Aggressive Promo Hunting

[The Guy Fausto]

A camera man shambles down a small hallway in an apartment building. Beaten and abused, there is graffiti all over the walls along the way to the door. The Camera man knocks on the door. He receives no response. He knocks again. No response. He begins pounding the crap out of the door, as he hears a loud person from down the hall screams through his door.

 

Voice: “Yo, If you’re looking for Dopey J, he’s at the door next to yours. But as this time of night, he’s going to charge you twice as much, ya know?!”

 

The camera man shrugs and beats on the door once more. The door cracks open, enough by a chain. The door is then slammed in the camera man’s face.

 

Camera man: “Mr. Fausto? Are you there?”

There’s no response as the camera man waits a few seconds before pounding on the door once more.

 

Fausto, through the door: “Piss off.”

 

CM: “Can’t do that. Versus has given me strict orders with a healthy bonus waiting to get you to say a few words in lieu of a Riot.”

 

Fausto, through the door: “You can tell Versus that he can piss off too.”

 

CM: “I’m not leaving until I get something respectable.”

Fausto, through the door: “Piss off or I’m going to call the cops.”

CM: “You really think the cops are going to show up quickly in this neighborhood? If at all? It’ll take them a bit to get all their riot gear together.”

 

Fausto, through the door: “...Knew I shouldn’t have taken the apartment next to Dopey J.”

 

Fausto reluctantly opens the door, as the Camera man walks in. Fausto switches on the lights revealing a dump covered with tattered flannel, bath robes, dusty books, mostly on various inane subjects with a lot of them on contract law. The international title in particular is haphazardly dangling out of a top hat. Everything is strewn about on the floor, with almost visible stench emerging from each of them. Fausto himself is half asleep in a purple teddy bear pajamas.

 

Fausto: “True barbarism in this company. This is how you treat your employees. You go out of your way to wake them up in the middle of the night. I mean it’s two o’clock in the morning for Christ’s sakes.”

CM: “Versus said this’d be the best time to find you.”

 

Fausto: “Versus is a damn asshole. He can put the happy go lucky stoner act on again all he wants, but I know people don’t change. He’s the same manipulative scheming megalomaniac he was before, he just put a different coat of paint on.”

CM: “Are you going to get this done with or are you going to complain until the sun rises.”

 

Fausto: “With this company I could do so until the pay per view and never repeat myself. Have a seat so you can get the hell out of my house faster.”

 

CM: “This place sucks.”

 

Fausto: “Don’t care.”

CM: “Aren’t you one of the top paid people in OCW through the bonuses, merchandise and all that alone?”

 

Fausto: “Yes. And your point is?”

 

CM: “Shouldn’t you be living somewhere else besides next to Dopey J?”

Fausto: “I don’t judge your choices in residence, do I? Sit down and shut up.”

 

The camera pans to bean bag chairs as Fausto plops himself into a yellow bean bag chair.

CM: “Bean bag chairs?”

Fausto: “ Half price at the dollar store. Sit down and shut up. Quicker we do this, the quicker you can get your bonus and the quicker I can go back to sleep.”

 

CM: “Alright, alright.”

The camera man plops down and has the camera focused on Fausto.

Fausto: “Really should have expected it. Bunch of savages in that company. What did he want?”

There’s a silence for a bit as you hear the camera man rustling around and unfolding a piece of paper.

CM: “...Umm...why a local boy? That was clearly not on Valmont’s level as you said.”

 

Fausto: “What do you mean? Not on Valmont’s level? I Didn’t see Valmont’s hand get raised at the end of the match didn’t you?”

 

Fausto flashes a devilish grin.

CM: “Uhh...because you cuttered him when the referees back was turned?”

 

Fausto: “Just proving my point further. Of how meaningless it all is. You have little Michael O’Malley, a boy who was horribly outclassed. Yet even when he knew he couldn’t cut it, he went for any way to get a fleeting chance at glory he could. If he saw Valmont down, he went for a cover, no matter how improbable his victory might be. He went for every cheap win opportunity in the book. Everyone, including him, knew that if pulled out the victory, it’d be only regarded as a fluke. And when he got the victory, no one thought better of him. No one offered him a contract. In his own indy circuit, he’s that jobber that got a cheap victory over Valmont, who no one will still pay to see.”

CM: "...I don’t see your point yet.”

Fausto: “There are parallels here. Look at little O’Malley as Valmont. He won the OCW Championship, but it was a cheap victory. Two times he won the championship like this. And no one thinks the better of him because of it. He’s still juicebox, he’s still that jobber who kept asking for chinlocks. He just happens to have a streak of luck to manage to climb to the top to be the cream of the crap. Even defending against Aries he got lucky. Perhaps the same thing happened to Aries that happened to me? He thought so little of Valmont that victory was assured, so the ultimate opportunist managed to pull the upset. That could really explain why there’s so much sand in his vagina. “

 

CM: “You still have no respect for Valmont is what you’re saying?”

 

Fausto: “Why should I respect anyone in this company? As I said, they’re a bunch of moronic savages for even willingly working here. I can’t get out of my contract, but what’s there excuse, really?”

 

CM: “Alright, alright. I suppose that’s enough...”

 

Fausto: “Oh...I wanted to add one last thing since I believe the pay per view is this Sunday. While I have said that Valmont is the perfect face for this company as it is on the downward spiral, I’m going to have to retract this statement. Because in the past week, I’ve put it to thought that there is something so much better to be the face of this company on its downward spiral. Me. No, no, not because I am failure personified, but because there is nothing this company should be remembered for more than my laughing face cackling ‘I told you so’ as this company continues its death march to bankruptcy. I want to hold the belt that is suppose to symbolize OCW and look down and simply laugh. Because that’s what it deserves.”

CM: “...You’re a kook, you know that?”

Fausto: “Get the hell out of here now before you tear my fifty cent bean bag chair.”

 

The camera drops to waist height as it turns off.