::::SCENE: The interior of Hugo Scorpio’s silver 2020 Lexus GX. The disfigured employee of StarrSek Industries is sitting in the driver seat listening to Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” as he checks his phone for the latest news and gossip, be it the odds on the Super Bowl or what Billie Eilish is up to. He is sporting a pale yellow tracksuit with the StarrSek Industries logo over the left side of chest. The color is atrocious in Hugo’s eyes. But he is the employee and the ugly colors are reserved for him and the cool colors are reserved for John Sektor and Jatt Starr. He looks in the rearview mirror, his dark eyes look back him before averting to the rear window, just checking to see if his HOW Hall of Fame Employer is approaching.
He is not.
How long can he delay the inevitable? Hugo read Jatt Starr’s screenplay. Well, about two hundred pages worth. It’s pretty awful. The names alone are cringeworthy. “McFlea Starbuck”? “Brannigan O’Sexchap”? “Bobbi Jo Sweetlips”? “President Alfalfa Von Trapp”?
Luckily, Sektor convinced Jatt that not just beating Bobby Dean would be enough. He needed to dominate him. It was a relief for Hugo.
The sound of “Disco Inferno” coming from his phone brings Hugo Scorpio back from his thoughts. The screen reads “ELLIE”. The newest member of the StarrSek Industries Team. He connects the call with a push of a green circle on his screen.::::
HUGO: StarrSek Industries, this is Hugo.
ELLIE: Is Mister Starr back from his training?
HUGO: You know you need to refer to him as “M’Lord” now, right?
ELLIE: Yes. Of course.
HUGO: I once made the mistake of putting low fat cream cheese on his bagel instead of whipped butter. He threw it at my head. Then he stepped on it and made me eat it.
ELLIE: Is he always so volatile?
HUGO: Only when he’s stressed. But hey, if I have to eat the occasional dusty bagel it’s worth it for the amount he pays me. At least he doesn’t bring me into the bathroom after taking a dump and ask me to look in the toilet to see if I can tell if there’s blood on the stool.
ELLIE: Who made you do that?
HUGO: My old boss, Anton. He was a real piece of work.
ELLIE: Please tell M’Lord that he has a message from a “Ralphie” requesting a call back.
HUGO: Will do.
::::With a press of a red circle and slightly audible “BOOP!” the call disconnects and Hugo continues to wait. Elton John has now been replaced with “Uptown Funk”. Hugo shuts the radio off. A few minutes pass before the back passenger door swings open and a blast of cold air comes rushing into the SUV. Jatt Starr enters, his face is redder than a fire truck with a new paint job. Jatt Starr is sporting a black and royal blue StarrSek Industries tracksuit. His blonde hair is a dishevelled mess making him look like a blonde mad scientist.
The Ruler of Jattlantis immediately begins combing his hair with his fingers as if that is going to improve the hairstyle. It’s a minimal improvement at best.::::
HUGO: How was training today, M’Lord?
JATT STARR: Mister Sid-istic was in rare form. I told that old codger that LSD Champions do not do sit ups. Instead, he made me run around the track six times. Six times! I nearly passed out. Luckily, Sektor was there to motivate me. He kept me on track. He was constantly telling me that I am the LSD Champion and no one, NO ONE, is going to get one over on me. Least of all not the Pudding Man himself, Bobby Dean.
HUGO: You know he’s not that overweight any—-
JATT STARR: I’m not blind! The fact that his skin grotesquely sags the way that it does makes it look like he’s made of Tapioca Pudding.
HUGO: Oh, Ellie called. Ralphie wants you to call him back?
JATT STARR: Yes!
:::Jatt Starr throws up his fists in triumph before the burning soreness in shoulders and forearms causes him to wince in pain. Twelve chin ups. Well, eleven and half before his grip slipped and he fell to the ground. He retrieves his cell phone and calls Ralphie on the speed dial. He places the phone on speaker. After the third ring, Ralphie answers with his think Long Island accent.:::
RALPHIE: Simon, whaddya say?
