Post by angryfan on Feb 11, 2007 0:25:19 GMT -5
Been a while, here's the newest edition.
(Scene opens with Trips in a wheelchair, sitting in his snow covered driveway, with Flair shoveling)
HHH: I hate snow, how long until spring gets here?
Flair: Wooooooooooo!
HHH: Come on, Naitch, can you go faster? It’s freezing.
Flair: (stops shoveling and looks to the house next door) Wooooooooo!
HHH: Hey, that’s not a bad idea.
(HHH pulls out his cell phone and hits speed dial. In the makeshift guard tower on the lawn next door, a phone is heard ringing)
Albert’s security: Hello?
HHH: Hey, the big guy home today?
Security: Yeah, he’s actually getting ready for a competition.
HHH: Competition?
Security: Yeah, he’s gotten into competitive baking, actually. Right now he’s working on a multi layer cake that’s part rum cake and part German chocolate.
HHH: Baking. You’re serious?
Security: Yeah, why?
HHH: No reason, I guess. Anyway, I’m stuck shoveling, and with my leg it’s a huge pain. Think he might be able to help out?
Security: I can check, I’ll get back to you. (hangs up)
Flair: Wooooooooo.
HHH: What do you mean I’m not doing anything?
Flair: (points at the shovel) Woooooooooo!
HHH: Look, I can’t shovel, my leg is recovering, okay? I’m supervising, that counts as work too, you know.
Flair: Wooooooooo! (he Flair flops into a nearby snow pile)
HHH: Come on, don’t be like that.
(the front door the house next door explodes, and Albert, tailed by three guards, charges out and across the lawn, wearing a Chef’s hat and “Please BLAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGRAARRR the chef” apron)
HHH: Hey neighbor! Over here!
Albert: BLAAAAAAAAARRGRAAARR!
HHH: Listen, man, we’re in a bind, and need to get the driveway done quickly. Think you can help us out?
(Albert nods, takes the shovel and walks to the garage door, facing out towards the street. He plants the shovel in the snow, and his guards stand on either side of him)
Albert: BLAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGG! (he charges up the driveway, clearing a path as he goes, as the guards, with shovels and wide brooms of their own, finish the job behind him as they give chase)
HHH: Wow, thanks, buddy, that helps us out a ton.
Albert: (smiling) BLARGRAR!
Security: By the way, we brought you a sampling of the latest project. (she hands over a box containing two large slices of cake)
Flair: (still in the snow drift) Woooooooooooo! (he begins to make snow angels)
(Albert and his security detail depart, as the phone in HHH’s pocket begins ringing)
HHH: Hello?
Steph: Hey, how you feeling?
HHH: Cold.
Steph: Well, it is winter, you know.
HHH: Yeah, but I’d be warm if I weren’t outside. This isn’t good for my quad, you know.
Steph: Well, are you done with shoveling?
HHH: We just finished.
Steph: Good, I need you to do me a favor.
HHH: Oh God.
Steph: What was that?
HHH: I said I’d love to.
Steph: Good. I left some paperwork at home, could you guys run it up to me? We’re in the middle of getting a presentation for Daddy, so it has to look nice and shiny, you know?
HHH: (under his breath) Make it ass-shaped, he’ll love it.
Steph: What? I didn’t catch that.
HHH: I said I’m sure he’ll love it.
Steph: You’re so sweet. Anyway, if you could run the stuff up I’d appreciate it. (she hangs up)
HHH: (to Flair, who is now building a snow fort shaped like a wrestling ring) We have to go to the damn office.
Flair: (putting the finishing touches on a snowman shaped like Howard Finkle) Wooooooooo?
HHH: Steph forgot some paperwork for a big presentation. You want to drive, or should we take the bus?
Flair: (eyes perking up at the mention of driving) Wooooooooooooo!
(the two get in the car and peel out of the driveway at about 85 miles per hour. They reach Titan Towers in a record four minutes, and slide into their personal parking space)
HHH: Nice driving, champ.
Flair: (strutting) Woooooo!
