The Usual Suspects [Session #2: The iPad Saga]
May 22, 2013 23:16:25 GMT -5
Post by Jerry on May 22, 2013 23:16:25 GMT -5
Voice over key: Marx; Tryon; Tiffany Lawrence Michaels
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
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- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
One place where I've got to give the kid credit is the undeniable lengths he is willing to go in order to accomplish his goals. No matter how frivolous they may be in overall scheme of things.
He figures me as an aging asshole. Maybe I am. He doesn't really know how much money I have left over from my days of having partial ownership in South Florida Wrestling. We lost a lot of cash because we made reckless decisions when it came to expansion. Just when we thought that it was time to take our product national, we started to realize we fucked up.
One of the reasons I'm taking him under my wing is that I see the same drive in him that we had. Unfortunately his ego is infinitely larger than mine ever was.
You might ask yourself why I am willing to put up with all of this bullshit...
I just can't see this opportunity for him turn into failure like it did for us. There's also the times like this where I can't help but think of the days spent with Casey, before he wrapped his motorcycle around that light post.
The lengths he will go... This is classic Casey if I ever saw it.
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- Two days ago...
[Darkness... In fact, you wouldn't know that anything was on camera if we didn't have the slight sound of static feedback on the audio track. Two familiar voices begin whispering to each other.]
Man's voice: You ready?
Female voice: This is crazy...
Man's voice: It's the only way!
- squeeeeekkkk
- bzzzzzzzzzzzzz
[Neon green begins to illuminate across the screen as we're treated to the sight of a dark, modest bedroom. Laying on a queen size mattress with the covers half off of his sleeping body is Jason Marx. The slight motion from his chest, accompanied by the rather loud snoring sounds, acknowledge to the intruders that he's hasn't woken up from the intrusion.]
Female voice: *still whispering* Where do you think it is?
[Our image slightly turns to the right as we see none other than Tiffany Lawrence Michaels in her sleepwear, a cutoff tank top baring her belly piercing and flannel pajama pants. One rather out of place item seems to be strapped to her face - a matching pair of night vision goggles that has treated us to this first person view from Chris Tryon.]
Tryon: If I knew that, then we wouldn't need these would we?
Tiffany: Right... I knew that.
Tryon: Quiet, we can't wake him. I'm going to find his stash of cash if it kills me.
[Our shot begins moving around to the left side of the bed, stalking closer to the nightstand sitting in the corner. As we scan some of the items scattered across: half full bottle of water, prescription pill bottle, loose change, and one of those free looking flip phones you get from the cell phone store when you don't want to pay any additional money on your contract.]
Tryon: It's like we're living with our grandpa...
[Tryon grabs the pill bottle, revealing the label as hydrocodone.]
Tryon: How the fuck am I supposed to win any tag team titles when my partner has to put himself down every night with these?
Tiffany: We should take them... You can get a real good buzz if yo---
Tryon: Focus... We're here for cash, nothing else. *as he slips the pill bottle into his pants pocket*
Tiffany: Hey, quick question... If you need to find his cash to get your iPad, then how the hell did you get these? *motioning to the night vision goggles strapped to her face*
Tryon: I'm only borrowing them.
Tiffany: Who do you know here that has night vision goggles?
Tryon: That guy Chad who owns the comic book store down the way.
Tiffany: And why would he give you night vision goggles?
Tryon: Easy, all I had to do for that monkey spank was pass along that video that you and I made about a month ago. The one where you dressed up like a schoolgirl and I was the principal.
Tiffany: *obviously not whispering* YOU WHAT?!?!?!
Tryon: Shut the fuck up! You'll wake him!!!
Voice: Too late douchebag...
[The lamp sitting on the nightstand clicks on as we see Marx rising up from his slumber. Still groggy, he's wiping his face.]
Marx: Two things... Money isn't here and pull my fucking pills out of your pocket.
Tryon: Fuck...
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
Okay, I'm an asshole; sue me bitch.
