THE TV SHOW!
Clip shows = ratings!
"You will never believe who I just ran into."
Eilene Hadden of the Digital Camera Crew of Club Evo, wearing a red, pink and orange mini-dress and black knee-high platform-style boots, pushed her way through the crowd of rabid LCW Evo fans, heading toward the first floor bar.
"Fans, I was just returning from the ladies room, when I stepped out, I ran into a man whose mere presence, well, it surprised me. He was just standing outside of the ladies room, and, well, he came on to me. After brushing him off, acting like I had no clue who he was, I ran immediately to get a camera. I want to find out why he is here. I was told by several fans that he came this way."
As she arrived at the bar, the camera went back and forth, surveying the crowd of people awaiting service from the bartender or just hanging out, sipping from plastic cups filled with beer. And then she spotted him.
"Right there, there he is."
The camera focused on a man near the far end of the bar, standing and shouting an order to the bartender. It looked like he said "Beer, and don't be stingy with the vodka." His short black hair was slicked back and appeared wet. The clean-shaven man wore a black T-shirt with a red and white iAd logo on it and black jeans. He looked like a wrestler, but fans of LCW had yet to see him in their federation.
But hardcore followers of the sport may have recognized the man who was last employed by jOlt, challenging for the late company's International Title. The self-proclaimed Sports Entertainment Icon.
The bartender put down a plastic cup full of foamy, yellow beer for Vincent. He pulled out his wallet and threw down a $50 bill. The barkeep took it and went to ring up the sale. Vincent took a sip of the beer and rolled his eyes. No vodka. Vincent then noticed Ms. Hadden.
"I knew you'd be back," Vincent said with a smirk.
"Um, no," she said flatly. "Trey Vincent, why are you here at Club Evo?"
Vincent lifted up his beer and toasted towards her.
"You're only here to drink? You're not here to wrestle?"
"I can hear you, I just don't know what the hell you're talking about," he said raising his hands, palms up, in non-comprehension. "That word doesn't mean anything to me. All I know is I'm here to drink. Hey look, a sports entertainment ring," he said standing up. "Why didn't you tell me there's some sports entertainment going on here? And I thought this was just another club."
"So, you weren't invited here by anyone in management for possible work?"
"I guess this is just a cameo appearance."
"Hey, darling, listen, if I keep talking to you, I can't keep drinking. And since you don't want to go to the hotel room of the biggest superstar in the history of this business, then it's your loss. Cuz I got nothing to say to any woman who doesn't shut her mouth and spread her legs. Get it?"
"Well, I guess I'm not going to get anything out of Trey Vincent, fans," she said with a shrug and a sigh. "Stay tuned and let's head to more action."
[Blend right into…]
Trey Vincent was in the ring. When the cameras returned to the LCW Club Evo ring....he was there. Microphone in hand, smiling, looking around at the crowd as if he BELONGED there.
"Monitors, monitors on the wall....who is the greatest sports entertainer of them all?"
Trey Vincent smiled and looked around at all the fans in the club. He mockingly waved to a few of them. He then motioned for one woman to flash him by pulling up his own black iAd T-shirt. She didn't budge. So he flipped her off with a middle finger. She responded in kind.
"I know what some of you are thinking," Vincent began with a light-hearted laugh. "Who in the hell is this handsome man with the physique of a sports entertainer, and what is he doing in THIS place. And all the longtime Trey Vincent marks are in awe, it's OK, you can cheer. I'm a 'cool heel,'" he said with a laugh. "After all, if I wanted to be a monster heel, all I'd have to say is jOlt was the greatest promotion of all time...
"But for the new viewers of TV, you are looking at Trey Vincent. The Sports Entertainment Icon. The epitome of entertainment. Some have called me a politician. Some have called me a cancer or a poison. Some have called me egotistical. Some have flat out called me an asshole. There is a pile of dead federations behind me. As far as you know, I work nowhere. But yet, security has yet to take me out of this ring. I wonder what that means...." he said, drifting off as he noticed his face on the 15-monitors. He paused to stare at himself and smiled before continuing.
"So then the question becomes, is LCW stupid enough to sign Trey Vincent to a contract. I don't know, what do you people think?" he said walking around the ring. "Do you think LCW would be stupid enough to sign Trey Vincent to a contract? Do you? Huh? Does LCW see the Sports Entertainment Icon or the fed killer? The man who guarantees ratings through the roof or the floor depending on his mood. The man who doesn't like working with anyone inferior to him. Which is, let's face it, everybody," he said with a smile.
The fans, most likely more bored than annoyed with what he was saying, began to boo him.
"Trey Vincent has come here to f(censored) this place up. Because LCW sucks. I cannot believe this place was even stupid enough to call me. All you loser hardcore fans can blow me."
Now the fans were mad. The boos rose in volume.
"Edward Olmstead thought he could sign the most coveted free agent in sports entertainment. A man with so many offers on the desk he can't even see past them when he's sitting down? You've got to be kidding yourself Eddie. I've been sitting at the bar, drinking all night, and not one....not ONE, sports entertainer have I seen other than myself, right now, in this ring. That is truly pathetic. I cannot believe you fans waste your money on the garbage performers here.
"So f(censored) you Eddie. TV came for the booze, but he ain't staying for the sports entertainment, unless you can jack up the price. Trey Vincent was in jOlt! Do you know how much I made in jOlt? For what you offered, I might as well go back into private investigation. Oh no, no, no," he said with a chuckle. "Trey Vincent doesn't even work for this company, and you're looking at the biggest legend to ever grace this ring," he said pointing at the mat. "Pathetic."
Vincent looked around at the hardcore fans he had managed to throroughly upset.
"Not one icon, not one legend, not anything...."
