X-treme Wrestling Federation
EP 001: "Humblest Beginnings" - Printable Version

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EP 001: "Humblest Beginnings" - James Allen - 08-04-2016

Scene one: Wake-up Call

The obnoxious chirping of a ringing cell-phone is the first sound viewers hear as the scene fades in from black to a bird's eye view shot of a spacious, though sparsely decorated and thoroughly ravaged bedroom. Shards of glass and broken picture frames line the floor along with stained clothing, coat hangers, and the shattered debris of what once was a lamp. The figure lying in the double bed in the room's center recoils, pulling the comforter above their head as they try to block out both the ringing and the sunlight leaking in from the cracked window. The figure groans loudly, then pulls the covers down, revealing his face in all its disheveled glory. He slaps the nightstand by him a few times before grabbing his cell phone and answering it.

Cut to the office of Michael Goldblum - James Allen's agent. The office itself is a marvel of corporate chic - clean and sterile and certainly nondescript. His desk however, is a different story entirely. Papers strewn across the desk underneath leaking ink pens. A desktop computer displaying a web-browser with thirty-seven tabs open. A single framed photograph - a dream of individuality in a sea of conformist corporatism - lying face down. Michael swivels away from the one spot of chaos and looks down at his hand - maintaining an uncomfortably long glance at the conspicuous tan line on his left hand's ring finger.

Michael Goldblum: "Please tell me you're not drunk."

Cut back to James Allen's estate, where Mr. Allen is seated on the bed, legs dangling over the edge. His groggy body is clad only in a pair of plaid boxers and an expression halfway between bemused and frustrated is stuck on his face as he slurs into the phone's receiver.

James Allen: "Not yet."

James hops off the bed and stumbles through the mess of debris, his free hand pressed against his temple. His entire sense of balance seems one wrong step away from betraying him as he makes his way through the wasteland of a bedroom and towards the door leading into the master bathroom: a veritable oasis of dull gray linoleum tiles and marble countertops.

Michael Goldblum: "Please tell me you're not getting drunk."

James places the cell phone on the counter by the sink before pressing the speaker button and reaching for an almost empty bottle of mouthwash.

James Allen: "Not yet."

He unscrews the mouthwash cap and drains the bottle into his mouth, swishing the aggressively-minty concoction around before spitting it into the basin.

James Allen: "Come on Mikey, you know me."

Michael Goldblum: "I do."

James Allen: "Don't be like that! You know just as well as I do that when it comes to business, I am a rock. Never rattled."

Michael Goldblum: "Right, like the time you showed up hammered to your Stranger Things audition."

James Allen: "The result of a scheduling conflict."

Michael Goldblum: "Scheduling conflict?"

James Allen: "You know Thursday is my day-drinking day!"

Michael Goldblum: "I thought that was every day."

James Allen: "No; every day is my drink myself to sleep while crying day. Thursdays are my day-drinking days. Get it together. Besides, I'm too pretty to play a hardened, small-town cop anyway. That'd just be poor casting."

Michael Goldblum: "Riiiiiight. You have a ride to the interview, right? Can't have you out there getting in trouble with your suspended license."

James Allen: "Yeah, that's taken care of. BC is giving me a ride."


James inspects himself in the mirror - making kissy-faces like a teenage girl taking a selfie.

James Allen (under his breath): "I'd fuck me."

Michael Goldblum: "I can hear you."

James lets out an over exaggerated gasp before flailing at his phone, knocking it into the basin.

James Allen: "Invasion of privacy much?"

Back in Michael's office, he squints down at the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Michael Goldblum: "You're not letting that hippie drive you anywhere near Sayors."

James Allen: "He's fine. Best driver I ever met."

Michael Goldblum: "That's reassuring. Is he going to hit any old ladies this time?"

James Allen: "That was a one-time thing!"

Michael Goldblum: "Forget it. I'm sending a driver. Just, don't do anything stupid."

James Allen: "I'll be fine. Tell Cindy I said hi!"

The line goes dead and Michael Goldblum is left alone in his office once more, the faint sound of hustle and bustle just outside the door seeming much louder now as he searches through his cell phone's contacts for one of the few taxi services that would still do business with his moronic client.

He tries not to afford any thought to Allen's closing remark and the tan line on his ring finger as he works.

He fails.

Scene two: Rocky Montage
20 hours earlier

The first sound viewers hear, before the scene fades in from black is the sound of James Allen screaming at the top of his lungs, followed by a crash. The scene fades in on a hastily constructed professional wrestling ring in the middle of a run-down gym. Graffiti covers the walls, and a thick layer of muck and grime seems to encompass every square inch of the building. James, visibly disgusted by his surroundings, pulls himself up to his feet with aid of the ring ropes. He looks down at the canvas, stained yellow, and then over to someone standing just off screen, wiping off his tights.

James Allen: "Couldn't have taken me anywhere rougher?"

A deep chuckle can be heard from off-screen before a large hispanic men steps into view, dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and a ratty pair of Timberlands. The big man cracks his neck as he approaches James, before slapping him on the shoulder.

Hector Rodriguez: "This'll make a man out of you. Now try it again."

James hesitates for a moment, before throwing a weak looking punch that Hector grabs out of the air. He then pulls James in and hoists him before dropping him back to the piss-stained mat with a suplex. James rolls over, clutching his lower back and cursing under his breath.

Hector Rodriguez: "Not good enough. Try again."

James rolls over onto his knees before standing up and taking a second to steady himself. He shakes loose the cobwebs before hitting the ropes and charging head first at the bigger man, leaping off the ground and pulling his arm back.

Hector likewise pulls his arms back as James flies towards him, only to throw them forward again as James comes dangerously close to making contact, shoving him back and sending him flying through the air once again. James crashes to the mat once more, rolling through until he makes contact with the ropes and almost goes through them, winding up bent over the apron, body underneath the bottom rope.

After a few seconds of motionlessness, James stirs and pulls himself all-the-way back into the ring before rolling over onto his back, staring up at the flickering lightbulbs overhead.

James Allen: "This sucks. I quit."

Hector shakes his head as he offers his hand to his fallen employer.

Hector Rodriguez: "Nuh-uh. Not that easily."

James sighs as he reaches out and lets Hector pull him up to his feet.

James Allen: "I'm the one paying you, man. Let's get out of here."

Hector Rodriguez: "You also paid me to not let you give up after getting your ass kicked a couple times."

James pauses to ponder that thought for a moment.

James Allen: "That does sound like me. Damn me and my incredible genre savviness!"

Hector shakes his head dismissively, his face buried in his hand.

Hector Rodriguez: "Sure boss, let's go with that."

Hector, without saying another word kicks James right in the gut, doubling him over.

James Allen: "What the"

Before he can say any more, Hector lifts him up again with the greatest of ease and tosses him halfway across the ring once more. James skids across the mat and rolls over onto all fours, whimpering loudly.

James Allen: "Ow! DUDE! Am I bleeding? Is this how you get MRSA? Am I gonna die?"

James, of course, begins freaking the hell out. Throwing his arms all over the place and scampering around the ring like a chicken with its head cut off, squawking at the top of his lungs.

Hector Rodriguez: "You're fine man, get up. This is kind of embarrassing."

Hector drops to one knee to help his boss up for a second time, only this time James pops up and punches his subordinate in the throat. Hector clutches at his throat and falls to the mat, coughing and making feral, inhumane noises. James hops up to his feet, posing and celebrating like a jackass.

James Allen: "Yeah, I did it!"

James then notices Hector, still on the ground, struggling to breathe.

James Allen: "Come on man, no need to be a sore loser… oh shit."