida Man does up his window. First Marino, now Sky Force Delta. Their little family is shrinking. That is two.
Gazoo:
They left their gun... that doesn’t seem like Sky Force...
Florida Man (wiping away some rain that splashed on his mask):
If I could keep them I would... but... but... damn it, Gaz, we didn’t even have a 7-Eleven for them to spread their wings!
Gazoo (looking out the window):
Maybe we can still catch a few and heard them into the car?
Denial. There can be no half measures.
Florida Man (braking):
...I have to make a phone call.
The jalopy skids to a halt a few feet from a phone booth. The Ultimate Warrior is thankful for the breather.
Gazoo:
It didn’t have to be so final.
Unable to return his image consultant’s gaze, Florida Man quickly exits the vehicle into the heavy rain, charging for the booth. What are the odds that it is actually in service? A dial tone. It might be a miracle. Removing a croc, FML digs through his footwear piggy bank to retrieve his emergency fund. Phone calls to Japan are dang expensive. After putting close to a hundred quarters into the device, Florida man punches in a few dozen numbers with a confidence that suggests he’s made this particular call a thousand times and committed the extra digits to memory. It’s ringing. Maybe this time will be different.
Florida Man:
Hello Charles? Hello!
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
Florida Man:
Sorry to wake you bud-
“Charles doesn’t want to speak with you.”
Florida Man (body sinks):
OH... Suzuki.
Nausicaä Suzuki (voice on phone):
Florida Man.
Florida Man:
You can’t keep him from me forever.
Nausicaä Suzuki (voice):
I’m not. Charles is a Super Real, Super Cool, Feline capable of making his own decisions. He decides who he spends time with, and he voted you out of Sky Force for a reason.
Florida Man:
I don't believe you for a second! Besides... y’all are going to be BEGGING for me to come back to your ratty little cathouse when I win the X*Crown.
Nausicaä Suzuki (voice):
I hope you do win it. That would look good for my administration.
Florida Man:
Yeah right, top wrestler in the XHF can’t even get booked in his home federation. You’ve had five big shows since I took control of the Overheated contract – and you didn’t have me appear on one of them.
Nausicaä Suzuki (voice):
Giving you time to rest, recharge, and focus on your training. The rest of the Night of Champions contenders have all been working hard since the Rumble, but you’ve basically been on vacation. We had your best interests at heart. You are the fresh man.
Florida Man:
I would be, if I wasn't working FIVE other federations to make up for your neglect. Hardly a vacation. Kind of difficult to build championship momentum when you have to beg rival feds for airtime.
Nausicaä Suzuki (voice):
I’m sorry you don’t see things from my perspective. But then, if your approach worked, you would probably still be in Sky Force.
Florida Man:
I’m gonna ring your ne-
Nausicaä Suzuki (voice):
You may not believe me – but we have the decorations in place for a lavish victory ceremony. Admittedly we believe they’ll be used to honour Charles for recapturing HIS Junior Heavyweight Title, but we are prepared to share the celebration... should you have another fluke victory over Fox.
Florida Man:
Lady, remember all the calls you could have picked up, and all the times you could have booked me because mark my words-
Nausicaä Suzuki (voice):
I sincerely wish you good luck at Night of Champions. Keep in mind, however, that even if you win the championship, Charles wants nothing to do with you. Belts are not how he judges the value of people, and believe me, you have been judged. In the future, I can be reached at my office during business hours, but don’t call this number again.
She hangs up.
Inside the car Gazoo tries to read lips, but can’t make out the conversation. Is he ordering a pizza? They don't have anchovies? Gazoo didn't know Florida Man liked anchovies. His new look can't keep that personality quirk. What kind of X*Crown champion would eat anchovies? Whatever the pizza store is saying, they seems to have thrown Florida Man into a violent rage. The dwarf thought it was odd to find a working payphone in this part of town, rarer than a triple rainbow. Gazoo is less surprised witnessing FML repeatedly slam the phone onto the receiver, breaking it.
Shaking with hate, Florida Man exits the booth, and slowly makes his way back to the car.
SLAM.
The image consultant can’t remember the last time he saw the happy go lucky Floridian so angry. Not that his foul moods are easy to read, the permanent toothy grin on his mask is a joyful enigma.
Gazoo:
...You alright, Flo?
Florida Man (shaking his head):
So, so flippant! ...How can HE write people off with such ease?
Gazoo (for fuck’s sake):
...please tell me we’re not talking about the toy...
Florida Man (ignoring his manager, talking to himself):
Is this how callous I have to be to get success? Cut people loose? Like BEEF did with Magnus?
Gazoo:
Don’t pull a Sam Sawyer emo act, and go silent. You’re not a child like them. Talk to me here, buddy...
Florida Man (deep breathe):
...this is the path we’ve decided to take.
The gator’s mind is having an argument with Nausicaä Suzuki – all the different responses to her barbs, laid out with sharper witticisms and more venomous counters. If only they could do that conversation over again, FML’d really put the J-RoK boss in her place! Though his head is still in the phone booth, Florida Man starts up the car.
Gazoo:
What are we up to now? About your new image, I’m thinking you walk around with a boom box all the time. It’s still loud, but retro enough to be hipster chic. Youth oriented enough so you don't alienate your existing fans, while appealing to a more refined demographic.
Florida Man (glum):
We have to drop something off.
Gazoo (trying to get control back over this rebrand):
...or maybe walk around with a record player, and dispense stereo system advice? Or you have a walkman that gives you predictions of the future!
