Episode 4: Worst Day Ever

["The Real Deal" Ellis Graham]

THIS WEEK...on REAL WRESTLING...

My name...is Ellis Graham...

...I am a Megastar of APW's Monday Night Meltdown...

...I am a Graham, wealthy and willing to uphold the honor of my family name...

...and today...

...is the worst day of my life...

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TONIGHT...on...

REAL WRESTLING
starring
ELLIS GRAHAM

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People assume that the “good guys”, the wrestlers they cheer for every night, are always behaving honorably and are generally good-natured, law-abiding citizens whom you can respect as a person and allow your children to idolize.

THE REALITY IS…some of those heroes, those saviors of the crowd, are nothing but sociopathic jerks, and the only reason you cheer for them is the fact that they randomly choose to point their heinous behavior at people the fans already don’t like.

I touched on this when I spoke about Anfernee Basie last week, but I feel that the card-carrying President of the “Jerks You Shouldn’t Cheer For, But You Do Because You’re An Idiot” Club is one of my opponent’s next week, Jeff Triton. Jeff, let’s just take a quick review over the “heroic” actions you committed the last time cameras got a look at you: you had the opportunity to help a man who was in serious need of a restroom, and you forced him to “go” in an elevator, and taunted him for doing so; you “passed gas” right in a woman’s face, then later filled a crowded elevator with your toxic bodily functions; you stole a ball from children and then, as they cried, made pedophilic gestures towards them, ALWAYS a crowd pleaser; you purposefully spilled hot coffee on a woman; you potentially seriously injured a woman at a gym; oh, and of course, stole a $9000 watch.

But that’s not the part of the promo that sickened me the most. The worst part was that the woman whom you tried to maim by forcing her off of her own treadmill later treated you like a hero, laughing supportively at some of the most Caucasian dance moves I’ve ever seen, and basically letting you watch her disrobe and get dressed after a shower. THESE ARE THE FANS OF ACTION PACKED WRESTLING!

Any rational person looks at a worthless deviant like you and doesn’t have to take any time to realize what an unsavory pile of crap you are, but NOOOO! It’s APW, where the audience is so relentlessly stupid and/or dishonorable themselves that a guy like you is someone they adore while a guy like me who has done nothing wrong except have money is a hated outcast.

But that’s something that hopefully I can change, Jeff. Perhaps my team of The Trust and Niobe Martin can beat you and your team so decisively that the fans, fickle as they are, will not want to root for you anymore. Maybe then they will see how misguided they are for thinking some miscreant like you is worthy of their time. I mean, a guy can hope, right?

Yes, he can. The population of wrestling fans can’t all be so stupid as to like you. Even if they are, they are so fair-weather as a group that a sound defeat and they won’t care about you anymore, because they won’t expect you to win. Good guys have to win or nobody cares about them anymore, and the world I want to live in is a world where no one cares about a piece of trash like you.

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(Scene opens as Daniel Powder's "Bad Day" lines the aural background. The central focus of the scene is Ellis' "World Is Not Enough". In the spaces of the song's first verse, cue Ellis' voiceover.)

You know, the FGW show was thoroughly migraine-inducing. But, the silver lining was spending the week in reclusive bliss on my new yacht. I really enjoyed that time, and I resolved with myself that I would spend as much time as I could on this Third World Tour on it. I even flew out my sparring associates, Chance and Daniel, to come hang out on the yacht and get a taste of the good life as a thank you for their help perfecting my craft.

Well, that didn't happen.

'CAUSE YOU HAD A BAD DAY!

(In tempo with the impactful entrance of the chorus, the sequence of changing shots of the ported yacht end at the exit door as it is burst open, with Ellis angrily exiting as if under annoying duress, followed closely behind by three Maracaibo policemen, and Yeoman Gill.)

What the Hell, 'Yes'? What the Hell's going on? I don't speak South American!

They're speaking Spanish, Ellis.

I don't care what they're saying, Yes. Just TELL ME WHAT THEY'RE SAYING!!!

Uh...

WHY ARE THEY KICKING ME OFF MY OWN YACHT?!?

Oh! Yeah! They're saying they have received reports of heavy drug trafficking and smuggling on the marina.

I don't have any drugs! What do I need drugs for? That crap is for people whose lives suck! Mine's been fan-TAS-tic until now!

I know, I know, but they said they had to check all of them.

No they don't! Call Bart!

(Note:[/u] "Bart", of course, refers to President Jeff, whom Ellis has come to understand has a full name of Bartholomew H. Jeff VI. Ellis also seems to think he's on a first-name basis with the top executive of APW as well)

I'm here because of him and his "Third World Tour" so you call him and tell him to DEAL WITH THIS!

Ye...Yes. Of course.

(While Ellis seethes to a level of irateness incalculable by current mathematics, Yeoman reaches into his pocket for a miniature notepad and his Nokia phone. After flipping through the notepad, Yeoman dials a number, looking back and forth between pad and phone twice before finalizing it. He holds the phone up to his ear, and, after a minute, silently hangs up.)