Never set up a plan without a back up plan.
This one is actually the more soundproof of the two...if I can convince her to do it. Getting her to agree would've been hard enough without giving comic-boy that video.
I always did like the way her ass looked in that schoolgirl outfit.
Whatever, in the end she'll do what I tell her to because it's fame that she wants. She knows that I'm right; just look at everyone else. They're flying out from fucking Vegas to the show in White Plains, they have iPhones, thousand dollar suits... I need a fucking iPad. Social Media is going to be the only way to get noticed in this travelling carnival we belong to now.
The world needs to hear from me. The world wants to know my deepest thoughts. They want to be part of the revolution known as... Chris Tryon.
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
[The blacktop lot in front of us is not only scattered with various bits of litter, but also a number of vehicles lit up by the parking lot lights. Standing amongst the cars, we find our favorite scheming duo, Chris Tryon and Tiffany Lawrence Michaels. The two seem to be arguing about something as Tryon looks to be getting frustrated while Tiffany is pouting and flinging her arms down to her side like a spoiled child.]
Tiffany: I won't do it!
Tryon: You will! You blew our other plan by throwing a bitch-fit about the tape. Don't you want to introduce yourself to the world through the power of social media?
Tiffany: Oh come oooonnn!!! If I was going to do this, I wouldn't agree to do it in a dump like this. Someone that looks like me should be somewhere classy. Like Scores in New York City.
[Panning to a different angle, we now see the attraction for all of the owners of the cars in the parking lot.]
"The Eager Beaver"
[At least, that's what the neon sign would read if half of it weren't out. Instead we see: "he Eag Beav". Tryon's backup plan is beginning to become clearer.]
Tryon: Look, an iPad only costs like five hundred bucks. *sizing her figure by turning his head sideways, scanning up and down* You should be able to get that in two... Maybe three days.
[For all of her airheaded traits, Tiffany certainly seems to have picked up on that back-handed compliment.]
Tiffany: *shoving her finger in his chest with each word* Look - asshole! I'll - have - a - thousand - dollars - by - tomorrow - morning!!!
[The insulted Michaels walks off in a huff and begins making her way towards her new, albeit temporary, occupation.]
Tryon: That's my girl...
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
I'm not as stupid as they both think...
I'm not in this for them. There's nothing about us that says "team."
I'm in this for me!!! FGA is going to be my showcase to get "noticed." Tell me, is there anything about these two buffoons that's remotely interesting?
No, it's all about me coming to ringside with them. That's what is going to sell DVDs. Everybody loves a little piece of eye candy and I'll give it to them. I've never had a problem using this body to get whatever I want. It's pathetic how easy it is to get by in life when you look like this.
Just remember that I'm in this for me and me alone. Chris thinks that he can make me do this? Puhleez! He'll get his fucking iPad, but it's going to be on my terms.
- The next morning...
dribble...dribble................
driiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiibble............
[We slowly fade in to the sight of Jason Marx with his face about five inches away from a percolating coffee pot, still in his sleeping clothes. As the shot widens, we can see that much of the furniture from the old apartment in Miami has been unpacked. Chris Tryon sits about ten feet behind him in the living area of the apartment playing another one of his video games on his PS3.]
Marx: Nothing like that first cup of coffee in the morning right?
Tryon: *obviously in a daze* Yeah Marx...
Marx: It's my favorite part of waking up in the morning. I like to get my cup just when the last drop hits the pot. Nothing but the freshest....
Tryon: Yeah Marx...
[Marx can obviously tell that Chris doesn't share his enthusiasm for the dark breakfast brew. He looks over at his tag team partner who is lost in the digital violence overload on the flat screen TV that also made the trip.]
Marx: Hey... Where's your girl?
Tryon: Working.
Marx: Wait... What? That life-sucking parasite got a job?
Tryon: Seems that way...
[An expression of genuine curiosity forms on Jason Marx's face; however before he can inquire any more into the situation, he's interrupted by a loud pounding on the front door followed by a muffled female voice.]
