:::SCENE: A chilly, hypothermia inducing Sunday morning. While some are sleeping in and other, more God fearing folk are waking up to to prepare themselves for their weekly worship, one man is stirring awake. His mouth so dry, his tongue feels like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth. His head feels like it was run over by a diesel engine train.
What really stirs the Ruler of Jattlantis awake is the overpowering smell of rotting food, dried vomit (probably not his), and just a hint of compost heap and other revolting smells.
Jatt Starr awakens inside of a dumpster outside the Best Arena. His mind is foggy from the events of the night before. Rats. He remembers rats. He remembers Mikey Unlikey morphing into a rat-like creature. What the hillbilly hoedown transpired last night?
The Thane of Starrkarth recalls laying a verbal beatdown on the Hollywood Dingleberries. He remembers an explosion.
::::Cut to: Saturday afternoon in the StarrSek Industries Epicenter within the Best Arena. Jatt Starr is wearing thick, black rubber gloves and goggles as he carefully places the container of powder inside the box. Hugo Scorpio, his deformed face riddled with anxiety paces back and forth, as John Sektor looks on with as much interest as watch Chia Pet grow.::::
JATT STARR: Will you stop pacing?
JATT STARR: Those hippie bozos told me this is really potent stuff. I don’t want to drop it.
SEKTOR: What’s the fucking plan, amigo? It’s not like they’re gonna fall for this shit.
JATT STARR: Of course they are.
SEKTOR: What makes you so sure?
::::The King of Grapple from the Big Apple finally manages to place the container on the contraption inside the box. He lets out a relieved sigh.::::
JATT STARR: They’re morons. Plain and simple.
::::Sektor just rolls his eyes as if Jatt Starr told the joke about the cannibal showing up late to the barbeque and was given the cold shoulder. Sektor gets up from his chair.::::
JATT STARR: Where are you going?
SEKTOR: The dancers will be here in a little. Gotta look at the goods before we present them.
JATT STARR: Alright. We have a big night ahead of us. There’s no way we can let the “bruvs” get the better of us.
SEKTOR: That ain’t gonna happen.
:::::Sektor exits the room, leaving the Jattsylvanian Count with Hugo, whose pacing has now included involuntary fidgeting.::::
JATT STARR: What the heck is your deal? You’ve been acting all jittery and weird for days now. Are you going to be able to do this?
HUGO: Yeah, boss. Absolutely. I’m just….worried about you and Sektor and the match coming up.
JATT STARR: Worried? You should worry about Jesse Pin-pricks and Michael Unlikeable. When this stuff hits them in the face they will start hallucinating like Peter Fonda in basically any Peter Fonda film of the seventies. They’ll be humiliated, disgraced, and outwitted by my superior intellectualness. All you need to do is rig it so that it explodes in their face when they open the box. Easy cheesy.
HUGO: I got it.
::::Hugo Scorpio begins working on equipping the mechanism that will release this LSD based powder in the faces of the Hollywood Bruvs. Jatt Starr stares out the window, smiling smugly, completely satisfied with his scheme. After all, it’s foolproof, what could go wrong?::::
::::The scene cuts back to the present. Jatt Starr flings open the lid of the dark green dumpster. The freezing wind assaults him like shards of glass penetrating his skin. It is at this moment, the Hero of Jattlanta realizes that he is only wearing bright, neon pink briefs. He hops out of the dumpster, his bare feet touching the rough, shardlike protrusions on the ground. He makes a run for it, a painful run for it. The freezing air coupled with running on the street….who knows what some degenerate has done on the ground near a dumpster….puke? Piss? Poop? Jerk….best not to finish that thought.
The Champion of Jattanooga manages to get to the side entrance. His teeth begin chattering uncontrollably as he tries the handle.::::
JATT STARR: Locked!!!