He...didn't answer.

What? What could he POSSIBLY be doing that he can't deal with problems with elite members of his roster? What point is having a President if he doesn't fix when locals mess with MY downtime?

¡Así! aprendemos a utilizar Wi-Fi cuando esté listo.

(The lead officer talks at both of them, but Ellis gives Yeoman a "Hello! You're my translator!" look.)

Oh...right! They said that they needs us to leave but they'll let us know when they're done.

So NOW what do we do? I was about to get my friends from the airport TO SHOW THEM THE YACHT!

Well...TripAdvisor recommends a great place inside Maracaibo to eat. We could take them there first.

(Cue Ellis' voiceover)

So...instead of showing my friends how I escape from the cesspool of South America...I'm showing them the cesspool.

Worst...day...EVER!

NEXT: ELLIS vs MARACAIBO!




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People assume that rebellion is a premeditated act of defiance against an oppressive establishment.

THE REALITY IS...most "rebels" are nothing more than attention-seeking morons whose only way to stand out in the crowd is through wanton stupidity.

Case in point: Lane Robertson, the brains, sadly, of the Television Time Killers. Not too long ago, I saw this poor excuse for existence, he was engaging in a "rebellion" against what he felt was the hypocrisy of organized religion. But what was this rebellion?

Did he channel Martin Luther? No, not Martin Luther King a.k.a. the only historic figure Anfernee Basie knows, but Martin Luther, the author of the "95 Theses" document that inspired the birth of Protestantism? No, there were no suggestions for change from Robertson.

Did he pull from Christopher Columbus, projecting a new way to see the Earth with such fervent confidence that he procured a naval phalanx on an absolute suicide mission if he was wrong? No, there was no inspiring assuredness from Robertson.

No, folks, he simply urinated on the famous statue Jesus The Redeemer. He then proceeded to laugh to himself in acknowledgement of his own moronic magnificence, then nudged his old friend in hopes of additional congratulation, but EVEN HE could not prevent his eyes from rolling.

Fantastic job, Lane. You managed to be such an avatar for "YOLO" that even your confidants find themselves embarrassed to know you.

What does that stunt say about you, Lane? Truth be told, volumes can be written about it. The lackadaisical lack of outside-the-box thinking is clear, and an obvious detriment to any athletic performer. The incessant ignorance reflects the fact that, though it's staring you square in your face that I've got a significant advantage over you in both expertise and panache, you will still come at me with the same predictable moveset that has gotten you so many accolades in APW.

Oh right. You haven't gotten any. My mistake. "But what have YOU done, Ellis?" Well, let's see. Since debuting The Trust, Evan McDonald and I have, in the span of two weeks, defeated a former North American champion, along with two allegedly decent members of Meltdown, and what else?

OH RIGHT! There's the whole fact that we SHOULD be TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS right now. Anfernee Basie claims to be a fighting champion as well as "The King of Lumberjack Matches", yet he abjectly refused to risk The Crying Creed's flimsy grip on relevancy by defending the tag team belts, and his fear was proven right because his team lost. So, if Basie and Jake Haskins were men instead of sissies, The Trust would be the APW Tag Team Champions right now.

What's the closest you two have come to something like that? Nowhere. The closest you've been to champions is sharing an arena with them, and on Monday night, you have to deal with a champion again, ME, the Reality Heavyweight Champion, the FGW Heavyweight Champion, and a man UNDEFEATED in six-man matches...Ellis Graham.

So how does a clown like you respond to facing a monolith of talent and success such as myself?
You tell me that I'm not prepared because I have money. Okay. I get it. You have some "street cred" or "psycho personality in the ring" or something that I won't be ready for.

Wait, what's that? You say that the warning was NOT about the match, and instead the warning was for some "Postman" post-apocalyptic dystopia where money is irrelevant?

Wow. Just...wow.

Okay, let me break it down "Top 3" style, Lane:

Number 3: Money is NEVER irrelevant. The American Dollar? Maybe. Gold? Depends. But "money" is simply defined as an item of socially-acceptable value used to exchange goods and services. Even in "Waterworld" - since Lane is so exceptionally mediocre that thinking about him causes my brain to parallel into the "Crappy Kevin Costner Movie" section of trivia - things like resin and paper were traded around like money. So, no, Lane, "MONEY" will NEVER be irrelevant.

Number Two: If you think the wealthy - ESPECIALLY THE CONSERVATIVES - are going to fall off the top of the social ladder for any reason, including apocalypse, then you are obliviously unaware of how society works. You see, apocalypse does not happen overnight, and my wealth makes me uniquely equipped to obtain and acquire whatever I need to not only survive, but to remain atop my throne. Nuclear war? Let me get my yacht with staff, supplies, and enough fuel to circumnavigate the planet, and between the time it would take for Kim Jong-Un to push the button and the time his warhead would need to complete its Transpacific flight, I'll be in the middle of the north Atlantic, comfortably waiting to see what Western nation evades radiation so that I can park there and continue my social dominance. Zombie outbreak? With money, I can have both the vaccine to whatever infection caused the outbreak as well as whatever ammunition and equipment I would need to create an impenetrable fortress out of Graham Manor. Even if the stock market and dollar crashed, I'd be fine, because my patriotism does not mean I limit my assets to Nasdaq and greenbacks.

