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**The scene opens to find Rob and Bob Osbourne sitting in the front seat of a rented 2009 Ford F-150. In the bed of the truck is a rusted over 50 gallon drum. Father and son sit in the truck watching the clock and waiting for the stroke of midnight so they can make their planned raid. They are making small talk, catching up on the last years events that occurred while Bob was on the road in the Indy Circuits. They have the radio set to Sirius Satellite and the PWN station. The audio clips of Blair�s recent tirade plays. As it ends and Ira Huffingpaint comments on his take, the younger Osbourne mashes the power button.**
BOB: To hell with that old bastard. Who does he think he is?!?!? NRO: Who does he think he is? He�s �The Ruler� Paul Blair. One of, if not the most, successful CWF Super Stars of all time. He�s a member of the CWF Hall of Fame for crying out loud. And�. BOB: Don�t say it�.. NRO: Say what? BOB: That he�s The Black Mask. NRO: He is you know. I know it. I can feel it. BOB: That�s the Waffle House you ate earlier old man. I�m telling you Blair is not the Black Mask�. NRO: Wait a damned minute! BOB: Don�t even. NRO: Well, you ARE very confident that it isn�t Blair� BOB: Are you serious?!?! NRO: No, but I got you all riled up didn�t I? Kind of how things went in the CWF this past week! Can you believe Xamin thought Adams and Daniels would REALLY get under my skin THAT bad? Puhlease. BOB: You were pretty pissed off Dad�I can see why he would have thought you were about to take your ball and go home. NRO: Is my fucking name Pledge? No. Last time I checked my name was Rob Osbourne. Rob Osbourne doesn�t run. Rob Osbourne doesn�t hide. Rob Osbourne just wins wrestling matches � hand over fist. That hasn�t changed because some douche bag dumped piss on me. BOB: But Dad, what of the accusations they keep making? That doesn�t eat away at you when they attempt to tarnish your image or your legacy? Doesn�t it make you mad as hell? It would if it were me they were talking about. NRO: I have thicker skin than that Tommy-tough-guy. Besides�my fans know the truth. And if they disagree and Shock Value�s mindless banter has influenced their thought processes, then fuck �em. They matter to me about as much as Brian Adams matters to them. Which is not at all. My legacy is strong enough to withstand any amount of heresy or heretical comments thrown out by the four idiots in Shock Value. Kid, you of all people should know me well enough to realize that I don�t get mad. I get even. **Just then the clock display reads 12:04 A.M. Rob motions for Bob to start up the truck and drive it into position. They back it right up to a loading dock and very carefully duck out of the vehicle. Father and son are clad in all black cat burglar suits. They have pulled their hair into ponytails and tucked them under their shirts. They pull out black ski masks and pull them on over their faces. Rob crouches down low, like a secret agent or spy creeping into his position by the door. Bob creeps around as well, ringing the buzzer on the door. One lone security guard, a rather old man armed with a flashlight and a billy club opens the door. As he does, The Nitemare cracks him on the head from behind with a large pair of channel locks, knocking the old timer out cold. They drag him inside and tie him up and gag him. ** BOB: Hey�I just realized something funny� NRO: What? BOB: We�re both the Black Mask right now� NRO: Shut up. Go get the pumps turned on. I�ll pull the barrel inside. **Bob scurries off as Rob opens the roll up dock door just high enough to let a bit of light pour in and give him the room to bring the barrel out of the truck and into the facility. As he does, a low rumble can be heard as his son activates the pumps. Osbourne rolls the barrel over and sets the spicket at the base of the pump inside the opening of the barrel and pulls the lever. It takes nearly 20 minutes for the barrel to be filled up. As Rob disconnects the spicket, Bob cringes as some of the contents spill on the floor. Rob rolls the barrel out of the door back into the truck. Bob secures the door and unties the still knocked out security guard. Rob locks the roll up door back from the inside and hops in the truck, and his son peels out. ** NRO: SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! BOB: Whoa big boy, chill out. I know how to drive. NRO: Yeah�like when you got us pulled over the other night? Imagine trying to explain what the hell is in the barrel then?!?!? Or how we got it for that matter. If that security guard wakes up, and we are still in the area, especially if we are pulled over at the time, our gooses are cooked kid. Drive casually. And watch the bumps. If I have to pay to get the bed cleaned before we return it, I�m gonna be pissed. BOB: HAHAHA! NRO: Screw off BOB: Again with the HAHAHAHA!!! NRO: Oh yeah�.now that WAS funny. **Bob drives the truck back to Cocoa Beach to Rob�s beach house and parks it in the drive way. Bob heads inside and jumps in the shower as Rob checks his e-mail. He catches the full replay of Blair�s promo, and the latest ramblings by the CWF World Chump and his life partner Keith Daniels. He smiles, albeit mildly, and decides to cut his final promo of the week�** NRO: So the ne'er do wells have nothing of substance to say? You pull your little stunt and that's it? No big follow up? Just a fizzle. Like Adams in the bedroom. Or so his ex-wife said. You know, I have also got to say that Jeff Jericho, while