::::The Earl of GlouStarr begins banging loudly on the door, hoping that he avoids frostbite. He knocks on the door, louder and louder. He prays to Max (who is probably loving this right now) the Messenger and the HOW gods for someone, anyone to open the door. Except Lindsay Troy. That little strumpet. She’s just dying to see the Sultan of SeaJattle humiliated. Especially after ICONIC. Steve Solex will shut that filthy tramp’s mouth.
The door finally opens and it’s a maintenance worker. A large, obese gentleman whose belly hangs below his crotch. His balding gray hair, bushy eyebrows, beady eyes, and pencil thin moustache clock him as the seventh creepiest looking dude the Ruler of Jattlantis has ever met. Jatt Starr tries to barge in, but the large man blocks the doorway.::::
WORKER: Whoa there guy! Can’t let ya in. You’re kinda half nekkid there and ya stink.
JATT STARR: What do you mean you can’t let me in! I work here and my wang is about to freeze off.
WORKER: Yeah, so, uh, gonna need someone to, ya know, vouch for ya.
JATT STARR: Call Lee! Lee Best!
WORKER: Nah, spoke to ‘im once, he call me a “fat fuck numbnut”, so yeah, I’m, uh, not callin’ ‘im.
::::The Jatti Master is losing all feeling in his extremities. The only warmth he feels is the growing, burning rage He desperately wants to rip this “fat fuck numb nut’s” throat out and shove it up his fat ass. Jatt’s eyes narrow, his iips purse, it takes all he has to suppress his anger at the rather portly fellow standing between him and warmth.::::
JATT STARR: What about Hugo Scorpio? He should be here! Tall guy, half of face looks like it was burned off….because it was.
WORKER: Yeah! I know ‘im. Hold on.
::::That giant turd closes the door on Jatt Starr! The indignity of standing out in what can only be described as subzero temperature and having his fate in the hands of the guy who looks like he ate Louis Anderson and Big Pussy. Jatt Starr to headbutt this Blobby Bastard in the nose and take lead pipe and crack him in the skull with it. After retaining the HOW Tag Team Championships, of course. Priorities matter.
Finally, the door opens and the Maintenance Worker waves him in.::::
WORKER: Hugo’ll be right down.
::::The LSD Champion glares daggers at the large man as he squeezes inside the doorway. The warmth of the interior heating system of the Best Arena comfortingly washes over him. His body continues to shiver as the door closes behind him. He stands there in awkward silence, staring down the large hallway, lit by dull fluorescent lights, giving the off white paint a bluish tint, the gray floors dull and depressing.
Minutes of awkward silence pass. Minutes of the Maintenance Worker NOT asking the Jattagonian Giant if he needs a hot cocoa or even SOMETHING TO COVER HIMSELF WITH! Insensitive clod.
Finally, Hugo Scorpio, sporting a green and black “StarrSek Industries” tracksuit, comes jogging down the corridor. By the time he reaches the HOW Hall of Famer, he is out of breath, huffing and puffing as if he were going to blow a little pig’s house down.::::
JATT STARR: It took you long enough!
::::Hugo holds up a finger to catch his breath.::::
JATT STARR: Oh! By all means, take your freaking time!
:::Finally, Hugo looks his boss up and down, realizing the blatantly obvious.::::
HUGO: Where are your clothes?
JATT STARR: If I knew that I wouldn’t be standing here looking like this, now would I?
HUGO: Jerry! You didn’t say he needed clothes!
WORKER/JERRY: Ya didn’t ask.
JATT STARR: Give me your jacket.
JATT STARR: You heard me! Jacket! Now!
:::Hugo unzips the top of the tracksuit, removes it, revealing a tight, solid black t-shirt accentuating his impressive physique, and hands it to Jatt Starr. The Jattvian Prince wraps the sleeves around his waist and begins storming off down the hall, no doubt heading towards the “StarrSek Industries” Epicenter. Hugo opens his mouth to say something to Jerry but is interrupted.::::
JATT STARR: HUGO!!!!
