Post by Kid Cannabis on Apr 22, 2009 18:18:02 GMT -4
General Manager Max Carter's office. Max is on the intercom, trying to page his secretary.
Amy? Amy! Is Kid Cannabis here? I had him slated to see me at 3:00 pm sharp! Amy....
Amy? What the....
He doesn't here anything on the intercom except his secratarty moaning and a lot of furniture moving around.
Amy? Is something wrong? I'm coming out there!
Max, fearful it might be the work of Jeff and Streets Wilson, rushes out to the office with a baseball bat, ready for an assualt. He wasn't ready for his secretary, lying on back, legs propped over the shoulders of a bare assed and sweaty.....
Hey, Maxie? What's good, man?
KID CANNABIS! APW phenomenom and the guy showing Max's secretary how to take "dictation". Amy looks over after wiping a bucket of sweat off here forehead.
Uhm, like, Mr. Carter, like, Kid Cannabis came in the office....
I wasn't the only one, sweetheart!
Can grins and smacks her on the ass while Max adverts his eyes from KC and his latex clad sidekick, "Mr. Snuffleuppagas!"
Jesus, Mike. Couldn't you have waited until she was off of work?
Amy, did you get the paperwork finished! Amy!
Amy just lies there, starry eyed, smoking a cigarette.
Ain't no thang, Mad Max. Give her an hour to recover and get the feeling back in her legs, she'll be good as new. Now, you wanted to see me?
Yeah, but preferrably without pants drilling my assistant like an oil well. Put your damn jeans on and step into my office!
Can steps into Max's office, throws away the used condom in the trash can, and has a seat while he lights a fat spliff up.
Man, that's some assistant you hired, Maxie. Girl doesn't know Microsoft Word from microwaved dinners, but man, she fucks like she's trying to get a raise....
Can stops, watches Carter chug half a bottle of Maalox, and knows immediatley something's wrong.
Shit, Max, what's wrong? You're looking even whiter than usual.
Carter hands Cannabis an official document.
Jeff just filed an injunction with permission from the board of directors. He's taking me to court trying to get me removed from my position as General Manager, on the grounds that I'm "incompetent."
Incompentent? Shit, nigga, you signed me! You should get a Nobel prize from that move. Pure genius.
Carter just shakes his head.
Jeff's screwing with me. Yesterday, he ordered my security detail reassigned from me. He stuck me with a bunch of donut eating clowns who couldn't protect a warm cup of piss. He's trying to set me up.
Then, I get this note posted at my house.....
Some friends.
This is getting serious, Mike. First Jeff trying to use the law to oust me, now that nutcase Street's on the prowl. I can't even go to my car at night without worrying about something happening to me.
I didn't do anything wrong, Cannabis. I did my job as stated in my contract. There's no reason I should have to endure this crap.
I....I don't know what to do, I'm just an administrator. I don't even know how to fight. I.....
Max starts to shake a bit. Cannabis puts out his blunt and shakes his head.
Max, we've known each other for awhile, man. Back in the day at the E, hell, man, you gave me this opportunity to come in, and dude, real talk, I appreciate it.
But my man....I can't really help you.
You know my stance on this shit. I don't get involved in backstage politics. Especially after that shit Mac pulled. I start getting involved in this feud of yours, Jeff's gonna think I'm taking your side on things.
I don't take sides, man....
But your own, right?
Yeah, my own.
You knew what happened last time I stuck my neck out for somebody and tried to help them. I know the shit sounds selfish, but, sometimes in the biz, you gotta look out for A number 1, Maxie. I help you, I could start a damn war that could break this place apart.
I'm tired of politics, dude. I just want to do my damn job without some bullshit from the front office. That's it.
Sorry, brother.
Max just dejectedly nods his head.
I understand, Mike. I really do. Look....
Sorry if I wasted your time....
Nah, that's cool. Hell, sorry about piping your secretary nearly into a coma. It'll be fine, man. Just watch your ass. I gotta go. I catch you later.
Can just looks back at Max, sitting in his seat, nervous as a cat in a pitbull kennel, and he starts getting this sickening feeling in his stomach.