The lights went out in the club, except for two spotlights on opposite ends of the far wall. They shone on TR Saxton, who emerged from the first floor elevator and strode out in a thick black leather jacket to the cadence of Diamond Head's "Am I Evil?". On the monitors, video played of him in the more momentous hardcore matches of his career, one screen at a time, while cycling to the right and down. Then, the screen became a single image, one of a bloodied TR holding up the LCW hardcore title. TR Saxton had apparently turned simply rode the elevator back down after his match in order to reply to this man, who apparently was not a part of Evo to begin with. He was seen to be holding a microphone as the house lights return to normal. Saxton replied to Vincent thusly:
"I'm ALREADY a legend! I will smack you in the mouth! GET OFF THE SHED!"
Vincent looked at Saxton. He appeared baffled by what Saxton had just said. Baffled, but never speechless.
"What the f(censored) did you just say?" Vincent asked bluntly, staring directly at Saxton.
"You know what I mean," Saxton responded. "Get off the damn shed!"
Vincent looked around at the crowd. He cocked his head. Repeatedly to the left then the right and back and forth. Then he shook his head and put the microphone to his lips, pausing for a few seconds before continuing the....conversation?
"Who's on what shed? And who in the hell are you?" Vincent asked, moving closer and pointing his middle finger right between Saxton's eyes.
[The scene suddenly shifts, and we move from the ring to a studio. Trey Vincent is sitting in a black leather chair with his feet up on the back of Sleazy-C? Yep. Trey is wearing an All Hail The Franchise Player T-shirt and green pants.]
Trey: Yes, kids, Trey Vincent made a return to a, somewhat, professional sports entertainment federation just recently. Lucky thing too. Everyone was starting to miss me. Ugh. But those fans in Philadelphia. As Studs would say, gatdamn!
Trey: So what is it you're watching right here? Trey Vincent. Your BOB ONLY WORLD CHAMPION THAT MATTERS. And since Trey Vincent is the top dog and controls part of the booking, what better time than now to celebrate the past, present and future of the Sports Entertainment Icon? Huh?
[Trey picks his legs up and slams them down on Sleazy-C's back.]
Trey: This is just the start of your punishment for what you tried to pull at the pay-per-view. Oh yeah, we'll be getting to that later. Trey Vincent's first World Championship, but definitely not the last.
[Trey picks up the shabby looking BOB title.]
Trey: This ain't gonna be your usual funny, pathetic show. Why? Because we're pulling this sh** together at the last minute, that's why. (He smiles.) Yeah, I said it. Came up with the concept less than 24 hours before our time slot. Go figure. And now, I can show all you loser fans out there why I am so good. There are a million channels out there, so maybe you've missed some of the greatness that is Trey Vincent. Well, fear not, TV fans. For I have gathered the best and brightest.
Trey: Now, I know what you're thinking. How can you fit all your greatness into one show? Answer, I can't. So, you can plan on at least three or four more installments before you fully appreciate how great Trey Vincent is, both in the ring, and, of course, on the mic.
Trey: Now. At the top of the show, you just saw Trey Vincent's return in LCW Evo. There, you saw a run-in between and icon and some scrub who needs to work there. Is Trey Vincent under contract there? Do the math. It don't take a genius to figure it out. You saw what was said, you know me, you know the way I operate. Am I gonna let anybody punk me out and walk away? Nah. Why would I do that?
Trey: EWS. MEW. jOlt. BOB. Now LCW Evo. As for the future? Wherever I end up, you better believe I'll keep putting out the greatest sports entertainment in the business today. You are watching The TV Show on Primetime Central. Where else you think you are? Dumbass.
[We cut to opening credits. "All Hail The New Flesh" begins to blare as we see several clips of TV in all his glory: Mugging for the camera in jOlt. Staring at himself on the Evo monitors. Cutting promos in jOlt. The EWS scaffold ladder match collapse where Trey nabbed the European Title. Various clips of the Big Time Fist Drop from every federation. Vincent performing a beautiful leg drop from the top turnbuckle to some EWS scrub's shoulder from a standing position. Trey on a sofa with some chick from jOlt, drinking a beer and laughing. The self-inflicted chair shot from EWS. Trey punking out a cardboard jobber in jOlt. Trey hitting Coming Down on various people from his feds.]
[We open at some sort of a bar. At the end of the bar is the Extreme Wrestling Scene's franchise player and everyone's favorite sports entertainer, Trey Vincent. He is staring down at a half empty beer mug. The bar is full. All men. Men talking to each other. There is a guy behind the bar without a shirt. Very muscular. Very bald. He is whistling happily as he mixes drinks. In the background we can hear some sort of dance music being played. The camera comes in closer to get a close up the most eligible bachelor in sports entertainment today. Trey looks at the camera and downs the rest of the beer.]
Trey: Hey Bruce (he shouts to the bartender). How 'bout another one big guy?
Bartender: Sure thing sugar.
Trey: (He looks at the camera and almost loses control of his laughter at the bartender's use of the word 'sugar.') You know, I was content to go into my debut match this weekend and let Endurance off the hook. But then I wondered, why should I? I've obviously pissed them off, so let's clear up a few things. First of all, as for Crush and that Tokyo guy Yakushi.
Man's voice: God bless you.
Trey: Thank you. Right now, you may be wondering, why if we're at a bar, where are all the chicks? Simple answer. Tonight, we are at a gay bar. Yes, that's right, you heard me right, I'm at a gay bar. Why? I'll get to that in a bit. But now let's address the things that skinny little bastard said about me.
[Trey reaches under his hat and pulls out a piece of paper. Before he starts reading, the bartender gives Trey another beer. Trey tosses the bald man a few bucks and he goes away.]
Trey: Let's start from the start. First of all, he has concluded that I am a 'homosexual.' Now that I'm at a gay bar, you'd think that that would be all the proof you need, right? Well, let's examine the facts. First of all, Endurance, it's funny that you go throwing out accusations that I'm gay. You can say whatever you want about me. But for a guy who's idea of an orgy is switching personalities every couple of seconds while you play with, whatever it is you claim to have between your legs. But you know what truly worries me about that thought? None of the other voices in your head are women. But there is a little kid in there. That truly disturbs me.
