High Octane Wrestling
Published: Written by: High Flyer

“I can’t wait for Rumble at the Rock!”

“Uh, there’s still Friday Night Chaos 4.”

“There’s a Chaos 4?”

“On Saturday.”

“But it says Friday in the name…”


FADE IN: A static camera on the office desk of the craziest member of the Industry, Jack Harmen, better known as High Flyer. He wears an “INDUSTRY” t-shirt and khaki slacks stained with the blood of his former enemies. He chomps on the narrow end of a straw stawk, looking across the desk toward the Tiny Attorney, the red headed hard headed protege of his, Mary-Lynn Mayweather. He takes the straw out of his mouth and just looks quizzically toward MLM.

High Flyer: And people say I don’t make any sense.

A voice rings out from off screen. It’s Tony Davis, who excitedly jumps into frame in between the two. He winds up knocking a huge stack of papers off of Flyer’s desk.

Tony Davis: That’s Fri-TURD-Day Chaos.

There’s a moment of silence. Flyer blinks. MLM blinks. Flyer then leans forward and clutches the brim of his nose, rubbing his temple. Without looking up, he points to the door.

High Flyer: Out.

Davis frowns, looks toward MLM, who can’t look him back in his eye, and then back to Flyer. Flyer shows no give. Davis shrugs, and then slumps his head before Charlie Brown walking out of the office.

With him gone, Flyer turns back to MLM.

High Flyer: So when is Rumble at the Rock?

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Uhm. Soon?

High Flyer: Yes. Soon. So who’s on the agenda for Chaos?

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Evan Ward.

High Flyer: That guy? He seems normal. Why do I gotta fight normal people?

MLM leans forward and grabs one of those metal balls that swing like a pendulum, knocking into a row of others and sending the farthest one flying in the air before repeating the pattern.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Seems there’s some issues going on lately. It’s been a month. Web site got hacked. Max Kael is a communist now.

High Flyer: Harold’s not though, right?

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: I dunno. I haven’t asked.

High Flyer: You should. He’s a nice guy.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Didn’t he say on twitter, and I quote, you would “die tragically wrestling at Rumble at the Rock” and “everybody was happier?”

High Flyer: Well, violence makes people smile.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: No, violence makes you smile.

High Flyer: What do you think we do in that ring? Dance?

There’s a moment of silence as MLM tugs at her imaginary collar.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Anyway, it seems Ward might not be 100% entering the match on Saturday.

High Flyer: Then let’s cancel it? I don’t want a cheap win.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: I don’t know how that works here.

High Flyer: Who cares how it works here?

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: You should. You’re here.

High Flyer: Eh. I do my own thing. You know that. I don’t care about the status quo or the rules or the police. Hey, are you sure you don’t wanna join me in HOW? You’ve been all snippy lately.

MLM frowns.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: No. I’m good.

High Flyer: Cause you keep showing up and talking to me when the camera crews show up.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: You keep scheduling interviews here Jack. I’m here runnin’ your school while you’re off trying to make love to Harold.

High Flyer: HEY! HEY!

Flyer slams his hands down onto his desk and points toward her.

High Flyer: There IS no try.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Alright Yoda. Are you gonna sign these documents?

MLM points to the pile of papers that Tony knocked over earlier.

High Flyer: Do I have to read them?

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: No.

High Flyer: Phew. I don’t read things. Books are for suckers.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: So what do you want to do about Evan?

High Flyer: If he shows up, we’ll have a competitive match where we become blood brothers. If he doesn’t, well, there’s always Rumble at the Rock.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: What if he shows up and he has a pet barracuda?

Flyer frowns.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: I’ve been hanging out with Tony too much.

High Flyer: He really needs a job, doesn’t he?

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Yes please.

High Flyer: If he shows up with a barracuda, I’ll find a t-bone steak and throw it into the tank because I’ve never seen one eat before except in the Austin Powers movies. And I’m not sure if those were actually just tiny sharks or not.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: I don’t know what that is.

High Flyer: Mike Myers? Seth Green? Mini Me?

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: That… that can’t be pc.

High Flyer: It’s from the 90s, so of course it isn’t.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Wait, is that the one with the comedian playing a really fat man and like, an entire family at a dinner table?

High Flyer: That’s Eddie Murphey.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: No, not him.

High Flyer: Black dude?

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Well yeah.

High Flyer: He’s Jerry Lewis 2.0?

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: What?

High Flyer: Doctor Dolittle?

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: I don’t know what that is.

High Flyer: The doctor that talks to animals?

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: So he’s Aqua Man?

High Flyer: On land.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Does he have Jason Mamoa’s abs?

High Flyer: I don’t know. I don’t think so. Whatever. I feel like we are completely off topic here.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: We are. What’s our topic?

High Flyer: Religion? Politics? I don’t know, I just want this conversation to stop.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Then fucking sign the papers you crazy asshole.

High Flyer: Oh. Right.

Flyer reaches into a desk and pulls out a small handheld device and a metal tin. He lifts the tin’s lid and slams the device into it, and then proceeds to stamp his signature on a numerous amount of documents.

He does it with a repetative beat, as MLM starts tapping on her glasses. Then she taps her loud almost tap shoe heels as the three sounds weave into a rhythmic chorus.

That’s when the door SWINGS open and everyone’s least favorite 90s rapper not named Brian Austin Green enters. Tony Davis starts beat boxing as Flyer and MLM immediately stop.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: (Archer’s Lana like) NOOOOOPE!

MLM quickly storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Tony just frowns as she leaves. Flyer walks up to him, and places his hand around his shoulder.

High Flyer: Seriously dude. Get a job.

Flyer pats Davis on his back and walks off, leaving the former olympic amateur wrestlers turned pro wrestler turned incredibly bad rapper from the 90s turned tag team specialist just lowers his shoulders and sighs in a beat of sadness. The camera zooms out slowly and fades to black.

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