Number one: FOCUS ON THE DAMN MATCH, you worthless nincompoop! I don't claim to be successful in the ring through money. I claim to be successful because I have afforded fantastic facilities to train, full-time staff to handle distractions and simplify my life so I can maintain focus on wrestling, and a sense of confidence from being a Graham that propels me to trust myself and trust my decision-making, because he who hesitates is lost.

If that old adage is true, then you must be king of hesitation, Lane, because you are truly lost if you think a slug like you can defeat a tiger like me.

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(Open to downtown Maracaibo, a surprisingly metropolitan-looking scene.)

As I traveled through Maracaibo, I had to say I was shocked. After all the third-world crap towns I've had to ensue, this one was almost alright. By the time we got to the airport, I thought today might actually perk up.



("Turn My Swag On" plays as the posse of Ellis, Yeoman, and his sparring friends Chance and Danny walk down the street. And, yes, OF COURSE it's in slow motion.)

Chance and Daniel helped me out a lot with training and I wanted to thank them. I had INTENDED to treat them to a fantastic lunch from my personal chef, but NO! I'm apparently a drug lord.

So I had to trust Yeoman's ability to find worthwhile sustenance while we waited to be permitted back to the American soil of my yacht.

(Cut to the inside of a fancy Italian restaurant in Maracaibo called "Antica". Yes, there are more trees inside the establishment than outside in the city. Fast cuts forward show the group arriving in Antica, being seated, ordering, receiving, and eating their food.)

Again, I was pleasantly surprised by the turn of events. Food almost as good as I have prepared for me, but I'll credit that to my chef, Alimento, knowing my personal flavor palate and seasoning everything the way I like it.

Just as I was about to say that the day had turned itself around...

(An obvious American tourist couple walks up cautiously to the table.)

Hello. Are you Ellis Graham?

(Ellis' Voiceover: Great. Tourists.)

We're so sorry to bother you, but, well, we're both huge fans of APW. We met at a viewing party for Rasslemania VIII and, long story short...

(Ellis' Voiceover: Too late.)

...we decided to make our honeymoon this South American tour! We were hoping to run into a megastar and, well, lucky us!

So...can we, like, get an autograph or a picture?

(Ellis' Voiceover: In the split second after processing the fan's request, my heart softened. This couple was genuinely excited to share a moment with "The Real Deal". However, I guess it took me just a second too long to answer back...)

Oh, that's fine!

(Chance stands up from his spot at the table.)

Now, don't get me wrong, KiloGraham, I'm gonna let you finish, but how can y'all (BLEEP) not lunge at the chance to get some ink from the greatest tag team in history, the mother(BLEEP) Blood Brothers!

(Ellis' Voiceover: Okay, backstory. Chance and Daniel are a tag team from a rival company. I insisted on partnering with actual wrestlers from an actual established promotion so that my training came against the same kind of legitimate competition I'd see in APW. Also, these guys recently became champions just before flying out to Venezuela, so their success is high right now. I guess, they got a little carried away...)

I...I'm sorry, but we're only really followers of APW.

Man, (BLEEP) that! APW ain't (BLEEP)! Think they're all bad an' (BLEEP) because "Mr. Jeff doesn't hire guys with a background in backyard wrestling." (BLEEP) that, (BLEEP) him, (BLEEP) APW, and (BLEEP) YOU!

(As Daniel wordlessly steps in between Chance and the fans, and before Yeoman can diffuse the situation, the waiter and what appears to be the manager, walk up to the table)

I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I have to ask your party to leave. Our other patrons find the volume a but disruptive.

(Chance immediately diverts his attention - and aggro rating - towards the waiter, "Bleep"-ing it up while Yeoman tries to stop him. Meanwhile, Ellis just sits at his spot, facepalming the entire situation.

Cut to the outside of the restaurant just as they all walk out.)

Man, (BLEEP) that! Let's find somewhere else to go!

(Ellis' phone rings. He looks at the phone: "Unknown".)

This is probably the police, saying I can come back to the yacht.

(Ellis pushes "accept" then "speaker".)

Hello?

Hello, Mr. Graham! This is Rod Line, Vice Prez of FGW. We were hoping to touch base on the whole "you took our title and didn't come back" thing...

(Ellis' Voiceover: Worst...day...ever!)

("Bad Day" comes back into the audio, at the end of the tune.)

You had a bad day...you had a bad day.

(Roll credits.)

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Matthew Jenkins, you know me and I know you by now. You think you are better than me only because you say so.

But I AM better than you, in every measurable way, and I'm smarter too. So, I'm smart enough to not show my hand now before the river is dealt. Just rest assured that your highest point was your thirty-minute run as number one contender, and that moment has passed. For you, it's all downhill from here.

And THAT'S what's real!