::::Hugo gives Jerry a little shrug and starts jogging towards his employer who is about ninety feet away and moving farther and farther away.:::
::::The scene shifts to the night before, sometime after the Jattvian Prince “sped” off in the jalopy now known as “The Starrlite Sekpress”, a fan in the parking lot, we’ll call him “Lou”, stands out in the parking lot with his flunkies. The following is a video taken on his smart phone and shortly posted onto the internet……
A figure, Jatt Starr, sporting his red polo and white pants is running zig zag throughout the parking lot, the words he is saying is inaudible over the wind in the microphone. Something scurries underneath a minivan. Jatt Starr plops down on the ground and proceeds to do an army crawl in the parking lot, moving closer and closer to the group of loser friends filming.:::
JATT STARR: Rats and rodents and rodents and rats. They’re coming….I am the Platypus King…no, am I….? A CAT! A CAT CAN BEAT THE RAT!
VOICE (Off Camera): That’s Jatt Starr!
LOU (Off Camera): Shh!
VOICE (Off Camera): He’s trippin’ balls!
JATT STARR: A CAT! I SEE A CAT! A CAT TO EAT THE RAT PEOPLE!!! Here Kitty, Kitty….
:::The Marquis of MadagaStarr sees the animal that scurried underneath the cars, it has scurried in front of him. While he sees a feline, the rest of the world sees it for what it is: a skunk. And the skunk, feeling threatened by the acid tripping Hall of Famer, unleashes a spray right at him.::::
LOU (Off Camera): Oh shit!
JATT STARR: AHHHHH!!!! IT PEED ON ME!!!! EW!!! EW!!!
:::The Sultan of SeaJattle freaks out and begins removing his clothes while dry heaving. He scampers off, the last image of Jatt Starr seen is his red polo shirt being thrown into the air.::::
::::The scene shifts back to the present. Inside the “StarrSek Industries” Epicenter. Jatt Starr, after taking a long (a very long) shower, is now sporting black mesh shorts with the “HOW” logo on left leg. He stares shirtless out the window. Scars exposed from the countless injuries and surgeries he sustained throughout his career. From his elbow, his knee, and the branding on the left side of chest. There is a faint skunky smell like bad weed still permeating inside his nose. An hour in shower with exfoliating body wash with aloe was not enough to eliminate the stench.
As stares out the window, wearing flip flops, looking like the jock slacker douchebags shopping in the mall that he hated growing up. All he’s missing is a tanktop and a deep tan.
Thoughts that initially started in how the “Bruvs” ruined his attempt at publicly humiliating them backfired to a realization and a more personal train of thought.
The door opens.::::
HUGO: Hey boss, this is the only shirt I found.
:::Hugo holds out a crumpled black t-shirt, Jatt Starr does not move. He continues to stare out the window.::::
JATT STARR: We’re coming up on seventeen years….
JATT STARR: Seventeen years since my father’s death. Do you know where I was when he died? In a hospital bed. Doped up on painkillers, recuperating from an assault which resulted in a broken arm and a crushed testicle. I didn’t even make the funeral. Never got to say goodbye.
HUGO: I’m sor—
JATT STARR: But that’s the nature of this business, isn’t it? Sacrifice?
::::Hugo looking increasingly uncomfortable pulls the t-shirt back and flips it over his shoulder, the pattern is indiscernible on the tee.::::
JATT STARR: Did you know I have two brothers and a sister? One older brother and one younger and my sister is the youngest. I never really stood out in that home. My younger brother was the athletic, smart one. My sister was the baby and social butterfly. My older brother, he was always a massive tool, especially to me. But he could do no wrong in my parents’ eyes. You might say, I was dealt the crap hand, I believe that’s called “Snake Eyes”.
::::Hugo thinks for a split second of correcting the HOW Hall of Famer but decides against it, especially considering that he has to tell him about what he has been up to behind his back recently, and has no idea what the Hero of Jattlanta’s reaction will be.::::
JATT STARR: Other than my sister, I don’t think any one of them forgave me for missing the funeral. I know dear ol’mom didn’t.
