:::SCENE: The bedroom of Heidi Vaccarelli’s modest New York City apartment. The lights are dim, giving off a more amber hue against the ceiling. Simon Sparrow lays in the bed in nothing but his boxer briefs, the Egyptian cotton sheets caressing his skin — because right now, Heidi is not doing any caressing. Not that it is her fault. She tried.
They laid in bed. Simon humiliated, Heidi disheartened and frustrated. One thing about Heidi, she does not say what she does not mean (unless it will further her acting career – she is allergic to horses yet her resume clearly states that she is adept at horseback riding). She did not try to make him feel better by stating “It happens to lots of guys” or “It’s okay, I have to get up early anyway”. Nope, she just said “That’s disappointing” and then sitting in silence, perhaps waiting for Simon to say something.
All he could muster was “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened. This has never happened to me before.”
As true as it was, it was not the best response as Heidi huffed as she got out of the bed and entered the bathroom, muttering inaudible obscenities towards her currently flaccid partner before shutting the door. Although “slamming the door” might be a more accurate description.
That was ten minutes ago.
It was not her. It most certainly was not her. He wanted it to happen both emotionally and mentally. But physically, it was not happening. Unfortunately, the soldier would not stand to attention no matter how much prodding and grinding she did.
Even more unfortunate, Simon knows that Heidi’s insecurities are getting the better of her and in a few minutes she is going to come out of the bathroom and accuse Simon of not thinking she is attractive enough or accuse him of cheating on her or some other balderdash that she has gotten inside her head.
Actresses. Always with the drama.
Simon could provide any litany of reasons on why the Starrlite Sexpress has suddenly broken down.
He could blame it on alcohol and drugs, but that would be a lie. She knows how important his sobriety is to him. She has even refrained from ordering wine with dinner. Something she frequently did early on in their dating process.
Maybe the reason for his phallic fail is because the Rembrandt of Wrestling lost at “Refueled 97” to a man he calls “The Hardcore Doodler” and that Scottywood weaseled his way into “War Games” with that victory. Should Scottywood somehow fingerpaint his way into a “War Games” win, then the fault would lie squarely with Simon.
Maybe it is because Simon recently checked his bank account and saw the volume of hefty withdrawals coming out of his checking out for Gilda’s continued treatment.
Maybe it is because Lee Best returned and did not give Simon Sparrow any ounce of acknowledgment. Lee Best essentially treated the HOW Hall of Famer the same way he would Xander Azula or, when she was employed by the HOW, Eli Dresden….with complete and total apathy.
And maybe it is because he spent the better part of the evening going over a script with Heidi. She was offered a supporting role in a new Hallmark mystery called “CTRL-ALT-DEAD” about a spunky computer technician whose hobby involves solving crimes. She was offered the role of Olga McGee, the victim’s best friend who also happened to be sleeping with the victim’s husband. The script is no “Weekend at Bernie’s”. It’s not even “Weekend at Bernie’s II”. It is atrocious. This screenplay, with all it’s nonsensical exposition and weak, forced romance subplot between the protagonist and the medical examiner, makes Simon’s Brannigan O’Sexchap script look like “Pulp Fiction”.
Heidi Vaccarelli, Hoopy award winning actress of “Greenteeth”, in Simon’s eyes and ears, is far above such material. Then again, maybe beggars can’t be choosers. The most recent gig she landed was a nonspeaking role as “Wife” in a commercial for a local used car dealership last week. Not exactly Eugene O’Neill material there either.
But the fact is, none of those are the reasons for his lack of productivity between the sheets this evening.
Lee’s return, losing to Scottywood, being forced to read a crappy screenplay, and his financial concerns have nothing to do with his currently lame libido.
No, this circumstance is due to…..
The bathroom door swings open and Heidi enters the bedroom wearing flannel pants and a black “New York Film Academy” t-shirt. She slides into the bed.::::
SIMON SPARROW: Look, again, I don’t—-
HEIDI: Nope. We are not havin’ this conversation now.
::::Simon now knows Heidi is in a mood. When it comes to gauging her anger, Simon knows if it she comes in a-blazing, she’s fine, she’s just letting off steam. When she’s silent, that’s when he knows he is in the shitter, because she is allowing that anger to fester and grow. This? This is somewhere in between anger and pain as evidenced by her Long Island accent being more pronounced than usual. She usually speaks with clear and almost flawless diction, showing no hints of an accent. When she gets upset (or really drunk) it comes through.
SIMON SPARROW: Okay.
HEIDI: Is it something I did?
SIMON SPARROW: What? No! Of course not!
HEIDI: It’s because of that bitch down the hall isn’t it? Deanna D’Antoglia? She been talkin’ to you? That bitch has been jealous of me for years.
SIMON SPARROW: I don’t even know who—
HEIDI: You know her tits ain’t real, right?
