Post by Phil Atken on Jul 12, 2012 16:36:21 GMT -4
As is so often to happen, the APW cameras have found themselves in the company of some men. However, let's not talk about the last camera crew Christmas dinner, we have to live in the here and now and the here is now and the now is here. Now we find ourselves in the company known to absolutely no one as Phil Atken Enterprises Limited (A Dirk Dickwood Company) but Dirk Dickwood's recent legal filings insist this is what they are officially known as. Indeed it's Phil Atken, Dirk Dickwood and “The Illustrious” Hank. No one really knows how Hank managed to get himself a nickname considering his inability to speak but it's right there in the filings too.
The trio find themselves in a make-shift office, 3 folding chairs, a folding table and for some reason, a luxurious water cooler. Dirk Dickwood sits at the head of the table baring the name plate of “Dirk Dickwood, CEO of Atken Enterprises (A Dirk Dickwood Company)” in the finest of cardboards. Sitting down table is Phil Atken and sitting on the floor despite the extra chair is Hank.
Atken: So, this is very much a back to step one situation.
Dickwood: Is there a step before step one?
Atken: Yes Dirk, thanks for some of that wonderful humour you are so well known for. I think we can establish the point that we're kind of buggered without having to spell it out in overly great detail.
Dirk frowns briefly and begins to jot down notes in a notepad that looks very notable stolen from the last hotel he was staying in.
Dickwood: If I've calculated this correctly, the best way to revive your career is either to hope that time travel becomes viable within the next week or...
Atken: Or have competent management?
Dickwood: Don't be stupid, you have the best management you can get your grubby little paws on. No, the other option is to make it 2002 again by science or magic.
Atken: Glad to know we have such an array of viable options.
Atken grabs a pencil off the table at flicks it in Dirk's general direction. Dirk manages to duck out of the way and instead it bounces off the top of Hank's head. Hank jumps up to his feet and begins to glare at Phil who simply raises up his arms in terror.
Atken: Dirk... do something. The help is revolting.
Dickwood: Maybe if you didn't call him “the help”, he'd be less likely to wish to tear your head off from your body and crap down your neck.
Atken: He wants to do that?
Dickwood: He's done some really vivid pictures.
Phil gives Hank a gentle “settle down” motion. Hank in response gives a rather mean looking sneer at Phil. Phil jumps out of his seat and bows at Hank, offering his hand in apology. Hank briefly studies the hand of Atken before ultimately accepting it. Phil pulls a pen out of his jacket pocket much to the glee of Hank, who immediately goes to work on his note book.
Atken: Best not to piss off that man child. Dude is legit psycho. Where the hell did you find him lurking?
Hank sharply turns around to glare at Phil again and then returns to doodling in his notebook. That notebook would lately be used in many criminal cases.
Dickwood: He's mute, not deaf.
Atken: There's a difference?
Dickwood: HE CAN STILL HEAR YOU!
Phil sticks his finger in his ear and wiggles it about a bit, he also does this with his other ear.
Atken: And I can still hear you. Jesus Christ Dirk, calm yourself!
Dickwood: Sorry but sometimes it takes a bludgeoning with a blunt object to get you to actually take information in. Be thankful I just shouted loudly this time.
Atken: You know how to treat your clients!
Phil slams his hand on the table, almost flipping over the entire flimsy thing in the process. Dirk scrambles to grab his cup of water, making sure it didn't fly off the table.
Atken: SO! Where do we go from here? I promised the world I was going to score the winning pinfall at Test for the Best. We decided the best way to wriggle our way into Reggie's heart was to bring him home the big W. That... that didn't exactly happen.
Dickwood: That could be something to do with you deciding to just go and have a poo midway through the match.
Atken: Hey, how was I meant to know Johnny Sykes was that inept? I thought he could hold the fort for a while. I really needed a poo. When ya gotta go, ya gotta go as the Americans say.
Dickwood: Yeah but if you weren't in the bathroom, you could've stopped him eating the pin.
Atken: Should'a would'a could'a as the Canadians are often heard to have expoused. The point is, we failed.
Dickwood: Again, I must insist on the fact that YOU failed. Me and Hank didn't even get a chance to fail. Hank got distracted by a beer vendor and I had to pay for the damage that cost. Hank can really wrack up quite a lot of damage.
Hank slowly looks up to the notebook and gives a giant grin at Dirk. Dirk just sighs. Phil rolls his eyes at the situation.
Atken: Look, I needed to poo, you had to stop Hank from dry humping the poor girl selling beer. Those are obviously unfortunate situations but that's not where we must lay the blame for good old team Asylum losing their way. That lays solely at the shoes, head, boot, feet, hands, arms and neck of Jonathan Q. Sykington, Prankmaster General, which, and I've looked into this, is not an elected office! He doesn't even have public support to be doing these pranks of his! It's a disgrace to the great nation of America.
