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| **The scene opens to find Rob Osbourne standing in the shower of his suite at the Bungalow in Olympia, Washington forty minutes after CWF Saturday Night Showdown. He washes aggressively to get all of the "yellow liquid" out of his hair and his skin. Finally consenting that the smell isn't going away right away, he rinses off and climbs out. Walking from the bathroom to the bedroom in nothing but his birthday suit, Osbourne realizes the replays that are to come after the evenings antics by Shock Value. He walks over and opens the suitcase and is about to pull out a shirt when he realizes that putting the clothes on will only transfer the smell to them until it subsides. Instead he gets that cocky, arrogant, cheshire cat like shit eating grin that always lets us know that deviant mind is up to something. He walks over to the computer desk and fires off an e-mail to Mark Xamin.....**
To: Mark Xamin <[email protected]> From: Rob Osbourne <[email protected]> Mark.....seriously. I think you think I'm overreacting. If the test results come back saying it's fermented Apple Juice, then so be it, all in good humor. But if it is what the smell in my hair leads me to believe it is, I may be contacting my attorneys. You and I both know what the prick intended. I am the guy that used to do this kind of stuff and I killed feds doing it and got a real bad rep. You know that all too well. I don't want to see this happen again either.I have behaved myself up until this point, from a certain point of view. I'ts on now. Just be aware. Regards, Rob **He sends the e-mail then hooks up his camera via the USB drive and logs into PWN.com via his digital uplink. Standing there naked, but only being shown from mid-navel up he delivers his first address of the week.** NRO: So. It appears that Shock Value has further cemented themseles as the stupidest mother fuckers in the history of the business. While some might say that their rather childish antics this evening were quote all in good fun, I disagree. I think, regardless of their claims that it was fermented apple juice, or wether in fact it was human urine, this time they have done the unthinkable. Wait..wait...wait...wait..hold up..did you think I meant they crossed the line DUMPING the "piss"??? No, no, not at all. I meant they fucked up not because they tried the same kind of sophomoric bullshit here that the Boston Pops used to pull in the IoA to get under my skin. And I will tell you dipshit two bit hack mother fuckers the same thing I told them. Congratulations. Mission Accomplished boys. There's a reason I was given the monicker I was. You see, you can sit there and talk about my glory days in the MWWF and the EWA being my only claim to fame and that it took my ten years to succeed in the CWF. You can also insult my praising of one of your number, Mr. Jeff Jericho. But let me break it down for you. First of all. I respect the men that deserve respect in this industry. Men like Jimmy Blast. Men like Mike Stewert, Steve Dart, Stan Cremins, Andrew Archer, Roland Ulvselius, Tige', Darklight Warrior, Jack Mason, Moisture, M.O.D., Magnus Thunder, Gravedigger, Paul Pipp, Billy Rusnock, Jeff Jericho, T-Money, Scott Deville, Shawn Hillard, Simon Styles, Pledge Alligence, and Maniac. It has nothing to do with kissing Double J's ass. I still hate his fucking guts. But I respect him. I respect what he has done and where he has been. He is a warrior. He has been through as many stable wars, inter-promotional crossover invasions, and hostile takeovers as myself. And like those I've named, he has remained a constant force, unrivaled by the masses and unrelenting in his assaults. The kind of guy that, if the shit really hit the fa, you knew would be right there in the thick of it. Not like you present day fucking jokes. You "wanna be" heels. You think doing things like that is new? Do you think that's original? Jesus H. Christ, you must have taken your bimbo dates out the other night to see Land of the Lost, huh? I know not many people saw the movie, as evidenced by its box office bombing, but you dickweeds must have. I didn't think it was that funny when it happened in the movie to Will Ferrell, and I don't think it was very funny tonight. You want to proverbially piss on the Osbourne family? Fuck you. Fuck you in your stupid asses. You want to have a pissing contest? Want to break out the yard stick, or in your cases the inch ruler, and see whose dick is bigger? That's it isn't it? You twats want to get me going? Fine. Be ready, cause I got nothing to hide, nothing to fear, and nothing to lose. I'm proving that right now, see, my dick's right here boys, get to measuring! |
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| **The cameras angle widens out as Osbourne grabs at his manhood and shakes it at the camera. He reaches in the duffell bag and grabs the CWF National title. He stretches out and drapes the title over his genitals and poses for the camera and hits the button on the remote to take a still. He gets up and walks over to the computer and checks it out on the screen. Impressed by his work he e-mails it to his printing division at Osbourne, Inc. to get a line of Posters made. He gets up and showers once more. This time, happy to be rid of the scent of the liquid, he gets dressed, packs his duffell and suitcase and heads downstairs. After checking out and getting in his Mustang he heads out to the airport, calling the pilot on his way and driving aboard the plane with the gangway shutting behind him as the front wehels lift off of the ground. Hours later the plane touches down in Orlando and Osbourne heads off of the plane and straight to his beach house in Cocoa Beach. His son Bob is set to meet him for dinner in Daytona Beach at Webber's Steak House in a day or so for an Early Father's day treat. He pulls up at the house and parks the car in the garage and carries his gear back in. After checking out the line-up for this week's Showdown on CWF.com he grins from ear to ear and checks his e-mail....he finds the reply he got from Xamin.....**