::::Jatt Starr stares out the window in silence for a moment. He gets flashes of what he saw last night. Rats. A giant bat that was eating the head off of a prostitute. A vague recollection of a platypus playing “White Rabbit” on a clarinet. And he remembers the ghostly image of his father, looking like a Force ghost, throwing popcorn at him with expressionless, dead eyes. He buries the thought over more pressing matters.::::
JATT STARR: But that’s the past, right? The only family that matters now is Sektor and keeping the HOW Tag Team Championships! Give me that shirt.
:::Hugo underhands the shirt to Jatt Starr. The Ruler of Jattlantis looks at the t-shirt and scowls at Hugo.::::
JATT STARR: What the hell is this?
::::Jatt Starr turns the shirt around revealing that it is an officially licensed “Hollywood Bruvs” t-shirt.::::
HUGO: I’m sorry! It was the first shirt I could find!
JATT STARR: Considering all of the flipping merchandise in this building, including but not limited to “STARRSEK INDUSTRIES” MERCHANDISE….this? THIS IS ALL YOU COULD FIND???
HUGO: It’s just the first one I could find.
JATT STARR: I would rather wear underwear made from glass shards and boogers.
::::The Thane of Starrkarth disgustedly crumples up the t-shirt and hurls it at Hugo as if he were throwing a game winning touchdown. The shirt smacks Hugo in the face.::::
JATT STARR: GET ME ANOTHER SHIRT! I DON’T CARE IF IT’S THAT OBSOLETE LITTLE MAN DARIN ZION’S SHIRT! GET ME ONE NOW!!!!
:::Without saying a word, Hugo sheepishly exits the room and Jatt Starr turns back towards the window.::::
JATT STARR: What the hell is wrong with him?
:::The scene cuts back to early Sunday morning, around two-thirty. The Best Arena security cameras capture an image of Jatt Starr running in his underwear looking behind him. Three seconds later, he runs back across in the opposite direction. Four seconds later, he is seen slowly backing around, looking fearful. He drops to his knees and holds his hands up, begging, pleading. He immediately throws his hands up, screaming, and drops into a fetal position. He is like that for twenty-four seconds, before he looks up, relief on his face. He hops up and runs off screen.:::::
:::The scene cuts back to the present. Hugo opens the door and witnesses the Ruler of Jattlantis, still shirtless, drawing a decapitated head on the white board, with red blood spurting out from the neck and the words “Hendrix” and an arrow pointing to the crudely drawn headless figure.:::
:::The King of Grapple from the Big Apple turns and Hugo tosses the clothes he has obtained towards him. The clothes fall two feet in front of the Starrcelona Icon.:::
JATT STARR: Nice throw, princess.
HUGO: That’s not very P.C..
JATT STARR: I’m sorry, are you suggesting that you don’t throw like a small child who prefers tea parties over sports?
::::The Jattlantic City Idol bends over and picks up the tracksuit. The top is yellow and gray with the “StarrSek Industries” loge over the left side of the chest, the pants are red.::::
JATT STARR: They don’t match.
::::Hugo looks almost indignant and begins to protest but is interrupted by a smiling Jatt Starr.::::
JATT STARR: Just kidding.
:::Jatt Starr puts on the pants and then zips up the top.::::
JATT STARR: Where are my championships?
HUGO: I found them in the “Starrlite Express” that you abandoned.
JATT STARR: Seriously?
HUGO: Sorry. They’re in the case. With your phone.
:::::Jatt Starr walks over to the conference table and picks up the briefcase next to the chair at the head of the table. He opens the case and smiles.::::
JATT STARR: There they are.
::::The Marquis of MadagaStarr removes the LSD Championship and the HOW Tag Team Championship from the case and places them on the table. He then reaches down and pulls out his cell phone. He checks it. No messages.::::
JATT STARR: Have you heard from Sektor?
HUGO: I haven’t seen him since last night.
JATT STARR: Damn.
::::The Sovereign of Starrgentina, a slight look of concern on his face as he considers what to do next. He runs his hand through his golden blonde hair.::::
JATT STARR: Just like him, he’s probably banging some coed instead of checking on me.