Communication breaks down, as neither man addresses the real issues that threaten the Epcot Mafia.
The car speeds off into the night.
A desolate stretch of beach at night.
The rain has stopped. Strolling a few hundred feet north or south along the surf will lead to large packs of pedestrian traffic, even this late into the evening, the parties never stop. This particular portion, however, has trees growing out to the edge of the land – an example of soil erosion more than an area that inspires sunbathing. With the tide in, it is difficult to even traverse – making it the perfect spot for teenagers to drink, or to dump refuse. A rusty shopping cart breaks up the otherwise visual consistency of candy bar wrappers and empty water bottles.
It is here that the Floridamobile has come to a rest. Our protagonist removing his faithful bike from the roof, even as his concerned manager desperately tries to calm him down.
Gazoo:
You clearly have something on your mind, Flo. Did you watch one of those needlessly angry Fox promos where he’s talking heavy shit because that is the only way he knows to communicate? You can’t let those rile you up. His manager sounds like a tampon brand. Heavy flow? Try Submaxiwear. And that tampon is the brains of the outfit! With an entourage like that, you’d be pissed off all the time too.
Florida Man gentle lifts The Ultimate Warrior off the roof. Or at least pretends to lift him, and lets the bike climb down itself. Our protagonist has some muscles on him, but doesn’t want to throw his back out, as the mountain bike formerly known as Jim Hellwig is huge.
Ultimate Warrior:
DING!
Gazoo:
So let’s just grab a drink – I feel the new you could probably knock back a few hundred virgin Marys before getting his buzz on.
Florida Man:
...Thanks Gaz, but I’m going to go for a quick bike ride.
Gazoo:
Whatever clears your head, Flo.
Taking a deep breath, Florida Man hops up onto his muscular bicycle’s back – spinning his feet on the imaginary pedals.
Ultimate Warrior:
DING!
With a snarl, the bicycle that won the WWF championship in front of 65,000 fans at the Sky Dome – but now brags about having 27 gears – charges off! If this was a cartoon, there would be smoke coming off of his feet.
SPLASH!
Charging straight into the murky waters.
By the time the Ultimate Warrior is up to its waist in salt water, Florida Man jumps back to shore.
Ultimate Warrior:
DING!
The former world champion turns, looking more hurt than that time Jake the Snake betrayed him.
Florida Man (looking down at the ground):
I... I’m sorry.
Gazoo (trying to run out to save the bike, but doesn’t want to get wet):
What are you doing!
Ultimate Warrior:
DING!
Florida Man:
It’s the only way... I can’t take care of you anymore.
Gazoo (trying to use a branch to fish the Ultimate Warrior back):
Then give him to goodwill – I’m sure there are plenty of dying make-a-wish kids that have a bike like that on their “this somehow makes up for the pain” lists. Even if he is no longer with us, he can still have a use! A purpose! A LIFE!
Picking up a large dead branch, Florida Man shoves it into the Ultimate Warrior’s ripped chest – lightly pushing him further into the water.
Florida Man:
...It would be too painful to see someone else riding him.
Gazoo (trying to pull the branch away, only to be shoved over):
THIS IS NOT THE ANSWER! DON’T BE INSANE!
Florida Man:
I’m not. ...That was the old me.
Gazoo (wiping away a tear):
You can't... this isn’t right! THIS IS MURDER!
Florida Man (sigh):
Forget about it, Gaz. ...This is Night of Champions.
Feet sliding on mud, the Ultimate Warrior starts to drift into deeper waters. As the former Dingo Warrior starts to submerge further, the bicycle keeps its eyes locked on the hurting Floridian.
Ultimate Warrior:
DING! (I have to go away.)
Despite this acceptance, Florida Man still can’t make eye contact.
Ultimate Warrior:
DING! (I know now why you cry…)
Florida Man starts to waiver...
Ultimate Warrior:
DING! (But it’s something I can never do.)
Florida Man falls to his knees.
Ultimate Warrior:
DING! (Goodbye.)
With that the kickass bike from One Warrior Nation sinks beneath the dark waves. Only this part of the surf is rather shallow, so his handlebars still stick up in the air – multi-coloured tassels blowing in the evening breeze. Three down.
Gazoo:
DAMN IT, FLO! You’ve lost it! For all his bluster, do you honestly think Fox wouldn't trade his crown in a second, if he could get his marriage back! No title is worth this kind of personal loss!
Florida Man:
Had to be done, Gaz. You said it yourself.
As his manager berates him, Florida Man stalks back to his car – leaving the scene of the illegal dumping. A sign suggests this carries a five hundred dollar fine. That somehow feels like a light penalty.
Gazoo:
You’re losing sight of who you are, man!
Florida Man:
I’m just rebranding. Who needs to be a decent person when you can be a success. They don't want to laugh, I'm not forcing them. I'm just becoming the kind of athlete that the XHF can accept... the kind of man who can hold the X*Crown...
Walking around back, Florida Man pops open the trunk.
Gazoo:
Well I don’t want any part of this new “you.” Take me home...
Florida Man:
...We have to make one more drop first.
Slamming the trunk door shut, Florida Man produces a burlap sack. His long-suffering manager looks at the bag for a moment, and then shakes his head in disgust.
Gazoo (look of resigned horror in his eyes):
...fucking Night of Champions.
As the gator that walks like a man stalks towards his long-suffering manager, the scene slowly fades to black.