He knows this dude ain't built for war. The dude's a pencil pusher. He comes to work in a tie and a mid sized sedan and signs papers.
Max was a good dude, never hurt anybody....
It had to be like this, Can thought. No way was he going to get involved in another backstage squabble....
So, like, you're just gonna let him get squashed, huh?
Girl, I don't need this. It's more complicated than that....
No, it's not. Like, I remembered how you were in ASWA, fighting Hannibal....
You're old enough to remember that?
I thought, like, you were supposed to be like, the hero. The good guy. Always racing to save the day.
Look, that John Wayne shit, it ain't worth it. It doesn't change anything. This is Max and Jeff's fight....
No, this is Jeff going to kick like, the crap out of poor Mr. Carter. He's dead and you KNOW it unless you help him.
It isn't my fight, girl. Not anymore. So, pick you up at seven? Still bringing your roomate, the double jointed one who....
We have a headache. We're getting our hair done. We're watching Dancing with The Stars.
Ah, c'mon. I told you, it's more complicated....
With a snooty huff....
If you do not have like, any more business with Mr. Carter today, then, Mr. Anderson.....GOOD DAY!
Can just gets this look on his face and grimmaces.
Aw, shit. Here we go again!
*****
James Chambers: Yo, Can. Why you stressing so hard about this hillbilly? You're training like you're gonna fight L.O. over a shark tank for the title, dude.
Can's been in the gym all day. His body is wracked from taking bumps in the pratice ring all morning, now, he's been on the heavy bag for nearly an hour, ringing off combos, sweat pouring off him.
And let this hillbilly catch me slipping and build his punk ass resume? Fuck THAT!!
But this...Mayhem. This guy ain't even fit to be in the same ring as you. Shit, you've had more World Titles than he's had televised matches! You're gonna mop the floor with him!
Can lands a textbook 4 piece combo, then stops.
Yeah, that's true. But then again, you think like that....
Next thing you know, country ass niggas like Mayhem have bragging rights. They get to go back to their single wide and pump their cousin and brag to everybody down at the liqour store how they beat an international legend.....
Because he caught my ass getting a swolen head!
James looks at him incredulously while he tosses him a towel.
Can, after last week, with maybe the exception of L.O., nobody can beat you! You shut down Green, man. A former APW World Champ....
And a cat I'm damn familiar with.
Wipes off and tosses Chambers the towel back.
Dude, I beat Green because I knew EXACTLY what he was gonna do. How he was going to approach the week, his strategy, hell....
I might as well have had prewritten his promo. It's the same shit I hear from cats every single week since I first strapped on boots ten years ago.
Dudes like Cookie Monster, easy.
Rookies, that's a different story.
Rookies are like prizes in a Cracker Jack box. You're either gonna get one of those lame ass paper maze puzzles it'd take a retard 5 seconds to solve, or, you get the dope ass decoder ring you can sell on eBay for thousands years later.
You feel me?
Jimbo?
Chambers is just staring into space, licking his lips.
Mmmmm......Cracker Jacks....
You fat bastard! Stay with me.
Granted, 90% of rookies are fucking clown shoes and get bounced out in a week, but once in a while....
A GREAT while....
You get some cat who's worth a shit. Hell, this dude might be walking dynamite if he sees on the card he can boost his rep instantly if he can catch a vaunted vet off guard.
You know how it goes....
You're rocking out on top of the world, got a rep, got a belt, then one day, they book you in a warm up match against a tomato can and you start thinking: fuck it!
I ain't gotta work. I'll just slide by on my rep, tell this clown I'll kick your ass, you can't stop me, and you slack off, next thing you know....
BOOM!
You're staring at the ceiling lights, and this bum's off building his career while you're on the way to losing your way into wrestling in high school gymnasiums on your days off from bouncing at a strip club in Pensicola....
Ain't that right, tubby!?
.....
It wasn't a strip club! It was a go-go bar. In Tampa.
Douche!
