High Octane Wrestling
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Published: Written by: High Flyer

Hi!

My name is Jack Harmen. You might already know that. What’s your name?

Yes. That’s a (insert one: good, bad, stupid) name. It’s a pleasure to meet you (your name). I don’t know how you’re listening to my thoughts as I soliloquy to myself internally. I’m also not entirely sure what you’re looking at while you listen to my thoughts you shouldn’t be able to hear. Is it baby otters? That’s what I’d be watching. Baby otters riding inside of a kangaroo’s pouch while holding switchblades in their mouths. An army of them. That’d be adorably deadly.

Apparently, lots of people talk to themselves here in HOW. I thought I was special, that I was one of the few who heard the voices… don’t get me wrong, I’m still special.

What was I thinking about again? Oh yeah, how do you guys even hear this? Do I go in a VO booth later and record the lines? And then, do I just play footage that I want to play? Because I just spent five minutes googling West Side Story + Otters and came up with bupkis.

I’m too old for this.

**

You hear a familiar chime. It’s the chime as HOW programming goes off the air for the evening so syndication of old wrestling programs can take over. It’s 3 am, you better know where your kids are.

MULTIPLE BURSTS OF STATIC probably wake up the tens of thousands of people who have fell asleep at their computer or in front of their flatscreens. A camera cranes down from the lit rafter lighting in a small sound studio, as we see a large vibrant bright set adorned with bookshelves. Standing there wearing a tweed jacket and smoking out of a corn cob pipe is (most) everyone’s favorite Lunatic, Jack Harmen, High Flyer, the man with a thousand names. He has this, cocky arrogant posture as he kind of looks down at the camera, just as it rests at eye level.

High Flyer: Ladies and gentlemen, the High Octane audience is in for a treat as I, the wonderfully and woefully chaotic High Flyer, have bought airtime on the HOT V Network at 3:01 am EST to bring to you the DEAL of a lifetime! Hey… DO YOU WANNA BE A PRO WRESTLER?!

Rushing off from the side of the frame is an excited bright eyed curly haired mouse of a woman, cheeks flushed red with blush or makeup. Her cheeks match the shade of her hair, as she tilts and adjusts her emerald glasses before thrusting out a shitton of twentys. To those fans of the wrestling business, they know her as one third of the freebird tag team Flyer competed in for over a decade. They may also know her as the only person to have been trained by both High Flyer and Lindsay Troy. The Lunatic’s brightest protege and his own personal lawyer, Mary-Lynn Mayweather.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: I DO! YES! Really!? SHUT UP AND TAKE MY MONEY!

Flyer and Mayweather ham it up for the camera. We cut to a tight shot on just Jack.

High Flyer: And if a child prodigy wants it, you’d be a FOOL to pass this up!

High Flyer stands there with his thumbs up for an exorbitant amount of time. After a few moments of awkward silence.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather (O.S.): Can… Can I go now?

High Flyer: This product can cure cancer!

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Jack, as your lawyer, I’d advise you not to say that.

High Flyer: Then as your client Mary-Lynn, I advise you to stay.

There’s a rough and frustrated sigh from off camera as Flyer continues on unphased.

High Flyer: I’ve spent almost 27 years in the wrestling business. I’ve wrestled from Brockway to Ogdenville to North Haverbrook, and here, tonight, you can gain ALL of my trade secrets.

Flyer steps aside, as Mary-Lynn and Flyer both Vanana White a sparsely decorated table. What sits front and center is what can only be described by the looks of it… as if it were half of an encyclopedia set? In fact, one of the twelve books on the table IS an old Encyclopedia book, primarily dealing with the letters ga – hu. Another one is just Infinite Jest with David Foster Wallace’s name crossed out and the name Jack Harmen written in sharpie over it. Mary-Lynn rolls her eyes at the mere sight of this book.

High Flyer: What I’m providing you tonight is a WEALTH, a LIFETIME of Professional wrestling knowledge, all at your fingertips! My twelve volume set, “HOW to Make It As A Pro Wrestler,” is ONLY available EXCLUSIVELY here on HOT-V tv. Join the club, and every month you’ll get yet ANOTHER edition of this exclusive twelve part series. Part one, the simple does and don’ts of pro wrestling.

Flyer picks up a book and the rest of the books topple like dominos. The camera abruptly cuts w/ a STATIC interlude and we’re in a medium shot as Flyer flicks through some pages.

