05-03-2013, 08:07 PM
(OOC: I had to cut this one short because I was falling asleep.)
What.
The.
Hell?
Samuels: What?
Fairchild: You haven’t been paying any attention at all. Heyman gave you a vacation to heal up from your ladder match and you show up completely aloof. What gives?
Samuels: What gives? What gives is that I didn’t need any time to heal up after my match against Crimson Cobra. That guy is a joke, and he was never a threat to the title, especially with the help of that magic little remote you had. So I took the past few days to relax, and see how Monday Night Madness fared without the greatest European champion in history to lead the rest of the nitwits.
Fairchild: And what did you think?
Samuels: AWFUL.
Samuels: What on God’s green Earth is going on around here? Two has-been’s running around together trying to run amok, a guy claiming to be a real ‘American Idol,’
Fairchild: Alex Richards? He’s the “American Icon.” Or so he says.
Samuels: Yeah, yeah, whatever. Either way, it’s not true. I’m the real American hero around here. And don’t get me started on that Insiptuatios Scelestor or whatever his name is--the skeleton. It seems like Madness is turning into a carnival. And then there’s Caramel. Don’t ask me how, but she’s the number one contender to my title.
Fairchild: Well she beat Christopher Daniels, that’s how.
Samuels: Who are these people? What are they doing on my show? As much of a joke that Crimson Cobra is, at least he’s capable of being entertaining, and I had to beat him before I got my title shot. Now it’s just seems that whatever turd rises to the top of the bowl the fastest is the one to get a crack at the main event.
Fairchild: If they’re ‘turds,’ as you so crudely put it, what would that make you?
Samuels: Shut up, Ann.
Samuels: You get my point. I’ve already cleaned out the best that Madness has to offer. Crimson Cobra is having a mental breakdown, Neonero might have left and went back to eggroll land after I took my title away from him. So who’s left? Caramel. That’s right. Her name, is Caramel. What a disgusting tramp. Look at her, she looks like a spray-tanned barnacle stuck to the bottom of an abandoned cruise ship.
Fairchild: That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?
Samuels: How is that harsh? We both know what kind of woman she is. She thinks she can make a name for herself solely on her looks, which are no great shakes. And then, she fails. She fails miserably on the grandest stage. And then she gets caught up in drugs, alcohol, promiscuity and general uselessness until she winds up on her back using that oft-traveled road between her legs as a welfare slot machine-- Just popping out little bundles of dollar signs, one after the other, at the expense of hardworking Americans like myself. Cha-ching. Cha-ching. How fair is that? After I successfully defend my title, I basically have to fund her addiction to acrylic fingernails and whatever type of bottom shelf liquor that the hippity hoppers are ‘rapping’ about. It’s all the same, I suppose, eventually someone was going to send her into a downward spiral, it might as well be me. At least she can take a small amount of solace in knowing that she lost to the greatest champion this company has ever seen. Hell, Ann I might as well give you Monday night off. God knows, I definitely won’t be needing your help with this pond scum.
Fairchild: Three day weekend? Thank you so much sir!
Samuels: Calm your britches, woman, I didn’t say you got the night off. You’ve got plenty of work to do. I’m going to need you to scout out the rest of the roster because after Caramel there’s going to be a new number one contender, and I’d like to know ahead of time if they’re as big of a comedy act as this Caramel person is. If it were anyone but Paul Heyman, I would seriously question why he’s making me take such ridiculous matches-- But the man has integrity and strong leadership, I’m sure he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Fairchild: And if he doesn’t?
Samuels: Why do you always have to be so damn negative? Can’t you just for once say ‘Oh yes, I totally agree with you Mr. Samuels, you’re completely right.’
Fairchild: Oh yes, I totally agree with you Mr. Samuels, you’re completely right.
