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John Samuels · (04-13-2013)

Ughhhh.

Waterrrr

The scene opens to the face of John Samuels, clad in sunglasses, laying back in his chair with his mouth open wide. He constantly groans as his head rolls left and right against the headrest. The sound of a door slamming quickly sends his hands to his ears, causing another loud groan. With a slight smirk, Fairchild approaches Samuels with a glass of water and two white pills. She sets the glass in front of him, which he quickly snatches up and swallows in no more than three gulps. He sets the glass down and grabs the pills, swallows them, and then leans back in his chair, letting out a sigh of relief.

Fairchild: Have anything to say for yourself?

Samuels: Yes. Don’t ever let me drink that much again.

Fairchild: That wasn’t my fault. Do you have any idea how drunk you were yesterday? You went to a Chinese laundromat and made some pretty derogatory remarks about Asians.

Samuels snickers, his head still leaned back in the soft black chair.

Samuels: I know, I did that when I was sober.

Fairchild: Well there’s a number of Asian-American rights groups who are very upset. They’re calling for your termination from the XWF.

Samuels: Two things: One, if you have to add a prefix to the word ‘American’ when describing someone, their opinion means squat. And two, this is the XWF. Yesterday was pretty tame compared to some of the crazy stuff that has gone on around here. Anyone who’s worth a damn will get a good chuckle out of it.

Fairchild: Neonero didn’t get a chuckle out of it.

Samuels: Like I said, anyone who’s worth a damn, and I wouldn’t lump him into that category. Did you see that nonsense earlier? Hanging out with some washed up, bloated has-been? Really good way to captivate the audience, eh champ? That pile of garbage looked dead on his feet. What’d he do, bore him to death and then string him up like a puppet? Although he did make sense, the oval office would be suiting of a man of my talents. So maybe he wasn’t so bad. Maybe I’ll check out that restaurant of his if I’m ever in the mood for saturated fat and a staph infection.

Samuels removes his sunglasses and rubs his forehead, groaning more. He tosses his sunglasses to the table in front of Ann, who pours out two more Aspirin which are quickly swallowed by Samuels.

Samuels: The whole thing was pretty funny though: Nero pretending like he’s not worried about me. He knows I’m not that heathen, Neil Capra. He certainly knows I’m not that jezebel, Ursula Areano. He knows I’m better than the both of them, and he knows that that European title is going to be wrapped firmly around my waist after our match this Monday. I can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. I’ve already gotten to him. Does he honestly think that I’m worried about alienating myself to my constituents? No I’m not. Everything that came out of my mouth yesterday is true. Anyone who cares about this country feels the exact same way that I do, it just so happens that I’m the only one with the gall to say it out loud. If those foreigners and brainless liberals want to call it ‘xenophobia,’ then so be it. Anyone else with a functioning brain and a love for this country will call it a wake-up call. The country that we all know and love is being flooded by these pests, and what do they contribute? Nothing. The only thing these modern orientals have given us is an alternate meaning for the term ‘happy ending.’ Oh, and they’ve given us Neonero, which is obviously much worse. A man who stands for nothing more than insulting the intelligence of those around him.

Samuels’ bloodshot eyes peer directly into the camera lens.

Samuels: Guess what, Haiku? We get it. You’re a brainy Asian that likes to use big words and video game lingo, way to crush those stereotypes. And then you say you’re disappointed in me? That’s a good one, champ. A real knee slapper. You know what disappointment is, Nero? It’s seeing the champion of your show going down in a heap to the ‘unstoppable’ Mister Mystery at Gauntlet City. Like a sack of bricks, you just got put down like the dog you are. And that, was disappointment. Standing in the back watching, seeing the man you aspire to be get clowned like you did, only to get speared to oblivion moments later. Nero, I actually respected you for going out and beating Hardy to win the European title. And then in a blink of an eye, all that respect was lost. You just became another face in the crowd to me, one with a big golden belt that does not belong to him. That belt belongs to
someone better. Someone who stands for something. Someone that can look Mister Mystery in the eye and say ‘I beat you.’ That someone, is me. And unlike you, I don’t disappoint.

The Senator reaches underneath his desk and pulls out a folder, stuffed with papers. He puts on a pair of reading glasses and begins flipping through the papers.

Samuels: I’ve been studying you, Nero. Seeing what makes you tick. And there’s nothing that’s particularly outstanding. An open and shut case, it seems. Although I must admit I found one particular bit slightly amusing. There seems to be a recurring theme in your case, and that’s imitation. You accused Ursula of doing it last week... and then you took a page out of my book. Interesting. I’d add ‘hypocrisy’ to that big list of words that you’ve got stored in that massive head of yours. And then I saw your little cry for attention earlier and I felt bad, Nero. I felt really, really bad. You’re obviously grasping at straws when it comes to trash talk. But, you did get me thinking. I thought, ‘what would I do in that situation?’ And of course, I just couldn’t help myself. You made it too easy this time.. So I had Ann here make some phone calls and she got me an interesting little lunch meeting today, and naturally, I had to bring along the XWF camera crew. Gotta get the free publicity while you can, am I right?

