::::SCENE: The sound of a gong playing Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” resonates throughout the newly renovated one story ranch style home of Jatt Starr. The volun-told butler for the evening, the Wabid Wabbit (just edging out Anton, who in spite of his deep, faux British accent, is a deviant, classless person), decked out in a tuxedo three sizes too small, the back of the jacket is ripped and the pant legs are so short their only practical use would be in floods, and they expose his white socks. A reasonable person with no previous knowledge of the Wabid Wabbit, a gentleman wearing a silicone mask featuring a smiling Easter Bunny donning this particular ensemble, would probably assume they would be murdered in a particularly grisly fashion and their skin would be used to make a pair of boots and their penis would be the garnish of a human kidney, liver, and heart stew….the seasoning of which would be up to the discretion of the cannibal preparing it.
The Wabid Wabbit opens the door and the guest, Jace Parker Davidson, hops back a bit. Not in fear, but in surprise. No one expects someone dressed like a less creepy Frank from “Donnie Darko” to answer the door.::::
WABID WABBIT: Mistuh Davidson, wewcome.
WABID WABBIT: Pwease fowwow me.
::::Wabid Wabbit leads JPD down a long hallway. The walls are adorned with photos of Jatt Starr in varying stages of success….a youthful Jatt Starr holding the now defunct Internet Championship, Jatt Starr holding the HOW Championship after winning the only the “Tournament of Champions”, Jatt Starr holding the HOW Championship after defeating Aceldama, Jatt Starr holding the ICON Title in the streets of Toronto after winning it for the first time from Darkwing in an Ironman match, Jatt Starr and Max Kael holding the Tag Team Championships, Jatt Starr holding the LSD Championship, and Jatt Starr holding the Tag Team Titles with another….someone whose face has been rather violently scratched out….John Sektor.
They pass a couple of doors one on the left and one on the right.::::
WABID WABBIT: The bathwoom is on the weft. On the wight, the study. No one is awwowed in there.
JPD: Why not?
WABID WABBIT: It’s specuwation, but if the wecent pwaying of Bwitney Speahs’s “Ciwcus” on a wepeated woop is any indication, it might have something to do with Bobbinette Cawey?
:::As they continue down the hallway, JPD shudders either consciously or subconsciously. One would have to assume that he does not want to know what goes on behind that door. They emerge into the living room, not-so-modestly decorated with more personal pictures of Jatt Starr/Simon Sparrow — Photos of Gilda and Jatt Starr are scattered about. There is a portrait of Jatt Starr on a horse dressed like a Revolutionary War general, carrying a flag in one hand that says “Best Alliance” and the HOW Championship raised over his head in the other. There is a 60 inch flatscreen television hooked up to an X-Box, th controller resting in the hands of Fallout Power Armor.
To the left of the living is the dining room as evidenced by the long oak dining table. Anton is sitting in one of the chairs looking at his phone.
The Thane of Starrkarth is standing in the middle of the living room wearing a steel gray dress shirt and 97-red and black plaid pants. He is currently slurping up a kale and pineapple smoothie.::::
JATT STARR: Jace! Thank you for coming! First of all, I appreciate you reaching out and requesting this meeting.
JPD: You called me.
JATT STARR: Tomato – Tomahto.
::::There is an awkward moment between all involved. Jatt Starr is the first to speak up.::::
JATT STARR: Can I get you something to drink? A kale-pineapple smoothie perhaps?
JPD: Got anything stronger?
JATT STARR: Well, I could whip up a banana-lime-kale smoothie with a touch of cilantro.
JPD: That’s not what I meant.
:::The Starrabian Knight looks confused. What could be stronger than banana-lime-kale smoothie with some cilantro?::::
JATT STARR: Do you want tea? I have Chai, Chamomile, Black, Green—-
ANTON: He wants alcohol.
:::JPD points points to Anton and nodding.::::
JATT STARR: Oooo…yeah….no. I don’t allow alcohol in the house. You know, I could try making you a mocktail. A virgin cucumber gimlet.
JPD: What the fuck is a gimlet?
JATT STARR: It’s really good. You won’t miss the alcohol.
