Post by "The Geriatric One" on May 28, 2010 19:08:37 GMT -6
(The two men in white coats burst through the doors of Nurse Cratchett’s office. Nurse Cratchett is sitting at his desk. The men in white coats drag a man with a hood over his head. They sit the blinded man down and pull the hood off his head. The man is none other than Travis Malloy. He is unconscious. Nurse Cratchett’s face lights up.)
CRATCHETT: You caught the bodyguard.
WHITE COAT #1: Actually, he’s not a bodyguard. He’s just a preppy mama’s boy in need of a strong father, or in this case grandfather figure.
WHITE COAT #2: He’s an interviewer for that wrestling organization the old man is working for.
CRATCHETT: You guys told me that he was a genius. You said that he was the most brilliant mind you had ever encountered.
WHITE COAT #2: No, he’s actually one of the dumbest. We found him walking down the street and told him if he got in our van we’d give him ice cream. The idiot fell for it.
CRATCHETT: Then how did he keep us from getting to the old man?
(One of the men holds up Travis’ lucky rabbit’s foot.)
WHITE COAT #1: Freak luck.
CRATCHETT: Now that the old man has been separated from this lucky fool, he should be easy to nab.
WHITE COAT #2: I agree. The SWA has a house show in Yorkton tonight. We were just going to head out there and take him.
CRATCHETT: Negative. These last few weeks have shown me that you imbeciles are good for nothing. You have been on the losing end of a battle with an old man, and a preppy mama’s boy. I have now realized that I should never send a boy to do a nurse’s job. I will go to Yorkton myself and snatch the old man. Prepare his room, I have a feeling he’s going to be in need of some shock therapy.
WHITE COAT #1: What do you want us to do with the preppy?
CRATCHETT: I have no use for him. Just toss him in a ditch somewhere.
(“Geriatric” Waylon Hawthorne walks in the back door of an arena in the great city of Yorkton, Saskatchewan. He seems very nervous. He walks up to Ring announcer Virgil.)
HAWTHORNE: Hey, have you seen Travis Malloy anywhere?
VIRGIL: No, but for $25 you can have this t-shirt of me standing next to Travis Malloy.
HAWTHORNE: I’ll pass. Are you sure you haven’t seen him. I could really use him right now. We’re only a few hours away from Moose Jaw.
VIRGIL: Sorry, I only talk to paying customers.
(Cratchett walks up behind Hawthorne. Hawthorne feels the sudden darkness as Cratchett’s muscular frame casts a shadow over him. Hawthorne turns around slowly and his eyes bug out as he sees Cratchett behind him.)
CRATCHETT: Hello Mr. Hawthorne. It’s been a long time.
HAWTHORNE: Hey look, it’s the Goodyear blimp.
CRATCHETT: I wasn’t born yesterday Mr. Hawthorne.
HAWTHORNE: Oh yeah, well…
(Hawthorne kicks his foot and hits Cratchett in the groin. Cratchett doubles over and Hawthorne bolts. Cratchett regains his footing and chases after him. Hawthorne makes his way out to the ring. In the ring are two local jobbers putting on a terrible show. The fans cheer as Hawthorne comes out. The two jobbers seem irritated that he has interrupted their match. Cratchett runs out and slides into the ring.)
CRATCHETT: You won’t escape me this time old man.
HAWTHORNE: Who says I’m trying to escape.
(Hawthorne picks up one of the bobbers in a Gorilla Press and tosses him at Cratchett. Cratchett catches the jobber, but Hawthorne whips the other Jobber at him and knocks him down to the gorund. Hawthorne jumps on top of Cratchett and starts to pummel him with hard punches to the head. Cratchett starts crying like a little girl.)
CRATCHETT: UNCLE! UNCLE!
HAWTHORNE: Are you going to leave me alone?
CRATCHETT: YES!
(Hawthorne gets off him.)
HAWTHORNE: Get out of my ring you little brat.
(Cratchett runs out of the ring with an embarrassed look on his face. Hawthorne picks up a microphone as the crowd cheers.)
HAWTHORNE: Let that be a lesson to all you young punks. I may be old, but I’m still young enough to whoop anyone who stands in my way. Speaking of young punks, I have a few words to say to my opponent this week. This week I am squaring off against that Sedition brat Gabreal Martin. The best part is, we’ll be on my home turf. Yes I know that Regina is not my home, but I did stay in a retirement home in Regina for a few weeks before they transferred me to Moose Jaw. So I guess you could say that it will be a homecoming for me. No one knows how to brawl in a retirement home like me. So that little whiny brat is gonna get a lesson from the Geriatric One himself. I’m gonna turn that little crybaby over my knee and give him a spanking the likes of which he’s never felt before, cause I’ve got a hankerin’ for some spankerin’.
