“Yes” A Bear Does
It’s the early hours in the morning – it’s light out, but the birds haven’t started annoying any cunt yet. And we’re here.. in a field, of course. Not the usual hangout we’re used to seeing Jonny O’Dell – but rather, at the heart of a wooded area. Of course.. his sidekick Gavin is there, too. The pair look very mischievous.. make sure your doors are locked, folks.
There currently is no pathway that I can see in the wooded area; it’s more like a scene from The Animals Of Farting (sorry.. farthing) Wood. That, or the movie ‘Wrong Turn’. Gavin, with supplies (carrying a Co-Op carrier bag in one hand) is accompanied by a stray greyhound. He holds onto the dog with a bit of rope around its neck. The greyhound is in bad condition and is in dire need to see a vet might I add.
O’DELL: What the fucks he gunna do?
GAVIN: First off, it’s not a he.. it’s a she.
O’DELL: You fucked the bitch didn’t you?
O’DELL: So why has it got permanent disappointment slapped across its face?
Camera zooms in on the dog’s sad face.
GAVIN: Alright.. I admit it. But it was strictly love-making and not some cheap shag who I threw out the next morning. AND – most of all.. consensual.
O’DELL: Consensual?! It’s a fucking dog.
GAVIN: Well what can I say.. love works in mysterious ways.
O’DELL: Man.. you’re real sick, you know that?
GAVIN: I got needs, mate.
O’DELL: Needs? You’re homeless.. not Ted Bundy.
GAVIN: Do you want me to answer that?
O’DELL: No, I don’t want to know about the skeletons in your closet – that you’ve undoubtedly fucked….. let’s just get this done, I’m starving.
GAVIN: You just watch, mate – we’ll be eating the head of Rodger Rabbit in no time.
O’DELL: You’ve brought an abused greyhound – I distinctly remember you saying you had a fox.
GAVIN: And I rose to the challenge – I’ve brought one foxy lady with me.
O’Dell just stands and stares at Gavin – with one little cricket heard in the background (and nothing else).
GAVIN: You just watch – she’s quicker than Usian Bolt this cunt. And talk about killer instinct.. she’s already bit me twice on the way up here.
O’DELL: Fucking get on with it!
GAVIN: Alright, Jon.. and WHALLA! Dinner is as good as served..
Gavin releases the greyhound, removing the rope from around its neck and the dog bolts (excuse the pun) as fast as humanly (or doggy) possible. Far into the woods and heads straight for the motorway. Both Gavin and Jonny look on – to the shock horror that the dog actually makes it onto the motorway. Car horns and screeching tires are heard in the distance.
GAVIN: He’s probably just gone to McDonalds or something..
O’DELL: What?! Like through the fucking drive through?!
…….Then, an explosion.
GAVIN: I hope you like yours well-done.
O’DELL: We should of just ate the damn dog.
GAVIN: You won’t be eating my fucking dog!
O’DELL: Ok, maybe I wont. But that’s purely because its had your spunk in it.
GAVIN: Only in its mouth.
The cricket is heard again – except for a longer period of time.
GAVIN: Right, so ‘plan A’ was a no-go – lets refuel and refocus.
O’DELL: Does the ‘A’ stand for ‘Atrocity’?
GAVIN: I have no clue what you are talking about, I’m just trying real hard here..
O’DELL: And refuel on what?! I’m sick of eating these red berries that are already doing wonders for my belly.
GAVIN: Well it’s a big radius of belly.. you’ve at least got another couple of hours before that deadly volcano erupts.
Meaning.. your arse, Jon.
O’DELL: So what’s your next bright idea, Einstein… kicking a deer up the arse?
GAVIN: No.. lots and lots of carrier bags.
Gavin retrieves the remainder of the carrier bags from out of his coat pocket. One dropping out onto the ground, and before Gavin can stand up again (from picking up the bag) O’Dell looks to give Gav another piece of his mind.
O’DELL: Oh great, we have bags to actually carry our food in…… when we actually fucking catch some!
GAVIN: Do you want to hear my foilproof plan or not..?
O’DELL: (sighs) You mean.. foolproof.
It would only be ‘foilproof’ if everything you just said was all wrapped up in foil, mate.
GAVIN: What you talking about, Jon?
O’DELL: Foil.. also used to wrap sandwiches.
Man.. I’d stab my own mother in the throat for a cheese savoury sandwich right now.