OPEN THE DOOR ASSHOLES, I'M LOCKED OUT!!!
Marx: You gonna get that?
Tryon: *still oblivious* Yeah Marx...
Marx: I see...
[Marx leaves his position from the kitchen counter and makes his way over to the door. Has he unlocks the chain and deadbolt the door is pushed open from the outside.]
Tiffany: Thank you...
[Walking by dismissively, she brushes her way past him over to Chris Tryon with a familiar looking box in her hand.]
Tiffany: Your iPad... *softly dropping it onto the couch*
Tryon: No shit... My girl!
[Marx shuts the door back into place and slowly walks over to Tryon and his new toy. Tiffany walks out of our view to a different section of the apartment.]
Tryon: See this... *pointing to his new iPad* This is what's going to make us the focus in FGA. Social media, bitch. It's the dawn of a new era old man. You don't wait for shit to be handed to you. You make it known that you're going to take it!
Marx: *squinting* Why is the box stained? Looks like piss...
[Tryon picks up the box and smells it, nearly gagging. He opens the box and looks up in disgust.]
Tryon: Hey, this is an iPad 2! It's not new!!! I don't even have retina display!
Tiffany: I know, I saved us 300 bucks from what I made last night. But it works, so just be fucking grateful for once in your life.
Tryon: You mean you have money left over?
[Our shot pans to the left and we see Tiffany holding up a HUGE wad of cash as he takes drink from her coffee cup. The look of agony on Marx's face is priceless.]
Marx: My coffee!!!
Tiffany: I still have seven hundred and twenty-three dollars left over. You got your iPad, I got spending money. We both win.
[Walking past Marx and Tryon over towards their bedroom door.]
Tiffany: Oh, and the guy at the strip club was so happy with my performance, they want me to come back on a more permanent basis.
Tryon: What?!?!
Tiffany: I just might do it... *shutting the door behind her*
Marx: *walking over to his pupil and placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder* Kid-kid-kid... You still have so much to learn...
[Fade out...]
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
One place where I've got to give the kid credit is the undeniable lengths he is willing to go in order to accomplish his goals. No matter how frivolous they may be in overall scheme of things.
He figures me as an aging asshole. Maybe I am. He doesn't really know how much money I have left over from my days of having partial ownership in South Florida Wrestling. We lost a lot of cash because we made reckless decisions when it came to expansion. Just when we thought that it was time to take our product national, we started to realize we fucked up.
One of the reasons I'm taking him under my wing is that I see the same drive in him that we had. Unfortunately his ego is infinitely larger than mine ever was.
You might ask yourself why I am willing to put up with all of this bullshit...
I just can't see this opportunity for him turn into failure like it did for us. There's also the times like this where I can't help but think of the days spent with Casey, before he wrapped his motorcycle around that light post.
The lengths he will go... This is classic Casey if I ever saw it.
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- Two days ago...
[Darkness... In fact, you wouldn't know that anything was on camera if we didn't have the slight sound of static feedback on the audio track. Two familiar voices begin whispering to each other.]
Man's voice: You ready?
Female voice: This is crazy...
Man's voice: It's the only way!
- squeeeeekkkk
- bzzzzzzzzzzzzz
[Neon green begins to illuminate across the screen as we're treated to the sight of a dark, modest bedroom. Laying on a queen size mattress with the covers half off of his sleeping body is Jason Marx. The slight motion from his chest, accompanied by the rather loud snoring sounds, acknowledge to the intruders that he's hasn't woken up from the intrusion.]
Female voice: *still whispering* Where do you think it is?
[Our image slightly turns to the right as we see none other than Tiffany Lawrence Michaels in her sleepwear, a cutoff tank top baring her belly piercing and flannel pajama pants. One rather out of place item seems to be strapped to her face - a matching pair of night vision goggles that has treated us to this first person view from Chris Tryon.]
Tryon: If I knew that, then we wouldn't need these would we?
