The Usual Suspects [Session #1]

[Jerry]

Voice over Key: Marx; Tryon; Tiffany Lawrence Michaels

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What the f#$k am I doing here?

"Trust me," the old man says. "I'll make you a star, just follow my lead."

I don't have time for this bulls#$t. He's happy with wasting my time in this godforsaken regional territory when I could be showcasing my talents on bigger and brighter stages.

Good evening FGA, my name is Chris Tryon and I'm about to b#$ch-slap you across your face with my manhood to claim you as mine. Truth be told, I'm not really keen on this tag team thing we've got goin' on. Not only am I above floundering in a company where there's no national TV; I'm above my tag team partner as well. He just doesn't know that yet. The old man is just trying to hold on to anything he can to make sure he isn't just another obscure name turned pain-killer junky overdosing alone in some hotel room.

Don't fret - this show is going to be temporary once he realizes that he can't hack it anymore. Once I'm free to break out on my own, I will ascend to heights that people in this company could only dream about. This is going to be my stage to get noticed for bigger payouts, national television, and headlining Pay-Per-View. So I welcome you to watch my journey. It'll be a great ride.

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- Two days ago...

[We fade in to the scene of a relatively modest living area of an apartment in Miami, Florida. Panning around the room we see a 52 inch flat screen TV on a black stand displaying some type of video game. The camera traces the controller cord draped across a black leather ottoman with tiled white stitching. Still tracing, we're witnessed to a man sitting on a matching black leather sectional, dressed in a vintage Star Wars t-shirt plastered with the image of Luke Skywalker being stalked by Darth Vader from "Empire Strikes Back." His long brown hair is tied back so tight that not a single strand is out of place.]

Voice: Chriiiiiiiiisss... You said I could have a turn.

[Sitting to his left is a red-headed bombshell wearing a grey tank top and shorts. She has her knees pulled up to her chest, watching with relative excitement. Everything about her oozes sexiness, except for the slightly annoying shrill voice she speaks with.]

Tiffany: Heeeeeyyyy, I said it's my turn.

Tryon: In a minute...

Tiffany: *huffing* You're so selfish with your PS3. You always say "in a minute" or "next time!"

Tryon: You're bothering me. This is my relax time and I can't relax when you're sitting here whini---

[The sudden sound of an opening door breaks through their squabble as the camera shot swings to the right as a third member of the party announces his attendance.]

Man: We're in. Contract was just faxed over.

Tiffany: Oh!!! Let me see let me see.

[The annoying red-head runs over and snatches the contract our of Jason Marx's left hand with such force, he nearly stumbles. In his right hand, he's carrying a large suit bag over his shoulder with a "Brooks Brothers" logo on it. Tiffany struts over to her purse sitting on a counter top that splits the living area from the kitchen, reaches in and pulls out a pair of black reading glasses. Only there's no lenses... She likes to wear these when she wants people to think she's smart. She places the lens-less glasses on her faces and begins scanning through the contract. Tryon suddenly notices the bag slung over Marx's shoulder.]

Tryon: What's in the bag?

Marx: My new suit.

Tryon: Suit? What the f$%k do you need a suit for?

Marx: To make an impression. When you're an unknown commodity, it's all about the initial image.

Tryon: F-that.

Marx: Yours is almost ready to be picked up.

Tryon: Don't wear suits...

Marx: *sigh* Alright, then just what are you going to introduce yourself to the owner of the new company we just signed with in?

Tryon: *scanning the Star Wars shirt he's currently wearing* What's wrong with this?

Marx: Absolutely no---

[Marx is cut off by a loud and obnoxious shriek, which causes him to drop the suit bag on the floor as he and Tryon both cover their ears.]

Tiffany: *screaming* M&MS!!!

Marx: What?

Tiffany: I SAID M&MS!!!

Tryon: What about them?

Tiffany: I told you both that when we entered negotiations, I only had one request! I wanted our private area sealed off from the other smelly wrestlers that had a bowl with M&Ms!!!

Marx: You interrupted us for M&Ms?

