Post by "The Geriatric One" on Oct 16, 2010 20:17:25 GMT -6
(Hawthorne walks up to a door and knocks. His grandson Rory is with him. Hawthorne's son Horatio comes to the door.)
HORATIO: It's about time. We agreed you would only keep him till the end of the summer. His senior year of school started a month and a half ago.
HAWTHORNE: Nag, nag, nag. Don't get your panties in a bunch son. Mission accomplished. The boy is finally acting like a man.
HORATIO: Really, are you sure he isn't just faking it.
HAWTHORNE: See for yourself. Rory my boy, do you believe that driving a hummer pollutes the atmosphere?
RORY: That's the gayest thing I've ever heard.
HAWTHORNE: Did you know that calling something gay is now considered to be discrimination.
RORY: That's even gayer than the other thing you said.
HAWTHORNE: Did you know that gayer isn't a proper word?
RORY: Stuff it Grandpa!
(Rory goes into his house and slams the door to his bedroom. He starts blasting loud rock music.)
HORATIO: I don't believe it. It's like he's a whole new person. How did you do it? How did you man him up?
HAWTHORNE: Well, it was just after my match with Dr. Kazu... Kage... Kobayashi. I was annoyed with myself for losing, and annoyed with him for being such a pansy. As I was resigning myself to the fact that the boy was likely to end up being a huge disappointment like you, He was watching a Dawson's Creek marathon and singing along with the theme song when suddenly a miracle happened.
HORATIO: What miracle?
HAWTHORNE: His voice changed.
HORATIO: You mean...
HAWTHORNE: That's right, he finally hit puberty.
HORATIO: But, he's 17 years old.
HAWTHORNE: I guess he was just a late bloomer. The important thing is, he was cured.
HORATIO: That's wonderful, but it still doesn't explain why you didn't have him back earlier. The match you're talking about was over a month ago.
HAWTHORNE: Yes, well about that, after puberty hit he suddenly had an interest in all the activities that I tried that failed to man him up. The strip clubs, the drinking binges, the blow up movies, and the bar fights. I'll have you know your son has one of the best right hooks I've ever seen.
HORATIO: Well, I guess the important thing is that he's safe and healthy.
HAWTHORNE: Well, safe yes, but you may want to get him checked out by a doctor. We went to Singapore and I fell asleep for awhile. When I woke up he was returning from a stroll in their red light district.
HORATIO: Say what?
HAWTHORNE: Gotta go!
(Hawthorne cheeses it down the street. He hops in a car and drives for a little while. He stops the car and pulls over.)
HAWTHORNE: Another happy ending to a Waylon Hawthorne story. Everything wrapped up in a neat little package. Now all I have left to do is make some comments about my upcoming match... but where's the context. Where's the sidekick to provide some witty banter with. Can it be... could it be... Am I out of ideas?
(Hawthorne scratches his head. He looks around and sees Travis Malloy approaching the car.)
TRAVIS: Hey, I've got an idea, why don't we go from city to city with me calling you grandpa.
HAWTHORNE: Nah, it's been done.
TRAVIS: Hmmm... well how about we go from city to city and you try to find ways to man me up.
HAWTHORNE: Nah, it's been done too. Besides, it would be easier to man up Ru Paul than to man you up.
TRAVIS: Well, then I guess I'm out of ideas. So, what are you going to do?
HAWTHORNE: The only thing left. I must sink to the lowest common denominator. I must sink to the lowest level of promo entertainment.
TRAVIS: You don't mean...
HAWTHORNE: Yes Travis, I do mean.
TRAVIS: But, maybe we could.
HAWTHORNE: No Travis, I've already made up mind. It's time for me to cut..... AN IN RING PROMO.
TRAVIS: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
(The scene cuts to a packed SWA arena. The Last Saskatchewan Pirate plays and Waylon Hawthorne makes his way to the ring. He steps into the ring and grabs a mic.)
HAWTHORNE: Turn that darn racket off I can barely hear myself think dagnabbit.
(The music abruptly cuts off.)
HAWTHORNE: That's better. Now onto business. I don't often do this sort of thing for two reasons, 1- I don't much care for any of you people, and 2- uhhh.... I forget. But I assure you it was a good and valid reason. The last time I cut a genuine in ring promo was back in 1977. That darn Bobo Brazil was talking smack about me and I came out to give him a verbal licking that would keep on ticking. Unfortunately he decided that he didn't like that and spent the next three minutes beating me down, but that's not the point. The point is.... I forget that to.