JPD: I doubt that. Just get me a water.
JATT STARR: Wabbit! Water!
::::The Wabid Wabbit gives a subservient nod and walks around the corner into the kitchen behind the dining room. Jatt Starr waves toward the leather couch.::::
JATT STARR: Please, have a seat.
::::JPD obliges and takes a seat on the couch. The Jatti Master takes a seat in the Victorian style chair to the left of the couch.::::
JATT STARR: Now, you may be asking yourself why you’re here.
JPD: You invited me.
JATT STARR: Yes, but why did I invite you?
JPD: I assumed it was to discuss strategy for the match. Had I known there wouldn’t be any drinking, I might not have come.
::::Jatt Starr lets out a boisterous and clearly phony laugh. After all, a good host needs to make his guests feel welcome and that includes laughing at their jokes. Although, the tone of which JPD has used would indicate that perhaps it was not a joke. The Wabid Wabbit walks in and hands JPD a Fiji water. Jatt Starr always found something whimsical about non-cylindrical bottles.::::
JATT STARR: Seriously, I don’t think we need to discuss strategy. I know Sektor. I know his moves, I know how he thinks. Ever since he stabbed me in the back, I have been watching his matches very closely. Sektor is arrogant bordering on narcissistic. He lacks the ability to see his own flaws. His assertion that I was holding him back? Um, he was riding my coattails, thank you very much. HE lost us the tag team championships, not me.
::::The Jattvian Prince cannot help but allow his bitterness to seep out. He puts on a phony car salesman smile as he looks at JPD.::::
JATT STARR: Sorry. The point is, I know him better than anyone. But this isn’t a one-on-one match. Tag Team matches are about trust. I need to know you won’t pull a Sektor and fuck me with a Black Mamba sized dildo.
JPD: Did he….?
JATT STARR: Not literally!
JPD: There were rumours.
JATT STARR: The only “rumours” people should listen to is Fleetwood Mac’s. Look, next week, it will be the Ruler of Jattlantis, the Sultan of SeaJattle, the Earl of GlouStarr, the Grand Overlord of Jatturn, the Duke of Jattmandu, the Mayor of ManJattan, the Sovereign of Starrgentina, Jatt Starr and Jace Parker Davidson, the King of Everything Else. We have to have each other’s backs.
JATT STARR: We’ve never been on the same page at any point in our careers. We’ve been in the Best Alliance together but were we ever truly aligned? No. We did our own thing, creating our own legacies. For as much as we are different, we are very similar. Championships up the wazoo. You were the longest reigning HOW TV Champion!
JPD: Longest reigning HOW TV Champion of all time.
JATT STARR: We’re both divorced. I mean, Tara Davidson cuckooed you, mine left because she got stabbed in the eye. By the way, how is Tara doing? Seeing anybody?
JPD: I wouldn’t know. Besides, there’s a rumor that maybe you have a thing for Bobbinette Carey.
JATT STARR: What?! That’s absurd! It’s Poppycock! Mukarkey! Hogwarts! Nonsense!
:::As the Jattlantic City Idol vehemently denies the accusation he can’t help but wonder if he left his study door unlocked, as the King of Everything stares at him like a like stone cold killer, possibly taking a little pleasure in seeing Jatt Starr squirm like a worm in the rain.::::
JPD: You said we have to trust each other, right?
::::The Starrcelona Icon stops, he resigns himself knowing that his week-plus long secret is out in the open. But fuck him if he thinks this is going to be some heart to heart discussion (as healthy and soul cleansing as that would be).::::
JATT STARR: Break ups make us do crazy things, okay? Sometimes break ups turn us into a better version of ourselves and sometimes they uncage a certain darkness or deviance and sometimes, it’s both. I’ve had to learn not to ask Wabid Wabbit how Alea is doing. And why is that, Wabbit?
WABID WABBIT: Don’t make me say it.
JATT STARR: Wabbit!
WABID WABBIT (sighing): Because when you ask someone how you’ah ex is doin’, it means you wanna “Netfwix and Chiww” with them.
JATT STARR: “Netflix and chill” means—
JPD: I know what it means!
JATT STARR: So, just hopping off topic here, what do you think of that painting?
