| **The scene opens to find Rob Osbourne asleep on the sofa in the licing room of his beach house in Cocoa Beach, Florida. The time on the cable box says 3:45 and the sunlight and heat are pouring through the open window. Osbourne winces as both eyes try to open. He sits up, a little too quickly apparently as the pounding headache that followed his night on the town with his son, forces him back down. He rolls over on to his stomach and hits the floor on his hands and knees. He stumbles over to the window with his free hand clutching and shielding his forehead and eyes. He closes the blinds and slowly walks to the bathroom. He turns the cold water on full force and shoves his head under. He leaves it there for a few moments until he can feel the pain starting to subside. Finally, he shuts off the wtaer, dries his hair and grabs a handful of aspirins out of the medicine cabinet and downs them. As he walks back in the living room he notices the light on the phone is blinking. He picks it up and hears the interrupted dial tone letting him know shtere are messages. He punches in the passcode and the automated voice begins playing.....**
You have.....6......new messages. First message: "Rob....it's your wife. For the time being. You had best have a DAMNED good explanation for not coming home or calling me last night. I have been calling your phone since you told me you would see me in forty minutes. Call me now." Second message: "Dad, it's Bob. I just wanted to make sure you were ok. You drank an aweful lot last night. It was classic Nitemare how you handled the cops though. I got a feeling your gonna be out all day. I'm gonna call Christina and let her know. Otherwise, Adams will be the least of your worries." Third message: "Honey. It's me again. Bobby just called me. While I don't condone what you did. I'm glad you got to have a good night with him. You needed it. Call me when you wake up. I love you" Fourth message: "Nitemare. It's X. Call me. We have a BIG problem." Fifth message: "Hi there, this message is for Robert Osbourne...this is David Lee, Internet Sales Manager for Ford. You had sent in an inquiry on-line about the 2010 Taurus SHO to add to your fleet of domestic sports cars. I had meant to call you to see how everything is with the Shelby. Give me a call so we can discuss the Taurus you wanted." Sixth message: "Dad. It's Bob. Everything is a go. We have to be there at midnight. I have scouted eeverything out and the guy I am paying on the inside says we will be able to get in any time between midnight and four a.m. Let me know when you want to be there. I already picked up the barrell. Call me back." **By the time each message has played he has recovered from the majority of the headache he woke up with. He pops the top on a Heineken and takes a swallow. He picks up the phone and first calls his wife. he gets her voicemail...** NRO: Hey it's me. Sorry babe. I had WAAAAAAAy to much to drink. The stories were bing told, the good times remembered the bad times refelt. It was a good night but I am paying for it this morn....err.....afternoon. Wait a minute...shit. I was exhausted and trashed, but I missed a day? Shit. It's Tuesday?!? Damn. I love you babe. I'll see you on Sunday. I may be out of signal range for incoming calls. If you need me text me. **He hangs up and double checks the date on the toolbar on his laptop and sighs realizin now why he smells so bad and why his head hurt as badly as it did. The last thing he remember was Bobby dropping him off at about 4 in the morning late Sunday early Monday. It is now 4:00 p.m. on Tuesday afternoon and he has just awoken. Tuesday was supposed to be the off day so it works out for him in the long run, needing the night at Webber's as welcome escape from the rat race of the CWF. He calls his son and gets his voicemail....** NRO: God damn the fucking phone tag. Bobby boy. It's dad - I'm finally awake. Call me back. Something's up Xamin's ass. I have to call him back. Call me. **He feverishly calls Xamin. Voicemail. He sighs and punches the table as the message beeps** NRO: Mark, it's Nitemare. What's up? Listen, if it's important, text me. I may out of signal range to be able to call me. **As he is finishing the message to Xamin his phone beeps, a glance at the screen shows its Bob. he flips over.