Tiffany: Right... I knew that.
Tryon: Quiet, we can't wake him. I'm going to find his stash of cash if it kills me.
[Our shot begins moving around to the left side of the bed, stalking closer to the nightstand sitting in the corner. As we scan some of the items scattered across: half full bottle of water, prescription pill bottle, loose change, and one of those free looking flip phones you get from the cell phone store when you don't want to pay any additional money on your contract.]
Tryon: It's like we're living with our grandpa...
[Tryon grabs the pill bottle, revealing the label as hydrocodone.]
Tryon: How the fuck am I supposed to win any tag team titles when my partner has to put himself down every night with these?
Tiffany: We should take them... You can get a real good buzz if yo---
Tryon: Focus... We're here for cash, nothing else. *as he slips the pill bottle into his pants pocket*
Tiffany: Hey, quick question... If you need to find his cash to get your iPad, then how the hell did you get these? *motioning to the night vision goggles strapped to her face*
Tryon: I'm only borrowing them.
Tiffany: Who do you know here that has night vision goggles?
Tryon: That guy Chad who owns the comic book store down the way.
Tiffany: And why would he give you night vision goggles?
Tryon: Easy, all I had to do for that monkey spank was pass along that video that you and I made about a month ago. The one where you dressed up like a schoolgirl and I was the principal.
Tiffany: *obviously not whispering* YOU WHAT?!?!?!
Tryon: Shut the fuck up! You'll wake him!!!
Voice: Too late douchebag...
[The lamp sitting on the nightstand clicks on as we see Marx rising up from his slumber. Still groggy, he's wiping his face.]
Marx: Two things... Money isn't here and pull my fucking pills out of your pocket.
Tryon: Fuck...
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
Okay, I'm an asshole; sue me bitch.
Never set up a plan without a back up plan.
This one is actually the more soundproof of the two...if I can convince her to do it. Getting her to agree would've been hard enough without giving comic-boy that video.
I always did like the way her ass looked in that schoolgirl outfit.
Whatever, in the end she'll do what I tell her to because it's fame that she wants. She knows that I'm right; just look at everyone else. They're flying out from fucking Vegas to the show in White Plains, they have iPhones, thousand dollar suits... I need a fucking iPad. Social Media is going to be the only way to get noticed in this travelling carnival we belong to now.
The world needs to hear from me. The world wants to know my deepest thoughts. They want to be part of the revolution known as... Chris Tryon.
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
[The blacktop lot in front of us is not only scattered with various bits of litter, but also a number of vehicles lit up by the parking lot lights. Standing amongst the cars, we find our favorite scheming duo, Chris Tryon and Tiffany Lawrence Michaels. The two seem to be arguing about something as Tryon looks to be getting frustrated while Tiffany is pouting and flinging her arms down to her side like a spoiled child.]
Tiffany: I won't do it!
Tryon: You will! You blew our other plan by throwing a bitch-fit about the tape. Don't you want to introduce yourself to the world through the power of social media?
Tiffany: Oh come oooonnn!!! If I was going to do this, I wouldn't agree to do it in a dump like this. Someone that looks like me should be somewhere classy. Like Scores in New York City.
[Panning to a different angle, we now see the attraction for all of the owners of the cars in the parking lot.]
"The Eager Beaver"
[At least, that's what the neon sign would read if half of it weren't out. Instead we see: "he Eag Beav". Tryon's backup plan is beginning to become clearer.]
Tryon: Look, an iPad only costs like five hundred bucks. *sizing her figure by turning his head sideways, scanning up and down* You should be able to get that in two... Maybe three days.
[For all of her airheaded traits, Tiffany certainly seems to have picked up on that back-handed compliment.]
Tiffany: *shoving her finger in his chest with each word* Look - asshole! I'll - have - a - thousand - dollars - by - tomorrow - morning!!!
[The insulted Michaels walks off in a huff and begins making her way towards her new, albeit temporary, occupation.]