To: Rob Osbourne <[email protected]> From: Mark Xamin <[email protected]> Ok cool, it seemed like you were totally wigging out and getting ready to storm out...seen it happen before lol, so I know the signs by now. Anyway, of course you can retaliate...it would make no sense for you not to. I know how much you hate Adams. I know you want to tear him limb from limb, but Magnus is next in line. Love him or hate him no one has more heat than he does right now and it's because of shit like this...and no, I'm not saying it's cool to be pulling that kind of shit all the time, BUT...having said that, the ENTIRE fed is buzzing. It's not often people not involved in the angle at all have been calling me and the offices. The press about it alone has been off the charts. It ran on CNN, Fox, MSNBC, ESPN. Seriously Rob, bruised go aside, you're a business man. Look at it from that angle and tell me it wasn't a greta move...I mean just look at the response this is getting. Our ratings were through the fuckin' roof and they should be higher next week. The ball is in your court. **The Nitemare closed the e-mail and and went out the back doog and into the annexed out building that housed his training facilities. Changing clothes, and pulling his hair into a ponytail, Osbourne plugs the earbuds to his iPhone in and starts with an aggressive upper body work out on the nautilus machine. For inspiration, he flips the flat panel on the wall to PWN on demand and sets up the video to loop and clicks play, re-watching the end of Shodown over and over as the music pumps in his ears. Several hours later he pops the ear buds out and comes to a stop on the treadmill. He is pouring sweat prifusely and drains a bottled water as he flips the TV off. He walks stretched out on the trainer's table across the room for a moment and drifts off to sleep......** NRO: What the shit? Am I....? **Osbourne looks down at his arms and legs and they are brilliantly colored and animated. He looks around and realizes he is dreaming. This time he is in an episode of the hit Fox series Fmaily Guy. He decides to indulge the dreamworld and walks leisurely down Spooner Street. As he passes by a house with an open door four naked Asian women run out screaming, covered in baby oil. Suddenly Glenn Quaggmire runs out in his leopard bikini underwear and shoots all four women quickly with a horse tranquilizer gun. He looks up at Osbourne...** Quaggmire: Hey there stranger, lend me a hand and I'll let you do one of em...giggidy! NRO: I'll help you out Q-man, but you can keep em to yourself bro. Quaggmire: What the hell, how do you know my name? NRO: Uhm....uhm....it's on the mailbox? Quaggmire: Oh. Yeah. Hey thanks for your help. **Osbourne keeps walking and comes to the front door of the Griffin home. Peter is just leaving for his job at the Pawtucket Patriot Brewery Meg and chris are walking onto the bus as Lois carried Stewie back inside. Rob walks up and rings the door bell. It opens and no one is there, then Osbourne looks down into the eyes of an adorable white dog. ** Brian: Yeah? NRO: Hi there, you're Brian Griffin right? Brian: Who wants to know? NRO: My name's Rob Osbourne. **Suddenly Stewie falls down the stairs, tumbling all the way. He lands on the bottom step and scurries to his feet, running and tripping on a chew toy on his way to the door. ** Stewie: Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Brian....don't you know who this handsome devil is? Brian: Should I? Stewie: This is the CWF National Champion �The Nitemare� Rob Osbourne!! Brian: Since when do you watch wrestling? Stewie: Maybe if you asked me every once in awhile how my day goes I wouldn't have to find excitement elsewhere. Would it kill you to tell me I'm pretty? Brian: What?!?! Stewie: Nothing, never mind. Brian: Whatever. I�m sorry Mr. Osbourne, was there something you wanted? NRO: Actually, I just wanted to use your phone. Brian: Oh�no can do man. Peter tried to attach the phone to his shoes so he could be like Maxwell Smart. Now Lois has to buy a new phone. There�s a mini-mart on the corner with a payphone right down the road. NRO: Thanks. **Osbourne walks down the street and into the Mini Mart. He grabs a 20 ounce Cherry Dr. Pepper and a bag of pizza Combo�s and walks up to the counter to pay so he can get loose change for the pay phone. The line is 5 people deep and he sighs and takes his place behind the last patron. The guy in front of him turns around** Man #1: God damn! What the hell is that?!?!? Man #2: It smells like Bigfoot�s Dick. Man #1: Oh god. It�s like all the smells in an apartment building at dinner time, and shit. NRO: Damn it all to hell. Even in my dreams I can�t get away from this smell! **Suddenly he sits straight up on the trainer�s table in a profuse sweat. Realizing where he is and what time it is, he rushes up to the main house and hops in the shower again. He runs through the house getting dressed. He heads out the front door and hops on the Harley and heads to Daytona Beach to meet his son for an early Father�s Day dinner. To be continued.** |
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