Whatever. Point is, I don't know this kid, his style, his resume, so I gotta treat this like a title fight, because who knows....
He might not be the little inbred cracka ass rook presented in his debut shoot.
....
Probably is. Dammit, I'm trying here.
Well, *points at the camera* tell HIM that!
Oh.....
Hey there.
Curtis Mayhem, right? Hey, how ya doing? Saw your debut shoot the other. Gotta say, you made your mom and your sister proud.
Judging by your demanour and the "Kill all foreigners, let God sort them out" bumper sticker on your pickup, your mom and sister are probably the same person.
Hillbilly muthafucka! Lemme introduce myself.
Kid Cannabis. 4 time world Heavyweight Champion, International superstar of the squared circle, inventor of the bug zapper, and just your average, normal, salt of the Earth....
Baddest nigga in the universe!
Real Talk, I'll punch Jupiter out if it orbits me in a way that offends me! That's how I handle business. And let me be the first to say....
Welcome to APW!
I bet it's real exciting. First debut match in a fed that doesn't so shows in bingo halls, the first opportunity to wrestle for more than gas money. I'm thinking, right now, you're creaming your Wranglers over this chance to show the world just because you took 6 years to graduate 4th grade and you constantly smell like Skoal and cow shit and show this uppity vet what the deal is.
Mmmhmmm, soon as y'all get the cable turned back on in y'alls trailer park, you can't wait for your family to see your big jump off moment in that Aaaay-Pee-Dubya!.
Yee-haw!
Well, hate to break your dreams of instant fame and getting enough money to buy those commemorative Dale Earnhart plates, hayseed, but....
As much as I like seeing new blood trying to make it big in the biz, there's only one teensey little problem.
Muthafucka, you're trying to get big by fucking with the Kid!
And when some stump jumping hick honkey jackass tries to climb the ladder by stepping on El Negro, well....
I start getting some REALLY bad thoughts in my head.
Twist a nigga up like a pretzel bad. Run circles around him and punch his lights out bad. Shit that, if I did it at the local honkey tonk you sluff around in, it'd result in me in handcuffs catching a felony case bad!
Protocl says, I should just fuck you up for general purposes, Goober.
But part of me also wants to help the rooks get a foot in the biz. Because one day, I'll be Old Guy Cannabis, hanging out at the retirement home, pinching nurses asses during my spongebath, regaling the youngin's in my tales of Afro-centric awesomeness...
You know, what I already do, except I'm not collecting Social Security.
So, I wanna help you.
I know, you look like your typical cross burning, Toby Keith liking redneck retard, but hey, I wanna ensure you're the best redneck retard in this sport.
I want to help you succeed in APW. I really do. Cause, who knows, work hard enough, one day, shit...
You might get to curtain jerk in a PPV. At least a pre show dark match! Wouldn't that rock, dude? That'd be a helluva story you can one day tell the arresting officer as he's cuffing you and dragging you down to the police station as you burn half your mobile home park with your meth lab to the ground.
Oh, if the arresting officer's a lady, you can cinch the deal by telling her you got smacked around by me. Lady cops LOVE the Kid! I give new meaning to the phrase....
Fuck the police!
My man, you're not gonna win this match. It's done already. but, just cause you don't wanna look too bad in the eys of your Nazi hick tractor pull loving friends back home, I'll tell you this....
This week, you'll have an epic match! You'll show the world what you can do against me. You'll fight your career best, and you'll test me, one of the greatest even to step into a ring.
Trust me, Wednesday, you'll be the best wrestler on the planet.
For three minutes. Then after that, I superkick the shit out of your Mayberry ass.
But think of it as a learning experience. You'll thank me in the long run.
Unless you end up retiring and working at the Quick Lube, Buford. But don't worry. I'll tell the manager to hook you up with extra shifts.
I'm just a stand up guy like that!
Yeah, real modest.
So, hillbilly boy. Welcome to big time fancy wrassling! I'll be your tour guide.
But just make sure your insurance is paid up. Roll with the Kid....
It's gonna be a bumpy ride!