Dickwood: Is there a point to this?
Atken: Of course there's a point! There's always a point! The point is this... Johnny Sykes let Asylum down. Johnny Sykes failed our beloved brand. He tries to endear himself to the audience with his hilarious japes like accidentally murdering a poor stage hand for having the audacity to touch his vidja games but beneath it all, at the surface, sitting there, lurking like an unwanted house guest who just drank all your vodka...
Hank once again raises in head, cocks an eyebrow, shrugs and then returns to his doodling ways.
Dickwood: Hank did apologise.
Atken: I only recall you apologising, he didn't say bugger all.
Dickwood: HE'S A MUTE!
Phil repeats the “clearing out his ears action” once again thanks to the rather high volume of yelling that such a short man can provide.
Atken: The point is, Dirkypoo, the point is, the lurking deep within the japester is a sad realisation.
Dickwood: Which would be?
Atken: That behind the laughter and the clowning, behind it all, Johnny Sykes just isn't good enough. Johnny Sykes was meant to be this hot, can't miss prospect, the future of the Asylum brand. A man people could point to and say “him, he's the guy” as he studies tapes from 1990s Nickelodeon to play his next HI-LARIOUS prank. Now look where he is, sliding ever down to the lowest rung, an after thought at best. It's got to hurt going from reaching the dizzying highs of winning a six man brawl while wearing to tuxedo to... well...
Dickwood: Meeting you in the ring?
Atken: WHAT? Where did you hear that?
Dickwood: I got a fax.
As if by magic, Dirk Dickwood produces a fax machine out from under his desk. He plunks it down on the time with one giant thud and begins to sort through the reams of the paper that the fax machine has seemingly plopped out.
Atken: You have to be kidding me. First a telegram, now a fax. Dirk, I bought you a smart phone, you could at least do me the courtesy of using it.
Dickwood: Hey, dear ole Gwinnie works his cotton socks off, not reason to toss her into a ditch when she does her job.
Atken: Did... did you name your fax machine... actually don't answer that. I'd rather not know the answer.
Dirk continues to toss aside irrelevant pieces of paper until he eventually finds the one that he was seeking for. He tosses it up in the air as if he had just found the Holy Grail itself before handing it over to Phil.
Dickwood: Yeah, I got it yesterday. This weeks Asylum, you got Sykesyboy. Sykesbaby. The Sykemeister...
Atken: Please stop, I'm going to vomit. Those may be some of the most nauseating words that have ever escaped from your mouth.
Dickwood: Are you sure that it isn't the slow realisation that what you just said about Sykes couldn't equally apply to you that is making you want to hurl up all over the joint? Can't miss prospect struggling to find his way? That sounds familiar to me!
Atken: One day I will fire you. You know that right? It'll be incredibly public.
Dickwood: Not if I don't dump you as a toxic client first, Phillyboy.
Phil stands up out of his seat and begins to pace around, murmuring to himself as he does so. He suddenly stops in his tracks.
Atken: Dirk, we HAVE to win this one. We HAVE to.
Dickwood: Things ain't looking too bright on your recent record Phil. Sykes ain't a walk-over either. You know I'm always there to support you. Hank is too...
Hank attempts to give Phil a reassuring thumbs up. The toothy smile that accompanied it was featured in several low budget horror flash games.
Dickwood: … but the kid's good. He knows what he's doing in the ring.
Atken: As if to say that I don't?
Dickwood: All I'm saying is it may not be wise to pin all your hopes and dreams on a victory over Sykes.
Atken: Dirk, if I take another loss at this point in my career, I might as well book my ticket to Meltdown and enjoy the retirement tour. Right now, I have a very valid argument for missing the big win at Test for the Best. Sykes is in way over his head. It's a simple case, he's young, he doesn't know what he's doing in the ring, he tries too hard to get the braying idiots that make up an APW crowd to cheer him on and it cost him, it cost me and in fact it cost the Asylum brand. What do you think happens to that argument if he manages to pin me down for the three?
Dickwood: Out of the window?
Atken gives Dirk a very slow round of applause.
Atken: Out of the window! I hate to sound all melodramatic about this but Dirk, if I don't beat Sykes, I never break out on Asylum. If I don't show some courage and spirit, I might as well accept my role as the next Mr Dangerous...
Dickwood: He actually has a better record than yo...
Atken: DO YOU THINK I NEED TO HEAR THAT RIGHT NOW? Of course I don't! Now Dirk, I was tested and it turns out I wasn't the best. I was cast aside to the pre-show and APW's dinosaurs walked all over me. Sykes has time, Sykes can recover, he can rebound. He's the young fresh face that just needs to fart in a microphone to get people talking about him again. I don't have time Dirk, we don't have time. We are slowly getting ever closer to a fight or flight situation and I'm not ready to take flight yet. I'm not ready to say goodbye. Sunday night is going to be a defining night for all of us Dirk.