Trey: It bothers me that you have to resort to calling me a homosexual. Again, how boring are you? Someone insults you, and you respond with a childish reply of you're gay. The fact of the matter is that I am in a gay bar tonight because I am man enough to be around a bunch of gays and not get all freaked out about it. Now, if you get all freaked out about gays, there are some guys in the EWS lockerroom you might really want to avoid. Such as.
Dennis (voice, the cameraman): Uh Trey?
Trey: Yes Dennis.
Dennis: Don't go there.
Trey: Fair enough. Anyway, listen. We are in a sport where sweaty guys sports entertain each other in skimpy clothing. Guys continually grab each other's crotches to perform sports entertainment moves. Tell me you've never grabbed an opponents crotch in a wrestling match, and I know you're a liar. And what about moves such as, oh, I don't know, the piledriver. Where you put a guy's head in between your legs. And how about, umm, the full nelson, where you wrap a guy's arms up behind his head and the only thing separating your crotch and his ass are a thin layer of clothing. Hey, aren't those a couple of your favorite moves? And Endurance, we are in a sport where people constantly talk about each other's asses, be it kicking, beating or sticking various body parts or objects up it.
[Trey picks up the beer and takes a long gulp.]
Trey: But I could go on and on. Let's see what else you talked about. You mentioned that the script the doctor read from was fake. (He laughs.) Man, is your last name Sherlock? It's not hard to make a mockery of you. You're doing just fine without me. As for the Commish, as opposed to this Comish, whatever the hell you meant, well, he is a very smart man. After all, he hired me and he told you what a complete jackass you are. What a great guy he is.
Trey: So then again, he goes after my name. He again says I'm gay about TVs. Actually, now I'm not 'gay about TVs.' The simple truth is this. With a face like this, with charisma like this, I was born a superstar, live like a superstar and will die like a superstar while you were probably born in a toilet, live like a piece of crap and will die in a pile of your own feces. Trey Vincent is EWS's franchise player. You have no right to talk about everyone's favorite sports entertainer like you have. And if you keep it up, I'm gonna perform sports entertainment move after sports entertainment move until you bow down to the icon and the real deal and admit that you are just another pretender.
[Trey takes another sip from his beer. From behind, a man in a black sleeveless shirt walks up to Trey.]
Man: Pardon me, is your seat taken?
Trey: (He looks up, eyebrows raised. The man's face is out of camera range and the camera stays right on Trey.) Keep walking dude.
[The man walks off camera.]
Trey: Anyway. Without TV, what would you be doing right now, Endurance? Television delivers my greatness into every home in the country. Yeah, there are downsides, such as you being there with me, but I take the good with the bad. Just think, if TV were never invented, what would you be doing for work right now? Hmm? Where did you watch all the wrestling shows that made you want to become a wrestler? Hmmm? Now I have the ability to be everyone's role model and get them to live the Trey Vincent way. You see, there are only two roads in this life. There's my way. And the wrong way. And if any fan is out there booing me, they're booing the wrong man. I am what every fan out there can never be, a winner. Charismatic. Wanted by every girl in the world. I'm talented and hot. Your personalities take turns molesting each other. What kind of fun is that? Through me, every fan can live vicariously through me so their failed lives don't seem so bad. You? They look at you and think, 'Gee, my life ain't that bad after all.' You decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing. The guy who created televison must have known that one day a man named TV would one day rule TV, and be everyone's TV champion, regardless if he has a belt or not.
[Trey waves the bartender down and asks for something, but we can't make it out clearly. He leaves and Trey continues his rant.]
Trey: One other thing. That doctor was as fake as your other personalities. Take that for what it's worth. Did he say that you suck? Sure he did. But you know who else will say you suck right to your face? Me. Endurance, you suck. You bore me to tears. You are not a sports entertainer. You are a bush league hardcore nobody.
[The bartender returns with a bottle of vodka.]
Trey: That's the stuff.
[Trey downs the rest of his beer and then begins pouring the vodka into his beer mug until it is full. He stares at the vodka for a few seconds before looking back at the camera.]
Trey: Oh yes, it's very impressive how you bullied that Fred guy around. When I saw that, it made we want to boo you. So here we go. Booooo! I can't believe I had to borrow someone's VCR to see that. (He looks down at his paper.) He chastises me for using big words. Maybe if you had made it to even sixth grade you could have the grammar of, hmm, just about any normal human being walking this planet. It's funny, you talk about dictionaries and the word ain't. Well, why don't you actually do yourself a favor and read the rest of that book, maybe you'll learn something.
Trey: Now, nobody, but Trey Vincent, has called Trey Vincent the EWS franchise player. Get that through your retarded head first off all. As for popularity, the only way you would be voted most popular is if everyone on the planet died and half of the voices in your head voted for the same personality. You want me to prove it in the ring? I will. I'm gonna give you the sports entertainment lesson of a lifetime. You can bet on it. I'll take on every personality and pin all of them in a gauntlet match if I have to. And I'll beat those other two nobodies just for kicks, Crush and Yokashi.
Man's voice: Bless you.
Trey: Thank you. He then begins to talk about his mommy. Well let's talk about Endurance's mommy. Endurance's mommy was like a screen door. She got banged a lot. You know how you were conceived? You want to know? Your daddy was poor and needed some money. But he had a brilliant idea. The only one of his miserable life. One night, he drugged your mommy, stripped her and then invited over a bunch of his buddies, neighbors, drunk college kids, horny teenage virgins, her grandfather, his grandfather, his cousins, her cousins, his brother, her brothers, her uncles, his uncles, the police force, the firefighters, elected city officials, restaurant owners, the Irish mob, the Bruins, Celtics, Patriots and Red Sox. He showed everyone his wife's naked ass and then sold raffle tickets. He called the game one buck for a f***. The guy sold tons of tickets, made all the money he needed and his wife never knew who was the father of the bastard that popped out from between her legs nine months later. You know how I know? My dad was there filming the whole thing. You want to see the tape? So do I. I need to get back in the ring so I can buy my own place and my own home entertainment system so I can see Endurance's mom get humped by, well, I really shouldn't reveal who your real father is, now should I?
