Post by angryfan on Jun 9, 2007 1:21:45 GMT -5
Well, here we go, guys. Kinda a long one today. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.
(Scene opens at Titan Towers, with tensions over the upcoming draft at a fevered pitch. Steph is wandering through rows of cubicles, checking on the morale)
Steph: (popping her head in a cubicle) How’s your day going?
Super Crazy: (glancing up from his computer) It’s going fine, but why do I have a cubicle?
Steph: Well, we’ve decided that, since I have to oversee talent as well as creative, I need everyone close by for meetings. So, we came up with this. How do you like yours?
Crazy: (jumps to the top of the cubicle and moonsaults back into his chair) Maybe a softer chair for the landing?
Steph: I’ll see what I can do. (she talks away, marking a box that says “feed to Henry” next to Crazy’s name) Not happy with the chair, well we’ll just see about this.
(Steph continues down the aisle, checking in with people, as Batista approaches from the other direction, pushing a mail cart in front of him)
Batista: Mornings, Steph!
Steph: Good moring, David, how are you doing?
Batista: Just fine, got a letter for you.
Steph: Really? From whom?
Batista: (reading the envelope) Says it’s from London and Kendrick.
Steph: Well that’s sweet of them, may I have it?
Batista: (still clutching the envelope) Well…I suppose you can, I mean, it’s addressed to you and all.
Steph: (holding out her hand) Well?
Batista: Listen, you can keep the letter, but the inter-office envelope? That’s mine, and I’m gonna be needing it back, ok?
Steph: That’ll be fine, you can have it at the end of the day.
Batista: (looking frustrated) End of the day? But it’s MY envelope!
Steph: And you work for me, what’s your point?
Batista: But…but…(looking over his shoulder) TEDDY!
(T Lo pops his head above a nearby cubicle)
Teddy: Holla?
Batista: She has MY envelope!
Teddy: Well, it seems she may have to go one on one with…The UNDATAKAH! Holla holla!
(Taker’s arm pops up from the cubicle in front of Teddy’s, flipping him off)
Teddy: (hanging his head, in a sad voice) Holla. (he sinks back into his workspace)
Steph: Listen, Dave, I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can, will that be good enough?
Batista: Well, I suppose, if there’s no other way. (looking dejected)
(Batista continues down the aisle, not handing out mail, just glaring into various workstations, as Steph continues down the aisle)
(scene shifts to a workstation two rows over, with Edge and Orton conversing)
Orton: So you figured out a plan yet? Draft’s in two days, and I can’t get stuck on Smackdown.
Edge: What’s so bad about it, again? I’m there.
Orton: (under his breath) There’s reason number one.
Edge: What?
Orton: Nothing. I just don’t want to be stuck with Teddy and Taker, plus Matt’s there, and he’s getting worse.
Edge: Worse?
Orton: (pointing to his computer) See for yourself, shutterbug.
Edge: (walks over and sees the screen showing Matt’s Myspace page, which is dominated by the picture of Matt and Randy, while Randy was in the dress) Dude, that’s awesome!
Orton: I fail to see how that could constitute awesome.
Edge: You know how long I’ve wanted my photography to be showcased? This is a life-long dream, man.
Orton: I hate you so much.
Edge: You don’t mean that.
Orton: Look, just no more pictures, ok?
Edge: Fine, but at least you’re getting more recognition now.
Orton: (glares) Get out of my work station.
Edge: Fine. (he goes back to his desk)
(scene shifts to HHH and Flair, sharing at two man workspace)
HHH: Can you believe this crap? We’re stuck here like the rest of the flunkies?
Flair: (only paying half attention, going over a financial report) Woo.
HHH: What the hell are you doing?
Flair: Wooooooooooo.
HHH: What do you mean earning your paycheck? You get paid to perform on TV, not look at spreadsheets.
Flair: (holding out the piece of paper) Woo.
(HHH takes the paper, which is titled “The economic viability of the knife-edge chop, but all the columns are filled with woos)
HHH: (reading) Hmmmm, not a bad plan, Naitch. Maybe there is something to this. Can you work me up something about spitting water?
Flair: (already re-engrossed in his reports) Woo.