Dickwood: I get it Phil, really. I get it.
Atken: You best get it. We don't have any other choice.
The trio find themselves in a make-shift office, 3 folding chairs, a folding table and for some reason, a luxurious water cooler. Dirk Dickwood sits at the head of the table baring the name plate of “Dirk Dickwood, CEO of Atken Enterprises (A Dirk Dickwood Company)” in the finest of cardboards. Sitting down table is Phil Atken and sitting on the floor despite the extra chair is Hank.
Atken: So, this is very much a back to step one situation.
Dickwood: Is there a step before step one?
Atken: Yes Dirk, thanks for some of that wonderful humour you are so well known for. I think we can establish the point that we're kind of buggered without having to spell it out in overly great detail.
Dirk frowns briefly and begins to jot down notes in a notepad that looks very notable stolen from the last hotel he was staying in.
Dickwood: If I've calculated this correctly, the best way to revive your career is either to hope that time travel becomes viable within the next week or...
Atken: Or have competent management?
Dickwood: Don't be stupid, you have the best management you can get your grubby little paws on. No, the other option is to make it 2002 again by science or magic.
Atken: Glad to know we have such an array of viable options.
Atken grabs a pencil off the table at flicks it in Dirk's general direction. Dirk manages to duck out of the way and instead it bounces off the top of Hank's head. Hank jumps up to his feet and begins to glare at Phil who simply raises up his arms in terror.
Atken: Dirk... do something. The help is revolting.
Dickwood: Maybe if you didn't call him “the help”, he'd be less likely to wish to tear your head off from your body and crap down your neck.
Atken: He wants to do that?
Dickwood: He's done some really vivid pictures.
Phil gives Hank a gentle “settle down” motion. Hank in response gives a rather mean looking sneer at Phil. Phil jumps out of his seat and bows at Hank, offering his hand in apology. Hank briefly studies the hand of Atken before ultimately accepting it. Phil pulls a pen out of his jacket pocket much to the glee of Hank, who immediately goes to work on his note book.
Atken: Best not to piss off that man child. Dude is legit psycho. Where the hell did you find him lurking?
Hank sharply turns around to glare at Phil again and then returns to doodling in his notebook. That notebook would lately be used in many criminal cases.
Dickwood: He's mute, not deaf.
Atken: There's a difference?
Dickwood: HE CAN STILL HEAR YOU!
Phil sticks his finger in his ear and wiggles it about a bit, he also does this with his other ear.
Atken: And I can still hear you. Jesus Christ Dirk, calm yourself!
Dickwood: Sorry but sometimes it takes a bludgeoning with a blunt object to get you to actually take information in. Be thankful I just shouted loudly this time.
Atken: You know how to treat your clients!
Phil slams his hand on the table, almost flipping over the entire flimsy thing in the process. Dirk scrambles to grab his cup of water, making sure it didn't fly off the table.
Atken: SO! Where do we go from here? I promised the world I was going to score the winning pinfall at Test for the Best. We decided the best way to wriggle our way into Reggie's heart was to bring him home the big W. That... that didn't exactly happen.
Dickwood: That could be something to do with you deciding to just go and have a poo midway through the match.
Atken: Hey, how was I meant to know Johnny Sykes was that inept? I thought he could hold the fort for a while. I really needed a poo. When ya gotta go, ya gotta go as the Americans say.
Dickwood: Yeah but if you weren't in the bathroom, you could've stopped him eating the pin.
Atken: Should'a would'a could'a as the Canadians are often heard to have expoused. The point is, we failed.
Dickwood: Again, I must insist on the fact that YOU failed. Me and Hank didn't even get a chance to fail. Hank got distracted by a beer vendor and I had to pay for the damage that cost. Hank can really wrack up quite a lot of damage.
Hank slowly looks up to the notebook and gives a giant grin at Dirk. Dirk just sighs. Phil rolls his eyes at the situation.
Atken: Look, I needed to poo, you had to stop Hank from dry humping the poor girl selling beer. Those are obviously unfortunate situations but that's not where we must lay the blame for good old team Asylum losing their way. That lays solely at the shoes, head, boot, feet, hands, arms and neck of Jonathan Q. Sykington, Prankmaster General, which, and I've looked into this, is not an elected office! He doesn't even have public support to be doing these pranks of his! It's a disgrace to the great nation of America.
Dickwood: Is there a point to this?
Atken: Of course there's a point! There's always a point! The point is this... Johnny Sykes let Asylum down. Johnny Sykes failed our beloved brand. He tries to endear himself to the audience with his hilarious japes like accidentally murdering a poor stage hand for having the audacity to touch his vidja games but beneath it all, at the surface, sitting there, lurking like an unwanted house guest who just drank all your vodka...
