Post by flo on Oct 30, 2023 16:08:02 GMT -5
October 16th, 2023.
The Battle of Britain II.
O2 Arena, London, England, Florida.
The site of Florida Man's greatest victory...
...and most painful defeat.
With the winning purse from the Rumble, the Man from Florida could finally put the finishing touches on an event he'd been planning for months. So as the Epcot Mafia dressing room door opens, and a beaten Flo enters - even the mask on his face can't hide the disappointment in his cartoon eyes.
Ultimate Warrior (blowing a noisemaker):
SNAAAARL!
A red and white paper coil unravels out of the party horn, making a loud noise in celebration. Florida Man looks gut punched. Then the rest of his entourage start throwing confetti!
Nametag Melvin:
Congratulations on winning the Revolution, Mister Florida!
Dan Marino (shaking Flo's hand):
I'm sure the dynasty that you and Marty have created tonight will last a hundred years. I mean, what team could possibly beat you guys?
The dressing room has been pimped out for a lavish party...
BANNER: "TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS - EPCOT MAFIA"
...........apparently for that time when the Epcot Mafia won the Revolution tournament, and WUK Tag Team championships. It has been awhile since that went down - July. So for the better part of the summer, and a large portion of the fall, the Epcot Mafia could have celebrated their triumph. There were so many times when they could have just busted out some drinks and acknowledged that the outsider win was kind of a big deal. ...But Florida Man wanted it to be special. He wanted it to be just right. The champion's would have matching gold sequin tights. The Kobe beef would be raised cruelty free. Nickleback would cover their theme song, while Flo and Marty threw popcorn shrimp and heckled the band. A star studded event - even if William Hung, Scott Biao and Charo only appeared via cameo - no expense would be spared. August was out of the question, because Flo didn't want to steal thunder from Marty's Birthday Bash - and then September had the human trafficking trial, but October was finally going to be their time to celebrate a win from months earlier. Now this...
John Bobbitt (cameo, on tablet taped to chair):
Thank you for letting me share this special day with a couple of swinging dicks like you.
Florida Man may have written all his guests' dialogue. Gazoo enters holding a tablet.
Amy Fisher (cameo on tablet, entering):
Knock knock.
Gazoo looks at the banner, then down to the hundred awkward pseudo celebrities that are streaming into the event, then over to FML's oblivious posse. None of whom seem to realize that the team lost the titles to Rage & Cage ten minutes before these festivities started. Standing behind a manically depressed Florida Man, Gazoo makes a throat cutting motion to indicate that maybe the cheer should be downplayed.
Michael Richards (cameo, on blackberry glued to broom):
Well, she certainly knows how to make an entrance-
Finally picking up on the body language, the room dies.
Michael Richards (cameo):
Was it something I said?
Gazoo:
Look on the bright side, Flo.... most of these party decorations can be recycled. Those hundred doves? We can still release them when you win the commonwealth championship. And that'll be a good title for you because it's usually on tape delay...
The Sunshine State Stud nods appreciatively to his green painted lawyer, but then turns back to the homoerotic ice sculpture that features the Epcot Mafia as envisioned as the bodybuilders from the Cho Aniki video games. The sculpture is already starting to melt. The good news is, the water looks like sweat, which highlights their bulging muscles. The bad news is that the ice probably won't last for a do-over party in a few weeks. Besides...
Florida Man:
Even winning the commonwealth... throwing the party then... it won't be the same. Marty won't be there.
Speaking of Disney's Own, Florida Man's more balanced half begins walking down the hall towards the dressing room.
Marty Donovan:
So what is so important that it couldn't wait-
Not wanting Marty to see this amazing party, which has crab cakes and everything, Florida Man slams the door in his partner's face.
Gazoo:
I think he saw us...
There is a heavy knock. Florida Man pushes himself against the door to block it, and switches off the light.
Florida Man:
Seeing this cool ass spread now, Gaz.... only AFTER we've had our titles robbed? It would just be adding insult to injury for my boy.
Another knock.
Florida Man:
Better that I sell my blood to replace that ice sculpture for when we get those titles back.
The various screens displaying celebrities start to cut out, apparently the allotted time they were rented for has run out. With every blackened screen, the room grows darker.
Gazoo:
Oh, Flo... they won't buy your blood anymore.
Yeah. Even if the Epcot Mafia got revenge on the High Rollers, having another party of this caliber would be impossible. A depressed Florida Man starts to shovel down fistfuls of cocktail weenies. Rather than take any personal responsibility for waiting so long to throw the event that they no longer had anything to celebrate - all the friendly neighbourhood arsonist can do is think...
Florida Man:
Preston Reese is gonna pay for this!
There is no more knocking.
Gazoo:
Come on, Flo...let's get out of here.
Sadly, the Ultimate Warrior is completely gassed from the party blower. That bike is going nowhere.
Florida Man:
Nah, Gaz. These finger sandwiches ain't gonna eat themselves... so I'm gonna chow down on a thousand egg salad sandwiches until I forget today... and the only thought that remains is hating egg salad as much as I hate Reese.
As Michael Richards' feed cuts out, the locker room is plunged into darkness. Leaving Florida Man's Panhandle Posse, Nickleback, and the hundred wait staff to eat warming finger food before it all goes bad.