HHH: Thanks. Man, I’m getting hungry, you up for lunch?
Flair: (waving him off) Woo.
HHH: Fine, do your work. How about you guys?
(in the large cubicle next to them, Lemmy and the rest of Motorhead are busily making paper airplanes)
Lemmy: We’re fine, we’ve got a pizza on the way.
HHH: Fine, guess I’m on my own then. (he heads off to the cafeteria)
(scene shifts back to Steph, who is now approaching two large cubicles sat side by side. One is non-descript and plane, the other bejeweled and set on a rotating platform. She approaches the plain one first)
Steph: Morning Bobby, having a good day?
(Bobby says nothing, just stares with the googley eyes of death)
Steph: Oh come on, it’s not that bad, is it?
Arn: (approaching from the side) Morning, Boss.
Steph: Hey, Arn. What’s wrong with Bobby?
Arn: Well, he’s in a bad mood, we had a bit of an…incident earlier.
Steph: (looking alarmed) Incident?
Arn: Yep. A twenty minute screaming fit because he saw Bob Holly talking to the new recruits downstairs.
Steph: I don’t understand, what’s the problem with that? Holly’s been doing those for years now.
Arn: Well, one of the new kids called Bob Hardcore Holly, like he wants them to, and Bobby here overheard it.
Steph: Oh dear.
Arn: Yeah, so now we have to replace two large windows downstairs, because he threw the kid through it while screaming that he’s hardcore.
Steph: But you said two windows.
Arn: He brought him back in and did it again when he realized the kid had a package of Chuckles in his pocket and wouldn’t’ share them.
Steph: My, well let’s hope that doesn’t happen again, ok. Say, where’s Finlay? Isn’t he always with you?
(scene changes to Finlay and Hornswoggle in a room with numerous Divas)
Finlay: No, no, you’re getting it all wrong! (he kicks Hornswoggle)
Hornswoggle: Damn it, what the hell did I do?
Finlay: Sorry, force of habit. Shall we show them again?
Hornswoggle: Fine, but after this, I’m going to the bar.
(the two break into a jib, being accompanied by Cryme Tyme and Jeff Hardy, who are playing a lively Celtic tune)
Finlay: There, was THAT so hard?
Candice: But, why can’t I just do my regular dance?
Finlay: OUT! GET OUT! (under his breath) Ungrateful tramps, don’t know a thing about classical dancing styles.
Regal: (popping his head in the door) I’ll say.
Finlay: What are you doing here?
Regal: Heard the music, thought I’d stop by.
Finlay: Well, we’re about to hit the bar, you up for it?
Regal: No thank you, but I’ll tell you what does sounds spectacular. How about you two join Taylor and myself, and we can go out to the parking lot and beat the hell out of each other for a bit? Then, maybe lunch?
Finlay: Perfect, let’s go!
(the depart, leaving Shad, JTG, and Jeff standing there, as Shelton bursts in)
Shelton: What did I tell you two? Stereotypes! Nothing but stereotypes!
Shad: (gently setting his fiddle in its case) I find it inexplicable how you can see this as being in any way stereotypical.
JTG: ((closing his flute case) Agreed, we are merely expressing our love of a diverse musical style. Please, do tell us, what is your problem with that?
Shelton: Well, it…it just IS.
Shad: I see. Would you mind if I were to offer a rebuttal?
Shelton: Sure, why not.
Shad: Well, as I said, we both have a love for classical music styling, from jazz to flamenco, to some very festive Celtic works, not unlike the one we, along with Jeffery here were just engaged in.
(Jeff has put down his mandolin,, and is begins doing his gyration dance)
JTG: Very well put, Jeffery.
Shad: Indeed. And furthermore, young Mister Benjamin, in addition to our love of the classics, we also enjoy modern pieces as well.
Shelton: Such as?
Shad: (jumps at Shelton and punches him in the head) BOOM!
(Shad and JTG begin mauling Shelton, as Jeff stops dancing and dives inside a large open bass case)
JTG: (stops beating on Shelton to look back at Jeff) Jeffrey, what are you dong?