Samuels: Well if you would’ve been sincere that would have been the smartest thing you’ve said all night, but now you’re just being mean. Heyman knows exactly what he’s doing, if you haven’t noticed he’s backing a true winner. He’s not Wallace Witasick or Shane
, hiding behind their best talent in hopes that they’ll do all the dirty work for them so they can reap the benefits. Not Paul Heyman. He’s right there on the front lines, doing whatever it takes for Monday Madness to be the cream of XWF’s crop. And he should be applauded for that, not questioned. Frankly, you should be ashamed of yourself. If it weren’t for Heyman, you’d be filing papers in an office back in Texas, complaining about the spiders.
Fairchild: I suppose you’re right. Now I get to file papers here, and listen to you complain about about your opponents.
Samuels: What more is there to complain about? Caramel simply isn’t in my league. She took offense to that Daniels guy underestimating her, I wonder how she’s going to feel about me and how I utterly do not care about what she can do in, or out, of that ring. As far as I’m concerned she’s just another overtanned face in the crowd, who has more things coming out of her mouth than things flowing into her brain.
Fairchild: Way to resist the obvious ones there, sir.
Samuels: About thing coming in and out of her face? I thought about it, but it was too low brow. That, and she wouldn’t take offense to it-- it’d be the truth. And what’s with this ‘moi’ stuff? The only thing worse than the French, are people who try to be French. She needs to take some pride in herself and her country and knock that nonsense talk out. She must not know that France is full of cowards, and being a coward isn’t something to aim for. If she wants to imitate anybody around here, it should be me: The picture of success. Granted, in order to do that she’d have to become the European champion, and I don’t think there’s a person alive today who believes she can pull that off. I’m just too good. And she’s still just a turd, floating a hair above the rest of the droppings in the Monday Madness toilet bowl.
What.
The.
Hell?
The scene opens with a bemused John Samuels staring at a babbling Fairchild. He breaks his gaze every few moments to look down and brush his hand across his European title belt. After a few seconds, Samuels looks up to a now quiet Fairchild. She crosses her arms and shakes her head, forcing a small smile out of the corner of Samuels’ mouth.
Samuels: What?
Fairchild: You haven’t been paying any attention at all. Heyman gave you a vacation to heal up from your ladder match and you show up completely aloof. What gives?
Samuels: What gives? What gives is that I didn’t need any time to heal up after my match against Crimson Cobra. That guy is a joke, and he was never a threat to the title, especially with the help of that magic little remote you had. So I took the past few days to relax, and see how Monday Night Madness fared without the greatest European champion in history to lead the rest of the nitwits.
Fairchild: And what did you think?
Samuels: AWFUL.
Samuels slams his fist down on the table, punctuating his observation.
Samuels: What on God’s green Earth is going on around here? Two has-been’s running around together trying to run amok, a guy claiming to be a real ‘American Idol,’
Fairchild: Alex Richards? He’s the “American Icon.” Or so he says.
Samuels: Yeah, yeah, whatever. Either way, it’s not true. I’m the real American hero around here. And don’t get me started on that Insiptuatios Scelestor or whatever his name is--the skeleton. It seems like Madness is turning into a carnival. And then there’s Caramel. Don’t ask me how, but she’s the number one contender to my title.
Fairchild: Well she beat Christopher Daniels, that’s how.
Samuels: Who are these people? What are they doing on my show? As much of a joke that Crimson Cobra is, at least he’s capable of being entertaining, and I had to beat him before I got my title shot. Now it’s just seems that whatever turd rises to the top of the bowl the fastest is the one to get a crack at the main event.
Fairchild: If they’re ‘turds,’ as you so crudely put it, what would that make you?
Samuels: Shut up, Ann.
Fairchild bites her lip in anger as Samuels stares at her in anger.
Samuels: You get my point. I’ve already cleaned out the best that Madness has to offer. Crimson Cobra is having a mental breakdown, Neonero might have left and went back to eggroll land after I took my title away from him. So who’s left? Caramel. That’s right. Her name, is Caramel. What a disgusting tramp. Look at her, she looks like a spray-tanned barnacle stuck to the bottom of an abandoned cruise ship.