JATT STARR: Ralphie, my man, I am hoping for some good news.
RALPHIE Ya didn’t gimme much to go on, I had ta go wit’ what I got, ya know?
JATT STARR: Right.
RALPHIE: I am assumin’ you did not wanna hear about Bobby Dean, the chef.
JATT STARR: Correct.
RALPHIE: I found a Bobby Dean that looked promisin’, he’s been dubbed “The Narcoleptic Necrophiliac”.
JATT STARR: That sounds about right. He’s a depraved, deviant individual, for sure.
RALPHIE Get this! This fuckin’ guy gets caught fuckin’ his own mudder’s corpse and right in the middle of it, falls asleep. Pretty fucked up, right? Anyways, he’s been in the can for the last four days. Not your guy.
JATT STARR: Then why even mention it?
RALPHIE: Because it’s fucked up, that’s why.
JATT STARR: Go on.
RALPHIE: Then there’s this Bobby Dean, HOW wrestler, lives in Houston, Texas….
JATT STARR: That’s the guy.
RALPHIE: ….has a daughter.
JATT STARR: No, that’s wrong.
RALPHIE: You questionin’ my skills?
JATT STARR: No. No way that Bobby Dean has a kid. That would mean he would have had to have sex at some point in his life with a live, breathing woman, who voluntarily had the child.
HUGO: Maybe she’s adopted?
JATT STARR: And hasn’t run away yet?
RALPHIE: Simon, I’m just tellin’ ya what I know. The daughter’s fourteen an’ is named Annabelle. You told me to look into him, not her.
JATT STARR: Maybe it’s an elaborate scheme?
RALPHIE: He’d hafta be one helluva a mastermind.
::::To the Champion of Jattanooga, the thought of Bobby Dean being a genius on any level is about as likely as that flabby bastard having a kid. Much less one he hasn’t heard about until now. The Baron of Boca Jatton just sits there phone in his hand, the physical pain he feels is secondary to the building rage inside of him. He begins shaking uncontrollably, as if he were having a seizure.::::
RALPHIE: Hello? Si—-
:::The Hero of Jattlanta, his face now red with anger, disconnects the line. Hugo looks back at the LSD Champion from his rearview mirror.::::
JATT STARR: FUCK! FUCK! FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!
::::The Jattagonian Giant begins punching the roof of the Lexus.::::
HUGO: JATT!!! WHAT? CALM DOWN!!!
JATT STARR: OFFICE! NOW!
HUGO: Okay! Okay! But why are you flipping out?
JATT STARR: Don’t you get it? If that floppy pile of shit has a kid, it gives him a reason to win!!!
HUGO: Yeah, but didn’t Ralph say she was fourteen? It’s not like she just popped up out of nowhere in his life.
:::The King of Grapple from the Big Apple just stares at Hugo who is looking at him through the rearview mirror. Jatt Starr can only blink as he processes the information that Hugo has given him.:::
JATT STARR: That’s true. That’s very true.
::::Jatt Starr turns his head and looks out the window as Hugo proceeds to put the vehicle in drive and they begin heading back to the Best Arena.
The hour long car ride back to the Best Arena is silent. Jatt Starr internalizing his anger and frustration. His plans to get inside the head of his opponent have been flushed down the proverbial commode. However, LSD Champions adapt. LSD Champions do not go into a match with one plan.
But Bobby Dean with a kid?
It’s mindblowing. It’s a twist that he did not see coming. How Ralphie was able to uncover that secret (which may or may not have been common knowledge especially considering that the Starrcelona Icon is notorious for not really giving a rat’s rectum about other people’s personal lives) and has yet to uncover the location of his missing daughter.
But, as much as he hates to admit it, LSD Champions don’t have time for family. That’s what he believes. Especially now. That’s what he needs to believe.
Once arriving at the Best Arena, a focused and straight up pissed off Jatt Starr stomps through the corridors and arrives at the StarrSek Industries Epicenter. Ellie is there, looking like a librarian, sporting a white blouse underneath a burgundy knitted cardigan. There is a heavily tattooed bald man with a salt and pepper goatee wearing overalls with a nametag that say “JOE” and emptying a garbage can into a bin he is pushing around.