(Smoke Out)
Amy? Amy! Is Kid Cannabis here? I had him slated to see me at 3:00 pm sharp! Amy....
Amy? What the....
He doesn't here anything on the intercom except his secratarty moaning and a lot of furniture moving around.
Amy? Is something wrong? I'm coming out there!
Max, fearful it might be the work of Jeff and Streets Wilson, rushes out to the office with a baseball bat, ready for an assualt. He wasn't ready for his secretary, lying on back, legs propped over the shoulders of a bare assed and sweaty.....
Hey, Maxie? What's good, man?
KID CANNABIS! APW phenomenom and the guy showing Max's secretary how to take "dictation". Amy looks over after wiping a bucket of sweat off here forehead.
Uhm, like, Mr. Carter, like, Kid Cannabis came in the office....
I wasn't the only one, sweetheart!
Can grins and smacks her on the ass while Max adverts his eyes from KC and his latex clad sidekick, "Mr. Snuffleuppagas!"
Jesus, Mike. Couldn't you have waited until she was off of work?
Amy, did you get the paperwork finished! Amy!
Amy just lies there, starry eyed, smoking a cigarette.
Ain't no thang, Mad Max. Give her an hour to recover and get the feeling back in her legs, she'll be good as new. Now, you wanted to see me?
Yeah, but preferrably without pants drilling my assistant like an oil well. Put your damn jeans on and step into my office!
Can steps into Max's office, throws away the used condom in the trash can, and has a seat while he lights a fat spliff up.
Man, that's some assistant you hired, Maxie. Girl doesn't know Microsoft Word from microwaved dinners, but man, she fucks like she's trying to get a raise....
Can stops, watches Carter chug half a bottle of Maalox, and knows immediatley something's wrong.
Shit, Max, what's wrong? You're looking even whiter than usual.
Carter hands Cannabis an official document.
Jeff just filed an injunction with permission from the board of directors. He's taking me to court trying to get me removed from my position as General Manager, on the grounds that I'm "incompetent."
Incompentent? Shit, nigga, you signed me! You should get a Nobel prize from that move. Pure genius.
Carter just shakes his head.
Jeff's screwing with me. Yesterday, he ordered my security detail reassigned from me. He stuck me with a bunch of donut eating clowns who couldn't protect a warm cup of piss. He's trying to set me up.
Then, I get this note posted at my house.....
You gto a family. You got friends.
No need to see them get hurt.
Do the right thing, Carter.
Don't make us force you to!
A friend!
No need to see them get hurt.
Do the right thing, Carter.
Don't make us force you to!
A friend!
Some friends.
This is getting serious, Mike. First Jeff trying to use the law to oust me, now that nutcase Street's on the prowl. I can't even go to my car at night without worrying about something happening to me.
I didn't do anything wrong, Cannabis. I did my job as stated in my contract. There's no reason I should have to endure this crap.
I....I don't know what to do, I'm just an administrator. I don't even know how to fight. I.....
Max starts to shake a bit. Cannabis puts out his blunt and shakes his head.
Max, we've known each other for awhile, man. Back in the day at the E, hell, man, you gave me this opportunity to come in, and dude, real talk, I appreciate it.
But my man....I can't really help you.
You know my stance on this shit. I don't get involved in backstage politics. Especially after that shit Mac pulled. I start getting involved in this feud of yours, Jeff's gonna think I'm taking your side on things.
I don't take sides, man....
But your own, right?
Yeah, my own.
You knew what happened last time I stuck my neck out for somebody and tried to help them. I know the shit sounds selfish, but, sometimes in the biz, you gotta look out for A number 1, Maxie. I help you, I could start a damn war that could break this place apart.
I'm tired of politics, dude. I just want to do my damn job without some bullshit from the front office. That's it.
Sorry, brother.
Max just dejectedly nods his head.
I understand, Mike. I really do. Look....
Sorry if I wasted your time....
Nah, that's cool. Hell, sorry about piping your secretary nearly into a coma. It'll be fine, man. Just watch your ass. I gotta go. I catch you later.