Jeff: Hiding is extreeeeeeeeeeeeeeme. (he closes the case)
JTG: I see. (he goes back to beating on Shelton as the scene shifts to HHH entering the cafeteria)
HHH: (yelling towards the kitchen) What’s the special today?
(there is no response from the kitchen, only loud banging noises)
HHH: Hello? Helloooooooooo! Anybody in there?
(HHH walks behind the counter, and peeks through the door to see Moolah and Mae Young, in hear nets and aprons, cowering by the wall as numerous pans fly across the room. He motions for them to come out and they run to the door into the main dining area)
HHH: What the hell’s going on in there?
Moolah: Thank God, I thought we’d be stuck in there for days.
Mae: Thank you for getting us out of there. Say, would you like to see me topless?
HHH: Yeah, I’m gonna pass on that. Anyway, who’s throwing the pans around?
(A deep, bellowing voice is heard from inside kitchen)
Henry: I’m the King of the Jungle! I’m The Silverback!
HHH: OK, so it’s Mark. Is he mad about the nickname?
Moolah: No, no, oh God, it’s…oh God.
(the door flies open and Mark Henry storms out, bellowing incoherently and beating his chest)
HHH: Mark, man, you have to calm down. What’s the problem?
Henry: Want…CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!
HHH: (to the lunch ladies) For the love of God, give him cake before he destroys the place.
Moolah: We…can’t. We don’t have any, we save that for Tuesdays.
Henry: (running through the cafeteria and out into the hallway) CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!
HHH: Well, he’s gone at least. So, what’s the special today, anyway?
(Moolah and Mae are huddling together, leaning against the empty salad bar, weeping in terror)
HHH: So, I’m guessing you’re closed, then?
(Neither woman responds, or looks up for that matter)
HHH: Right, I’ll just steal some of Lemmy’s pizza I suppose. Well, have a good rest of your day, then.
(HHH departs, as the scene shifts back to Steph, who is now approaching a large inflatable jungle gym type of structure)
Steph: Guys? You in there?
(Londrick come bouncing out in unison, with simultaneous back flips and land on their feet in front of Steph)
London: Thanks for the cubicle Steph.
Kendrick: Yeah, its’ awesome. We’re doing a bunch of new stuff, wanna see?
Steph: Sure, I’d love to, but I wanted to stop by, since you sent me a letter, and see what you needed?
London: It’s just a thank you card for the new office. We made it ourselves.
Steph: Well, I’ll be sure to hang on to it, then. Now, let me see the new things you’ve been working on.
(Londrick jump back into the structure and begin doing high speed flips and dives throughout)
Striker: (running to the structure, not seeing Steph) Hey hey HEY! WHAT did I tell you two about horseplay?
London: That it’s not appropriate for the office.
Strike: And just what do you two call that?
London: Work.
Kendrick: Yeah, work!
Striker: I’m warning you, you two better shape up, or –
Steph: (cutting him off) Or what?
(Londrick quickly dismount the structure and hide behind Steph)
Striker: Well…I…you see…I was just trying to get them to have a more professional demeanor, that’s all.
Steph: Did you not think that we gave them this for a reason?
(from behind Steph, Londrick begin making faces at Striker)
Striker: Hey, knock that off!
(Steph turns to look, but only sees London and Kendrick smiling and standing with their hands behind their backs, she turns her attention back to Striker)
Steph: I don’t know what your problem is, but if you value not being put in daily matches with Mark Henry, you’ll leave these two alone.
Londrick: (in unison) Yeah!
Striker: But –
Steph: (glaring) Is there a problem?
Striker: No, there’s no problem. (he wanders off, muttering under his breath) Damn punk kids with their flipping around and running in the hallways.
Steph: (to Londrick) Well, I have to say, that was a veary nice performance from –
(she is cut off as a still naked, and still stoned, Juvi comes flying out of the structure, lands on his feet, and sprints through the rows)
Juvi: I…AM…GOD!
Stgeph: (shaking her head) Well, as I was saying, good work guys, keep it up.
Londrick: We will!
(Londrick dive back into their “office” as Steph walks away, bumping into HHH)
Steph: Oh, hey, honey, how do you like your workspace? Isn’t it a great idea?