Jatt Starr storms past and enters the conference room.::::
JATT STARR: ALL OF YOU! IN!
::::Hugo, showing chivalry is not dead, allows Ellie to enter first and follows. Joe drops the garbage can and follows them in, closing the door behind him. He stands next to and maybe a step behind Hugo. Ellie looks as stoic as usual, but internally she is confused by the nature of this impromptu meeting.
The conference table is littered with pens, pads, a half eaten breakfast burrito, a couple of empty coffee cups, and six copies of Jatt Starr’s “masterpiece”. Normally, the Earl of GlouStarr would berate Hugo for not cleaning the mess, but that will have to wait. He reaches down, picks up his leather briefcase, and carefully places it on the table. He enters the combination on the lock, and opens it. He retrieves his LSD Championship and places it over his shoulder.
Jatt Starr turns around and stands in front of the whiteboard, his back to his employees….and Joe.::
JATT STARR: On the way back here, I was strongly considering delivering the rousing speech from Brannigan O’Sexchap in Act Four of my epic masterpiece, but instead, I am going to quote Confucius – “If you know your enemy and you know yourself, you don’t need to fear the result of a hundred battles.”
ELLIE: That’s Sun—
:::Hugo elbows his co-worker in the arm, Ellie glances over and he ever-so-slightly shakes his head.::::
ELLIE (whispering): But he’s wrong.
JATT STARR: What’s the jibber jabber about? Stop whispering.
ELLIE: I….was….just mentioning how right that is.
JATT STARR: Thank you, Ellie. I did not become the LSD Champion on talent alone. No, I took the time to understand my opponents. For Bobby Dean, I thought this meant debasing myself by having an obese dominatrix beat me with a four foot dildo, but apparently, that won’t be the case. Oh, before I forget, Ellie, cancel my one o’clock with Mistress Chunks.
ELLIE: Yes, M’Lord.
JATT STARR: I really dodged a bullet with that.
JOE: Dude! You would do that shit?
JATT STARR: You don’t understand the lengths that I will go, the depths of depravity that I will sink to in order to keep the LSD Championship. Wait a sec….
:::The Jatti Master turns around and sees the middle aged, muscular, tribally tattooed head of Joe.::::
JATT STARR: Who the fuck are you?
JOE: I’m Joe.
JATT STARR: What do you think you’re doing here, JOE?
JOE: You said to come in, so I did.
JATT STARR: I wasn’t talking to you!!!
JOE: I thought, you know, maybe you were.
JATT STARR: GET OUT!!!!
::::Joe shrugs and begins heading out the door. However, the Jattsylvanian Count proceeds to stop him.::::
JATT STARR: Hold on, Joe. You might as well do something useful for me.
::::Jatt Starr picks up one of his untitled works of art from the table and hands it to Joe.:::
JATT STARR: Read this and tell me what you think.
::::Joe looks over the screenplay, the heavy screenplay, he randomly flips through the pages.:::
JOE: All of it?
JATT STARR: Yes! And I expect it to be done by Friday. I want to hear your thoughts.
JATT STARR: Now, GET OUT!
::::Joe exits the room. As he passes Ellie, she mouths the words “I’m sorry” to him. Joe nods and starts heading out the door but not before trying to get a quick peek of Ellie’s rear.::::
JATT STARR: Back to business.
:::Jatt Starr looks at Hugo and then Ellie. He feels his heart rate increasing by the moment, his getting flush. The more and more he thinks about the remote possibility that Bobby Dean pulls out an upset, the more his anxiety increases.::::
JATT STARR: I want to make this perfectly clear. There is no way in hell that Bobby fucking Dean is even going to come close to walking away with MY LSD Championship. I will NOT lose to a man whose colonoscopy discovered the skeletal remains of a gerbil! And if something happens and I do lose? Guess who I get to blame?