High Flyer: Just a little SAMPLE, a SMIDGE of taste… VOLUME 1 EXCEPT PAGE 63.

High Flyer coughs and clears his throat dramatically. He starts to read this with a deep resonance and bass that his voice previously didn’t have. It’s very labored, and the speed of Harmen’s speech slows to a crawl.”

High Flyer: “DO, drink ALL THE BEER you can. It will make you Andre the Giant. DON’T, buy your own wrestling boots.

Flyer closes the book shut quickly and falls back into his previous snake oil charmer like cadence.

High Flyer: See, you inherit those from the person who trains you and if you refuse to wear them, it forces your trainer to commit seppuku. Also, because all wrestling boots have existed for over a hundred years, wrestler’s feets are really stinky. It’s why you always see us fighting over belts or hair or masks rather than doing Kiss My Feet matches…. Literally… the deadliest form of Professional Wrestling.

Flyer takes the book he has in his hands and tosses it indiscriminately over his shoulder. It smacks the set with a thud. After a moment, there’s a swelling of sound as the cardboard set TOPPLED backward, revealing the bookcase to be nothing but a colored box. As it falls Flyer turns with mouth agape to try to catch it.

MULTIPLE BURSTS OF STATIC.

The scene is reset back to how it was, as Harmen stands now on the right side of the frame and Mary-Lynn on the left. Flyer reaches down and picks a book off the table, which again causes all the other books to domino over as Flyer tries to catch them.

High Flyer: Shii-

MULTIPLE BURSTS OF STATIC.

Again, the scene is reset back to the beginning, except Flyer has a book in his hand. It’s volume two. It has a picture of an outline of Lindsay Troy smacking Max Kael Sr with the forearm at War Games, revealing his chrome dome. Flyer notices it for the first time and gives it a double look but then shrugs and continues on.

High Flyer: And that’s just chapter 1! Call now, the number’s on the screen!

Flyer pauses, as a stagehand comes onto set and starts whispering in his ear.

High Flyer: I’m being told that the number is NOT currently on screen, which, let’s fix that, shall we?

Flyer listens.

High Flyer: Wait. I gotta buy a landline? Doesn’t HOW have an outdated Hotline number or something I can use? Maybe add an answering machine with like, a cassette tape?

Flyer pauses.

High Flyer: God damn millennials, go kill sliced cheese already!

Flyer sighs, collecting himself as the stage hand walks off.

High Flyer: Well, head over to highflyersellsyouthings.biz to start your subscription service NOW! I mean, just imagine what’s in the rest of these volumes!  Lookie here! FUN! Volume 3! Training regime! Here’s a quick excerpt.

Flyer flips open the book.

High Flyer: Page one hundred and twenty five…. So you take the stick of butter and place it into the pickles, and just eat that while watching the end of the Notebook so you just cry your soul and melt the butter with your tears before drinking the jar WHOLE. Crying is the best workout, I have SCIENCE. That PROVES that FACT! MATH! So…Want a quick six pack? Just have your family die! Tragedy equals washboard abs! It’s why so many of us have tragic backstories. Wrestlers are just broken, we all know this.

There’s a haunting chill as Flyer kind of slowly stops being a salesman and falls back into that quiet resolve of defeat, of finally understanding that, he too, is broken. He lets out a sniffle of a cry, wiping away a tear.

High Flyer: I… I was just having a quick workout. CUT THE CAMERAS! Or I’ll CUT Y–

Harmen rushes toward the camera as we hear the crew panic behind it. MULTIPLE BURSTS OF STATIC. We return, and the studio layout is NO longer professionally lit. The image looks incredibly downgraded, like they’re now using a consumer grade camera from the 1990s. In fact, far as we can tell, Mary-Lynn Mayweather is now holding this big honking VHS tape having camera, pointing it toward what I can only imagine being a coked up High Flyer.

High Flyer: So, with my twelve part book series, the 24 part follow along workbook, the dvd yoga instructional set with accompanying Tony Davis body pillow….

You see an image of the body pillow. It’s a promotional image screen printed onto a pillow case. It comes from the fWo, and it’s of Flyer’s former tag team partner Tony Davis naked. He’s posing like the Red Hot Chili Peppers on that one album, all because “he forgot his clothes on picture day.”

High Flyer: Yeah… that’s a thing.

Back to Flyer, as we no longer linger on that shot but it forever burns into your brain.