Can just looks back at Max, sitting in his seat, nervous as a cat in a pitbull kennel, and he starts getting this sickening feeling in his stomach.
He knows this dude ain't built for war. The dude's a pencil pusher. He comes to work in a tie and a mid sized sedan and signs papers.
Max was a good dude, never hurt anybody....
It had to be like this, Can thought. No way was he going to get involved in another backstage squabble....
So, like, you're just gonna let him get squashed, huh?
Girl, I don't need this. It's more complicated than that....
No, it's not. Like, I remembered how you were in ASWA, fighting Hannibal....
You're old enough to remember that?
I thought, like, you were supposed to be like, the hero. The good guy. Always racing to save the day.
Look, that John Wayne shit, it ain't worth it. It doesn't change anything. This is Max and Jeff's fight....
No, this is Jeff going to kick like, the crap out of poor Mr. Carter. He's dead and you KNOW it unless you help him.
It isn't my fight, girl. Not anymore. So, pick you up at seven? Still bringing your roomate, the double jointed one who....
We have a headache. We're getting our hair done. We're watching Dancing with The Stars.
Ah, c'mon. I told you, it's more complicated....
With a snooty huff....
If you do not have like, any more business with Mr. Carter today, then, Mr. Anderson.....GOOD DAY!
Can just gets this look on his face and grimmaces.
Aw, shit. Here we go again!
*****
James Chambers: Yo, Can. Why you stressing so hard about this hillbilly? You're training like you're gonna fight L.O. over a shark tank for the title, dude.
Can's been in the gym all day. His body is wracked from taking bumps in the pratice ring all morning, now, he's been on the heavy bag for nearly an hour, ringing off combos, sweat pouring off him.
And let this hillbilly catch me slipping and build his punk ass resume? Fuck THAT!!
But this...Mayhem. This guy ain't even fit to be in the same ring as you. Shit, you've had more World Titles than he's had televised matches! You're gonna mop the floor with him!
Can lands a textbook 4 piece combo, then stops.
Yeah, that's true. But then again, you think like that....
Next thing you know, country ass niggas like Mayhem have bragging rights. They get to go back to their single wide and pump their cousin and brag to everybody down at the liqour store how they beat an international legend.....
Because he caught my ass getting a swolen head!
James looks at him incredulously while he tosses him a towel.
Can, after last week, with maybe the exception of L.O., nobody can beat you! You shut down Green, man. A former APW World Champ....
And a cat I'm damn familiar with.
Wipes off and tosses Chambers the towel back.
Dude, I beat Green because I knew EXACTLY what he was gonna do. How he was going to approach the week, his strategy, hell....
I might as well have had prewritten his promo. It's the same shit I hear from cats every single week since I first strapped on boots ten years ago.
Dudes like Cookie Monster, easy.
Rookies, that's a different story.
Rookies are like prizes in a Cracker Jack box. You're either gonna get one of those lame ass paper maze puzzles it'd take a retard 5 seconds to solve, or, you get the dope ass decoder ring you can sell on eBay for thousands years later.
You feel me?
Jimbo?
Chambers is just staring into space, licking his lips.
Mmmmm......Cracker Jacks....
You fat bastard! Stay with me.
Granted, 90% of rookies are fucking clown shoes and get bounced out in a week, but once in a while....
A GREAT while....
You get some cat who's worth a shit. Hell, this dude might be walking dynamite if he sees on the card he can boost his rep instantly if he can catch a vaunted vet off guard.
You know how it goes....
You're rocking out on top of the world, got a rep, got a belt, then one day, they book you in a warm up match against a tomato can and you start thinking: fuck it!
I ain't gotta work. I'll just slide by on my rep, tell this clown I'll kick your ass, you can't stop me, and you slack off, next thing you know....
BOOM!
You're staring at the ceiling lights, and this bum's off building his career while you're on the way to losing your way into wrestling in high school gymnasiums on your days off from bouncing at a strip club in Pensicola....
Ain't that right, tubby!?
.....
It wasn't a strip club! It was a go-go bar. In Tampa.
Douche!
