Post by Mike Mahoney on Jun 10, 2012 0:39:53 GMT -6
[The scene opens in a fancy Washington D.C. hotel, just minutes away from the Ameri-Dome arena that the loyal USPW fans call “home”. It’s particularly late at night, and the lighting is very low. The USPW Television Championship is lying down on a table next to a fancy Kuerig “k-Cup” Coffee Machine, where the bright blue light illuminates the face of the champion, Mike Mahoney. The coffee brewer finishes brewing, and he takes a sniff, let’s out a happy sigh, and takes a nice, warm, rejuvenating gulp of his favorite coffee.]
Mike Mahoney: Ahhh! That feels good…
[Mike Mahoney grabs his Television Championship, and his iPhone off the counter. He sits on the bed, next to big lump in the blanket. It’s his ring girl, Toni Frost, coiled up like a kitten and sound asleep.]
Mike Mahoney: Baby, I can’t sleep… I, umm… *pause* Good night, babe.
[Mike walks away from the room, quiet as a mouse, and then steps outside the sliding glass door, and is almost immediately in this overly lavish pool area. A brightly lit fancy pool, that’s wilder than your imagination can conceive. He sits at pool side, with bare feet and soaks them in the water as he makes a call.]
Mike Mahoney: Hello? Hey! LBJ! Man, I been trying to call all day, the reception is disgustingly awful here in this nauseatingly terrible city… Yeah… I wish I was in Miami too! So tell me about the…
[Call dropped.]
Mike Mahoney: He-Hello? Damn! I hate this stupid iPhone! Why did I have to sign that stupid sponsorship with Apple! “Ohh you can be the first to try Siri 2.0, she’s amazing!” Yeah, right, Siri is amazing for a nerd who can’t talk to a real girl, like that Izzy guy.
[Mike sips on his coffee, and then reaches over and pulls a laptop out of its case. Luckily for us the screen is overly large and the camera can get a good fix on what Mahoney is up. He types in www.espn.com and the lap top takes him to the front page, where he is greeted with the good news.]
Mike Mahoney: Hell yeah! Miami is the City of Champions baby! *He pats his Television Championship* Ohh man, Miami Heat in the finals! Suck on that, Bost…
[Mike Mahoney doesn’t finish his rant, as he is distracted by the moving ad in the corner that cycle through carious advertisements and news stories. He doesn’t see LeBron James, he sees Mike Mahoney.]
Mike Mahoney: “MMA Champ Injures USPW Champ”? Hmmm. Sounds like an attention grabbing headline. I think what it really means is “MMA Champ injures former USPW Champ who can’t wrestle to save his life and let the entire USPW locker-room down with his disastrous downward spiral, missing appearances, and lack of effort.” Heh, guys like him prove why wrestling is still a joke. I take ‘em out, one fool at a time. So let’s see…
[Mike Mahoney clicks on his picture and is taken to the MMA section of ESPN. He mutters under his breath “No pro-wrestling section on ESPN? Shocker…”. He is satisfied with what he sees.]
Mike Mahoney: Ohh man, that Mike C got messed up pretty bad! Hospitalized and everything? Man, it’s good to be king.
[Mike rubs his chin, and begins to think. He pulls out the iPhone and tests it out.]
Mike Mahoney: Hello, Siri.
Siri 2.0: HELLO, MASTER MIKE.
Mike Mahoney: You’re not so bad. Maybe Apple was right about you. Ok, Siri, can you remind me to tell Toni Frost to make out a check to USPW and that nag CEO Cloe? She’s probably going to fine me like she did when I broke Jason Connor’s arm.
Siri 2.0: OK, MASTER MIKE. SHOULD I REMIND YOU TOMORROW TO TELL TOE KNEE FROSTY TO CHECK OUT USPW AND NAG SEA EEE OHH CLOVER? SHE WILL PROBABLY FIND YOU LIKE SHE DOES WHEN YOU BREAK JASON CONNOR’S ARM.
Mike Mahoney: Hmm… *SHRUGS* Yes, please do.
Siri 2.0: OK, MASTER MIKE! REMINDER SET FOR TWO O’CLOCK AM.
Mike Mahoney: What? Why so early?
Siri 2.0: I’M SORRY MASTER MIKE, I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU’RE ASKING ME. PLEASE REPEAT.
Mike Mahoney: Hmmm, on second thought, let’s compose a text. Siri, tell Mischoff thanks for watching my back, but I can’t guarantee things won’t get real ugly between me and Izzy Inzane next Friday at Freedom’s contract signing. The kid is in for a rude awakening.
Siri 2.0: OK, MASTER MIKE, COMPOSING MESSAGE TO CONTACT MISCHOFF, MISTER. THANKS FOR WASHING MY BACK BUTT. I CANT GUARANTEE THINGS WON’T GET REAL UGLY BETWEEN ME AND IS HE ASHAMED NEXT FRIDAY AT FREEDOMS CONTACT SIGNING. SHALL I SEND THIS?
Mike Mahoney: Yes… Yes, of course. And one more thing, Siri. Let’s check the web for…
[Mike is cut off as the phone rings. He looks down.]