(the two head into the lobby, to find Bobby Lashley surrounded by Finlay and Arn Anderson. Bob Holly is off to one side watching)
Finaly: Okay, let’s try this again. This time, I want to hear you angry, I want you to envision that the person you’re dealing with just punched your mother in the face and then kicked her down a flight of stairs, you got that? DO YOU?
Lashley: (taking a deep breath) Okay, I’m ready.
Arn: Okay, start whenever.
Lashley: (in a very quiet, subdued tone) You know, I hate bullies. I do, because they’re mean, and when people are mean, I beat them up. Yeah. (he makes an angry face)
Finlay: (throwing a clipboard across the room, hitting Marty Janetty in the head) YOU CALL THAT INTENSE? I’VE HEARD MORE ANGER FROM A NUN ON EASTER SUNDAY! YOU MAKE ME SICK!
Lashley: (stares at Finlay, tears welling up in his eyes) Why are you yelling at me?
Finlay: Because it’s my bloody JOB, THAT’S WHY!
Lashly: I need some me time. (he runs off crying)
Arn: Damn it, Fit, now I have to go fix this.
(Arn storms off carrying several WWF Wrestling Buddies with him, as Little Bastard pops out from the receptionist desk and just stares at Finlay)
Finlay: WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?! (he kicks Little Bastard in the head and trhows him back under the desk, only to see him get launched back out again)
Finlay: WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?
Jeff Hardy: (popping his head out) Sorry, man, but this spot is too extreeeeeeeeeeeeme for the little guy.
Finlay: (lunging at Jeff, misses and kicks the desk, huting his foot) DAMN PUNK KIDS! (he grabs Little Bastard and hurls him across the room like a frisbee)
HHH: Yeah, we should probably head up, Steph needs this paperwork.
Holly: Sure thing, see you around.
(Flair and HHH head up to the top floor, where Steph is pacing)
HHH: Hey, honey, how’s the day going?
Steph: It’s a nightmare. The presentation is in two hours, and we’re all out of Elmer’s glue. Plus, our supply of elbow macaroni is dwindling fast.
HHH: Elbow macar…you know what, I won’t ask.
Steph: Hunter, please try to be supportive.
HHH: I’m always supportive.
(the trio walks into the “creative department”, finding all members sprawled out on the floor, busily working with construction paper, safety scissors, and various arts and crafts staples)
Creative #1: I HATE these stupid scissors! They always make me go crooked.
Creative #2: STEPH! I’M OUT OF GLUE!
Cteative #3: STEEEEEEEEPH, they’re hogging all the GOOD crayons! I TOLD them I NEEDED the wisteria, and they won’t give it to me! Make ‘em share!
Steph: You see what I have to put up with?
HHH: Well, you could always take my suggestion, you know.
Steph: I am not scrapping this. I know you have that idea in your head, and want to have more of your wrestler friends work in this department, and that’s very sweet, but I’m trying to expand the company’s vision.
HHH: With construction paper?
Steph: (glaring at HHH) What’s wrong with construction paper?
HHH: Is there a right answer to this that won’t make me sleep on the couch?
Steph: (ignoring him and walking over to the group of bickering creative team members) Okay, listen up guys, I’m only going to say this once. The crayons belong to everyone, we’re getting more supplies, so be patient, and if you’re having trouble cutting, then get a ruler. Someone in one of the offices has to have one, alright?
Creative team: (collectively) Yes, Mrs. McMahon
Steph: Good.
Creative #1: (wandering to the office door and peeking out) Anybody got a ruler I could use? (he wanders back and stares at his paper)
CM Punk: (popping his head in the door) Somebody yell for a ruler?
Creative #1: Yeah, big presentation, and I don’t know where mine is. You got one?
Punk: (walking over and getting a few inches from the creative member’s face, he pulls out a ruler and holds it up) This is true, this is real, THIS…IS…STRAIGHT-EDGE! (he slams the ruler into the man’s chest and, after glaring for a second longer, slaps him across the face and walks away whistling)
HHH: (to Steph) Hey, we’re going to get going, okay?
Steph: (busily going through papers, and not looking up) Fine, just remember, we’re having guests for dinner.
HHH: Guests?
Steph: Yes, Several of the executives from Oxygen are stopping buy to talk about cross promoting, so be presentable.