Whatever. Point is, I don't know this kid, his style, his resume, so I gotta treat this like a title fight, because who knows....
He might not be the little inbred cracka ass rook presented in his debut shoot.
....
Probably is. Dammit, I'm trying here.
Well, *points at the camera* tell HIM that!
Oh.....
Hey there.
Curtis Mayhem, right? Hey, how ya doing? Saw your debut shoot the other. Gotta say, you made your mom and your sister proud.
Judging by your demanour and the "Kill all foreigners, let God sort them out" bumper sticker on your pickup, your mom and sister are probably the same person.
Hillbilly muthafucka! Lemme introduce myself.
Kid Cannabis. 4 time world Heavyweight Champion, International superstar of the squared circle, inventor of the bug zapper, and just your average, normal, salt of the Earth....
Baddest nigga in the universe!
Real Talk, I'll punch Jupiter out if it orbits me in a way that offends me! That's how I handle business. And let me be the first to say....
Welcome to APW!
I bet it's real exciting. First debut match in a fed that doesn't so shows in bingo halls, the first opportunity to wrestle for more than gas money. I'm thinking, right now, you're creaming your Wranglers over this chance to show the world just because you took 6 years to graduate 4th grade and you constantly smell like Skoal and cow shit and show this uppity vet what the deal is.
Mmmhmmm, soon as y'all get the cable turned back on in y'alls trailer park, you can't wait for your family to see your big jump off moment in that Aaaay-Pee-Dubya!.
Yee-haw!
Well, hate to break your dreams of instant fame and getting enough money to buy those commemorative Dale Earnhart plates, hayseed, but....
As much as I like seeing new blood trying to make it big in the biz, there's only one teensey little problem.
Muthafucka, you're trying to get big by fucking with the Kid!
And when some stump jumping hick honkey jackass tries to climb the ladder by stepping on El Negro, well....
I start getting some REALLY bad thoughts in my head.
Twist a nigga up like a pretzel bad. Run circles around him and punch his lights out bad. Shit that, if I did it at the local honkey tonk you sluff around in, it'd result in me in handcuffs catching a felony case bad!
Protocl says, I should just fuck you up for general purposes, Goober.
But part of me also wants to help the rooks get a foot in the biz. Because one day, I'll be Old Guy Cannabis, hanging out at the retirement home, pinching nurses asses during my spongebath, regaling the youngin's in my tales of Afro-centric awesomeness...
You know, what I already do, except I'm not collecting Social Security.
So, I wanna help you.
I know, you look like your typical cross burning, Toby Keith liking redneck retard, but hey, I wanna ensure you're the best redneck retard in this sport.
I want to help you succeed in APW. I really do. Cause, who knows, work hard enough, one day, shit...
You might get to curtain jerk in a PPV. At least a pre show dark match! Wouldn't that rock, dude? That'd be a helluva story you can one day tell the arresting officer as he's cuffing you and dragging you down to the police station as you burn half your mobile home park with your meth lab to the ground.
Oh, if the arresting officer's a lady, you can cinch the deal by telling her you got smacked around by me. Lady cops LOVE the Kid! I give new meaning to the phrase....
Fuck the police!
My man, you're not gonna win this match. It's done already. but, just cause you don't wanna look too bad in the eys of your Nazi hick tractor pull loving friends back home, I'll tell you this....
This week, you'll have an epic match! You'll show the world what you can do against me. You'll fight your career best, and you'll test me, one of the greatest even to step into a ring.
Trust me, Wednesday, you'll be the best wrestler on the planet.
For three minutes. Then after that, I superkick the shit out of your Mayberry ass.
But think of it as a learning experience. You'll thank me in the long run.
Unless you end up retiring and working at the Quick Lube, Buford. But don't worry. I'll tell the manager to hook you up with extra shifts.
I'm just a stand up guy like that!
Yeah, real modest.
So, hillbilly boy. Welcome to big time fancy wrassling! I'll be your tour guide.
But just make sure your insurance is paid up. Roll with the Kid....
It's gonna be a bumpy ride!
(Smoke Out)