Tiffany: BLUE M&Ms to be exact! I wanted all of the blue ones from the packages to be extracted from all of the other colors!!!

[Marx begins muttering under his breath. Something about "stupid dumb who---" before an idea comes to him.]

Marx: I took care of that.

Tiffany: Really?

Marx: Yes, it was all done verbally over the phone. FGA was so happy to have you as part of the package deal, they verbally agreed to make sure that you had freshly extracted blue M&Ms before each DVD taping.

Tiffany: *running up to Marx and squeezing him* OH! Thank you!!!!

[Tiffany skips off like a child on their way to the first house on Halloween. Marx looks over at Tryon with a look of disgust on his face.]

Tryon: She's gullible. What can I say?

[Fade out...]

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The kid's got talent, that's for sure. But he's raw and unpolished...

He reminds me of a younger and more unpredictable version of Case...

Damn - the resemblance is uncanny. I can't let him get lost in all of his own hype. He's good, damn good; but he's got no idea what he's in for. Whether he admits it or not, he's going to need me. It's what's best for him, I'm what's best for him. That skank that's hanging on to him has got to go at some point or another. She'll suck him dry.

Northeast - That's our destination. That part of the country is where I cut my teeth into the business, and if you want to be a big name one day, that's the only place to go. It's almost like a homecoming for me. My journey began 15 years ago in a small regional promotion based out of Long Island, the UEF. God it was violent - and fun. Back then I was tagging with my boy "Orion" and we were shredding the place up. Kicking asses and taking names ---

- SCREEEECH

BLAH BLAH BLAH!!! Nobody wants to hear from you about your "glory" days from nowhere! They all want to hear from me!!!

Your past is NOT what's important. Your "plans" with Chris is NOT what's important. The value exchange of Chinese currency is NOT what's important.

What's important is that I will be making my on screen debut at the next FGA DVD taping. White Plains, New York... Get ready to set your eyes on MEEE!!! I'm the star of "The Usual Suspects", Tiffany - Lawrence - Michaels!!!! 

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- Yesterday morning

[We fade in to the view of a most plain empty apartment. We can here the sound of keys trying to jiggle the door lock open and muffled arguments between 3 distinct voices. After about 30 seconds or so the lock finally clicks and the door opens up as the three members of the Usual Suspects step inside to look at their new living arrangements.]

Tryon: This is it???

Tiffany: *clasping her hands over her nose* It smells like cat-pee!

Tryon: It's New Jersey...

Marx: It's good enough for what we need! Anyway, it doesn't matter. We'll be spending most of our time on the road travelling to hotels.

Tiffany: Hiltons? The Marriot? Oh goodie!!!

Marx: Whatever is cheapest.

Tryon: Look, I don't mind roughing it for awhile - that's fine! What I do mind is this promotion you got us signed on with doesn't even have tag team titles! How the f#$k are we going to take the company by storm when there's not even a viable tag team division?

Marx: Whatever --- Look at it like this. We came at just the right time, the right moment. We're going to be here for the beginning of something big! It's only a matter of time before there's some type of set up with some tag team belts. We've got the chance to be a part of whatever that scene is and ---

Tiffany: The first tag team champions in FGA!

Tryon: Fine, but we're going to have to tap into the finances for some amenities here. If I'm going to be holed up in this s#$t-hole waiting for some tag team titles to be created then I need something to take up my free time.

Marx: You brought the PS3.

Tryon: No, iPad... I've been doing some research, and if we want to make a name for ourselves here than we gotta go big. We've got to keep the attention and the spotlight on us. We've got to get an official Twitter!

Marx: No.

Tryon: What do you mean no?

Marx: There are other matters that are more pressing right now.

Tiffany: .... No, he's right Jason, we need an iPad. Just think about all of the sexy pictures that I can upload of myself. We'll draw more followers than anybody ever dreamed of.

[Marx walks off in frustration to go back to the U-Haul to begin unloading with the two incessant members of the Suspects chasing after him complaining about an iPad. Hmmm... I don't think we've heard the end of this disagreement.]

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