(The fans cheer and start a Gabe sucks chant.)
HAWTHORNE: Back in my day we didn’t disrespect our elders the way you have been disrespecting me. In fact back in my day, if I spoke to an elder the way you have spoken about me they would have taken off their belts and given me a welt that wouldn’t go away for weeks. You dare to call me Mr. Assisted Living, well I’ll have you know that I was only on assisted living for a brief period in 2008, and it’s a darn good thing that they didn’t pull the plug cause I’m still kickin’ it old school. As for your idea for defeating me, I’ll have you know that I drink prune juice every morning, and I already have the whole Matlock collection so once again, your idea is flawed. This is one match that you won’t be able to cower your way out of. You can run, but you can’t hide. I’m going to get my hands on you and get jiggy with it in a geriatric fashion all over your face. Then I’m gonna dance the Charleston over your unconscious body to the sounds of Minnie and The Moochers.
(The fans scratch their heads at the mention of Minnie The Moochers.)
HAWTHORNE: If you think this is going to be a cakewalk for you, then think again my friend. When we stand toe to toe in that Regina Retirement Home, I’m going to slap that stupid grin off of your stupid face. When I’m through giving you a lickin’ that keeps on tickin’ you won’t have any time to think about your World Championship aspirations. The only thing that will be on your mind is early retirement. So watch closely fans. At the next Fever The Geriatric One, is going to turn The Chosen One, into the Crippled One.
(Hawthorne drops the mic and exits to the cheers of the fans. He walks backstage and finds Malloy entering the arena holding his head.)
HAWTHORNE: What happened to you?
MALLOY: I don’t know, someone offered me ice cream, and the next thing I remember is lying in a ditch in Moose Jaw.
HAWTHORNE: Huh, well tough luck. See you later.
MALLOY: Hey wait, I thought we were gonna hang out tonight.
HAWTHORNE: Sorry Travis, you’ve worn out your usefulness.
MALLOY: My mother tells me that everyday. So does this mean I can’t call you Grandpa anymore?
HAWTHORNE: You can call me whatever you want.
MALLOY: So I can still call you Grandpa?
HAWTHORNE: Absolutely, as long as you don’t mind getting whacked with my belt.
(Hawthorne takes off his belt and chases after Malloy. Malloy screams like a girl as he runs from the cranky old man.)
CRATCHETT: You caught the bodyguard.
WHITE COAT #1: Actually, he’s not a bodyguard. He’s just a preppy mama’s boy in need of a strong father, or in this case grandfather figure.
WHITE COAT #2: He’s an interviewer for that wrestling organization the old man is working for.
CRATCHETT: You guys told me that he was a genius. You said that he was the most brilliant mind you had ever encountered.
WHITE COAT #2: No, he’s actually one of the dumbest. We found him walking down the street and told him if he got in our van we’d give him ice cream. The idiot fell for it.
CRATCHETT: Then how did he keep us from getting to the old man?
(One of the men holds up Travis’ lucky rabbit’s foot.)
WHITE COAT #1: Freak luck.
CRATCHETT: Now that the old man has been separated from this lucky fool, he should be easy to nab.
WHITE COAT #2: I agree. The SWA has a house show in Yorkton tonight. We were just going to head out there and take him.
CRATCHETT: Negative. These last few weeks have shown me that you imbeciles are good for nothing. You have been on the losing end of a battle with an old man, and a preppy mama’s boy. I have now realized that I should never send a boy to do a nurse’s job. I will go to Yorkton myself and snatch the old man. Prepare his room, I have a feeling he’s going to be in need of some shock therapy.
WHITE COAT #1: What do you want us to do with the preppy?
CRATCHETT: I have no use for him. Just toss him in a ditch somewhere.
(“Geriatric” Waylon Hawthorne walks in the back door of an arena in the great city of Yorkton, Saskatchewan. He seems very nervous. He walks up to Ring announcer Virgil.)
HAWTHORNE: Hey, have you seen Travis Malloy anywhere?
VIRGIL: No, but for $25 you can have this t-shirt of me standing next to Travis Malloy.
HAWTHORNE: I’ll pass. Are you sure you haven’t seen him. I could really use him right now. We’re only a few hours away from Moose Jaw.
VIRGIL: Sorry, I only talk to paying customers.
(Cratchett walks up behind Hawthorne. Hawthorne feels the sudden darkness as Cratchett’s muscular frame casts a shadow over him. Hawthorne turns around slowly and his eyes bug out as he sees Cratchett behind him.)