HUGO: Or he’s on a trip.
JATT STARR: Without me? We agreed all vacations have to be planned together!
HUGO: No, i mean, he was in the ring too. He might have inhaled some of that powder.
JATT STARR: Don’t say that! Why would you say that? Now we have to call all the hospitals and brothels in the area!
HUGO: Calm down. He’ll be fine. I’m sure he will be in contact with you before you know it.
:::::Jatt Starr looks down, considering this. As much as he trusts Sektor, the worry has already manifested itself within his being. After all, if Sektor is seriously injured, it was Jatt’s plan to put that powder in the box and give it to the “Bruvs”. The guilt would be so immense, they would form a religion around it. And Lee? Lee would likely forfeit the match to the “Bruvs” and the Ruler of Jattlantis would carry one less title. There would be imbalance. He has become so accustomed to carrying two championships, regularly one strap on each shoulder. To break the silence, Hugo decides to share some news with the double champion.::::
HUGO: Hey, Jatt?
JATT STARR: Hm?
HUGO: Just so you don’t hear it from anyone else, but Cloud….
JATT STARR: Ah man! I was supposed to meet her last night.
HUGO: Cloud and me? We’ve been hanging out a lot lately.
JATT STARR: Oh geez, I’m sorry. I know she can be a bit much sometimes but—-
HUGO: I have feelings for her.
::::The Jattsylvanian Count stares at Hugo for a second before the realization dawns on him. Not only does he have to carry the guilt of a potential injury to the Gold Standard, he now has to break his deformed employee and friend’s….no, acquaintance’s…no, friend’s? heart.::::
JATT STARR: Oh. I am sorry man. You should probably just avoid Cloud and I when we’re together. It must be torture seeing us together.
HUGO: She feels the same way.
JATT STARR: Good! We’re all on the same page!
HUGO: No, Jatt. She feels the same way about me. We’re in love.
:::Jatt Starr crosses his arms across his chest and nods as he tries to comprehend what Hugo has just said.::::
HUGO: it just happened. She showed up at your apartment about a week and a half ago, I was there watering your fern, you went out with Sektor. You never called her. We got to talking. She’s very special.
JATT STARR: Well. Hm. I see.
HUGO: We just clicked.
JATT STARR: You know I have a huge match in less than two weeks, right? You know I can’t focus on that now. My focus needs to be on retaining the Tag Team Championships at Jattison Square Garden! Are you TRYING to sabotage me?
HUGO: No, not at all.
::::The Jattinum Standard walks up to Hugo and looks him in the eyes, a theory swelling into his mind.::::
JATT STARR: Did you fix it that the powder would shoot in my face and not the “Bruvseses”? Were you trying to get me out of the way so you could be with her? Or worse, were you trying to cost Sektor and I the Tag Team Titles? All for a whip happy whore?
HUGO: Don’t talk about her like that!
JATT STARR: Go ahead, have my sloppy seconds. Enjoy.
HUGO: Wouldn’t you have to have sex with her in order for her to be “sloppy seconds”? She says you can’t—-
:::The Jattlantic City Idol bitch slaps Hugo. The left side of Hugo’s face is red after the blow. Hugo stares at his employer, the anger is clear in his eyes. Jatt Starr looks at Hugo smugly as if to say “What are you going to do?”::::
JATT STARR: Don’t forget who you’re talking to.
HUGO: Consider this my two week notice.
::::Hugo does an about face and proceeds to exit the room. Jatt Starr becomes absolutely flabbergasted at this turn of events. That Two-Face Fuck turned his back on the Earl of GlouStarr, the fucking nerve. And SHE feels the same? About HIM? He realizes he should have thrown a flip flop at the back of his head. But that’s fine. Jatt Starr knows that his biggest attribute is his rage. He learned that from ICONIC. And now, there are two cumberworld crybabies, Mikey “Mediocrity” Unlikely and Jesse “No Sex” Kendrix, that he can unleash his rage on….if only he can find Sektor….END SCENE:::