[Trey picks up the vodka mug and takes a long gulp. He puts the glass down and smiles wickedly at the camera.]
Trey: Is this personal enough yet, Endurance? Oh wait, I ain't done yet. I bet your pissed right now. Very pissed. Good. I hope so. Even if you're not, I don't care. Because the fact is that I am better than you and Crush and Yokashi.
Man's voice: Bless you.
Trey: You take that back!
Man's voice: Excuse me?
Trey: That's better! So you're the meanest? Why, because you call me gay? Pffffft. What EVER! You know, I'm sorry to hear you worked at a supermarket. But you know, those doors at the supermarkets? They're a lot like your mommy's legs! Anytime anyone came near her, she opened up automatically! As for talent? Pfffft. What EVER! As for Melanie. Well, you go ahead and write to the store. Just pretend I'm one of your personalities if you think you can figure out what is like to be everyone's favorite sports entertainer. An icon. The real deal. Pffffffft. What EVER!
[Trey downs the rest of the vodka and he puts his mug down with a loud thud. His tongue is hanging out just over his lips.]
Trey: Hey, where are the girls? Did I end up in a gay bar? (He looks at the camera.) Oh yeah. I did. BWAHAHAHAHAHA. What's wrong with giving a girl the thrill of her life? 17? Getting the chance to bang the ever loving hell out of the most amazing sports entertainer on the planet? Forget the whole legal thing anyway. She was flat as a board, not good enough for the franchise player. I didn't want her. She ran away because I wanted her to run away. If I wanted to, I would have brought into the bathroom and shown her what kind of endurance I have. And hey, if you want to write to my doctor or my parents, I'll gladly give you the graveyard the good doctor is in. As for my parents? Pfffft. What EVER! They may not be dead, or maybe they are, who knows. Their address is 3 Suck My Nuts Ave. in Minneapolis, Minnesota. I've fought tougher blizzards than you. You think you scare me? I'm from Minnesota! Or motto is: Are we in Canada? Why the hell is it so cold here?
[Trey fills up the mug with vodka and stares at it. He then looks back at the camera.]
Trey: You think I'm drinking cuz I'm scared? I drink because I'm part Irish. It's heredity. I'm barely even buzzing right now. My blood is part alcohol to start with.
[He looks down at his paper and squints and moves the paper away from his face and then closer trying to read.]
Trey: Oh, as your orders, I will now call you names. Skinny! Ha! Take that! As for those questions, do I have stamina, strength, power and endurance? Yes. Yes I do. And you'll see it this Sunday if you have the balls to show up. You mommy knew a lot about balls. Her face was a lot like a tennis racket from what I hear.
Trey: Names don't make wrestlers, Underoos. Promos make wrestlers. Promoters make wrestlers. Wrestlers make wrestlers. Do you know what Trey means Underoos? It means three. Three is the most important number in sports entertainment? Why? Because three means victory. Thus, my first name means victory. As for the name Vincent? Well, besides the fact that it is the name of the king of sports entertainment, the name itself means conqueror or victor. Again, it means, winner. What does Underoos mean? It means to withstand hardship or stress, to perservere or continuing existence or duration. While my name is all about winning, your name is all about existing and suffering. Very fitting, is it not? Because this Sunday, I will make your existence nothing but suffering, you and Crush and Yokashi.
Man's voice: God bless you.
Trey: You stay out of this! Hmm. Why is my shopping list on here? Hmm. Well, I have to go to the supermarket to go buy some bananas, lettuce, potatoes and a watermelon. Oh yeah, one last thing or two before I go shopping. Have I gotten on your nerves? I hope so. I don't know you, but I already hate you. Because this is my first match here and you're a silly little obstacle I've got to destroy to become what I should already be, a main eventer. And if you don't believe me, just ask Trey Vincent. He'll tell you all about how great the franchise player is.
[Trey takes a long sip from his mug o' vodka.]
Trey: The end of your promo disturbed me. You claim that your 'peepee' fell out, yet, nobody I've talked to said they could see it. And I've asked everyone in here. They were very disappointed in your shortcomings. But that's irrelevant. *Cough*nodick*Cough* What? Don't hunt the hunter. I'm just toying with you. This is my game. This is my world. This is your 15 minutes of fame. I hope you enjoy it, because after Sunday, your life will never be the same.
[Trey pauses and burps loudly.]
Trey: We've said it once before, but Underoos, Slush, Sushi, ask yourself this, and only this.
[Trey pauses for a moment and burps again.]
Trey: Do you have any charisma? Do you have a sports entertainment bone in your body? Are you an icon, the real deal, a future main eventer? Are you a franchise player? No? Then you're not Trey Vincent. And I need to get laid. (He pauses and looks around nervously.) I mean, I need a chick to bang the ever loving hell out of.
[Trey stands up and scratches his crotch. We fade out on that image.]
[Back to the studio. Sleazy-C is now holding up a mirror in front of Trey, who is smiling, and fixes one out of place strand of brown hair. He then puckers his lips at himself and looks over at the camera.]
Trey: What great TV, huh? You are watching The TV Show here. The iAd is in full effect, as is the self-promotion machine. Well, that's what happens when you plan s*** at the last minute. Ah well. So that was a classic blast from the past, back in the day when you had to cut a promo to win a match. Man, I sort of miss those days. Now, all I have to do is book myself to wins. Ah, who am I kidding. It's much more fun like this. Sleazy?
Sleazy: Yeh mazter?