CRATCHETT: Hello Mr. Hawthorne. It’s been a long time.
HAWTHORNE: Hey look, it’s the Goodyear blimp.
CRATCHETT: I wasn’t born yesterday Mr. Hawthorne.
HAWTHORNE: Oh yeah, well…
(Hawthorne kicks his foot and hits Cratchett in the groin. Cratchett doubles over and Hawthorne bolts. Cratchett regains his footing and chases after him. Hawthorne makes his way out to the ring. In the ring are two local jobbers putting on a terrible show. The fans cheer as Hawthorne comes out. The two jobbers seem irritated that he has interrupted their match. Cratchett runs out and slides into the ring.)
CRATCHETT: You won’t escape me this time old man.
HAWTHORNE: Who says I’m trying to escape.
(Hawthorne picks up one of the bobbers in a Gorilla Press and tosses him at Cratchett. Cratchett catches the jobber, but Hawthorne whips the other Jobber at him and knocks him down to the gorund. Hawthorne jumps on top of Cratchett and starts to pummel him with hard punches to the head. Cratchett starts crying like a little girl.)
CRATCHETT: UNCLE! UNCLE!
HAWTHORNE: Are you going to leave me alone?
CRATCHETT: YES!
(Hawthorne gets off him.)
HAWTHORNE: Get out of my ring you little brat.
(Cratchett runs out of the ring with an embarrassed look on his face. Hawthorne picks up a microphone as the crowd cheers.)
HAWTHORNE: Let that be a lesson to all you young punks. I may be old, but I’m still young enough to whoop anyone who stands in my way. Speaking of young punks, I have a few words to say to my opponent this week. This week I am squaring off against that Sedition brat Gabreal Martin. The best part is, we’ll be on my home turf. Yes I know that Regina is not my home, but I did stay in a retirement home in Regina for a few weeks before they transferred me to Moose Jaw. So I guess you could say that it will be a homecoming for me. No one knows how to brawl in a retirement home like me. So that little whiny brat is gonna get a lesson from the Geriatric One himself. I’m gonna turn that little crybaby over my knee and give him a spanking the likes of which he’s never felt before, cause I’ve got a hankerin’ for some spankerin’.
(The fans cheer and start a Gabe sucks chant.)
HAWTHORNE: Back in my day we didn’t disrespect our elders the way you have been disrespecting me. In fact back in my day, if I spoke to an elder the way you have spoken about me they would have taken off their belts and given me a welt that wouldn’t go away for weeks. You dare to call me Mr. Assisted Living, well I’ll have you know that I was only on assisted living for a brief period in 2008, and it’s a darn good thing that they didn’t pull the plug cause I’m still kickin’ it old school. As for your idea for defeating me, I’ll have you know that I drink prune juice every morning, and I already have the whole Matlock collection so once again, your idea is flawed. This is one match that you won’t be able to cower your way out of. You can run, but you can’t hide. I’m going to get my hands on you and get jiggy with it in a geriatric fashion all over your face. Then I’m gonna dance the Charleston over your unconscious body to the sounds of Minnie and The Moochers.
(The fans scratch their heads at the mention of Minnie The Moochers.)
HAWTHORNE: If you think this is going to be a cakewalk for you, then think again my friend. When we stand toe to toe in that Regina Retirement Home, I’m going to slap that stupid grin off of your stupid face. When I’m through giving you a lickin’ that keeps on tickin’ you won’t have any time to think about your World Championship aspirations. The only thing that will be on your mind is early retirement. So watch closely fans. At the next Fever The Geriatric One, is going to turn The Chosen One, into the Crippled One.
(Hawthorne drops the mic and exits to the cheers of the fans. He walks backstage and finds Malloy entering the arena holding his head.)
HAWTHORNE: What happened to you?
MALLOY: I don’t know, someone offered me ice cream, and the next thing I remember is lying in a ditch in Moose Jaw.
HAWTHORNE: Huh, well tough luck. See you later.
MALLOY: Hey wait, I thought we were gonna hang out tonight.
HAWTHORNE: Sorry Travis, you’ve worn out your usefulness.
MALLOY: My mother tells me that everyday. So does this mean I can’t call you Grandpa anymore?
HAWTHORNE: You can call me whatever you want.
MALLOY: So I can still call you Grandpa?
HAWTHORNE: Absolutely, as long as you don’t mind getting whacked with my belt.
(Hawthorne takes off his belt and chases after Malloy. Malloy screams like a girl as he runs from the cranky old man.)