:::The Hero of Jattlanta points to the portrait on the wall as JPD takes a sip of water.::::
JPD: It’s pretty fucking awful.
JATT STARR: I know, right? It lacks a certain panache, don’t you think?
:::JPD shrugs as if he doesn’t care, which he probably doesn’t. The Ruler of Jattlantis doesn’t really care if JPD cares or not. The painting is very derivative and hacky. But, the point of this meeting is to show JPD a different side of Jatt Starr. Hence the painting, the book on the coffee table, the photos he put out of him and Gilda (half of which are kept in the bunker out back).::::
JATT STARR: I plan on commissioning another one. Do you have any recommendations?
JATT STARR: Alright, look, this match is very important to me. That little prick thinks he was the reason StarrSek Industries was successful. That shit doesn’t fly with me, pardon my Jattanese. But this match is important to you. Probably moreso! You can’t get beat by Clay Turd! Hah! Clay Turd! Anton! Write that down!
ANTON (not looking up from his phone): The fuck I will!
JATT STARR: Jatt Starr and JPD versus Sucktor and Clay Turd…also known as “Suck Turd”!!!! I’m on a roll now!!!
:::Jace Parker Davidson cannot help but roll his eyes and chuckle at the name. Jatt Starr cannot help but do a little ridiculous snap of the fingers followed by finger guns to his guest. Then a thought seems to enter JPD’s head.::::
JPD: Aren’t, or weren’t you Clay Byrd’s biggest fan?
JATT STARR: Oh sure! Throw that in my face, why don’t you?
JPD: You took one of his hats.
JATT STARR: In my defense, that was before I realized what a fucking loser he is. He was given opportunity after opportunity and he let me down. He’s a walking, talking failure! By the gods, now I know what a Darin Zion fan feels like. Both of them. And the personality! Don’t get me started!
JPD: What about his personality?
JATT STARR: His complete lack of one, first of all. WABBIT! HAT!
::::The Wabid Wabbit exits the room and turns left at the kitchen. JPD, who has since finished his water, places the empty Fiji bottle on the coffee table in front of him. Jatt Starr stares at him and then looks towards the bottle. JPD looks at him, innocent, almost like a child who had inadvertently knocked over an expensive vase. Was the vase from the Ming dynasty? Who knows? What the hell is a Ming dynasty? Why does he even know one had existed?::::
JATT STARR: There’s a coaster right there. There’s a whole stack of them.
::::The Baron of Boca Jatton points to the stack of coasters containing the painted renderings of famous nautical vessels resting next to his copy of “The Plays of Eugene O’Neill’’ (he’s never read it, one day he should, it might be a better read than Shakespeare). The top being the Mayflower.::::
JPD: But the bottle is empty.
JATT STARR: Condensation! Condensation, Jace! The bottle can be empty and still be wet. I don’t need rings in my wood.
JPD: So, not a Prince Albert fan, I take it.
JATT STARR: Please, Jace, use a fucking coaster.
::::JPD leans forward and both dramatically and mockingly takes the top coaster, puts it on the table, and then places the empty bottle on top. The Wabid Wabbit returns carrying Clay Byrd’s hat and hands it to the HOW Hall of Famer. He stares at the hat with disgust as if he had just witnessed some throw up blue slushie with bits of hot dog and he was standing down wind of it.::::
JATT STARR: Biggest disappointment in the history of the HOW. At least Kostoff won a title or two before he fizzled out. Clay? His biggest victory lately is over Darin Zion.
:::Jatt Starr puts on the hat and stands up and proceeds to talk in a deep, borderline offensive sounding southern accent.::::
JATT STARR: Yipee-Yee-Haw! Lookit me, y’all! I’m Clay Byrd! Ya know they say everything’s bigger’n Texas and I’m done eight feet tall with an eight centimeter wiener. I done took fashion lessons from that there furry feller there in Philly-delphy, Gritty, cuz I’m as gritty as they come, Yee-Haw motherfuckers! I got me more belt buckles than I can count but I ain’t got me no HOW gold, no siree Bob, cuz I’m a fuckin’ bust.
