- Event: ICONIC
:::SCENE: A balmy Montana thirty-nine degrees (Farenheit) in an isolated field fourteen miles from the residence of Jatt Starr. The sky is overcast. Leaning on the driver side of his black 2017 Chevy Tahoe is Hugo Scorpio. The disfigured employee of StarrSek Industries is sporting a black fleece sweater over a black and red lumberjack plaid flannel shirt, blue jeans, and a blue and white Indianapolis Colts knitted hat with a blue pom-pom on the top. He is currently scrolling through his phone.
Standing next to him with his arms crossed, the cold air hitting him in the face like shards of glass, is a shivering (almost convulsing) Jatt Starr. The Jattagonian Giant, unlike his associate, is sporting tan khakis, a light gray sweater over a black t-shirt, black Adidas sneakers with red stripes, and a red puffy vest.
They have been waiting for ten minutes but for Jatt Starr it seems like two hours. Jatt Starr could wait in the car. But that’s not what an LSD Champion would do. LSD Champions are the toughest of the tough. If he is unable to handle a little cold weather, then he does not deserve the title at ICONIC.
As his teeth chatter, the Thane of Starrkarth begins pacing back and forth. Around the fourth pass, Hugo Scorpio looks up, annoyed like a someone who has studied all night for a test only for Maurice’s nose whistling to echo through his auditory canals as if it were the London Philharmonic. (It should be noted that Maurice sat next to Hugo in the eighth grade and did, in fact, have a whistling nose).::::
HUGO: Can you stop?
JATT STARR: No.
HUGO: Can you at least stop pacing?
JATT STARR: No.
HUGO: You can wait in the—
JATT STARR: I am not waiting in the car.
HUGO: Just don’t think about it.
JATT STARR (in a mocking voice): “Just don’t think about it.”
::::The King of Grapple from the Big Apple sneers at Hugo with the same disgust he did when Hugo had dropped a massive deuce in his toilet less than a week prior causing a massive clog. The turd has since been named Pooie Freeman the Second. The Sovereign of Starrgentina leans next to Hugo.::::
JATT STARR: What are you doing?
HUGO: Checking the news. There is a world outside of Jattlantis and StarrSek Industries, you know.
JATT STARR: Oh. You don’t have to be douchey about it.
HUGO: Sorry. I just missed breakfast.
::::The Ruler of Jattlantis waves a teasing and admonishing finger at Hugo Scorpio.:::
JATT STARR: Most important meal, Hugo.
HUGO: I had to pick you up and you wouldn’t let me stop.
JATT STARR: I had my breakfast. Two eggs, sunnyside up. Six strips of bacon. Three sausage links. Cheese grits. And two cups of coffee.
HUGO: Jesus, Jatt. What about your cholesterol?
JATT STARR: What about it?
HUGO: Aren’t you worried about heart disease?
JATT STARR: LSD Champions don’t worry about things like that.
HUGO: You’re not the champion yet.
JATT STARR: It’s all about having the right frame of mind and knowing what you need to overcome in order to achieve prosperity.
HUGO: More HOW god mumbo-jumbo?
JATT STARR: I read on the back of a fitness book while I was at the Barnes and Noble. I think it was by Jerry Seinfeld.
HUGO: That doesn’t sound right.
JATT STARR: I am a Tag Team Champion, I have to be doubly in the mindset of being a champion in order to become a double champion. That means training harder and thinking more.
HUGO: Does this mean you’re training with Sid and Sektor this week?
JATT STARR: Yes.
HUGO: I bet he’s still riding high after beating Steve Harrison.
JATT STARR: He’s pretty stoked. He really stepped up for StarrSek Industries. That little snake oil salesman thought he could silence me?
HUGO: Harrison’ll be out for blood. You’ll need to put in the work.
JATT STARR: Ugh. But that Sid is a freaking sadist. He makes that drill sergeant in “Full Metal Jacket” look like freaking Big Bird.