HHH: Uh…yes?
Steph: Wonderful, I’m so glad we agree.
HHH: Thank God for that. One question though, why can’t I have the extra office over in the corner? It’s big, has its own private bathroom, and a nice view. You’ve got one, so shouldn’t I have the other one?
Steph: Well, normally I’d agree with you, but it’s already in use.
HHH: it is?
Steph: Sure is, but I don’t see why we couldn’t go pop in for a visit.
HHH: Yeah, that’d be…fun. Fun is the word you want me to use there, right?
Steph: Don’t be silly, of course it’ll be fun.
(HHH and Steph walk towards the office, as Henry runs past them, still screaming)
Henry: CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!
(HHH and Steph reach the office, and Steph knocks. There is no answer, but Steph opens the door. The office is lavishly furnished with antique bookshelves and a large oak desk. A high back leather desk chair is behind the desk, with Sedgie, in an Armani suit, perched in the chair)
HHH: Wait a damn minute! HE gets the office? Why the hell does HE get the office?
(Sledgie, as always, says nothing, bit tilts slightly to the left)
HHH: What do you mean fitting of your position? You don’t HAVE a position!
Steph: Actually, he does, dear. (she points to the name plate on the desk that reads Sledgie, Executive Vice President of International Prop Management)
HHH: He got PROMOTED?
Steph: Well, it’s a fact that, when he appears on RAW, ratings rise.
HHH: But he on ly appears when I’M there! Why don’t I get the office?
Steph: Our market research says he’s the one people identify with. Besides, he IS the longest reigning Interlawn champion in the company’s history. (she points to the framed title belt on the wall)
HHH: That’s MY title! (he dives over the desk, misses Sledgie and lands on the floor. Sledgie falls from his chair and lands on top of HHH. Jack Doan runs in and makes a three count)
Steph: Well, looks like he beat you again.
HHH: Where the hell did you come from Doan?
Dona: Well, my second job is as executive assistant to the Executive VP (he nods to Sledgie)
HHH: Then you’re biased, the decision doesn’t count!
Doan: Ref’s decision is final, you know that.
HHH: But –
Steph: it’s final.
HHH: Damn it!
(Scene opens at Titan Towers, with tensions over the upcoming draft at a fevered pitch. Steph is wandering through rows of cubicles, checking on the morale)
Steph: (popping her head in a cubicle) How’s your day going?
Super Crazy: (glancing up from his computer) It’s going fine, but why do I have a cubicle?
Steph: Well, we’ve decided that, since I have to oversee talent as well as creative, I need everyone close by for meetings. So, we came up with this. How do you like yours?
Crazy: (jumps to the top of the cubicle and moonsaults back into his chair) Maybe a softer chair for the landing?
Steph: I’ll see what I can do. (she talks away, marking a box that says “feed to Henry” next to Crazy’s name) Not happy with the chair, well we’ll just see about this.
(Steph continues down the aisle, checking in with people, as Batista approaches from the other direction, pushing a mail cart in front of him)
Batista: Mornings, Steph!
Steph: Good moring, David, how are you doing?
Batista: Just fine, got a letter for you.
Steph: Really? From whom?
Batista: (reading the envelope) Says it’s from London and Kendrick.
Steph: Well that’s sweet of them, may I have it?
Batista: (still clutching the envelope) Well…I suppose you can, I mean, it’s addressed to you and all.
Steph: (holding out her hand) Well?
Batista: Listen, you can keep the letter, but the inter-office envelope? That’s mine, and I’m gonna be needing it back, ok?
Steph: That’ll be fine, you can have it at the end of the day.
Batista: (looking frustrated) End of the day? But it’s MY envelope!
Steph: And you work for me, what’s your point?
Batista: But…but…(looking over his shoulder) TEDDY!
(T Lo pops his head above a nearby cubicle)
Teddy: Holla?
Batista: She has MY envelope!
Teddy: Well, it seems she may have to go one on one with…The UNDATAKAH! Holla holla!
(Taker’s arm pops up from the cubicle in front of Teddy’s, flipping him off)
Teddy: (hanging his head, in a sad voice) Holla. (he sinks back into his workspace)
Steph: Listen, Dave, I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can, will that be good enough?