::::JPD has his head down, his hand covering his face, no doubt stifling a bout of laughter. Yes, Jatt Starr is annoying and irritating, but damn if he isn’t entertaining. Jatt Starr removes the hat and places it on the table in front of JPD who looks at it and then at Jatt Starr.:::
JPD: What the hell is this?
JATT STARR: It’s yours. Do whatever you want with it. Clay Turd’s hat is yours to do with as you please. Burn it, shred it, shit in it, masterbate into it whatever rocks your socks off. The way I see it, we’re in the same boat. There is no flipping way in hell that I am losing to Sektor and there is no way in hell you want to lose to Clay. See, when I beat High Flyer, granted it was three seconds later than I wanted to, but I wanted to show Sektor that I can outperform him against Jack Hardon, which I did. This week, I want to show him that I was the one who made StarrSek Industries successful. And at “Rumble at the Rock”, my revenge will be complete when I take the one thing he values the most in this world, the LSD Championship.
::::The HOW Classic smirks at the thought of this. Jatt Starr knows how important the LSD Championship is to Sektor. It’s the symbol that he is not Jatt Starr’s shadow, which is and always will be. Losing the LSD Championship might not send Sektor into hitting Rockbottom, but it will place him on the path there. The anger, the resentment will send Sektor into another one of his well documented binges where he will say or do something that will promptly end his relationship with Regan, because she will see the real Sektor, the scumbag. All a dream right now, for sure. He shakes that thought from his mind and turns back to JPD.::::
JATT STARR: Momentum is real, Jace. For you, this match is just as important as “Rumble at the Rock”! You lost the TV Title to that little wannabe cobbler elf, yeah, that’s kinda humiliating especially since he stopped the title the first chance he got. But now, it’s about ICONIC! Which inevitably means a ninety-eight percent chance at a match for the HOW World Title.
JPD: Ninety-eight percent?
JATT STARR: That two percent is the “Card is Subject to Change Insurance”.
JATT STARR: We’ve got something they don’t.
JPD: Looks. Talent. Charisma.
JATT STARR: See? Right there, already we are like—-
JPD: If you make an “N’Sync” reference I am walking out the door.
JATT STARR: I so…..wasn’t…..
:::He was. He totally was. It kills at Alcoholics Anonyous meetings. But then again, maybe JPD has heard that joke before. Jatt Starr has been known to repeat a joke or two.::::
JATT STARR: I was going to say we are like connected…you know, embryonic.
JPD: Jatt, you know I respect you…no, that’s a lie…I respect your talent and accomplishments, and considering you don’t have any booze in here….there’s none, right? Not even a beer?
ANTON: This house is drier than an old woman’s twat, old chap.
JPD: Dammit. Let’s hit pause on this for now. Let me mull everything over.
JATT STARR: “Mull over”??? What is there to mull over? This is a trust meeting!
::::JPD rises from the couch.::::
JPD: It’s hard to trust someone I can’t have a beer with. But, I will think about everything you have said and I will get back to you.
::::Jatt Starr gets up from his chair, feeling the twinge in his neck as he does so. Clearly, this meeting was not the boon for togetherness he had hoped.::::
JATT STARR: Okay, absolutely. Yeah! We will revisit this later in the week. Wabbit!!! Escort our guest out!
:::The Wabid Wabbit proceeds to walk JPD out. Jatt Starr’s face, which had been flashing his pearly whites, has gone expressionless like a statue.::::
ANTON: I fucking told you to get some alcohol.
JATT STARR: Fuck off, Anton.
::::The snide comments, the air of disrespect shown by Anton, it is enough to walk over there and repeatedly smash his fucking face into that fucking table. Except it’s an expensive mahogany table and he would hate to ruin it. As he had learned from Alea, when he is in a stressful situation, he should close his eyes and think about something that makes him happy. Today, it’s that moment three months from now when he is walking the streets of Chicago, the LSD Championship over his shoulder, and a bearded, toothless junkie shambles over to him asks to suck his cock for some coke. And Jatt Starr would just spit the junkie formerly known as John Sektor’s dirty, repugnant face and continue on his merry way. Dreams can come true. END SCENE.:::::