GAVIN: We don’t have any ‘foil’. Ha.. I just said carrier bags you dummy.
O’Dell is clearly ‘hangry’ – possibly hallucinating (with his wording straying away from the original topic). He then shakes his head at Gavin, almost as if he’s losing faith in his partner in crime.
GAVIN: So this is what we are going to do; we have six carrier bags and six holes..
O’DELL: There’s holes in the bags? Oh great.
GAVIN: No, six rabbit holes.
O’Dell’s whole demeanour suddenly changes. From being totally sick of his life to just.. still sick of his life but Gavin has seemingly gauged his interest slightly.
O’DELL: Go on, kid – I’m listening..
GAVIN: Ok, well listen carefully.. I know what I’m doing. I used to hunt all the time with my dad and his mates when I was a young boy. And I guarantee to you, Jon.. this is gunna work.
O’DELL: No way? I mean.. so did you and your old man used to catch a lot then?
GAVIN: Oh yeah – rabbits, moles.. anything with four legs, really. You name it, we slaughtered it. Then.. then… get this, right.. to celebrate; my dad and his mates would then take turns to bugger me. I mean, isn’t that absolute class, man?! Eh?! Eh?!
Gavin, strangely.. looks joyful. His gleeful face looks at O’Dell with his eyelid slightly twitching. He’s a fucking mentalist, not gunna lie.
O’DELL: Yeeaahhh.. wonndddeerrfffulll..
GAVIN: So we put the carrier bags over the holes and we wait for little Peter Rabbit to leave his house and we simply… bag the cunt!
O’DELL: (pondering) There’s so many holes..
GAVIN: No mate, I’ve counted them.. there’s six.
O’DELL: Not holes in the ground.. in your foolproof plan, you fool.
GAVIN: Name one..
O’DELL: For starters – why the fuck would Peter just suddenly stroll out of his crib? Unless he’s a cheating love rat which we shouldn’t really bank on. He’s probably fucking sat there with his feet up watching a set of wankers like ourselves trying to catch him – laughing..
GAVIN: We terminate Peter. That simple.
O’DELL: Simple?! You’re talking in riddles, man. Just fucking tell me how those furry little bastards are gunna end up in those carrier bags.
GAVIN: Feast your eyes on this cunt..!
Gavin reaches into the carrier bag and pulls out a toy remote control robot. He immediately puts it on the ground and gets on the controls.
O’DELL: Where the fuck did you get that from? Wait, don’t tell me.. you raided Smiths toy shop, didn’t you?
GAVIN: Ha, who the fuck do you take me for.. the wet bandit? Nah, just mugged a five year old. Pretty easy shit.
Suddenly the robot toy makes firing noises as it walks forwards – all powered by the wonderful Gavin.
ROBOT: Stop in the name of the law! We have the place surrounded!
GAVIN: I think it’s some cheap RoboCop bullshit but it’ll get the job done.
O’Dell seems completely fascinated by the whole prospect. As he strokes his chin and watches the robot go completely mental.
O’DELL: You know, this might actually fucking work.
GAVIN: Astalavista bay-bee.
We zoom in on the toy robot with it twirling about and sirens blaring.
ROBOT: You’re wanted! Die or Alive!
SCENE #2 SAME MORNING
We head back into the woods where Jonny O’Dell can be seen behind a tree. Only his head can be seen peering from out behind it as we go in for a closer look. When the cameras rotate around the tree we can fully identify that ‘The Fabulous One’ is squatting with his pants down round by his ankles.
O’DELL: Hey Gav…! Just beat my rabbit over the head…! I’m just attending to some business here!
Gavin is not heard, nor seen.
O’DELL: Gavin…..?! Oh, fuck off then.
O’Dell stops calling out for his friend as he continues to shit behind a tree. However, once he settles – he then starts to appreciate the beauty of nature around him. There’s a sense of bliss and tranquillity about him and his surroundings. Like, even in a vulnerable state of being – O’Dell seemingly feels fully comfortable and at ease with himself and the world. The sound of birds chirping and the blue sky escaping the towering oak trees.. what a time to be alive.
Then, suddenly – to top the moment off.. the camera catches sight of a little red squirrel on a tree branch. It scurries across the branch and stands at the end of it – washing itself. Seemingly not afraid or alarmed that O’Dell is in close proximity having a shit.
O’DELL: Oh hey there, lil guy..
The little squirrel then makes a little squeaking noise and sniffs a little.