HHH: DAMN IT!
(scene ends)
(Scene opens with Trips in a wheelchair, sitting in his snow covered driveway, with Flair shoveling)
HHH: I hate snow, how long until spring gets here?
Flair: Wooooooooooo!
HHH: Come on, Naitch, can you go faster? It’s freezing.
Flair: (stops shoveling and looks to the house next door) Wooooooooo!
HHH: Hey, that’s not a bad idea.
(HHH pulls out his cell phone and hits speed dial. In the makeshift guard tower on the lawn next door, a phone is heard ringing)
Albert’s security: Hello?
HHH: Hey, the big guy home today?
Security: Yeah, he’s actually getting ready for a competition.
HHH: Competition?
Security: Yeah, he’s gotten into competitive baking, actually. Right now he’s working on a multi layer cake that’s part rum cake and part German chocolate.
HHH: Baking. You’re serious?
Security: Yeah, why?
HHH: No reason, I guess. Anyway, I’m stuck shoveling, and with my leg it’s a huge pain. Think he might be able to help out?
Security: I can check, I’ll get back to you. (hangs up)
Flair: Wooooooooo.
HHH: What do you mean I’m not doing anything?
Flair: (points at the shovel) Woooooooooo!
HHH: Look, I can’t shovel, my leg is recovering, okay? I’m supervising, that counts as work too, you know.
Flair: Wooooooooo! (he Flair flops into a nearby snow pile)
HHH: Come on, don’t be like that.
(the front door the house next door explodes, and Albert, tailed by three guards, charges out and across the lawn, wearing a Chef’s hat and “Please BLAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGRAARRR the chef” apron)
HHH: Hey neighbor! Over here!
Albert: BLAAAAAAAAARRGRAAARR!
HHH: Listen, man, we’re in a bind, and need to get the driveway done quickly. Think you can help us out?
(Albert nods, takes the shovel and walks to the garage door, facing out towards the street. He plants the shovel in the snow, and his guards stand on either side of him)
Albert: BLAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGG! (he charges up the driveway, clearing a path as he goes, as the guards, with shovels and wide brooms of their own, finish the job behind him as they give chase)
HHH: Wow, thanks, buddy, that helps us out a ton.
Albert: (smiling) BLARGRAR!
Security: By the way, we brought you a sampling of the latest project. (she hands over a box containing two large slices of cake)
Flair: (still in the snow drift) Woooooooooooo! (he begins to make snow angels)
(Albert and his security detail depart, as the phone in HHH’s pocket begins ringing)
HHH: Hello?
Steph: Hey, how you feeling?
HHH: Cold.
Steph: Well, it is winter, you know.
HHH: Yeah, but I’d be warm if I weren’t outside. This isn’t good for my quad, you know.
Steph: Well, are you done with shoveling?
HHH: We just finished.
Steph: Good, I need you to do me a favor.
HHH: Oh God.
Steph: What was that?
HHH: I said I’d love to.
Steph: Good. I left some paperwork at home, could you guys run it up to me? We’re in the middle of getting a presentation for Daddy, so it has to look nice and shiny, you know?
HHH: (under his breath) Make it ass-shaped, he’ll love it.
Steph: What? I didn’t catch that.
HHH: I said I’m sure he’ll love it.
Steph: You’re so sweet. Anyway, if you could run the stuff up I’d appreciate it. (she hangs up)
HHH: (to Flair, who is now building a snow fort shaped like a wrestling ring) We have to go to the damn office.
Flair: (putting the finishing touches on a snowman shaped like Howard Finkle) Wooooooooo?
HHH: Steph forgot some paperwork for a big presentation. You want to drive, or should we take the bus?
Flair: (eyes perking up at the mention of driving) Wooooooooooooo!
(the two get in the car and peel out of the driveway at about 85 miles per hour. They reach Titan Towers in a record four minutes, and slide into their personal parking space)
HHH: Nice driving, champ.
Flair: (strutting) Woooooo!
(the two head into the lobby, to find Bobby Lashley surrounded by Finlay and Arn Anderson. Bob Holly is off to one side watching)
Finaly: Okay, let’s try this again. This time, I want to hear you angry, I want you to envision that the person you’re dealing with just punched your mother in the face and then kicked her down a flight of stairs, you got that? DO YOU?