Mike Mahoney: Hehe, sorry, Siri. Take the night off, looks like I got to get back to a real woman!
[Mike grabs his stuff, finishes his coffee and tosses it in the trash can, from over 10 feet away while slyly shouting “D’Wayne!”, and heads back into his room as the scene fades to black.]
Mike Mahoney: Ahhh! That feels good…
[Mike Mahoney grabs his Television Championship, and his iPhone off the counter. He sits on the bed, next to big lump in the blanket. It’s his ring girl, Toni Frost, coiled up like a kitten and sound asleep.]
Mike Mahoney: Baby, I can’t sleep… I, umm… *pause* Good night, babe.
[Mike walks away from the room, quiet as a mouse, and then steps outside the sliding glass door, and is almost immediately in this overly lavish pool area. A brightly lit fancy pool, that’s wilder than your imagination can conceive. He sits at pool side, with bare feet and soaks them in the water as he makes a call.]
Mike Mahoney: Hello? Hey! LBJ! Man, I been trying to call all day, the reception is disgustingly awful here in this nauseatingly terrible city… Yeah… I wish I was in Miami too! So tell me about the…
[Call dropped.]
Mike Mahoney: He-Hello? Damn! I hate this stupid iPhone! Why did I have to sign that stupid sponsorship with Apple! “Ohh you can be the first to try Siri 2.0, she’s amazing!” Yeah, right, Siri is amazing for a nerd who can’t talk to a real girl, like that Izzy guy.
[Mike sips on his coffee, and then reaches over and pulls a laptop out of its case. Luckily for us the screen is overly large and the camera can get a good fix on what Mahoney is up. He types in www.espn.com and the lap top takes him to the front page, where he is greeted with the good news.]
Mike Mahoney: Hell yeah! Miami is the City of Champions baby! *He pats his Television Championship* Ohh man, Miami Heat in the finals! Suck on that, Bost…
[Mike Mahoney doesn’t finish his rant, as he is distracted by the moving ad in the corner that cycle through carious advertisements and news stories. He doesn’t see LeBron James, he sees Mike Mahoney.]
Mike Mahoney: “MMA Champ Injures USPW Champ”? Hmmm. Sounds like an attention grabbing headline. I think what it really means is “MMA Champ injures former USPW Champ who can’t wrestle to save his life and let the entire USPW locker-room down with his disastrous downward spiral, missing appearances, and lack of effort.” Heh, guys like him prove why wrestling is still a joke. I take ‘em out, one fool at a time. So let’s see…
[Mike Mahoney clicks on his picture and is taken to the MMA section of ESPN. He mutters under his breath “No pro-wrestling section on ESPN? Shocker…”. He is satisfied with what he sees.]
Mike Mahoney: Ohh man, that Mike C got messed up pretty bad! Hospitalized and everything? Man, it’s good to be king.
[Mike rubs his chin, and begins to think. He pulls out the iPhone and tests it out.]
Mike Mahoney: Hello, Siri.
Siri 2.0: HELLO, MASTER MIKE.
Mike Mahoney: You’re not so bad. Maybe Apple was right about you. Ok, Siri, can you remind me to tell Toni Frost to make out a check to USPW and that nag CEO Cloe? She’s probably going to fine me like she did when I broke Jason Connor’s arm.
Siri 2.0: OK, MASTER MIKE. SHOULD I REMIND YOU TOMORROW TO TELL TOE KNEE FROSTY TO CHECK OUT USPW AND NAG SEA EEE OHH CLOVER? SHE WILL PROBABLY FIND YOU LIKE SHE DOES WHEN YOU BREAK JASON CONNOR’S ARM.
Mike Mahoney: Hmm… *SHRUGS* Yes, please do.
Siri 2.0: OK, MASTER MIKE! REMINDER SET FOR TWO O’CLOCK AM.
Mike Mahoney: What? Why so early?
Siri 2.0: I’M SORRY MASTER MIKE, I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU’RE ASKING ME. PLEASE REPEAT.
Mike Mahoney: Hmmm, on second thought, let’s compose a text. Siri, tell Mischoff thanks for watching my back, but I can’t guarantee things won’t get real ugly between me and Izzy Inzane next Friday at Freedom’s contract signing. The kid is in for a rude awakening.
Siri 2.0: OK, MASTER MIKE, COMPOSING MESSAGE TO CONTACT MISCHOFF, MISTER. THANKS FOR WASHING MY BACK BUTT. I CANT GUARANTEE THINGS WON’T GET REAL UGLY BETWEEN ME AND IS HE ASHAMED NEXT FRIDAY AT FREEDOMS CONTACT SIGNING. SHALL I SEND THIS?
Mike Mahoney: Yes… Yes, of course. And one more thing, Siri. Let’s check the web for…
[Mike is cut off as the phone rings. He looks down.]
Mike Mahoney: Hehe, sorry, Siri. Take the night off, looks like I got to get back to a real woman!
[Mike grabs his stuff, finishes his coffee and tosses it in the trash can, from over 10 feet away while slyly shouting “D’Wayne!”, and heads back into his room as the scene fades to black.]