The camera zooms out on the smiling John Samuels. As it reaches the end of the room the camera goes blank for a moment and moves to the interior of an upscale Chinese restaurant. John Samuels is seated at a round table, resting his head on his plate with a half empty Bloody Mary in hand. A member of the camera crew kicks the barely alive Samuels’ chair, stirring the Senator. He looks over to the crew member, dazed. The camera man clears his throat and nods to something off camera. The Senator smiles and stands up, straightens his tie, and puts his palm up- stopping his guest off camera. An impatient grunt as heard as Samuels shakes off the cobwebs and looks into the camera.

Samuels: Ladies and gentleman, it is my privilege to introduce to you one of the legends of this industry. You all know him, you all love him. He is Ricky, The Dragon, Steamboat!

Samuels begins clapping his hands and moves back to his seat as Steamboat makes his way to his chair, ignoring the applause from the other side of the table. He looks rather annoyed and shoots a piercing glare at Samuels.

Samuels: Welcome, Mr. Steamboat. It’s an honor to meet you. I thank you for coming to join me.

Steamboat: This is a sick joke, right? You go off on anti-Asian rant yesterday, calling all the ‘eggrolls’ the equivalent of tadpoles? Or something like that. Am I right?

Samuels: Well yes, and I heard that you in particular took offense to that. And I brought you here to offer you my sincerest apologies.

Steamboat: You think I’m going to fall for that? You have me meet you in a Chinese restaurant and expect me to believe you’re going to offer up a sincere apology for your tirade? We both know you meant every despicable word you said, and any apology you make will be complete bull--

Samuels: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Mr. Steamboat, no need for the harsh language. There are children watching. I didn’t come here to blow any steam up your backside. I came here to apologize, I really did. I came to apologize for nobody calling you out in your prime. You became a legend, and yet your career was... forgettable, at best. Do you know why you’re in the Hall of Fame, Mr. Steamboat? It’s because in our politically incorrect, watered down society the liberal media feels the need to make sure there’s a role model for every minority race. Whether they earn it or not. And you, well you were the only prominent Asian wrestler in the golden years of wrestling. You could have lost every single match that you competed in, and you’d still be sitting here. You liked to dazzle the crowd, and they loved you for it. And you gave hope to all those little Asian boys, seated in front of their television cheering for the guy whose eyes looked like there’s. And I’m sure that the small number of Asian members of our industry owe the accomplishment of their dreams to you.

Steamboat stares, enraged. The Senator leans in closer to him.

Samuels: Which to me, means that if it weren’t for you the sham of a European champion that I’m facing on Monday would be sitting in an office somewhere, crunching numbers. Or in the kitchen of this very restaurant, yelling out orders of eggrolls and miso soup. But no, because of you I have to face this arrogant, prick for a title that is far too prestigious for the likes of him. So, I’m sorry Mr. Steamboat. I’m sorry that you were awarded a spot in the wrestling hall of fame, for a career that was far from legendary. I’m sorry that you were the only Asian wrestler that these people had to idolize. I’m sorry that it means that it makes you and Nero interchangeable in my eyes, you’re both false idols, holding a title that you don’t deserve. But most of all, Dragon, I’m sorry that I have to treat you like I have to treat Neonero.

With that, Samuels smashes the bloody mary glass over Steamboat’s head, sending him backwards. Samuels darts toward Steamboat and the two begin trading punches. Steamboat momentarily gains the upper hand until a thumb to the eye from Samuels stops him in his tracks. Samuels grabs Steamboat by the collar and sends his head into a large fish tank, shattering the glass and sending gallons of water and goldfish spilling out. Samuels throws the table cloth and all the dishes off the table, and lifts Steamboat to his feet. He looks directly into the camera with a smile.

Samuels: Hey Nero, this is what you do when they get too old.

Samuels lifts Steamboat above his head and drives down through the table with the Filibuster. Collapsing the table into pieces. Samuels stands up and wipes his hands on his pants. A manager comes to the scene, yelling in Chinese at Samuels. Samuels grabs the manager by the throat, silencing him, Samuels stuffs a hundred dollar bill in the manager’s mouth and throws him to the side. The scene ends with Samuels laughing as he exits the restaurant. The camera cuts back to Samuels’ office, where he is perched on his desk, laughing loudly at a small video monitor.

Samuels: That was great, right? I love the part with the fish tank. The whole thing just exploded! What’d ya think, champ? I know you’re not too keen on imitation, but I think I took what you did an really improved on it. I feel like I really captured the essence of our match. And I gotta admit, it felt good putting him down like that. And I think it’ll feel even better when I do it Monday night, to you. Maybe I’ll have to add my own no rematch clause to my contract, what do you think? I’m sure Paul Heyman wouldn’t hate the idea of you not being able to challenge me for your old belt. Think about the irony.

Samuels winks at the camera as it fades out.

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