::::Simon Sparrow jerks almost stunned. How Heidi is making this leap is beyond him. He shifts over in the bed and holds her. She places her soft, smooth light brown and blonde streaked hair across his chest, she is seemingly beginning to calm down.::::
SIMON SPARROW: Heidi, Heidi, sweetie, I have no clue who that is.
HEIDI: You better not be lyin’ to me.
SIMON SPARROW: Look, look, what…”this”….
:::Simon waves his hand over his crotch with emphasis.::::
SIMON SPARROW: …is…it has nothing to do with you.
HEIDI: It sure doesn’t seem that way.
SIMON SPARROW: You know when you read some of these scripts….some of them are pretty good, some of them are flaming turd piles….whenever you read to talk about finding the characters truths and you do your acting thing and make even the vilest of turds seem almost good…what do call it?
SIMON SPARROW: No! The truth thing, wiseass.
HEIDI: That one of my acting teachers said? That in order to find the character’s truth and find your truth so you can relate to the character? That one?
SIMON SPARROW: Yeah, that’s it. Well, here’s my truth….I have been feeling inadequate.
HEIDI: You don’t have to feel that way with me. Dating someone like me can feel intimidating. Especially if she is more well known than you, it can be emasculating. Don’t worry, we see each other for who we are outside the public eye, there is no need—-
SIMON SPARROW: No, that’s not it.
HEIDI: Oh…I see….are you breakin’ up with me? Is that it?
SIMON SPARROW: What?!
::::Heidi starts to pull away from Simon Sparrow and leaps out of the bed. She looms over him, threateningly, to the point where Simon hopes there are no sharp objects around in case she has a sudden urge to go method and embrace her inner Lorena Bobbitt.::::
HEIDI: You seein’ someone else? That it? Can’t get it up cuz you’re fuckin’ guilty?!
SIMON SPARROW: No! No! What?!
HEIDI: You lyin’ piece of shit! You have been fuckin’ Deanna D’Antoglia, haven’t you? She steals my part and now she’s stealin’ you?! No fuckin’ way!
SIMON SPARROW: STRONK!!!!
HEIDI: What that fuck is that?
SIMON SPARROW: It’s not a ‘what’, it’s a ‘who’!
HEIDI: You’re fuckin’ an ugly bitch named Stronk?!
::::Heidi begins slapping the shit out of Simon, nailing him in the face and chest. He covers himself up and finally finds a moment he can grab her wrists to somewhat restrain her.::::
SIMON SPARROW: Stronk’s a dude!
::::Heidi stops struggling and blinks at Simon Sparrow for a moment, a glazed look of confusion crosses her face as if she were attempting to understand Quantum Mechanics.::::
HEIDI: You’re gay?
SIMON SPARROW: No, no! Can you get off of me so I can explain?
::::Simon Sparrow releases Heidi’s wrists and she slowly dismounts him as he exits the bed. His left cheek in particular is now featuring quite the rosy color after that right handed shot Heidi gave him. His left side stings as if it were hit with a flurry of pins and needles. He rubs his cheek as he turns towards Heidi.:::::
SIMON SPARROW: This…uh…Deanna, she gets under your skin. Whatever the reason is….
HEIDI: She’s whore and a bitch.
SIMON SPARROW: Lately, there’s been some talk about Stronk. He is the HOTv Champion. When he came in, I thought he was just another fad like phone booth stuffing, dabbing, or goldfish swallowing. I figured he was just another lummox who would show up, win a couple of matches, realize he can’t hack it and leave. But each week, he seemingly becomes this unstoppable force. He ended the impressive HOTv run of Jeffrey James Roberts. Don’t get me wrong, Jeffrey James Roberts is a psychopathic wackjob, he deserved to get beat. I couldn’t beat him but Stronk, a man with the brain of a Thanksgiving Day turkey, could?
::::Simon Sparrow looks down at the plush burgundy carpeting as if someone puked on it.:::::
SIMON SPARROW: It’s one thing to run a guy down if we’re going to be facing off at “War Games”, knowing there are five other people that can take the brunt of his offense, distract his feeble mind while other, more intelligent people like myself, attack him from behind, wear the brute down. It is another thing to square off against him one on one especially when it is for the HOTv Championship.
::::Simon looks back up, forces a smile, and looks at Heidi who is sitting crosslegged on the bed, her left elbow resting on her inner thigh, and her face resting on the palm of her left hand, her index finger tapping her temple. To Simon, her body language indicates either boredom or pensiveness.::::
SIMON SPARROW: What happens if I lose?
HEIDI: You think I would think less of you if you don’t win this championship? That won’t happen.
SIMON SPARROW: Thanks, but that’s not it. I think about it, and this prick comes rolling in off the street and suddenly he’s the next big thing. Eighteen years ago, I lost my first matches in a row. I was relegated to pick up Lee’s dry cleaning, cleaning up his messes—-
HEIDI: Ew, you were a brown nosing suck up?