Batista: Well, I suppose, if there’s no other way. (looking dejected)
(Batista continues down the aisle, not handing out mail, just glaring into various workstations, as Steph continues down the aisle)
(scene shifts to a workstation two rows over, with Edge and Orton conversing)
Orton: So you figured out a plan yet? Draft’s in two days, and I can’t get stuck on Smackdown.
Edge: What’s so bad about it, again? I’m there.
Orton: (under his breath) There’s reason number one.
Edge: What?
Orton: Nothing. I just don’t want to be stuck with Teddy and Taker, plus Matt’s there, and he’s getting worse.
Edge: Worse?
Orton: (pointing to his computer) See for yourself, shutterbug.
Edge: (walks over and sees the screen showing Matt’s Myspace page, which is dominated by the picture of Matt and Randy, while Randy was in the dress) Dude, that’s awesome!
Orton: I fail to see how that could constitute awesome.
Edge: You know how long I’ve wanted my photography to be showcased? This is a life-long dream, man.
Orton: I hate you so much.
Edge: You don’t mean that.
Orton: Look, just no more pictures, ok?
Edge: Fine, but at least you’re getting more recognition now.
Orton: (glares) Get out of my work station.
Edge: Fine. (he goes back to his desk)
(scene shifts to HHH and Flair, sharing at two man workspace)
HHH: Can you believe this crap? We’re stuck here like the rest of the flunkies?
Flair: (only paying half attention, going over a financial report) Woo.
HHH: What the hell are you doing?
Flair: Wooooooooooo.
HHH: What do you mean earning your paycheck? You get paid to perform on TV, not look at spreadsheets.
Flair: (holding out the piece of paper) Woo.
(HHH takes the paper, which is titled “The economic viability of the knife-edge chop, but all the columns are filled with woos)
HHH: (reading) Hmmmm, not a bad plan, Naitch. Maybe there is something to this. Can you work me up something about spitting water?
Flair: (already re-engrossed in his reports) Woo.
HHH: Thanks. Man, I’m getting hungry, you up for lunch?
Flair: (waving him off) Woo.
HHH: Fine, do your work. How about you guys?
(in the large cubicle next to them, Lemmy and the rest of Motorhead are busily making paper airplanes)
Lemmy: We’re fine, we’ve got a pizza on the way.
HHH: Fine, guess I’m on my own then. (he heads off to the cafeteria)
(scene shifts back to Steph, who is now approaching two large cubicles sat side by side. One is non-descript and plane, the other bejeweled and set on a rotating platform. She approaches the plain one first)
Steph: Morning Bobby, having a good day?
(Bobby says nothing, just stares with the googley eyes of death)
Steph: Oh come on, it’s not that bad, is it?
Arn: (approaching from the side) Morning, Boss.
Steph: Hey, Arn. What’s wrong with Bobby?
Arn: Well, he’s in a bad mood, we had a bit of an…incident earlier.
Steph: (looking alarmed) Incident?
Arn: Yep. A twenty minute screaming fit because he saw Bob Holly talking to the new recruits downstairs.
Steph: I don’t understand, what’s the problem with that? Holly’s been doing those for years now.
Arn: Well, one of the new kids called Bob Hardcore Holly, like he wants them to, and Bobby here overheard it.
Steph: Oh dear.
Arn: Yeah, so now we have to replace two large windows downstairs, because he threw the kid through it while screaming that he’s hardcore.
Steph: But you said two windows.
Arn: He brought him back in and did it again when he realized the kid had a package of Chuckles in his pocket and wouldn’t’ share them.
Steph: My, well let’s hope that doesn’t happen again, ok. Say, where’s Finlay? Isn’t he always with you?
(scene changes to Finlay and Hornswoggle in a room with numerous Divas)
Finlay: No, no, you’re getting it all wrong! (he kicks Hornswoggle)
Hornswoggle: Damn it, what the hell did I do?
Finlay: Sorry, force of habit. Shall we show them again?
Hornswoggle: Fine, but after this, I’m going to the bar.
(the two break into a jib, being accompanied by Cryme Tyme and Jeff Hardy, who are playing a lively Celtic tune)
Finlay: There, was THAT so hard?