appearing in your little antecdotal training sessions and acting like Mickey to your Rocky...where the hell IS he? I mean, there are already doubts of an existance to a Black Mask now that he hasn't shown his face...or his mask, for two weeks now. The question of the hour is, was it just one of you little pussies hiding under a mask trying to get people talking? And Jericho....has anyone gotten a good tight close up of him yet? I mean, besides at Night of champions....that was DEFINITELY good ole double J. But since then? I think you faggots have been using a stand in. I think the real Jeff Jericho fell off the wagon and is laid up in some hostel in Blackpool, England hopped up on Jack Daniels and pain killers. Keith Daniels is a sick joke. While he isn't booked in my match, I have no doubt because of his husband being in the tag match, and his partner being The Jobber, he'll find a way to get involved in it. He feels the need for some reason to get in my shit week in and week out. Daniels...I'm talking to you now buddy. How ya doin? Ya doin ok? Still a little sad cause the Magic lost? My boy Dwight told you they weren't gonna win the championship. He told you Van Gundy was a stooge. You don't listen. You still wear your little blue and white shit and you wave your little "Go Magic" sign and you stand there, when the smoke clears looking like the fucking clown you are. Just like it happened for you as a fan of the Magic in the Finals, so it will be for you watching your hopes and dreams come up just short of the big prize when you face me for my National Championship at Summer Smash. You can't beat me. It won't happen. Fuck, Adams can't beat me and your half the man he is. Or so Jennifer Adams said. But I digress. It is after all Mr. Blair and Mr. Adams who will be on the other side of the ring from me and my son this week. This is a first for rme, and kid of cool. Getting to tag up with my boy is an awesome opportunity for both of us. Blood is thicker than water...or piss....or .....anything else. But Life....Life is paiN. And that's exactly what Blair and Adams will get this week. **Osbourne flips off the digital uplink and heads upstairs. The clock reads 2:15 a.m. and he decides its time to crash. He strips and heads to bed. He drifts off quickly and his dreams become our reality once more.....Rob Osbourne is sitting in a make shift club house. Everything is black and white. Standing in front of him as real as can be, but apparently unable to see him are the adorable World War 2 Era loveable bunch of misfits, The Little Rascals, or Our Gang as they were also known. Here the main characters are gathered inside the safehaven that is the "He-Man Woman Haters Club" Only Osbourne notices something is very different about the gang. Buckwheat is Keith Daniels, Alfalfa is Brian Adams, Froggy is Jeff Jericho, and Spanky is the one and only Paul Blair. Realizing he is dreaming and that this gang cannot see him he sists down in the back of the clubhouse and observes......** Alfalfa: Gee whiz fellas! Those dog gone bullies have done went and made me mad again! Shoot tarnation!! Buckwheat: Wait a God Damn minute. Why the fuck am I the black kid with the Don King hair? What the fuck Brian? And how DO you get your hair to stand up that stiff? Man Glaze? Froggy: HEY! Settle down now gents! It's time for Spanky to get this meeting under way! (he looks at Daniels) Listen dipshit, this is Osbournes dream, shut the fuck up and go along with it. If Adams can do it, you can do it. Besides, we're powerless here...it isn't real...it's a dream! Buckwheat: I have a bad feeling about this! Alfalfa: Fuck Keith! This isn't a Star Wars dream. Just shut up so we can get this over with. Damnit. Spanky: Hear ye, Hear ye! I now call this meeting of the He-Man Woman Haters club to order. Officer Froggy, are you keeping the minutes? Froggy: Aye aye sir! Buckwheat: Oh come on...this is stupid. For that matter, it's almost as stupid as my idea to pour apple juice on the Osbournes last week and pretend it was piss. Spanky: Now see this you bunch of sap suckers, those girls want us to kiss them at the dance this Friday night. I think Darla may have Alfalfa whipped but the rest of us can't give in. We can't break the "Circle" **Just then the character of Darla, being portrayed in this fictional dream in Osbournes mind by Jennifer Adams, comes waltzing into the club house** Froggy: Hey!!! No dames aloud! Can't ya read the sign?!? Darla: HI ALFALFAAAAAA!!!!! Alfalfa: Ddddddddddddddarla! Spanky: Officer Alfalfa, will you rise to attention!!! Alfalfa: And how!!!!!!!!!! Buckwheat: Oh, fuck this shit. **Daniels pulls off the wig and walks over to the corner of the clubhouse where Osbourne sits unseen and stretches out and kicks Osbourne right in the balls. The Nitemare sits straight up in bed grabbing his crotch and screaming out in pain. He looks at the clock, it read 8:30 a.m. He gets up and heads downstairs and grabs a pop tart and a Heineken and grabs his travel bag. He heads outside and tosses the bag in the truck and heads towards Bob's hotel to pick him up and go to the plane to head to Showdown. He stops at a gas station and picks up the morning paper. Across the headlines it reads "Strange Break In and Robbery From Sperm Donor Lab in Metrowest" Osbourne grins from ear to ear and slaps the side of the 50 Gallon drum as he gets back in the truck and heads to pick up his son. He tosses the paper on the seat of the truck and speeds away FTB** |
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