O’DELL: You’re a cute little thing, aren’t ya? I tell ya.. if Gavin were here he’d want to fuck ya. But me.. I’m not going to hurt ya…
The camera then drops back down to see O’Dell feeling around for a rock beside him (still in a squatting position).
O’DELL: Naw, I just want to make you into a lovely squirrel stew…
He feels around some more; picking up a small rock but gently putting it back down. He then feels a little more.
O’DELL: Yeah.. that will be nice, won’t it? Then you’ll end up out of my arse like your friend Peter Fucking Rabbit–
The squirrel then jumps down a branch onto another to seemingly get closer to O’Dell. Meanwhile, ‘The Fabulous One’ – finally gets a decent sized rock. He grasps it in his hand.
O’DELL: –It’s called the circle of life you fucking little cunt!!!
Suddenly, before O’Dell can throw the rock – the little red squirrel telegraphs the throw and leaps off the branch onto O’Dell’s face. Jonny screams with the red squirrel going into full-attack mode. It latches onto his neck and he’s wrestling the squirrel out into the woods with his pants still round his ankles. O’Dell has stood in his own shit and there’s just shit fucking everywhere! On him, the ground and perhaps even the squirrel!
Before it can get any uglier – the fucking toy robot is heard (before seen)! We switch over to a shot of the robot as it comes closer into the melee – navigated by Gavin who seems at a safe distance (further away).
ROBOT: Stop and put your hands up!
Miraculously, this startles the aggressive little squirrel and it releases its grip on O’Dell’s neck. It then pelts away up a tree and far out of sight. O’Dell is panting (out of breath) and clearly traumatized.
ROBOT: This is the US State Police!
O’Dell, without hesitation – kicks the toy robot off the nearest tree in complete rage. The robot then calls out its final command in a more robotic voice then it originally sounded.
ROBOT: Guilty… as… chhharrgggeddd.
GAVIN: What the fuck you doing?! RoboCrap just saved your life!
O’DELL: Saved my fucking life?! Where the fuck have you been?! I’ve been bitten! And I’m all covered in shit!
O’Dell (still exposed) touches his neck trying to find out what the damage is – but on inspection, doesn’t appear all that bad like first feared.
GAVIN: It’s just a scratch, mate.. hardly Jaws.
O’DELL: (looking down at pants) Fuck sake, I’m going to have to air these out.. it’s the-light-runny-browny-kind.
GAVIN: It sounds like you’ve had a shitty day mate.
O’DELL: No shit, Sherlock.
GAVIN: Yes, shit.. lots and lots of shit. But behind that shit.. there’s a rainbow, my friend. Oh yes, yes, yyeesss–
O’DELL: (interrupting) What are you talking about? You got that strange look in your eye again..
GAVIN: Who wants…..… BADGER!?!?!?!
Gavin then swings a carrier bag up over his head and a dead badger’s head (peeping out the top of the bag) crashes off a concrete slab in front of them. There’s silence, with O’Dell left to take in the current sight. The current sight being a deceased badger with blood oozing out of its cranium. O’Dell turns and looks deep into the camera lens.
O’DELL: Feeding time at the fucking zoo!
SCENE #3 EARLY AFTERNOON
We remain in the woods but in a more reclusive area. There, sat on a log are both Jonny O’Dell and Gavin. I mean, who else were you expecting.. the full cast of Boy Meets World? Meanwhile, O’Dell is sat there with no pants on (totally naked bottom half) looking rather sorry for himself. Gavin, on the other hand is hard at work. There, with a bucket in front of him – Gavin guts the dead badger he so proudly hunted.
Additionally, Gavin is aware of the cameras present and suddenly strikes up dialogue when it seemed non-existent before.
GAVIN: You not worried about them? (gestures toward camera)
O’DELL: (without looking) Naw.. they’ll pixelate it out.
GAVIN: So what’s with the face? You pissed at what Chris Diamond had to say or something?
O’DELL: No? What did that pasty-faced tosser say?
GAVIN: Apparently you’re old.
O’DELL: Ha.. no, really what did he have to say?
GAVIN: You’re old.
O’DELL: Well way to state the fucking obvious! And he’s a Channing Tatum-wannabe prick but I don’t have to point in his face and tell him.
I bet he has to put that blue visor over his dick for his whole routine to deflect how small his fucking dick is. Loser.
GAVIN: So come on then.. spit it out. The squirrel is gone, mate. He wasn’t fucking about – off like a rocket.