Candice: But, why can’t I just do my regular dance?
Finlay: OUT! GET OUT! (under his breath) Ungrateful tramps, don’t know a thing about classical dancing styles.
Regal: (popping his head in the door) I’ll say.
Finlay: What are you doing here?
Regal: Heard the music, thought I’d stop by.
Finlay: Well, we’re about to hit the bar, you up for it?
Regal: No thank you, but I’ll tell you what does sounds spectacular. How about you two join Taylor and myself, and we can go out to the parking lot and beat the hell out of each other for a bit? Then, maybe lunch?
Finlay: Perfect, let’s go!
(the depart, leaving Shad, JTG, and Jeff standing there, as Shelton bursts in)
Shelton: What did I tell you two? Stereotypes! Nothing but stereotypes!
Shad: (gently setting his fiddle in its case) I find it inexplicable how you can see this as being in any way stereotypical.
JTG: ((closing his flute case) Agreed, we are merely expressing our love of a diverse musical style. Please, do tell us, what is your problem with that?
Shelton: Well, it…it just IS.
Shad: I see. Would you mind if I were to offer a rebuttal?
Shelton: Sure, why not.
Shad: Well, as I said, we both have a love for classical music styling, from jazz to flamenco, to some very festive Celtic works, not unlike the one we, along with Jeffery here were just engaged in.
(Jeff has put down his mandolin,, and is begins doing his gyration dance)
JTG: Very well put, Jeffery.
Shad: Indeed. And furthermore, young Mister Benjamin, in addition to our love of the classics, we also enjoy modern pieces as well.
Shelton: Such as?
Shad: (jumps at Shelton and punches him in the head) BOOM!
(Shad and JTG begin mauling Shelton, as Jeff stops dancing and dives inside a large open bass case)
JTG: (stops beating on Shelton to look back at Jeff) Jeffrey, what are you dong?
Jeff: Hiding is extreeeeeeeeeeeeeeme. (he closes the case)
JTG: I see. (he goes back to beating on Shelton as the scene shifts to HHH entering the cafeteria)
HHH: (yelling towards the kitchen) What’s the special today?
(there is no response from the kitchen, only loud banging noises)
HHH: Hello? Helloooooooooo! Anybody in there?
(HHH walks behind the counter, and peeks through the door to see Moolah and Mae Young, in hear nets and aprons, cowering by the wall as numerous pans fly across the room. He motions for them to come out and they run to the door into the main dining area)
HHH: What the hell’s going on in there?
Moolah: Thank God, I thought we’d be stuck in there for days.
Mae: Thank you for getting us out of there. Say, would you like to see me topless?
HHH: Yeah, I’m gonna pass on that. Anyway, who’s throwing the pans around?
(A deep, bellowing voice is heard from inside kitchen)
Henry: I’m the King of the Jungle! I’m The Silverback!
HHH: OK, so it’s Mark. Is he mad about the nickname?
Moolah: No, no, oh God, it’s…oh God.
(the door flies open and Mark Henry storms out, bellowing incoherently and beating his chest)
HHH: Mark, man, you have to calm down. What’s the problem?
Henry: Want…CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!
HHH: (to the lunch ladies) For the love of God, give him cake before he destroys the place.
Moolah: We…can’t. We don’t have any, we save that for Tuesdays.
Henry: (running through the cafeteria and out into the hallway) CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!
HHH: Well, he’s gone at least. So, what’s the special today, anyway?
(Moolah and Mae are huddling together, leaning against the empty salad bar, weeping in terror)
HHH: So, I’m guessing you’re closed, then?
(Neither woman responds, or looks up for that matter)
HHH: Right, I’ll just steal some of Lemmy’s pizza I suppose. Well, have a good rest of your day, then.
(HHH departs, as the scene shifts back to Steph, who is now approaching a large inflatable jungle gym type of structure)
Steph: Guys? You in there?
(Londrick come bouncing out in unison, with simultaneous back flips and land on their feet in front of Steph)
London: Thanks for the cubicle Steph.
Kendrick: Yeah, its’ awesome. We’re doing a bunch of new stuff, wanna see?