Hank once again raises in head, cocks an eyebrow, shrugs and then returns to his doodling ways.
Dickwood: Hank did apologise.
Atken: I only recall you apologising, he didn't say bugger all.
Dickwood: HE'S A MUTE!
Phil repeats the “clearing out his ears action” once again thanks to the rather high volume of yelling that such a short man can provide.
Atken: The point is, Dirkypoo, the point is, the lurking deep within the japester is a sad realisation.
Dickwood: Which would be?
Atken: That behind the laughter and the clowning, behind it all, Johnny Sykes just isn't good enough. Johnny Sykes was meant to be this hot, can't miss prospect, the future of the Asylum brand. A man people could point to and say “him, he's the guy” as he studies tapes from 1990s Nickelodeon to play his next HI-LARIOUS prank. Now look where he is, sliding ever down to the lowest rung, an after thought at best. It's got to hurt going from reaching the dizzying highs of winning a six man brawl while wearing to tuxedo to... well...
Dickwood: Meeting you in the ring?
Atken: WHAT? Where did you hear that?
Dickwood: I got a fax.
As if by magic, Dirk Dickwood produces a fax machine out from under his desk. He plunks it down on the time with one giant thud and begins to sort through the reams of the paper that the fax machine has seemingly plopped out.
Atken: You have to be kidding me. First a telegram, now a fax. Dirk, I bought you a smart phone, you could at least do me the courtesy of using it.
Dickwood: Hey, dear ole Gwinnie works his cotton socks off, not reason to toss her into a ditch when she does her job.
Atken: Did... did you name your fax machine... actually don't answer that. I'd rather not know the answer.
Dirk continues to toss aside irrelevant pieces of paper until he eventually finds the one that he was seeking for. He tosses it up in the air as if he had just found the Holy Grail itself before handing it over to Phil.
Dickwood: Yeah, I got it yesterday. This weeks Asylum, you got Sykesyboy. Sykesbaby. The Sykemeister...
Atken: Please stop, I'm going to vomit. Those may be some of the most nauseating words that have ever escaped from your mouth.
Dickwood: Are you sure that it isn't the slow realisation that what you just said about Sykes couldn't equally apply to you that is making you want to hurl up all over the joint? Can't miss prospect struggling to find his way? That sounds familiar to me!
Atken: One day I will fire you. You know that right? It'll be incredibly public.
Dickwood: Not if I don't dump you as a toxic client first, Phillyboy.
Phil stands up out of his seat and begins to pace around, murmuring to himself as he does so. He suddenly stops in his tracks.
Atken: Dirk, we HAVE to win this one. We HAVE to.
Dickwood: Things ain't looking too bright on your recent record Phil. Sykes ain't a walk-over either. You know I'm always there to support you. Hank is too...
Hank attempts to give Phil a reassuring thumbs up. The toothy smile that accompanied it was featured in several low budget horror flash games.
Dickwood: … but the kid's good. He knows what he's doing in the ring.
Atken: As if to say that I don't?
Dickwood: All I'm saying is it may not be wise to pin all your hopes and dreams on a victory over Sykes.
Atken: Dirk, if I take another loss at this point in my career, I might as well book my ticket to Meltdown and enjoy the retirement tour. Right now, I have a very valid argument for missing the big win at Test for the Best. Sykes is in way over his head. It's a simple case, he's young, he doesn't know what he's doing in the ring, he tries too hard to get the braying idiots that make up an APW crowd to cheer him on and it cost him, it cost me and in fact it cost the Asylum brand. What do you think happens to that argument if he manages to pin me down for the three?
Dickwood: Out of the window?
Atken gives Dirk a very slow round of applause.
Atken: Out of the window! I hate to sound all melodramatic about this but Dirk, if I don't beat Sykes, I never break out on Asylum. If I don't show some courage and spirit, I might as well accept my role as the next Mr Dangerous...
Dickwood: He actually has a better record than yo...
Atken: DO YOU THINK I NEED TO HEAR THAT RIGHT NOW? Of course I don't! Now Dirk, I was tested and it turns out I wasn't the best. I was cast aside to the pre-show and APW's dinosaurs walked all over me. Sykes has time, Sykes can recover, he can rebound. He's the young fresh face that just needs to fart in a microphone to get people talking about him again. I don't have time Dirk, we don't have time. We are slowly getting ever closer to a fight or flight situation and I'm not ready to take flight yet. I'm not ready to say goodbye. Sunday night is going to be a defining night for all of us Dirk.
Dickwood: I get it Phil, really. I get it.
Atken: You best get it. We don't have any other choice.