Trey: Go get my toilet.
[Sleazy heads off camera and Trey stands up. He scratches his crotch and stretches. Talk about your captivating TV, there it is!]
Trey: I am going to show all you people just how much this worthless piece of tin means to me. And you know, I bet the other burning question in all your minds is, why in the hell did the lovely, yet deadly Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" punk out everybody before I finished off the BigBoss? Well stay tuned, because Sarah just might be making an appearance at the end of the show. Or maybe even sooner. Guess you better stay tuned, huh?
[Cut to a beach, er, an ISLAND, yes, a deserted ISLAND, somewhere. On it, are the other five members of the Jobbaz Wit' Attitudez, Dyslexic Avenger, Super Mollusc, Mr. X, Bivalve and The Man Who Looks A Bit Like Nixon.]
DA: Eat we're going to when did say Trey?
MX: Um, I don't think he said anything about sending us food.
TMWLABLN: Trey Vincent is a crook. He is a crook.
Bivalve: Didn't he say something about 'Survivor' to us?
Super Mollusc: Uh oh.
MX: Well, there's the camera. Is he filming a reality show about the J.W.A.?
DA: Happens what guys five when on left are island an?
Bivalve: So then the question becomes, who do we eat first?
TMWLABLN: When the president does it, that means it's not illegal.
MX: What exactly did we sign?
SM: A record deal I thought.
DA: Owns he souls our.
B: Does he?
DA: Does he.
B: That's what I'm asking you.
DA: Does he!
B: That's what I'm asking you!
DA: DOES HE!
B: I AM ASKING YOU!
DA: Dumbass listen you, DOES HE!
[Cut to a shot of SARAH! Sarah is entering a building! Could it be the same studio where The TV Show is taking place? Stay tuned!]
[Trey is now in a jOlt ring.]
"Greetings to all the little viewers, merchandise buyers and ticket buyers of jOlt. Yes, it is I, the jOlt Sports Entertainment Icon, your television champion and soon-to-be International Champion, and the man you all came to see sports entertain, Trey Vincent. And if you don't like that I'm so damn successful you can take your remote control, pull down your pants and sit on it."
The fans booed loudly. Trey smiled widely, feeding off their hate, as he has always done.
"Trey Vincent has given your countless moments of memorable sports entertainment action in jOlt, not to mention all the months when my loyal viewers followed me through the various circles of hell in horrible federations elsewhere.
"I am everything!"
The fans disagreed, booing loudly.
"I am this company's franchise player, the only sports entertainment icon who can still go, and I'll be doing it for years and years whether you bastards and bitches watching like it or not!"
The fans boo again. But Trey is no longer smiling. He's almost snarling, which is a rare sight. After a few seconds of fuming and soaking in the fans hate, he began pacing and moved onto business.
"Tonight Trey Vincent has an obstacle named Steve Denton, yet another of the little scrubs who runs around here pretending they're half as good as me. Now, for the world to see, I will cleanly beat him, and move on to the finals of this tournament and prove to all the worthless idiots who boo the greatest, most outrageous sports entertainer of all time, that I am...just what I said I am. The man, goddam!
"So, in classic inside icon style, I'm dedicating tonight's victory to little Seth in parts unknown. This is also for Studs out in Arizona, and a lovely little lady who simply goes by the name of Sarah in Connecticut. I'm also dedicating this match to all the little people. Even this fat bitch in the third row and her kid with Down's syndrome!" he said, pulling off his shades, getting on the middle rope and pointing to a ring-sider.
The fan responded with some obscenities and what some might consider rude gestures.
"Oh, that's your husband?" he said with a wicked smile. "Hey bitch, what's open more? Your legs or your refrigerator? Hell, why am I even asking, it's obvious...."
[Back to the studio.]
Trey: BWAHAHA. Ah, that Trey, such a meanie.
[A toilet is now set up in front of Trey's leather chair.]
Trey: As you can see, a toilet is now set up in front of my leather chair.
[Sleazy is eyeing the toilet a little funny.]
TV: What's wrong Sleazy?
[Trey holds the title over the toilet. Oh no, is he going to defile the marginally prestigious OWTTM in there?]
Trey: No. That would be the cliched thing to do. To drop this in there, pull down my pants and take a dump on the title Trey Vincent holds. (He puts the title on his shoulder.) As little as this federation means to me, being a champion DOES mean something. It means I get to broadcast my greatness into every home with the greatness that is cable television. And it also means I get to do stuff like this.
[Some paid help comes on-screen. Trey turns the toilet around so the backside is facing the camera. The paid help is wearing a white robe that barely goes down to her hips. She winks at Trey, then at the camera before turning her back to the camera. The robe hits the floor. She takes a seat on the toilet. Sleazy stares at her, jaw wide open.]
Trey: Yeah. Full backal nudity for all you horny little kids out there. I'm gonna pop some ratings.
Sleazy: Yeah, pop.
Trey: Too bad you viewers at home can't afford to buy beautiful women like this to come and sit naked for you to draw.
Trey: That's right. We're both going to draw her naked. And then we can show THAT on The TV Show because it is art, unlike the filthy nakedness that she is now.
[Trey disappears off camera. He returns with two easels. He tosses one at Sleazy, and both men set up their canvases. Trey then goes off camera and gets some drawing materials.]
Trey: While we busy ourselves doing artwork, why don't you kids enjoy one of my favorite all-time TV clips. Trey Vincent's best promo ever, which, oddly enough, happened in the worst fed ever, MEW. Enjoy. Cuz I know I'm gonna enjoy this.
[Trey lines up all the right angles of the hot naked chick on the toilet as we head to clips.]
[A close up of Trey Vincent's face]
Trey: Aww hell, Nethery ain't gonna like this.