Steph: Sure, I’d love to, but I wanted to stop by, since you sent me a letter, and see what you needed?
London: It’s just a thank you card for the new office. We made it ourselves.
Steph: Well, I’ll be sure to hang on to it, then. Now, let me see the new things you’ve been working on.
(Londrick jump back into the structure and begin doing high speed flips and dives throughout)
Striker: (running to the structure, not seeing Steph) Hey hey HEY! WHAT did I tell you two about horseplay?
London: That it’s not appropriate for the office.
Strike: And just what do you two call that?
London: Work.
Kendrick: Yeah, work!
Striker: I’m warning you, you two better shape up, or –
Steph: (cutting him off) Or what?
(Londrick quickly dismount the structure and hide behind Steph)
Striker: Well…I…you see…I was just trying to get them to have a more professional demeanor, that’s all.
Steph: Did you not think that we gave them this for a reason?
(from behind Steph, Londrick begin making faces at Striker)
Striker: Hey, knock that off!
(Steph turns to look, but only sees London and Kendrick smiling and standing with their hands behind their backs, she turns her attention back to Striker)
Steph: I don’t know what your problem is, but if you value not being put in daily matches with Mark Henry, you’ll leave these two alone.
Londrick: (in unison) Yeah!
Striker: But –
Steph: (glaring) Is there a problem?
Striker: No, there’s no problem. (he wanders off, muttering under his breath) Damn punk kids with their flipping around and running in the hallways.
Steph: (to Londrick) Well, I have to say, that was a veary nice performance from –
(she is cut off as a still naked, and still stoned, Juvi comes flying out of the structure, lands on his feet, and sprints through the rows)
Juvi: I…AM…GOD!
Stgeph: (shaking her head) Well, as I was saying, good work guys, keep it up.
Londrick: We will!
(Londrick dive back into their “office” as Steph walks away, bumping into HHH)
Steph: Oh, hey, honey, how do you like your workspace? Isn’t it a great idea?
HHH: Uh…yes?
Steph: Wonderful, I’m so glad we agree.
HHH: Thank God for that. One question though, why can’t I have the extra office over in the corner? It’s big, has its own private bathroom, and a nice view. You’ve got one, so shouldn’t I have the other one?
Steph: Well, normally I’d agree with you, but it’s already in use.
HHH: it is?
Steph: Sure is, but I don’t see why we couldn’t go pop in for a visit.
HHH: Yeah, that’d be…fun. Fun is the word you want me to use there, right?
Steph: Don’t be silly, of course it’ll be fun.
(HHH and Steph walk towards the office, as Henry runs past them, still screaming)
Henry: CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!
(HHH and Steph reach the office, and Steph knocks. There is no answer, but Steph opens the door. The office is lavishly furnished with antique bookshelves and a large oak desk. A high back leather desk chair is behind the desk, with Sedgie, in an Armani suit, perched in the chair)
HHH: Wait a damn minute! HE gets the office? Why the hell does HE get the office?
(Sledgie, as always, says nothing, bit tilts slightly to the left)
HHH: What do you mean fitting of your position? You don’t HAVE a position!
Steph: Actually, he does, dear. (she points to the name plate on the desk that reads Sledgie, Executive Vice President of International Prop Management)
HHH: He got PROMOTED?
Steph: Well, it’s a fact that, when he appears on RAW, ratings rise.
HHH: But he on ly appears when I’M there! Why don’t I get the office?
Steph: Our market research says he’s the one people identify with. Besides, he IS the longest reigning Interlawn champion in the company’s history. (she points to the framed title belt on the wall)
HHH: That’s MY title! (he dives over the desk, misses Sledgie and lands on the floor. Sledgie falls from his chair and lands on top of HHH. Jack Doan runs in and makes a three count)
Steph: Well, looks like he beat you again.
HHH: Where the hell did you come from Doan?
Dona: Well, my second job is as executive assistant to the Executive VP (he nods to Sledgie)
HHH: Then you’re biased, the decision doesn’t count!
Doan: Ref’s decision is final, you know that.
HHH: But –
Steph: it’s final.
HHH: Damn it!