Fairchild: That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?
Samuels: How is that harsh? We both know what kind of woman she is. She thinks she can make a name for herself solely on her looks, which are no great shakes. And then, she fails. She fails miserably on the grandest stage. And then she gets caught up in drugs, alcohol, promiscuity and general uselessness until she winds up on her back using that oft-traveled road between her legs as a welfare slot machine-- Just popping out little bundles of dollar signs, one after the other, at the expense of hardworking Americans like myself. Cha-ching. Cha-ching. How fair is that? After I successfully defend my title, I basically have to fund her addiction to acrylic fingernails and whatever type of bottom shelf liquor that the hippity hoppers are ‘rapping’ about. It’s all the same, I suppose, eventually someone was going to send her into a downward spiral, it might as well be me. At least she can take a small amount of solace in knowing that she lost to the greatest champion this company has ever seen. Hell, Ann I might as well give you Monday night off. God knows, I definitely won’t be needing your help with this pond scum.
Fairchild: Three day weekend? Thank you so much sir!
Samuels: Calm your britches, woman, I didn’t say you got the night off. You’ve got plenty of work to do. I’m going to need you to scout out the rest of the roster because after Caramel there’s going to be a new number one contender, and I’d like to know ahead of time if they’re as big of a comedy act as this Caramel person is. If it were anyone but Paul Heyman, I would seriously question why he’s making me take such ridiculous matches-- But the man has integrity and strong leadership, I’m sure he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Fairchild: And if he doesn’t?
Samuels: Why do you always have to be so damn negative? Can’t you just for once say ‘Oh yes, I totally agree with you Mr. Samuels, you’re completely right.’
Fairchild rolls her eyes and fakes a smile.
Fairchild: Oh yes, I totally agree with you Mr. Samuels, you’re completely right.
Samuels scoffs and shakes his head slowly.
Samuels: Well if you would’ve been sincere that would have been the smartest thing you’ve said all night, but now you’re just being mean. Heyman knows exactly what he’s doing, if you haven’t noticed he’s backing a true winner. He’s not Wallace Witasick or Shane
, hiding behind their best talent in hopes that they’ll do all the dirty work for them so they can reap the benefits. Not Paul Heyman. He’s right there on the front lines, doing whatever it takes for Monday Madness to be the cream of XWF’s crop. And he should be applauded for that, not questioned. Frankly, you should be ashamed of yourself. If it weren’t for Heyman, you’d be filing papers in an office back in Texas, complaining about the spiders.Fairchild: I suppose you’re right. Now I get to file papers here, and listen to you complain about about your opponents.
Samuels: What more is there to complain about? Caramel simply isn’t in my league. She took offense to that Daniels guy underestimating her, I wonder how she’s going to feel about me and how I utterly do not care about what she can do in, or out, of that ring. As far as I’m concerned she’s just another overtanned face in the crowd, who has more things coming out of her mouth than things flowing into her brain.
Fairchild: Way to resist the obvious ones there, sir.
Samuels: About thing coming in and out of her face? I thought about it, but it was too low brow. That, and she wouldn’t take offense to it-- it’d be the truth. And what’s with this ‘moi’ stuff? The only thing worse than the French, are people who try to be French. She needs to take some pride in herself and her country and knock that nonsense talk out. She must not know that France is full of cowards, and being a coward isn’t something to aim for. If she wants to imitate anybody around here, it should be me: The picture of success. Granted, in order to do that she’d have to become the European champion, and I don’t think there’s a person alive today who believes she can pull that off. I’m just too good. And she’s still just a turd, floating a hair above the rest of the droppings in the Monday Madness toilet bowl.
Samuels lifts his title belt and drapes it over his shoulder. He pats it a few times as the camera fades out to blackness.