** NRO: Hey kid. Where you at? BOB: In the truck across the street from the place. NRO: Shit. You're already there? BOB: Relax. I'm just casing it to make sure nothings out of the ordinary. Make sure no ones been tipped off. You can get here way before we can hit it. Did you really sleep for 36 hours? NRO: Fuck off. BOB: Better than piss off..... NRO: You know, I can still beat your fucking ass punk. BOB: That may be, but eventually, you're gonna get old. And I'm gonna get bigger and stronger. NRO: And I'll still kick your fucking ass. BOB: Likely response. NRO: oh, I doubted your Grampa Joe. So did Chris. HA! See, when the man you are squaring off knows literally EVERYTHING you've ever done and has taught you 99% of it. It doesn't matter how old and out of shape he is or how young and spry you are. Believe me. I ain't makin this shit up. BOB: Mmmmmhhhmm. Hey. I do want you to know I don't buy in to any o f the bullshit that comes out of that slack jawed mewitt's mouth, right? NRO: Yeah, I know. doesn't mean it doesn't hit me in the desired spot he was looking for when he says it. BOB: he's right though you know. You can't be running off everytime some dick head cracks me with a chair. You didn't have to run out on Uncle Pledge. He needed you more than I did then. NRO: That's debatable. It's the first time I've had to be in the arena you're in and see it. Sure, I saw it on the video's on PWN when you were under the mask in Florida Mid-South Championship Wrestling, but I wasn't there. Standing on the arpon seeing it played out knowing I might be able to make a difference. It;s a tough spot to be in having to choose between your son and your half brother. BOB: Next time, don't worry about me. Stay with it. Now you have a loss stupid. NRO: Technically, no. Pledge got pinned, not me. BOB: I completely agree. Had you been ther,e the match may have ended differently. Which is exactly why you should have stayed in the match. NRO: Well kid-o this week we don't have to worry about it, we'll be there together. Listen, I'm gonna grab a bite to eat and then I'll be there. We have like 8 hours right? BOB: Yeah. Bring me something. Where are you going? Sit down or take out. NRO: Sit down. Listen, you're right by a Waffle House, right? BOB: Oh God. Yes. NRO: Good, meet me there in two hours. And what's wrong with Waffle House? BOB: Nothing. You just don't ever get sick of that shit? It's not exactly the cleanest place to eat at either. NRO: Bah, anyting over 140 is okay to eat shit for brains. BOB: You ever seen Waiting? NRO: Yes. Yes I have. Great movie. Ryan Reynolds is crazy. speaking of crazy, where's BJ at? He does realize he has a match this week. BOB: He's on a boat. NRO: What? BOB: He's on a boat. Plus...it's not BJ in the match. It;s the other one. NRO: Oh shit. Drastic...damn. If he's off his meds and flipping in and out of both personalities again, then we need to stay alert. Hopefully the dipshit will remember to do what I told him to do. BOB: Oh I am very sure he will. See Drastic is in Omega with Magnus. BJ is in the Osbourne Family with us and Uncle Pledge. We all hate Shock Value. NRO: Doesn't everyone? BOB: Truer words were never spoken father. By the way, did you see his promo? NRO: What? Oh shit, that's right, it is already Tuesday. Nah, I haven't been on PWN yet. BOB: Well, go watch that shit. I'll see you at the Aweful Waffle then. NRO: Aight. Hasta. **Osbourne hangs up the phone and heads upstairs and takes a shower, still smelling the stink faintly in his hair. He finishes and dresses and goes downstairs. He flips on PWN. After running through all of the promos thus far this week he flips on his digital uplink once again shooting from the hip....** NRO: Before I address my upcoming opponents this week, I want to touch on a few unrelated matters. First, am I the only one who heard Bobby Crane call Mariano Fernandez Mariano Rivera? HA! That was classic Bobby Crane. If he hadn't faced my kid and loss twice, I wouldn't know the difference between him or the baseball player. And what about Rudy Ruettiger? Is this kid for real? Is he blind that Motion may have done him a HUGE favor. That kid ain't yours pal. She's a dirty whore. Motion just took out someone else's dribble from a late pull out from that night when you were on the road Rudy boy. Magnus. I don't know if you're involvement last week was because of "Brastic" or if you are extending a hand for a coalition of the willing. We have a common ember in our eye and thorn in our side my very large friend. Call me. We'll do lunch Then we'll do Adams head into the side of a dumpster while you smack it with Mjolner or whatever the fuck you call it. But make no mistake about it big man, just like with Pledge, its a wartime truce against a common threat. When we finish with Adams, everybody is fair game. But first we have to all unite together to be the chemotherapy the CWF needs for its cancer. What is that cancer? Shock Value. Bit of an oximoron isn't it boys? I mean, you are exactly that. All about the Shock Value of your actions, never once