Tryon: That's my girl...
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
- @#$@*$#@*#$*%@#$%^*@$#%^*@$#*%$@%#$%^@#$%^$@#%^$
I'm not as stupid as they both think...
I'm not in this for them. There's nothing about us that says "team."
I'm in this for me!!! FGA is going to be my showcase to get "noticed." Tell me, is there anything about these two buffoons that's remotely interesting?
No, it's all about me coming to ringside with them. That's what is going to sell DVDs. Everybody loves a little piece of eye candy and I'll give it to them. I've never had a problem using this body to get whatever I want. It's pathetic how easy it is to get by in life when you look like this.
Just remember that I'm in this for me and me alone. Chris thinks that he can make me do this? Puhleez! He'll get his fucking iPad, but it's going to be on my terms.
- The next morning...
dribble...dribble................
driiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiibble............
[We slowly fade in to the sight of Jason Marx with his face about five inches away from a percolating coffee pot, still in his sleeping clothes. As the shot widens, we can see that much of the furniture from the old apartment in Miami has been unpacked. Chris Tryon sits about ten feet behind him in the living area of the apartment playing another one of his video games on his PS3.]
Marx: Nothing like that first cup of coffee in the morning right?
Tryon: *obviously in a daze* Yeah Marx...
Marx: It's my favorite part of waking up in the morning. I like to get my cup just when the last drop hits the pot. Nothing but the freshest....
Tryon: Yeah Marx...
[Marx can obviously tell that Chris doesn't share his enthusiasm for the dark breakfast brew. He looks over at his tag team partner who is lost in the digital violence overload on the flat screen TV that also made the trip.]
Marx: Hey... Where's your girl?
Tryon: Working.
Marx: Wait... What? That life-sucking parasite got a job?
Tryon: Seems that way...
[An expression of genuine curiosity forms on Jason Marx's face; however before he can inquire any more into the situation, he's interrupted by a loud pounding on the front door followed by a muffled female voice.]
OPEN THE DOOR ASSHOLES, I'M LOCKED OUT!!!
Marx: You gonna get that?
Tryon: *still oblivious* Yeah Marx...
Marx: I see...
[Marx leaves his position from the kitchen counter and makes his way over to the door. Has he unlocks the chain and deadbolt the door is pushed open from the outside.]
Tiffany: Thank you...
[Walking by dismissively, she brushes her way past him over to Chris Tryon with a familiar looking box in her hand.]
Tiffany: Your iPad... *softly dropping it onto the couch*
Tryon: No shit... My girl!
[Marx shuts the door back into place and slowly walks over to Tryon and his new toy. Tiffany walks out of our view to a different section of the apartment.]
Tryon: See this... *pointing to his new iPad* This is what's going to make us the focus in FGA. Social media, bitch. It's the dawn of a new era old man. You don't wait for shit to be handed to you. You make it known that you're going to take it!
Marx: *squinting* Why is the box stained? Looks like piss...
[Tryon picks up the box and smells it, nearly gagging. He opens the box and looks up in disgust.]
Tryon: Hey, this is an iPad 2! It's not new!!! I don't even have retina display!
Tiffany: I know, I saved us 300 bucks from what I made last night. But it works, so just be fucking grateful for once in your life.
Tryon: You mean you have money left over?
[Our shot pans to the left and we see Tiffany holding up a HUGE wad of cash as he takes drink from her coffee cup. The look of agony on Marx's face is priceless.]
Marx: My coffee!!!
Tiffany: I still have seven hundred and twenty-three dollars left over. You got your iPad, I got spending money. We both win.
[Walking past Marx and Tryon over towards their bedroom door.]
Tiffany: Oh, and the guy at the strip club was so happy with my performance, they want me to come back on a more permanent basis.
Tryon: What?!?!
Tiffany: I just might do it... *shutting the door behind her*
Marx: *walking over to his pupil and placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder* Kid-kid-kid... You still have so much to learn...
[Fade out...]
