We fade in to a lovely courtyard-style backyard behind the house of Trevor Lord. Stone walkways weave between hedges and other plants, including over a dozen hedges trimmed into statues...of who? The faces aren't finished. They're blank, emotionless. Curious. At the base of one statue on the corner end of one row, adjacent to an immaculate blue pool, Trevor stands with a pair of hedge clippers. A can of red paint sits, open, at his feet. Curiouser.


Time: 8:55 AM

Floyd is standing off to the side watching our hero(is that too self-indulgent) with not quite keen interest. The impression Floyd seems to have is he doesn't know what in the hell to make of this man, Trevor. Floyd, ever the classy gentleman, scratches his ass while Trevor snips at the face of this flora-based statue with his clippers. He's still wearing his padded armor suit. Naturally.


"I'm almost finished."

"Uh, who is it supposed to be?"

"An artist can't compromise his vision by spoiling it before completion, dear boy."


Floyd looks back at the camera, shrugs, and begins fumbling around in one of his pockets. A few seconds later he retrieves something in his hand, something small and white. The camera zooms in on his hand as he begins to unwrap...a candy bar. A Baby Ruth. The voice behind the camera speaks up.


"You going to share any of that?"


Floyd stops the candy bar just short of his mouth.


"I didn't have breakfast."


Floyd takes a big bite out of the candy bar. The camera pans back over to Trevor who appears to be putting the finishing touches on his project.


"And...there...we......go."


He stops to admire it. Floyd and the POV of the camera both stretch to get a view but Trevor is still perched on the stepladder, his head blocking the view. He grabs a bunch of wadded up cloth, a tarp of some kind, off the top of the ladder and throws it over the statue's head. He turns around and looks down at the camera, smiling.


"I just had to get that done before we could start. Now, Lloyd-"

"Floyd. You know it's Floyd."

"Let's have a little fun now. En guard!"


Minutes later...

Floyd is suited up and ready for action. Sort of. He looks a little uncomfortable in the fencing outfit; it's a tight fit for a guy who takes his share of booze, beer and grub and passes on the exercise.


"Floyd, you're lucky that I still have my ex's fencing gear. She was a nice girl; the meat loaf incident was very tragic. It's not something I really like to think about before practicing my sword fighting skills. It gets me upset. I think of activities like this as something to clear the mind and relieve stress. A form of meditation. This...this gets me all worked up."

"Trevor...sir, I'm sorry I-"

"No, no, don't worry about it. If I'm going to come into the XWF and fully express myself like I intend, I suppose I need to get in an aggressive state of mind."

"Aggressive?" (gulps)

"En guard!"


Trevor lunges in and Floyd barely manages to avoid being stuck in the ribs.


"You see, I'm somewhat OCD, guys. Everything I do I'm obsessive about. I zero on it with this tunnel vision, and I have to become the expert. And when I set forth a goal, like dominating the XWF, I am obsessively thorough. I began wrestling against the wish of people in my family a few years ago." (swipe)


Floyd yelps as he gets stuck in the thigh.


"I've wrestled here all over my home state, toured the American West, wrestled in Canada, Mexico -- even went on tour to Japan once. Whether it's painting, sculpting, martial arts, cage fighting or pro wrestling I am a master of my medium. When I sculpt I work with clay-"


Trevor sticks Floyd in the shoulder.


"When I paint I work in oils-"


Trevor sticks Floyd, again, in the arm.


"When I write I like to work in prose." (stabs Floyd in the gut)


"Dammit, Trevor!"


"What's the matter with you?"


"I'm not your f&^*ing gimp! Okay?? F%^&. I have been patient with you the entire morning that I've been here. I've nodded and smiled, I put on this stupid damn monkey suit, and now I've stood here and listen to you while you stuck with me a damn sword. I'm happy to get paid to be your manager but could you not use me as a pin cushion!?"


Trevor casually rests his rapier over his shoulder and stares at Floyd for a long moment. Floyd's look of hard resolve begins to falter, and he shuffles on his feet uncomfortably.


"Trevor, look, I'm just-"


Trevor interrupts Floyd by bursting into laughter. He points at Floyd as if to say, "you're a funny f---ing guy!". He actually doubles over laughing. We hear a nervous giggle from behind the camera, as Floyd looks over at the camera, perplexed, then back to Trevor. Trevor stands back up straight and tries to regain his composure.


"Hmmm. You know, Jim Bob, (slaps Floyd on the back) I think you're going to be a lot more stimulating to be around than I thought. Let's stay friends, alright?"


Trevor extends his hand. Floyd looks down at it, a bit scared, a bit reluctant, but he goes ahead and shakes the weirdo's hand anyway.


(sulking)"Did you really have to throw the other half of my Baby Ruth away?"


"You don't need that crap. Besides, if you wanna add more acreage to that gut of yours' I could just take you out for a fresh Cannoli. It's time for you, my friend, to get going. I have some business to attend to so I can start preparing for my debut. Oh, there is one last thing though. My other medium."

(reluctant)"Which is...?"


Trevor walks over to the covered statue, pauses, then dramatically rips away the tarp revealing...the King of XWF. Glancing around, it becomes clear to Floyd that all of the other "statues" are meant to be wrestlers as well. He looks more than a little uncomfortable after everything that has happened. Who wouldn't be? This guy is Looney Tunes. Trevor picks up the can of red paint in his arms, and turns on his heels back toward the camera and a slightly frightened Floyd.


"My other medium-"


He suddenly HURLS the entire bucket of red paint onto the green hedge statue. The red oozes down the side of it's head in little rivulets. Trevor looks back to the camera with a ghoulish grin.


"Blood. Now, get out. I have to meditate. In a few days, it will be time for the massacre to begin. The biggest set piece of my career. You can see yourselves out."


Floyd gives the camera one last look, then bolts for the backdoor back into the house. The camera follows him, stops, turns toward Trevor as if to make sure he's not going to attack. Trevor has already dropped to the ground and is performing one handed pushups over the pool of "blood" forming at the base of the statue. The camera pans over to the swimming pool...and zooms in on the half-eaten Baby Ruth floating in it. Fade to black.





...has begun.