[The camera pans back to reveal Trey's head is poking out from behind some bars. The scene? A jail cell. Yes, the man who will main event the upcoming Fury in a match against Rain and Exile. Do the letters WCW mean anything to you? Maybe that's where Trey belongs. Oh wait...WCW is clean now, right? Sure it is. Just as long as you don't get arrested. PR nightmare. Now, you may be wondering just what did Trey do to get put in a jail cell? What possibly could the cops have him in for?
Does the name Scott Hall ring a bell. Oh wait, he wasn't arrested for that. Or was he? I forget. But anyway, some wrestler, possibly Taz(before he added the extra Z, which makes his name mean Jobber in Italian). It started innocent enough....
But before we can get to that part of the story...well, we're interrupted. We hear a loud voice garbling out threats at an officer, who comes into view from the left. The officer has the man's arms cuffed behind his back and the man is looking over his shoulder and trash talking the cop. They stop in front of...Trey's cell. The officer unlocks the door. He releases the man from his shackles. And shoves him inside. With Trey. Trey backs away from the man.
Now, this cell, it's a holding cell. For drunks most likely. There's tons of space and one shared toilet. Only benches inside, no cots. Trey takes a seat on the bench and looks at the man. The man turns around and faces Trey. The cameraman for some odd reason has snuck into the cell behind the officer's back.
What does Trey's guest look like? Well, he's about 6-4 or 6-5, and he looks like a cliche bald-drunk-biker type. He's wearing a leather jacket, Rob Zombie T-shirt, which just barely hides his big hairy belly, and blue jeans with...blood stains?...all over his legs. We'll call this guy....Dick Head. Now, wait, that's too crude. How about Richard Cranium? Yeah, that's better.
But more company is on the way. This time, two officers escort an angry looking black dude down to Trey's cell. You remember Zeus from Hulk Hogan's 5-star movie "No Holds Barred"? Well, imagine that guy, except for the dude now in Trey's cell isn't cross eyed. And this guy has hair. A big ass afro. Hell, his afro is about two feet tall. Imagine if Don King and Marge Simpson had a baby. Mixed with Zeus. This guy? He's wearing Fubu. Fubu? Isn't that for poser white boys? WTF? This is strange. We'll call this guy....Scoob Doobie Doob.
Trey is seated to your right. Richard stands to your left. And Scoob is now just turning around and massages his massive wrists. He looks at his new cellmates.]
Scoob (who sounds like Barry White): What you two dudes be in for?
Richard: What are you in for?
Scoob: Me? Courier biz. I was clearing $2,000 a week. Then I made a mistake. I collected on a loan with the wrong person who knew a guy who knew another guy. And now I'm here. Damn cops got all freaked out when they saw the coke all over my apartment. They thought it was anthrax. Bitch ass pigs.
Trey: Hey, you didn't work for (beep) did you?
[(The promo pauses.) The beep was necessary so not to "out" a drug kingpin. Drug kingpins are good. They deserve our respect and our money. MEW does not endorse my opinions, but hell, nobody else would have the balls to endorse crime lords besides Trey Vincent's narrator. Scoob doesn't know this yet, but "Beep" is one of Trey's best street sources. As for that guy who got beat up when he couldn't pay back the loan? Well, Trey knew him too. Trey has a certain habit that is not fit for public knowledge. This middle man provided Trey with a needed fix. That's all legally that can be said. Things are about to get interesting. This is just a little foreshadowing.)
Scoob: Yeah, why? Who the hell are you boy?
Trey: (He clears his throat and looks at Richard) What you in for?
Richard: I caught my wife cheating. We were out tanight, right, at dis bar. And she disappears. I'm like, where's my wife? So, I go looking for her. I look here, I look there, but don't see her anywhere. So I heads outside, and I see dis limo parked along da side of da building. A long white one.
Richard: And then, all a sudden, out of the sunroof, I see my wife come popping up, breasts exposed to the world, except for two hands on them.
[Trey bends over and puts his head in his hands.]
Richard: So I goes over to the limo and scream her name. She looks at me all in shock, right? So I try to get in the limo, but da doors are locked, ya know? So I pull her out, but before I can get in the limo to see the bastard who had his hands all over my wife's breasts, he shuts the thing and the car peels out. So I broke a window with my fist. The car stops. The driver gets out and comes running up to me. He tackles me! He starts pounding the piss out of me and we ended up fighting until the cops came. The guy had me arrested for malicious destruction and assault and battery!
[(The promo pauses.) Hmm. Guess who was in the limo. Guess whose hands those were. Can ya?]
Scoob: What about the dude in the limo?
Richard: Bastard got out of the back and drove the car away! So what are YOU in for?
Trey: Uhh. Well, I've been a bit depressed of late. So, I kind of decided to go out tonight. To a strip club. Yeah, a strip club. I went in my, uh, pickup truck. Yeah. My pickup truck. I got a little drunk. And met this stripper. And well, we ended up back in my truck. And we were heading back to my hotel when the cops pulled me over.
Richard: Does it smell like bullshit in here or is it just you?
Scoob: You look awfully familiar to me. Haven't I seen you around downtown?
[From the part of the building where freedom still exists, we hear footsteps. It's an officer.]
Officer: Trey Vincent. It looks like we've got more charges to throw at you. It turns out that a woman has decided to file sexual harassment charges against you. She is claiming that you drugged her, brought her to your limo, took off her top and touched her breasts.
Trey: (He walks up to the jail door) Is that illegal?
Officer: Is that a confession?
Officer: I said is that a confession?
Trey: No. No, I was...just joking. (He gestures for the officer to come closer with his index finger. In a whisper, he says...) Listen, doesn't me helping bring in that black dude for drug dealing and loan sharking help me out at all?
[The officer backs up.]
Officer: Son, for a guy who was caught driving under the influence in a stolen white limo and for a guy who sexually harassed and drugged a woman, no, helping bring down that dude right behind you for loan sharking and drug dealing will NOT help your ass. Now sit down and shut up.