HUGO: It’s an important match. It’s not just Lindsay Troy and Steve Harrison you have to worry about. You also have to contend with Hughie—
JATT STARR: I know. I am aware of the situation. I don’t need the constant reminders.
:::There is a moment of silence until the Sultan of SeaJattle looks over at his towering compatriot. He grabs Hugo’s shirt under the sweater he is wearing. Hugo turns towards his employer with a “What the fuck are doing?” look.:::
JATT STARR: Are you wearing flannel?
HUGO: Yeah.
JATT STARR: You think I could pull off a flannel look?
HUGO: I dunno.
JATT STARR: I could be the Sam Winchester to Sektor’s moustachioed Dean.
HUGO: If you want to wear it, wear it.
JATT STARR: I don’t know if it’s me. It’s like shoes. I could buy the hundred fifty dollar Nikes but they’re never comfortable. These sneakers have the Ortholite technology. I like to feel comfortable. I think flannel would be comfortable.
HUGO: It is.
JATT STARR: From a fashion standpoint, though, I just don’t know. A lot of people around here wear flannel. Do I really want to be associated with these yahoos? What if someone decides to come up to me thinking I’m one of them and starts, you know, talking to me. They might ask me to….do things.
HUGO: Like what?
JATT STARR: Help them move, paint their houses, make moonshine, I don’t know.
::::The Starrcelona Icon shivers, it is unclear if it is due to the weather or just mere thought of sharing the same air as his rural neighbors.::::
HUGO: I doubt that’s something you should be worried about, boss.
JATT STARR: Yeah, I’d just get you to do it.
::::Hugo shakes his head and rolls his eyes as if Jatt Starr had told him about the Polar Bear denied entry to the Sydney Zoo because it was not “Koala-fied” before returning to the news feed on his phone. Jatt Starr’s cheeks and nose are redder than Santa’s (but lacking the jolliness) as the wind picks up, his teeth start to chatter uncontrollably.::::
JATT STARR: Where is he?
HUGO: I told you we were gonna be early. We had time to stop at the Mickey D’s.
JATT STARR: We’ll go after. Stop muh-moaning about it.
HUGO: Then you stop griping about being in the cold or go into the car.
JATT STARR: I said that’s not guh-gonna happen.
HUGO: You’re just being stubborn.
JATT STARR: Dih-Did it just drop like ten deh-deh-degrees?
HUGO: Get in the car. Warm up. You’re not gonna compete if you catch hypothermia.
::::The Jattlantic City Idol considers Hugo’s clearly logical statement, something that had not dawned on him. How can he achieve the goal of becoming the LSD Champion if he is not medically able to compete? Jatt Starr opens the car door and a wave of sweet, sweet heat hits his frigid face and he hops in, swiftly closing the door behind him. He feels the snot begin to escape his nostrils and retrieves his travel package of Kleenex. He lets out a hearty, tuba sounding blow and clears his nasal passages. Showing an incredible disregard for Hugo’s vehicle, he flippantly tosses the snotty tissue into the front seat.
Jatt Starr leans back on upholstered gray seats and stares out the window. The hum of the SUV’s heater is the only sound heard inside the vehicle. The Saviour of Starrkham is left only with his thoughts.
The HOW gods have been silent.
Max Kael, their messenger, has been absent from his dreams.
After both cheating him out of his one-on-one match against Lindsay Troy and blessing him with a shot at the LSD Championship, have they forsaken him?
Have they sided with Lindsay Troy?
Was Sektor right? Were they all in his head?
Were the presence of the HOW gods merely his mind processing Max Kael’s death?
Or are they testing his faith?
The rapping of Hugo’s knuckles against the driver side rear window interrupts his thoughts. A white box truck is seen approaching in the distance flanked by two black sedans.::::
JATT STARR: Finally.
::::The Mayor of ManJatthan opens the door and the cold air jars him as he exits the vehicle. Jatt Starr closes the door behind him as he approaches the oncoming vehicles, followed by Hugo Scorpio.