And it will go bad.
The Battle of Britain II.
O2 Arena, London, England, Florida.
The site of Florida Man's greatest victory...
...and most painful defeat.
With the winning purse from the Rumble, the Man from Florida could finally put the finishing touches on an event he'd been planning for months. So as the Epcot Mafia dressing room door opens, and a beaten Flo enters - even the mask on his face can't hide the disappointment in his cartoon eyes.
Ultimate Warrior (blowing a noisemaker):
SNAAAARL!
A red and white paper coil unravels out of the party horn, making a loud noise in celebration. Florida Man looks gut punched. Then the rest of his entourage start throwing confetti!
Nametag Melvin:
Congratulations on winning the Revolution, Mister Florida!
Dan Marino (shaking Flo's hand):
I'm sure the dynasty that you and Marty have created tonight will last a hundred years. I mean, what team could possibly beat you guys?
The dressing room has been pimped out for a lavish party...
BANNER: "TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS - EPCOT MAFIA"
...........apparently for that time when the Epcot Mafia won the Revolution tournament, and WUK Tag Team championships. It has been awhile since that went down - July. So for the better part of the summer, and a large portion of the fall, the Epcot Mafia could have celebrated their triumph. There were so many times when they could have just busted out some drinks and acknowledged that the outsider win was kind of a big deal. ...But Florida Man wanted it to be special. He wanted it to be just right. The champion's would have matching gold sequin tights. The Kobe beef would be raised cruelty free. Nickleback would cover their theme song, while Flo and Marty threw popcorn shrimp and heckled the band. A star studded event - even if William Hung, Scott Biao and Charo only appeared via cameo - no expense would be spared. August was out of the question, because Flo didn't want to steal thunder from Marty's Birthday Bash - and then September had the human trafficking trial, but October was finally going to be their time to celebrate a win from months earlier. Now this...
John Bobbitt (cameo, on tablet taped to chair):
Thank you for letting me share this special day with a couple of swinging dicks like you.
Florida Man may have written all his guests' dialogue. Gazoo enters holding a tablet.
Amy Fisher (cameo on tablet, entering):
Knock knock.
Gazoo looks at the banner, then down to the hundred awkward pseudo celebrities that are streaming into the event, then over to FML's oblivious posse. None of whom seem to realize that the team lost the titles to Rage & Cage ten minutes before these festivities started. Standing behind a manically depressed Florida Man, Gazoo makes a throat cutting motion to indicate that maybe the cheer should be downplayed.
Michael Richards (cameo, on blackberry glued to broom):
Well, she certainly knows how to make an entrance-
Finally picking up on the body language, the room dies.
Michael Richards (cameo):
Was it something I said?
Gazoo:
Look on the bright side, Flo.... most of these party decorations can be recycled. Those hundred doves? We can still release them when you win the commonwealth championship. And that'll be a good title for you because it's usually on tape delay...
The Sunshine State Stud nods appreciatively to his green painted lawyer, but then turns back to the homoerotic ice sculpture that features the Epcot Mafia as envisioned as the bodybuilders from the Cho Aniki video games. The sculpture is already starting to melt. The good news is, the water looks like sweat, which highlights their bulging muscles. The bad news is that the ice probably won't last for a do-over party in a few weeks. Besides...
Florida Man:
Even winning the commonwealth... throwing the party then... it won't be the same. Marty won't be there.
Speaking of Disney's Own, Florida Man's more balanced half begins walking down the hall towards the dressing room.
Marty Donovan:
So what is so important that it couldn't wait-
Not wanting Marty to see this amazing party, which has crab cakes and everything, Florida Man slams the door in his partner's face.
Gazoo:
I think he saw us...
There is a heavy knock. Florida Man pushes himself against the door to block it, and switches off the light.
Florida Man:
Seeing this cool ass spread now, Gaz.... only AFTER we've had our titles robbed? It would just be adding insult to injury for my boy.
Another knock.
Florida Man:
Better that I sell my blood to replace that ice sculpture for when we get those titles back.
The various screens displaying celebrities start to cut out, apparently the allotted time they were rented for has run out. With every blackened screen, the room grows darker.
Gazoo:
Oh, Flo... they won't buy your blood anymore.
Yeah. Even if the Epcot Mafia got revenge on the High Rollers, having another party of this caliber would be impossible. A depressed Florida Man starts to shovel down fistfuls of cocktail weenies. Rather than take any personal responsibility for waiting so long to throw the event that they no longer had anything to celebrate - all the friendly neighbourhood arsonist can do is think...
Florida Man:
Preston Reese is gonna pay for this!
There is no more knocking.
Gazoo:
Come on, Flo...let's get out of here.
Sadly, the Ultimate Warrior is completely gassed from the party blower. That bike is going nowhere.
Florida Man:
Nah, Gaz. These finger sandwiches ain't gonna eat themselves... so I'm gonna chow down on a thousand egg salad sandwiches until I forget today... and the only thought that remains is hating egg salad as much as I hate Reese.
As Michael Richards' feed cuts out, the locker room is plunged into darkness. Leaving Florida Man's Panhandle Posse, Nickleback, and the hundred wait staff to eat warming finger food before it all goes bad.
And it will go bad.