Trey: Wait! I have the whole night on tape! I can prove I'm innocent.
Officer: Tape? Where?
Trey: In the camera.
Officer: Let me see it.
Officer: All right, I'll look at this. But I don't know how you think a videotape can clear you of sexual harassment and driving under the influence.
[He walks away with Trey's evidence. Trey turns around. He is greeted by Scoob and Richard.]
Scoob: Black dude you helped bring in for drug dealing and loan sharking?
Trey: You heard that?
Richard: White limo? Sexual harassment. BREASTS!
[Richard swings at Trey, who ducks, and Richard hits the bars. But Scoob grabs Trey and tosses him into the bars. Trey collapses to the floor. Both men kick away on Trey. That is until Trey, in desperation, hits a leg sweep that knocks both men to the floor. Trey manages to kick a couple of field goals, using their crotches as footballs. Trey swarms all over both men, going back and forth, wailing away with a flurry of furious punches to all parts of their bodies. After the assault and both men have felt the amazing power that only TV possesses, he picks both men up, and in a last fitting pose, he puts Scoob face first in the toilet, and rests Richard in such a way that, well, could be considered, Doobie style.]
Trey: (He takes a seat.) Man, haven't had a good fight in a while. I wonder if there is a lesson in this. Let's see. I'm not as drunk as usual, and I had an easy time beating up a couple of scrubs. In jail no less. Well, maybe the moral of the story is that if I ain't drunk, I can kick anyone's ass. Or maybe the moral is, drinking is bad for you. I already know that. It's just so much fun! Or maybe the moral is that Rain and Exile have no shot to kick my ass this Sunday at Fury. Which they don't. Because I'm everyone's TV champion. Trey Vincent. And this Sunday, I'll be sober. And I'll be out there for all the Trey Vincent fans who were disappointed by my performance last week. This is for little Jack Anderson in Detroit. Mrs. Jones in Minneapolis. I'll dedicate this match to all the little people. And with that, I can almost guarantee a win, because everyone is little when compared to the greatness that is Trey Vincent. This one is for all of you, my faithful followers!
[The officer is back.]
Officer: I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Say, do you mind if I keep this tape?
Trey: Which part can't you believe? The part about the girl forcing herself on me, or the part about my trained monkey driving the limo and then fleeing?
Officer: I can't believe how hot she is. And she married...(he looks behind Trey and sees the position the two have been put in). Oh, I see.
[The officer unlocks the cell and Trey is a free man. Ready to go kick some ass at Fury and prove he is the main eventer and not some idiot who can't beat Auryn.]
[5 minutes after Trey gets outside to his limo.]
[Trey's cell phone rings.]
Voice: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Auryn beat you! You suck! AHAHAHAHAHA.
[Trey hangs up and shakes his head.]
Trey: I would SO throw this phone away....I can't believe there were 30 messages like that while I was in the slammer. I just despise people who make fun of other people. I'm winning-impaired. Don't make fun of my disability!!!!!
[Back at the TV studio, Trey and Sleazy are still busy drawing the lovely figure of their model.]
Sleazy: Mutha***** Trey, dis iz da coolezt s*** Ive eva seen.
Trey: Ain't it? The iAd knows entertainment.
[Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" is walking down a hallway! Could it be! Is she going to burst in on the drawing session?]
[The island. The sound of a plane flying overhead can be heard. The boys are gathered around a piece of paper attached to a brick. Laying beside said brick is Super Mollusc, who apparently never looked up when he heard the cartoony falling noise.]
DA: Does what say it?
MX: It says, "JWAites, you f***** up royally. But I'm gonna give you a chance to redeem yourselves. There are five of you on that island. It is your first mission to build a sandcastle. In my likeness. It is then you will be sent food. Until then, enjoy the sun and each other's company. P.S. Dyslexic Avenger thinks Bivalve smells and Nixon thinks whoever is reading this has an annoying voice." You, WHAT?
TMHLABLN: Do you have proof on audio tape of this ludicrous accusation?
B: So you think I smell, huh?
DA: Do I?
B: That's what I'm asking you!
DA: Do I?
[Bivalve jumps at Nixon, but misses to the left by about a foot. Mr. X jumps on top of Dyslexic Avenger and the BOB beach brawl begins! But since that name is copyrighted, we'll go elsewhere.]
[Caption on screen: Since this was a pay-per-view and we want you to pay for the full match when it comes out on DVD, Video and other as yet-determined future sorts of thingees, we join the great contest after the first fall.]
BB: You're never going to win MY title. Not only am I booking myself into this main event now, I'm gonna use your sports entertainment rules to WIN IT! Because damn it, this is MY FED! And if I have my title, that means you won't. Unless we have a pathetic double pin to end the show....
TV: Shut up and sports entertain, tough guy!
[BigBoss runs down to the ring, but Harker clotheslines him. Studnuts and Harker stomp the living hell out of BigBoss. Luckily, there isn't much living hell in him.]
MM: Meanwhile, Billy Polar and The Geek are brawling away from the ring. And Bohemoth is in serious pain from that golf club assault.
MS: IT'S TOTALLY FACE!
SW: Oh no! Another fustercluck main event. The title's still on the line. And here come TV loyalists the J.W.A. But wait! They're attacking the iAd too! The iAd is being beaten senseless by the J.W.A. and Totally Face!
MS: This IS AMAZING!
SW: And here comes Sarah, Kay Fabe and Xamfir! I think money is the cure for the cancer known as the iAd.
MM: Thank God. Closure to this angle. Something even those idiots in WCW could never do. Kill the nWo. Not in BOB. No siree. We give closure. BOB is strong.
SW: Xamfir and Kay have Vincent up. Sarah picks up a chair.
MS: Extreme revenge for Sarah here.
MM: But who's gonna win the title?
MM: What the?
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
MM: I don't believe what I've just seen!
MS: Oh NO!
SW: BigBoss is back in the ring.