O’DELL: (pause, whilst thinking)
What’s that term I’m looking for when everyone wanks over the same thing..
GAVIN: Kimmy K sex tape?
O’DELL: No, like – everyone wanking together, as a group..
O’DELL: No, I think that might be when grown men stand around in a circle and wank on a biscuit.
GAVIN: Yeah, could be… but without the biscuit, surely.
O’DELL: Oh, ok.. l’ll just go with that then.
GAVIN: Wait… what happens to the biscuit after you’ve spunked on it?
O’DELL: ….Last one to finish eats biscuit.
First time we’ve ever seen Gavin looking speechless. But perhaps that’s more of a look of intrigue, I’m not sure. I’d say latter.
O’DELL: Ha, it’s fucking hilarious, mate. You got all of the cunts circle-jerking at the potential dream matches in the world title tournament.. I’ve heard it. Playing the thirty five year veteran for a fool – but words are like wildfire in this business, Gav. They’re fucking counting their chickens too early… they need to go fucking count them again! Because I’ve counted twenty five chicken-shit entrants and one big fat overweight hen ready to upset the apple cart.
GAVIN: I thought you said you were gunna lose? And does that mean you’ll have to eat the biscuit then?
O’DELL: Oh, I’m getting jobbed.. but I ain’t eating no fucking biscuit for no cunt.
GAVIN: Just order you the usual extra large meat feat pizza then?
O’DELL: Gavin, I ain’t got a prayer when it comes to ‘who’s over’ but by god with my ring savvy – they’ll know who the real champion is. When it’s all over and their celebrating – it’ll be like having a party at their own mam’s funeral. Deep down they will know I’ve been politically fucked like I have done my whole god damn life. The fans… they will know, too. And they will all be scratching their heads (and their arses) not knowing what went wrong. Why their special day is only being celebrated by their own right hand (wanking hand).
GAVIN: They can have the whole biscuit tin!
O’DELL: Yeah mate, cos I’m gunna shit in it.
Quick cutaway of Jonny O’Dell’s shit-stained jeans hanging over a tree branch with flies whizzing around it.
GAVIN: If you are not bothered by the result then why do you keep getting so riled?
O’DELL: Not riled.
GAVIN: Riled, mate. Alex Jones style.
O’DELL: Lad, I really don’t give a fuck. It’s just the arrogance of them. How they just expect to turn up and that’s gunna be it. Fuck, they’re gunna try and ‘boy’ me when I’m old enough to be their fucking granddad. Turning up ten minutes before we go out there and when we end up being on BOTCHAMANIA.. then start pointing the finger. That’s why women’s badminton is killing wrestling in the ratings these days.. simply no pride in what we do any more.
GAVIN: Maybe it’s fate.
O’DELL: What do you mean, mate?
GAVIN: I don’t know, just didn’t really know what else to say.
O’DELL: Gavin, I know you’ve been with me on most days but the times you haven’t – the fans still chant my name.. everywhere I go. I was out mugging some cunt and when he gave me his wallet he said: one more match. You just couldn’t make this shit up.
GAVIN: Definitely fate.
O’DELL: Get this.. when I was out on the town the other month and I had to sort ten blokes out, fighting.. it was like a scene off Kickboxer. I was Jean-Claude Van Damme with the flashy kicks, dance moves and all the girls.. you hear that Diamond! You fucking soft-cock?!
And after I put into practice what I learned from the Shaolin Monks because I kicked their fucking arses.. my sensei (basically looked like Mr. Miyagi) turned to me and went: Jonny.. my son, you’re ready. Then, literally ten minutes later Lee Best trips over me.. it’s a fucking sign, mate. Trust me. Fucking right it’s fate!
GAVIN: And you’re definitely still doing the job? Lee has said?
O’DELL: No, but doesn’t need to say. I’m just really looking forward to R-Kelly playing me out again, you know? Fuck, I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it. I feel like a schoolboy again.
GAVIN: But Lee wouldn’t just sign any homeless guy for the sake of signing some homeless guy. You’re going over, mate. I feel it.
O’DELL: Ha.. Imagine that? Against the odds?! The fucking shit-storm. Mind you, if they wanted to do a swerve then fair play. But you know as well as I do that wresting is as predictable as watching X-Factor with a sob story. They go hand-in-hand. I’ve been brought in as a cool-head and to make sure the youngsters don’t shit the bed in front of the whole world. I’m there to babysit and nothing more.