considering the consequences and repercussions. Now I know two of you are half illiterate douche bag fuck faces, and the other is old enough to have Alzheimer's and God only knows who the Black Mask could be...of course why would the jumbo tron show Blair cracking my kid unless they wanted to show who their other member was to take me mentally out of the match. It worked. And then they succeeded in bringing me mentally right back into the right frame of mind when they dropped their juice so to speak. Anger. Rage. Hatred. Revenge. These things are what occupy my mind. Master oda says these things the dark side is. Consume you it will. Yes. I am ltting it. I am giving in to my hate. Feeding on my anger. And it makes me focused. Makes me stronger. Because I know what it's like when that rage kicks in, when you can't fight it. I have the ability to store it and then release it on a particular target of my choosing. This week that target is Blair and Adams. One half of Shock Value. The Wanna Be and the Has Been. Ah ah ah ah ah Adams, don't fucking start with me thumping your little fucking title. You're a God damn paper champion and the laughing stock of the entire company. Every one of the boys in the back and even your own knob polisher Daniels knows, Pledge beat you. Magnus beat. I beat you. Your title is nothing. It's immaterial. It matters not. Just like it doesn't mean anything if someone who comes in here hasn't had a title run in the CWF. Even Xamin will admit it you fucking tool, the CWF is NOT the end all be all of professional wrestling. Just because you morons don't realize the life away from the CWF, IoA, and RW isn't my fault. But Brian....what I have in store for you no title can encompass. I am going to show you the stuff that legends are made of. Before this is all said and done Brian, all the family and the minions aside, at the end of the day, you and me - we're gonna dance. And when we do, oh Brian, we're going to make history. But unfortunately only one will be remembered as the victor and one as the fallen. One of my favorite quotes is by Winston Churchill, maybe you remember it Brian. " History will be kind to me. for I intend to write it." Ditto Brian. Ditto. But we can't completely ignore the elephant in the room this weke people, can we? I mean, which Paul Blair will show up. Or, for that matter, WILL he show up at all? Meh. Not like it'll matter who shows up. Tag bitch. You're it. **He flips off the uplink and heads outside and hops on the Harley. He mergess onto I-4 towards Orlando. Moreover, to the Metrowest area where all of the medical facilities and laboratories are located. On the corner of Kirkman and West Colonial drive is the Waffle House where Bob sits in a booth sipping on a Dr. Pepper when he pulls up. As he walks in the waitress greets him and he slides in to the booth opposite of his son. He looks up and sees the cook already working the order up and they are the only people in the joint besides the staff. Rob looks down and sees the condiments and everything already on the table that he would ask for. ** NRO: What the fuck? You ordered for me? BOB: Dad. You've eaten the same three things my entire life at Waffle House and each is dependant upon one thing or another. First, is Steak and Eggs Breakfast or drunk in the middle of the night. Right now is neither. Second option would be a Ham and Cheese Omelet. But thatagan is drunk or breakfast. Any other time, drunk or sober, it's a patty melt with hasbrowns with cheese, onions, ham, and chili. NRO: Impressive. Most impressive. Obi-Wan has taught you well. Now I will complete your training. Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father did he? BOB: Oh God. Not in public Dad, come on. I'm not 10 anymore... NRO: Say it.... BOB: No NRO: Say it....... BOB: .............. NRO: SAY IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BOB: (rolls eyes and sighs) He told me enough. He told me you killed him. NRO: NO! I Am your father. Search your feelings you know it to be true. BOB: nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.....are we done now? NRO: Sure kid. Listen. After we pull this off, do we need to store the thing somehwere temperature controlled? BOB: How's your hair smelling? NRO: Like piss. BOB: Why the hell would i want to control the temperature then? On the contrary, I want you to prk the truck in the sun at the beach house until we hav eto drive it to the arena. Or are you flying it on the plane? NRO: Hmmm...dunno. One bad patch of trubulance and its curtains for the plane. Fuck it, I'll do it. Why not. Ohhh, foods here. Let's eat. **FTB to be continued.** |
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