(The fans all look incredibly confused. Hawthorne looks even more confused than they.)
HAWTHORN: Dang it. That was a really great story, and it had a great lesson to go along with. Oh well, on to more pertinent matters. It seems old man Hawthorne has finally gotten a big shot. Finally their giving the old man the old heave ho to the top. I get to face our straight of the boat SWA Champion, and our Schnauzer loving financial advisor CHIP PEKURNY!
(The fans boo at the mention of Chip Pekurny)
HAWTHORNE: Enough with the racket already. Darn kids. This hearing aid only has two settings, loud and louder. So keep the decible level down.
(The fans now laugh at Hawthorne.)
HAWTHORNE: That's it, don't you little brats make me take off my belt.
(Hawthorne reaches for his belt, but soon realizes he's not wearing one. In fact he's not wearing pants at all. He realizes that the whole crowd is seeing his skidmarked boxer shorts.)
HAWTHORNE: Dang gummit, not again. Anyways back to the match coming up. I for one am tired of sitting back and watching guys like these ruin the business I love. First we have this Phillipiano jumping bean carrying the SWA title. Back in my day a championship meant something. It meant that you were the best, not the most lucky, not the one who could jump the highest, and certainly not the one who mangled the english language. In fact back in my day if we wanted a wrestler to be Chinesse we would stick a mask on some white guy from Detroit and call him Chang. Now we've got these immigrants carrying our titles. Oh how I long for the days of the great Buddy Rodgers, and Lou Thesz.
(Most fans have drifted off by now. Some of the immigrant fans look angry, and a couple of rednecks with mullets in the back are cheering Hawthorne on.)
HAWTHORNE: And as for Mr. Chips, he needs to get his sorry keister back to the ivy leagues and leave the wrestling to men like me. Pencil pushers like you should stay in the back and help me find ways to cheat the government out of all the taxes I have to pay. I’m gonna whoop that sweater vest wearing beurecrat back to Stanford. That’s all I’ve got. It’s late, I’m tired, I’m cranky, and the bengays starting to wear off. So I’m going to leave now. All I ask is that if someone finds my trousers please return them to the nearest security guard, I’m starting to feel a bit of a draft.
(Hawthorne walks down the aisle to little fanfare in all his skidmarked glory.)
HORATIO: It's about time. We agreed you would only keep him till the end of the summer. His senior year of school started a month and a half ago.
HAWTHORNE: Nag, nag, nag. Don't get your panties in a bunch son. Mission accomplished. The boy is finally acting like a man.
HORATIO: Really, are you sure he isn't just faking it.
HAWTHORNE: See for yourself. Rory my boy, do you believe that driving a hummer pollutes the atmosphere?
RORY: That's the gayest thing I've ever heard.
HAWTHORNE: Did you know that calling something gay is now considered to be discrimination.
RORY: That's even gayer than the other thing you said.
HAWTHORNE: Did you know that gayer isn't a proper word?
RORY: Stuff it Grandpa!
(Rory goes into his house and slams the door to his bedroom. He starts blasting loud rock music.)
HORATIO: I don't believe it. It's like he's a whole new person. How did you do it? How did you man him up?
HAWTHORNE: Well, it was just after my match with Dr. Kazu... Kage... Kobayashi. I was annoyed with myself for losing, and annoyed with him for being such a pansy. As I was resigning myself to the fact that the boy was likely to end up being a huge disappointment like you, He was watching a Dawson's Creek marathon and singing along with the theme song when suddenly a miracle happened.
HORATIO: What miracle?
HAWTHORNE: His voice changed.
HORATIO: You mean...
HAWTHORNE: That's right, he finally hit puberty.
HORATIO: But, he's 17 years old.
HAWTHORNE: I guess he was just a late bloomer. The important thing is, he was cured.
HORATIO: That's wonderful, but it still doesn't explain why you didn't have him back earlier. The match you're talking about was over a month ago.
HAWTHORNE: Yes, well about that, after puberty hit he suddenly had an interest in all the activities that I tried that failed to man him up. The strip clubs, the drinking binges, the blow up movies, and the bar fights. I'll have you know your son has one of the best right hooks I've ever seen.
HORATIO: Well, I guess the important thing is that he's safe and healthy.
HAWTHORNE: Well, safe yes, but you may want to get him checked out by a doctor. We went to Singapore and I fell asleep for awhile. When I woke up he was returning from a stroll in their red light district.