High Flyer: Now, all that’ll run you 45.95 twice a month, for twelve months! BUT! You’re probably saying out loud right now. “I don’t need to know how to be a pro wrestler. I already am one. My dad taught me.” Yeah? WELL, YOUR FAKE DAD IS USING YOU.

Flyer coughs, clearing his throat and then tugs the collar of his cheap looking suit. He shrugs toward Mary-Lynn.

High Flyer: A little specific I know, but I think we got it.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather(O.S.): If I say yes, can I put this camera down?

Flyer pauses, thinking.

And thinking.

And thinking.

Mary-Lynn Mayweather: Now you’re just messing with me, I get it. I do.

Flyer can’t help but crack a smile as the camera lowers, before… MULTIPLE BURSTS OF STATIC.

A single light bulb hanging from a cord swings back and forth like a pendulum. It’s hypnotic, for a time, until it lulls you into a false sense of security, and suddenly…

The eyes of a mad man.

Wide eyed, an expression of both shock and joy, of wonder and destruction stares back at you in the darkness. The swinging lightbulb occasionally illuminating more of what we now know to be the FACE of…

Sonny Bono.

No, of course it’s High Flyer. I know I told you to pick one of good bad or stupid earlier, but it was stupid, because you’re stupid.

High Flyer: MAXKAEL Jr., SECOND OF HIS NAME, LONG MAY HE REIGN.

Flyer just laughs to himself.

High Flyer: It’s quaint… Jr… when I see my son competing as High Flyer IV over in DEFIANCE. Max Kael decides to give his name to a new competitor, to have his legacy live on. Max Kael loses the World Championship, and yet he goes off on a celebratory cruise to signal the end of a promotion that’s just beginning to tour around the globe again… and I’m the crazy one?! Whatever. Max, he’s not the problem this week. His new recruit, this unknown soldier, the possible badass of barstow, the undefeated from parts unknown, really, no idea what to make of him. He’s fought Crash. He beat Crash. Good for him.

Flyer shrugs.

High Flyer: But I don’t back down from a fight. And I am no Crash Rodriguez, youth, skill, fear… I’ve been an underdog my entire life based on my size, and it’s just the way I like it. I don’t fear ANYTHING. A big man is only good against a speedster if he can CATCH him. And let’s just say I’m as slippery as my words.

Flyer takes a moment to lean forward into the light, illuminating the rest of his face.

High Flyer: So… What type of man ARE you MAXKAEL Jr. Are you a shadow? A pale imitation? Or are you something new? Something… exquisite? I dunno. Do you? Probably not. No one does until they get in that ring and face the best this business has to offer. And Junior? You’re lookin’ at one of the best. You’re surrounded by ‘em here. I won’t show you any quarter, favor or mercy. Know that. When that bell rings… we go to war. Let’s have fun…. NOW!

Suddenly, the lights cut back on, BRIGHT and illuminated with numerous carnival games and arcade machines. It looks like the inside of a Dave and Busters… nay, in fact, it IS, a Dave and Busters.

High Flyer: Herald, you never showed to our play date. I feel, hurt. Truly. After renting out a Dave and Busters… JUST FOR YOU. I don’t even game…

Flyer leans out of frame and then stands back up, before throwing a five pound dumbbell into one of those racing games.

High Flyer: See? That’s my game. Violence. And until you announce me Herald, until I hear that beautiful voice serenade me to the ring ONCE MORE… I’ll just keep destroying everything I see. Whether that’s your new client, a baby, or Godzilla. Hell I’ll punch Oprah Winfrey with a Toddler if it’ll help. I honestly can’t see how it could hurt.

Flyer just looks down, a bit somber. He rubs the back of his head.

High Flyer: Just… call me? I’m really lonely. I thought we…

Flyer sniffles.

High Flyer: … we were best buddies.

Flyer bauls.

High Flyer: IT’S OKAY! IT’S JUST A WORKOUT! Turn the cameras off. Turn ‘em off!

Flyer swats the camera away from filming him and walks off. The camera spins around and catches him walking down an isolated hallway of Dave and Busters. Flyer turns around, arms at his side and screams.

High Flyer: STOP FILMING ME!

He turns around, walks out of the emergency exit and SLAMS the door behind him. We hear a shuffling of feet from behind the camera, as a gruff voice is heard. The scene fades away.

Owner(O.S.): He’s gonna pay for that, yeah?

Mary-Lynn Mayweather(O.S.): Yeah Yeah. Let me get my checkbook…

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