SW: Why, Sarah? Why!
MM: Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" has taken out the J.W.A., Totally Face, her best friends and saved the last shot for the BigBoss, who was just added to this match.
MS: This is the blackest day in the history of this greatest extravaganza of all time.
MM: Trey Vincent stands up. Sarah drops the chair. They smile! Oh God, they embrace. Don't tell me Sarah is the ultimate screw job Trey Vincent promised!
SW: What a heel turn. But why? Why Sarah, you bad, bad, girl! We demand answers.
MM: But the match isn't over. Trey Vincent picks up the BigBoss and slams him. And Sarah's clearing the ring of bodies.
SW: Wow, and she cleans too! Wonder if she can cook.
MM: TV bounces off one side of the ring. He bounces off the second side. He hops over the BigBoss to the third side of the ring and now off the fourth side. It's a Dusty shuffle! Oh! Big Time Fist Drop below the belt!
SW: The iAd isn't dead.
MA: The winner and new holder of THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS.....TREY VINCENT!
[Back to studio. The woman is now re-robed and Trey gives her a hug and a nice little double ass cheek squeeze. He then pats her behind as she walks off camera.]
Trey: OK, loyal TV viewers, the time is near. Not only are we going to show you our nudie pictures, but we're going to show you Sarah "The Jobber Slayer" and explain why she turned heel to join up with the iAd! When? Right after this commercial break!
Trey: And we're back! See, I told you we'd be back right after the commercial break. OK, Sleazy, are you ready?
Sleazy: I wuz born ready you stupid azz beyotch.
Trey: What did you just call me you no-talent midget?
Sleazy: A jobba! You're a jobba 4 lyfe!
[A door opens. Trust me on this one. You can't hear it, but it opens. And it's not in this studio either. Which is why we cut to…]
[The island? OK. It appears the boys have decided that doing Trey's bidding will get them food and fighting each other won't get them much of anything. The sand statue of the icon is just a blob at this point and probably won't be set for a while. They've got a lot of sculpting to do. But they are all gathered around it. Mr. X is working on the head. Dyslexic Avenger is going the ass backwards route. Nixon is doing the digging. Bivalve is doing the detailing. And Super Mollusc? Still unconscious.
Suddenly, a man with a surfboard comes running into the shot and crashes into the pile of sand.]
Surfer: Woohoo! Dude! Gnarle!
[He runs away. And the J.W.A. let out a collective sigh. And then the stomachs begin to growl at each other.]
[Some building, somewhere.]
Sarah: Hey everyone, it's me, Sarah "The Jobber Slayer," and you are watching this show on this channel. Stay tuned. And don't forget to watch me every week on this channel. (She pauses.) Gee, can they vague it up a little bit? Stay tuned for more slamming action right here on this channel, where the action never stops! (She pauses.) Do you have any idea how so much this bores me. What is the point of this again?
Sarah: Oh. Yeah. Yur, huh?
GBH: Yur. Whats dis?
Sarah: The floor?
[Styles, Kay Fabe and Xamfir suddenly enter the room.]
Kay: Sarah, what in the BLUE HELL, do you think you did to the sexiest lesbian in sports entertainment? Kay Fabe demands answers!
Xamfir: Yeah. I'm not too happy about getting my cranium rung with a chair.
Sarah: Mix metaphors much?
Styles: Sarah (he says in a very serious voice). Why did you do it? Why did you become a rogue slayer?
Sarah: Why? I'm still waiting for the book--
Kay Fabe: IT DOESN'T MATTER WHY you became a rogue slayer. The only thing that matters is that at the next Monday Morning Mayhem, Kay Fabe is gonna whoop your ROOOODY POOOO, candy ASS! And FINALLY, Kay Fabe, is GONNA
Sarah: I'm not gonna fight you Kay. You're my best friend!
Kay: Best friend? Are you telling me, you wanna piece of Kay Fabe's pie?
Sarah: No. We're doing this because somebody is too lazy to go to the Rant Zone. But that's neither here nor there. I'm telling you, you may think I may have turned heel, but maybe I didn't turn heel and this is all a plot. Or maybe I did turn heel but I just don't want to face you. There are countless possibilities, and only God knows what final solution will be cooked up in the drunken stupor of the people running this place. I'm the Slayer. I will always be the Slayer.
Xamfir: Hello? Chairshots! We're kinda pissed at you.
Sarah: Yeah, well, I'll explain everything at MMM. I promise. I hope. Maybe I'll have a good reason for my heel turn then, OK?
Sarah: Oh, sorry. I didn't say, oh Kay, like I was gonna tell you something, I meant, OK, like, OK. OK?
Styles: OH MY GOD! How many times are we gonna use this joke tonight?
Sarah: Why did I do what I did?
Kay: Yes, we wanna know why you did what you did when you did what you did to all of us? Why did you do what you did when you did what you did to all of us? It doesn't matter! Kay Fabe says, just bring it. As a matter of fact, Kay Fabe wants you to bring all your bananas. She wants you to shine then up real nice. Get a camera. Put it on automatic. Set it down on the table.
Styles: Whoa, whoa, whoa!
Kay: Take off--
[Feed cuts off. It was about to get a little too raunchy for this time slot.]
[We return to TV's studio. Trey has turned around his not-too-bad but very amateurish picture of the woman on the toilet, complete a very, very furry bush and little steam lines coming out from the toilet as if she just farted. Sleazy's is a pathetic stick figure with breasts, nipples and a giant black triangle between her legs, of course.]
TV: Well, this has been a rather, odd, first The TV Show, but I hope all the Trey Vincent fans enjoyed it. I'm rather confused by the Sarah portion of this show, but, I'll make sure to confront her on Monday Morning Mayhem, whenever that happens. So keep those TVs tuned into the best sports entertainer today. Blah blah blah. Go do something else.
©2002 iAd Entertainment. Smell our fingers.