Lashley: (taking a deep breath) Okay, I’m ready.
Arn: Okay, start whenever.
Lashley: (in a very quiet, subdued tone) You know, I hate bullies. I do, because they’re mean, and when people are mean, I beat them up. Yeah. (he makes an angry face)
Finlay: (throwing a clipboard across the room, hitting Marty Janetty in the head) YOU CALL THAT INTENSE? I’VE HEARD MORE ANGER FROM A NUN ON EASTER SUNDAY! YOU MAKE ME SICK!
Lashley: (stares at Finlay, tears welling up in his eyes) Why are you yelling at me?
Finlay: Because it’s my bloody JOB, THAT’S WHY!
Lashly: I need some me time. (he runs off crying)
Arn: Damn it, Fit, now I have to go fix this.
(Arn storms off carrying several WWF Wrestling Buddies with him, as Little Bastard pops out from the receptionist desk and just stares at Finlay)
Finlay: WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?! (he kicks Little Bastard in the head and trhows him back under the desk, only to see him get launched back out again)
Finlay: WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?
Jeff Hardy: (popping his head out) Sorry, man, but this spot is too extreeeeeeeeeeeeme for the little guy.
Finlay: (lunging at Jeff, misses and kicks the desk, huting his foot) DAMN PUNK KIDS! (he grabs Little Bastard and hurls him across the room like a frisbee)
HHH: Yeah, we should probably head up, Steph needs this paperwork.
Holly: Sure thing, see you around.
(Flair and HHH head up to the top floor, where Steph is pacing)
HHH: Hey, honey, how’s the day going?
Steph: It’s a nightmare. The presentation is in two hours, and we’re all out of Elmer’s glue. Plus, our supply of elbow macaroni is dwindling fast.
HHH: Elbow macar…you know what, I won’t ask.
Steph: Hunter, please try to be supportive.
HHH: I’m always supportive.
(the trio walks into the “creative department”, finding all members sprawled out on the floor, busily working with construction paper, safety scissors, and various arts and crafts staples)
Creative #1: I HATE these stupid scissors! They always make me go crooked.
Creative #2: STEPH! I’M OUT OF GLUE!
Cteative #3: STEEEEEEEEPH, they’re hogging all the GOOD crayons! I TOLD them I NEEDED the wisteria, and they won’t give it to me! Make ‘em share!
Steph: You see what I have to put up with?
HHH: Well, you could always take my suggestion, you know.
Steph: I am not scrapping this. I know you have that idea in your head, and want to have more of your wrestler friends work in this department, and that’s very sweet, but I’m trying to expand the company’s vision.
HHH: With construction paper?
Steph: (glaring at HHH) What’s wrong with construction paper?
HHH: Is there a right answer to this that won’t make me sleep on the couch?
Steph: (ignoring him and walking over to the group of bickering creative team members) Okay, listen up guys, I’m only going to say this once. The crayons belong to everyone, we’re getting more supplies, so be patient, and if you’re having trouble cutting, then get a ruler. Someone in one of the offices has to have one, alright?
Creative team: (collectively) Yes, Mrs. McMahon
Steph: Good.
Creative #1: (wandering to the office door and peeking out) Anybody got a ruler I could use? (he wanders back and stares at his paper)
CM Punk: (popping his head in the door) Somebody yell for a ruler?
Creative #1: Yeah, big presentation, and I don’t know where mine is. You got one?
Punk: (walking over and getting a few inches from the creative member’s face, he pulls out a ruler and holds it up) This is true, this is real, THIS…IS…STRAIGHT-EDGE! (he slams the ruler into the man’s chest and, after glaring for a second longer, slaps him across the face and walks away whistling)
HHH: (to Steph) Hey, we’re going to get going, okay?
Steph: (busily going through papers, and not looking up) Fine, just remember, we’re having guests for dinner.
HHH: Guests?
Steph: Yes, Several of the executives from Oxygen are stopping buy to talk about cross promoting, so be presentable.
HHH: DAMN IT!
(scene ends)