Besides, what sort of dad would Lee be if he just let me take liberties with his boy. He knows I’m a good hand and will talk Mikey through it. I’ll hold his hand every step of the way and make sure the soon-to-be champion looks the real fucking deal.
Gavin begins to gouge out the badger intestines with his rotten fingernails. Blood and guts go everywhere and he’s smiling.. he likes it. He really really likes it.
O’DELL: If I was writing the show, which I probably should be.. maybe it would be best if I went over Diamond. Because watching them two cunts put a match together would be like the blind leading the blind with Stevie Wonder as the fucking ref. It would be the spottiest fucking match – you’d need a remote control to rewind the fucker cos you’d miss all of the moves. Or, better yet.. just fast forward the cunt because it’ll be the drizzling shits.
GAVIN: I gotta remote – but it’s as much use as a chocolate fire-guard now.
Gavin stops his decimation on the badger carcass and throws the remote control for the toy robot (that was beside him on the log) up over his shoulder. It crashes and breaks in the distance.
O’DELL: THE FUCK?!
Both Gavin and O’Dell look completely and utterly freaked. The voice of RoboCrap has returned – and in its original form without any malfunctions. They sit still for a few minutes waiting if there’s any more communication from the robot. Previously, the sound of a lonely cricket – this time.. complete silence. O’Dell is the first to snap out of it and presumes it to be a total coincidence.
O’DELL: Gav, you’d see more psychology and storytelling in a fucking Family Guy episode than you would with these workers nowadays. Job’s fucked, mate.
GAVIN: What makes a good match, Jon?
O’DELL: Good versus evil. You know, the ability to have the fans eating out of the palm of your hand instead of them dictating the spot you do. Getting on that rollercoaster of emotions and taking them cunts for a ride. They may not fucking deserve it but why change the whole formula when its been the blueprint since ‘Jumping’ Jimmy Jefferson at the Royal Albert Hall – all the way up until these circus clowns fucked everything.
GAVIN: So what makes Mike Best so special?
O’DELL: Apart from being the offspring of possibly one of the greatest minds this business has ever seen? Fuck knows. I mean.. fair enough, he’s learning his craft out on the indies fighting that sumo wrestler but this is his bread and butter. I understand him strutting about with his ego fully intact – because his dad runs the whole gig.. but this gig is H-O-Fucking-W. The biggest gig in town. You might not respect me because I’m an old broken-down piece of corned beef (that wants to be alone) but respect HOW, man. Respect your dad.
GAVIN: Do you not think you’re underestimating him though? Like, he’s won a lot of shit.
O’DELL: What shit?! A David Hasselhoff bronze swimming badge?! Well, I’ve got gold. Done it twice over but never got the credit where it was deserved. And if it was in today’s climate.. I’d rather just clock in, head down and crack on with my job. Because you’re not winning anything. All you’re winning is chocolate metal. You’re Lance Armstrong without the drugs.. without the fucking drugs! What use is that? Juice that winner up and let him create ‘the dream’ like we all dreamt about. You all sold-out the dream for this trampoline wrestling bullshit. You’re not Peter Pan, you’re Robin Williams who forgot. Granted, I’m ‘not the Pan’ either but that’s simply cos I WANTED to grow up. That’s the difference.
Lesson to all: Leave Neverland alone. You can’t make your own without someone’s dream getting fucked.
You know, once the dust settles.. I’d really like to go fishing with you and your old man. This business is no business to make friends–
O’Dell starts to fill up with emotion. Like he’s getting flashbacks of years and years of back stabbing and fake friendships throughout his thirty five-plus career.
O’DELL: –What your farther did for me.. I will never EVER forget it.
Business will always be business. But Mikey.. every old man needs to see his boy catch his first fish.
O’Dell can’t help but emotionally break down in floods of tears. I don’t know if this is wrestle-talk/fighting-talk/fishing-talk or family-talk (probably all blended into one). Gavin, amazingly identifies this and seems to react like any normal human would – reassuringly. What a lovely sight to see between two best friends as Gavin takes the dead badger carcass and puts it over his hand like a glove puppet.
BADGER PUPPET: Eat me, Jon-boy.. I’m delicious.
O’Dell stops crying and lets out a little snigger. He perhaps looks a little embarrassed that he’s cried in front of his best friend. But also, thankful.
O’Dell: Cheers mate.
Now get your hand out of its arse and lets eat!