::::Hugo fidgets uncomfortably. Ellie looks up at him and then to Jatt Starr. The Jattlantic City Idol, looking both serious and amused, wags his finger, pointing to both of his employees.:::
JATT STARR: One of you. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Lee Best, it’s this — When your team fails you, an example must be made. I am not going to stab anyone in the eye or anything. But someone is going to get let go. But, Hugo, how would it feel if I ended up letting you go and you had to go crawling back to Anton and his multitude of perversions? Not that you would, but that possibility is out there, in the universe. You might think just because Ellie is new, she’d be the one to go. Don’t assume that.
:::Hugo looks down, knowing that working for Anton Sanchex De La Croix is among one of the worst experiences in his life. Probably worse than the fire that melted his face.::::
JATT STARR: People, we are going to treat this goopy fuck like he’s Michael Best. Ellie, call Sektor and let him know that we will need to reschedule but instead of trying to pick up chicks, it will need to be a training session. If he says “no”, tell him I’ll be there anyway. Then call Sid, set up another training session for tomorrow. No chin ups! Got it?
ELLIE: Yes, M’Lord.
JATT STARR: Hugo, you are going to spend the next two days going through every last video there is of Bobby Dean. I want his strengths, his weaknesses. I want patterns. If he so much as scratches himself ten minutes into every match, I want to know. Start with the match where my little girl kicked his droopy ass. I might have trained her, but I need to know what exactly she did to destroy him. Was it sheer talent or impeccable strategy? So take notes! When you’re done, WATCH THEM AGAIN! This is Defcon Four people! No excuses! I will not go back to being the HOW’s punchline, am I making myself clear?
ELLIE and HUGO: Yes.
::::Jatt Starr stares at his two underlings. Ellie is standing there, like a statue, just looking at him. Hugo, on the other hand, is staring at his feet like a child after being yelled at by a disapproving parent. Neither one of them are moving.::::
JATT STARR: What are we waiting for?! Move! Move! Move!
::::Hugo’s head pops up and immediately heads to the door. Ellie, however, just moves at her own pace. No sense of urgency.:::
HUGO (to ELLIE): I’ve never seen him like this.
::::Hugo and Ellie exit the room. The Ruler of Jattlantis places the LSD Championship on the table and sits down. He stares at the championship belt minutes pass in silence before he speaks, to the LSD Championship itself.::::
JATT STARR: They don’t see it. But I do. Bobby Dean is a long standing joke in the HOW. It’s a comfortable place to be. People underestimate you. There’s no expectations. Your opponents get into a false sense of security. But not me because I get it. I understand the power of being laughed at. I’ve made a career of beating people who underestimated me. Aceldama. Steve Harrison. Lindsay Troy. Scottywood. Hell, Darkwing probably still thinks I’m a big, fat joke, and I’ve beaten him over thirty times in my career. It’s downright diabolical how many times I’ve shocked my opponents by defeating them. And Bobby Dean aims to break us apart by doing the same. It won’t happen. You want to know why? Because of this….
:::Jatt Starr gently caresses the large “V” shaped scar across his cheek.::::
JATT STARR: Planning and training helps. But I showed you what you meant to me. My body was placed through various levels of torture and agony during that match. I showed you I was willing to do ANYTHING to get you….and what Bobby Dean might fail to realize is that I will do anything to keep you. This LSD Champion will not shit on your legacy by underestimating Bobby Dean and allowing him to get his snotty fingers on you. I promise.
::::The Ruler of the Jattlantis gives his LSD Championship a kiss before grabbing the half-eaten breakfast burrito and taking a triumphant bite. The funky taste of spoiled hits his taste buds like a rotting atom bomb. He immediately spits it out of his mouth, the contents trickling on his lap and floor. He promptly gets out of the chair and spikes the rotten burrito into the garbage. Immediately thereafter, he proceeds to wipe the remnants from his shirt and pants into the garbage, as he curses Hugo and/or Ellie for leaving it there….and the egg as the scene ends.::::