They stop and await the vehicles. Two identical black Lexus sedans stop about twenty feet from them. The box truck turns to the left, stops, and then backs up, turning between the two sedans. The doors to the Lexus on the right open. Two figures wearing identical suits and sunglasses. The driver walks to the back driver side door and opens it.
A figure wearing a very large blue parka, looking like Han Solo exploring Hoth, emerges. The Parka Man approaches the King of Grapple from the Big Apple and stops. Jatt Starr, offering a wide smile, approaches, arms outstretched and the two hug.
Jatt Starr backs up as the figure removes his hood revealing…..:::
JATT STARR: Mario! I haven’t seen you in ages! Where have you been?
MARIO: What? We spoke last week.
JATT STARR: On the phone!!! You speak to Sektor more than me.
MARIO: He’s better with relaying messages.
JATT STARR: But, here you are. In the flesh!
MARIO: You say “Help me Obi-Wan Maurako, you’re my only hope”, here I am, delivering you the plans to destroy the Death Star.
::::Jatt Starr turns towards Hugo Scorpio.:::
JATT STARR: I didn’t say that, exactly.
MARIO: What’re you talking about? You left it on my voicemail.
JATT STARR: I said it, word for word.
::::The Ruler of Jattlantis turns back to his former Starrvivor: Maurako partner.::::
MARIO: I have to say, you called the right man.
::::Hugo’s eyes dart suspiciously between Jatt Starr and Mario Maurako. He leans forward towards the HOW Classic.:::
HUGO: What’s going on?
MARIO (to Jatt): Would you like to….?
:::The Jattlantic City Idol turns his head slightly towards Hugo.::::
JATT STARR: Desperate times call for desperate measures.
::::Mario walks over and puts a brotherly arm around Jatt Starr.:::
MARIO: You have no idea how much it means to me to share my knowledge with you.
:::Mario begins leading Jatt Starr towards the back of the truck.::::
MARIO: It is colder than a Lee Best insult out here. You live here?
JATT STARR: Well, I have a house and a bunker….
MARIO: And you’re dressed like that? Don’t you own any gloves?
JATT STARR: I thought it’d be warmer today.
::::Mario looks over at the back of the truck.::::
MARIO: Open her up!!!
::::The two matching members of Mario’s entourage open the back of the truck. They pull out the ramp which clangs against the bitterly cold ground.::::
MARIO: Jatt, my man, tell me about Lindsay Troy.
::::The well dressed Maurakian henchmen begin pushing a large wooden box down the ramp.:::
MARIO: Careful with that!!!
JATT STARR: You know Lindsay.
MARIO: I know what I know, but I need to know what you know. Or at least what you think you know….or just what your thoughts are.
JATT STARR: Obviously, she’s attractive. I have, no, had respect for her.
MARIO: Do you have a thing for her?
JATT STARR: What? Good gravy, no!
MARIO: I need you to admit it.
JATT STARR: What? That I like her? Ew! I said “attractive”, not goddess-like. She’s no Carmen Jennings. Heck, she’s not even a Krista Lewis!
MARIO: No!!! I know you don’t LIKE her like her.
JATT STARR: Besides, Carmen Jennings was not only a hundred times hotter but I don’t recall her allowing Mike Best’s wet noodle anywhere near her. I wonder what she’s doing now…
MARIO: I could be mistaken but didn’t she—-
JATT STARR: Don’t! Let me have this. I’d like to keep one pedestal intact.
MARIO: Stop, stop….
::::Mario puts his head down and begins waving his hands frustratedly at Jatt Starr who has clearly, at some point in recent weeks, had Carmen Jennings on the brain. Who can say how? Who can say why? Mario is on the verge of hysteria, but he keeps it together because just Marvelous.::::
MARIO: This isn’t about Carmen Jennings! This is about Lindsay Troy!
JATT STARR: Right! LSD Champions don’t obsess over old secret crushes from about ten years ago. Sorry. Focused. Now. Go.
MARIO: I need you to admit that you don’t think you can beat her.
JATT STARR: Carmen Je—-
MARIO: LINDSAY TROY!!!