HORATIO: Say what?
HAWTHORNE: Gotta go!
(Hawthorne cheeses it down the street. He hops in a car and drives for a little while. He stops the car and pulls over.)
HAWTHORNE: Another happy ending to a Waylon Hawthorne story. Everything wrapped up in a neat little package. Now all I have left to do is make some comments about my upcoming match... but where's the context. Where's the sidekick to provide some witty banter with. Can it be... could it be... Am I out of ideas?
(Hawthorne scratches his head. He looks around and sees Travis Malloy approaching the car.)
TRAVIS: Hey, I've got an idea, why don't we go from city to city with me calling you grandpa.
HAWTHORNE: Nah, it's been done.
TRAVIS: Hmmm... well how about we go from city to city and you try to find ways to man me up.
HAWTHORNE: Nah, it's been done too. Besides, it would be easier to man up Ru Paul than to man you up.
TRAVIS: Well, then I guess I'm out of ideas. So, what are you going to do?
HAWTHORNE: The only thing left. I must sink to the lowest common denominator. I must sink to the lowest level of promo entertainment.
TRAVIS: You don't mean...
HAWTHORNE: Yes Travis, I do mean.
TRAVIS: But, maybe we could.
HAWTHORNE: No Travis, I've already made up mind. It's time for me to cut..... AN IN RING PROMO.
TRAVIS: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
(The scene cuts to a packed SWA arena. The Last Saskatchewan Pirate plays and Waylon Hawthorne makes his way to the ring. He steps into the ring and grabs a mic.)
HAWTHORNE: Turn that darn racket off I can barely hear myself think dagnabbit.
(The music abruptly cuts off.)
HAWTHORNE: That's better. Now onto business. I don't often do this sort of thing for two reasons, 1- I don't much care for any of you people, and 2- uhhh.... I forget. But I assure you it was a good and valid reason. The last time I cut a genuine in ring promo was back in 1977. That darn Bobo Brazil was talking smack about me and I came out to give him a verbal licking that would keep on ticking. Unfortunately he decided that he didn't like that and spent the next three minutes beating me down, but that's not the point. The point is.... I forget that to.
(The fans all look incredibly confused. Hawthorne looks even more confused than they.)
HAWTHORN: Dang it. That was a really great story, and it had a great lesson to go along with. Oh well, on to more pertinent matters. It seems old man Hawthorne has finally gotten a big shot. Finally their giving the old man the old heave ho to the top. I get to face our straight of the boat SWA Champion, and our Schnauzer loving financial advisor CHIP PEKURNY!
(The fans boo at the mention of Chip Pekurny)
HAWTHORNE: Enough with the racket already. Darn kids. This hearing aid only has two settings, loud and louder. So keep the decible level down.
(The fans now laugh at Hawthorne.)
HAWTHORNE: That's it, don't you little brats make me take off my belt.
(Hawthorne reaches for his belt, but soon realizes he's not wearing one. In fact he's not wearing pants at all. He realizes that the whole crowd is seeing his skidmarked boxer shorts.)
HAWTHORNE: Dang gummit, not again. Anyways back to the match coming up. I for one am tired of sitting back and watching guys like these ruin the business I love. First we have this Phillipiano jumping bean carrying the SWA title. Back in my day a championship meant something. It meant that you were the best, not the most lucky, not the one who could jump the highest, and certainly not the one who mangled the english language. In fact back in my day if we wanted a wrestler to be Chinesse we would stick a mask on some white guy from Detroit and call him Chang. Now we've got these immigrants carrying our titles. Oh how I long for the days of the great Buddy Rodgers, and Lou Thesz.
(Most fans have drifted off by now. Some of the immigrant fans look angry, and a couple of rednecks with mullets in the back are cheering Hawthorne on.)
HAWTHORNE: And as for Mr. Chips, he needs to get his sorry keister back to the ivy leagues and leave the wrestling to men like me. Pencil pushers like you should stay in the back and help me find ways to cheat the government out of all the taxes I have to pay. I’m gonna whoop that sweater vest wearing beurecrat back to Stanford. That’s all I’ve got. It’s late, I’m tired, I’m cranky, and the bengays starting to wear off. So I’m going to leave now. All I ask is that if someone finds my trousers please return them to the nearest security guard, I’m starting to feel a bit of a draft.
(Hawthorne walks down the aisle to little fanfare in all his skidmarked glory.)