SIMON SPARROW: I’m not saying I’m proud of it. You’ve had to do things you weren’t proud of, haven’t you?
:::Heidi shamefully looks away towards the David Wright bobblehead on her nightstand, Simon Sparrow places a comforting hand on her knee.:::
SIMON SPARROW: Hey, it’s okay. Whatever it is that you did, it’s all in the—-
HEIDI: “Hudson Hawk Two: The Eagle Has Risen”.
SIMON SPARROW: I’m sorry.
::::Heidi looks over at Simon, gives him a crooked smile, and nods almost reluctantly. He withdraws his hand.:::
SIMON SPARROW: But, we’re talking about me right now, but we’re going to revisit that. The point is, pricks like Stronk, they just stumble into their success. They don’t work for it, they take the easy way out. Pumping their bodies full of steroids and PEDs and cocaine, probably.
HEIDI: Sleeping with the casting director or producer just to get one line of dialogue that should’ve gone to a trained actress.
SIMON SPARROW: We’re still on me. Bruce Willis wasn’t in….
HEIDI: “Hudson Hawk Two”? No.
SIMON SPARROW: Who played…?
HEIDI: Chad Pitts.
SIMON SPARROW: Brad Pitt?
HEIDI (overanunciating): CH-AAAAD PITT-SSSSS.
SIMON SPARROW: Not…
SIMON SPARROW: The point is, Stronk doesn’t try and he’s successful. Me? I’ve been wit the HOW for damn near twenty years. Scottywood beat me. SCOTTYWOOD! What is this is it? What if I am just one or two matches to becoming….obsolete? What if halfwits like Stronk are the future? What if after War Games I suddenly become a “hasbeen”?
HEIDI: I understand. One day you’re in hit after hit, the next you’re being bumped out of the bottom right square for Danny Bonaduce. The work dries up and you continue to grind, only to be passed over for the likes of Deanna D’Antoglia. She knows that Olive Garden commercial was mine, dammit!
SIMON SPARROW: Add to that, I have never held the HOTv Championship. Do you know what that could mean for my legacy?
HEIDI: They all want to see you fail.
SIMON SPARROW: It would make me the person who held the most belts in the HOW! The World, ICON, Internet, Translantic, LSD, Tag Team, Stable. The Cross Continental, never got a chance to hold that one, but the HOTv?
HEIDI: Even “Hudson Hawk Two”.
SIMON SPARROW: It’s in my grasp. The pressure of losing on top of feeling inadequate to someone like Stronk? It’s crushing.
HEIDI: “The chemistry between you and Chad seems off,” they said. “Go out to dinner with him,” they said.
SIMON SPARROW: What if Stronk isn’t looking for someone to pass the torch to him? What if he just takes mine? In “Survivor”, fire means life, what’s it mean to someone like me?
HEIDI: He made my life a living hell.
SIMON SPARROW: What if Lee determines that I’m irrelevant? Am I the next Kostoff or Scott Stevens?
::::Heidi is up from the bed and kneels in front of Simon Sparrow and places her hands on his face, forcing him to look into her eyes.::::
HEIDI: Promise me, if this Stonk—
SIMON SPARROW: Stronk.
HEIDI: If this Stronk shows you his penis, castrate the asshole.
SIMON SPARROW: If he shows me his dick, he’ll probably try to beat me to death with it.
HEIDI: Big deal!
SIMON SPARROW: How he describes it, it should have it’s own zip code.
HEIDI: Does this whole thing cHEDIome down to a dick swinging contest?
SIMON SPARROW: No, he would win that too.
::::WHACK!!! Heidi levels Simon in the face with a Smack Sparrow of her own.::::
HEIDI: Snap out of it! People like us? Our fans adore us no matter what we’ve done to get where we are. This Stronk could have muscles, a huge dick, a bunch of accolades, but do you know what he doesn’t have? Your experience. Your intelligence.
::::As Heidi strokes Simon’s ego with her words, she strokes his face with her hand.:::
SIMON SPARROW: Yeah?
HEIDI: Oh yeah. You’ll see.
::::Heidi gives Simon a gentle kiss on the lips.::::
HEIDI: Get some sleep. Everything will look clearer in the morning.
SIMON SPARROW: I hope you’re right.
HEIDI: You’ll see. And we will continue running lines one more time for “CTRL-ALT-DEAD” before I call my agent to accept it.
::::Simon Sparrow lays on the bed and stares up at the motionless ceiling fan above him. Heidi crawls under the covers. As he lays there, he considers everything Heidi has said. She believes in him. Maybe almost as much as he believes in her. Perhaps the “CTRL-ALT-DEAD” is her next big break. Maybe she will be the queen of Hallmark Mystery movies. If that can happen for her, then maybe, just maybe, an unlikely victory over a dimwitted cretin will reawaken his dwindling swagger and he will be the HOTv Champion! No, he why limit himself. Simon Sparrow will be the HOMedia Champion! Maybe….END SCENE:::::