JATT STARR: Of course!!! Yes! I admit it. I am already hearing from these so-called pundits about how I’m the underdog in this match, that I’m just Sektor’s sidekick. They’re in my head and I am legit concerned that I won’t be able to beat Lindsay Troy. Add to the mix the Miracle Whip and Pooey Freeman, my odds are being flushed down the toilet faster than the Baltimore Ravens’ playoff chances.
:::Mario smiles and nods approvingly.:::
MARIO: “Pooey Freeman”. Noice!
JATT STARR: And with the LSD Title on the line, this could be my last shot at it.
::::The Jattvian Prince of Polka pleadingly shrugs as if there is nothing else more to say.:::
MARIO: You know what your problem is? When it comes to women, you’ve always been kinda quirky. And soft. Quirky and soft. Like a Q-Bert plush doll.
JATT STARR: What?
MARIO: I know you’ve got a daughter, my Goddaughter, mind you, who doesn’t text or send us postcards. We’ll be lucky to get a Christmas card from her. But look at who took her away from you….
JATT STARR: Her mother?
MARIO: Her mother!!! YES!!! I don’t know her. She could be Mary Poppins! On the other hand, I don’t know if she is poisoning her fragile mind with insults and rumors about us. Turning Hilda—-
JATT STARR: Gilda.
MARIO: Gilda against you. Right now, you’re only hope is she doesn’t fuck a Sektor.
JATT STARR: I’D KILL HIM!
MARIO: Yeah, that guy will fuck almost anything….as long as it’s a hot chick between the ages of eighteen to twenty-five, twenty-six. But he wouldn’t do that to you. I’m referring to the other John Sektors out there….like maybe Lee. But the point is, I was an amazing Godfather and….wait, you didn’t show her “Survivor: Nicaragua”, right?
JATT STARR: Of course not. That season was giant turdwaffle.
MARIO: Right, so by all accounts, you were a good father to her. If this were ten years ago, I would tell you that some women, not all, but most, can be massive bitches who don’t know their place.
JATT STARR: Ten years ago, huh?
MARIO: Absolutely.
::::Mario nods towards his two minions who proceed to grab crowbars from the back of the truck and open the crate. The wooden walls of the crate fall.::::
JATT STARR: What the hell is that?
MARIO: It’s called a ballistics dummy with the head I lopped off of a Lindsay Troy “artificial companion” that I ordered.
::::Sure enough, before them is the shockingly accurate silicone head of Lindsay Troy on top of a clear ballistics dummy.::::
MARIO: Law enforcement uses these to check trajectories of bullets or something.
JATT STARR: Are those staples?
::::Jatt Starr points towards the head. It looks as though the head had to be carefully cut and placed on the head of the ballistics dummy so as not to ruin the fine craftsmanship of the artist.:::
MARIO: It wouldn’t just slide on. So here she is. I know it’s not anatomically correct. She’s got pecs instead of boobs. I could only get my hands on the male model.
JATT STARR: I have to say, it’s freaky.
::::The Ruler of Jattlantis stares in wonder at the head as if he were gazing at the ears Leonard Nimoy used in the original Star Trek.::::
MARIO: Okay, so what do you see?
JATT STARR: Lindsay Troy.
MARIO: Right, Captain Obvious. Now, really look at her. How do you feel looking at that face?
JATT STARR: She’s perfect. And it bothers me.
MARIO: Why?
JATT STARR: Everything is going her way.
MARIO: Yeah. And? Come on, Jatt! I know there’s something about her you can’t stand. What is it? Let it out, my man! Come on! Say it!! SAY IT!!!
::::Mario screaming in Jatt Starr’s ear as if he were Sam Kinison in “Back to School”. All the Ruler of Jattlantis sees is his own shortcomings. The more he stares at Lindsay Troy’s head, the angrier he gets. He feels himself shuddering, no longer from the cold, but of long repressed rage. The burning in his stomach intensifies as if he were suffering from a dozen ulcers (which, in all actuality he might, given his diet, age, and stress).:::
JATT STARR: She thinks she’s little Miss Perfect. Strutting around, shaking her ass, looking down on people. The conceit! The disdain she has for other people! What makes her so fucking special?
MARIO: Weh-heh-hell! We’ve got an “F” bomb, ladies and gentlemen!
JATT STARR: Who does she think she is, Marie Antoinette?
::::The Hero of Jattlanta walks up to the ballistic dummy and stares at the dead eyes of the Lindsay Troy sex doll head. His eyes are those of an injured Rottweiler. He does an almost militaristic about face and turns towards Mario.::::
JATT STARR: She’s a phony! She has all these people fooled and cheering just because she’s got a winning smile and boobs. All the while, she’s with Mike Best, the biggest douche the HOW has ever seen. She’s a gold digging whore and people APPLAUD that!
::::The jealousy, the hatred, the rage the HOW Classic has for Lindsay Troy (and Mike Best, for obvious reasons) grows as does his trembling. He begins tugging at his hair with his right hand. He feels his eyes begin to well up. Mario is in the background silently prodding him along as like puppeteer working a marionette.::::
JATT STARR: I work just as hard as her. Probably harder. I try to be a good person. I warned her of the dangers of sticking around in the HOW. I do the right thing. A young woman shows up at my door claiming to be my daughter and do I turn her away? No. I support her. I give her a roof over her head. And this was before any paternity tests came back.
::::The Ruler of Jattlantis begins circling the Lindsay Troy ballistics dummy like a vulture. Mario motions to his underling who hands him the crowbar. Hugo, for his part, stands silently in the background.::::
JATT STARR: And I’m a deadbeat? Sektor’s daughter gets kidnapped and mindfucked by a deranged prick and he’s a deadbeat? Anything that fits into your narrow minded pro-Mike Best delusions, right, Linds?
:::The Champion of Jattanooga stares at the make atop of the clear, gelatinous ballistics dummy’s body, repulsed by Lindsay Troy as if she were the maggot infested, rotting carcass of a naked mole rat. Jatt Starr takes the crowbar from Mario who hides a smile with his free hand. He ignores the sensation of burning cold from the metal in his hand. Ignoring the potential concerns for frostbite. But then again? LSD Champions don’t get frostbite.::::
JATT STARR: I have lost EVERYTHING for this industry. Family. Friends. My right testicle. Any semblance of a happy ending! And the last thing I need is some prissy little DORBEL….
::::Jatt Starr rears back and swings the crowbar one handed and connects with the left shoulder. The ballistics dummy barely moves at all. Lindsay Troy mocks Jatt Starr with her dead eyes. Mario’s face contorts into one of repugnance at the weak display of force provided by the Jatt-i Master.::::
JATT STARR: ….patronizing me!!! I am an H-O-W Hall of Famer, you’re nothing! But catching the syphilis from ol’Mikey pays it’s dividends doesn’t it? First Dan Ryan, then Hughie Freeman, then Hughie Freeman AGAIN. YOU GET TITLE SHOT AFTER TITLE SHOT!!!
::::WHACK!!! Jatt Starr swings the crowbar and connects with Lindsay “Toy’s” chest. The cracking sound of the bone like sternum wakes Mario out of his depression and he begins smiling as Jatt Starr becomes increasingly furious and more menacing wielding the weapon. He leans towards the dummy’s face, his nose is about one inch from the dummy’s.::::
JATT STARR: And we both know the real reason you won the LSD Title was to spite me! AND you KNEW Lee Best was going to include Steve Harrison and Hughie Freeman to the match! You did not want to take me on one-on-one. YOU VILE, VINDICTIVE HAG!!!!
::::Jatt Starr takes a Babe Ruth-like swing at the ballistics dummy, hitting it in the lumbar region of the verebrae — WHACK! The sound of the back cracking from the impact is heard.::::
HUGO (to MARIO): Do we need to—
MARIO: Shut your mouth and let him work through this.
JATT STARR: And the worst part? Not only do you have your LSD Title and your fancy house. But you have a family you get to go home to. You and your happy little life.
::::The Thane of Starrkarth looks down at the ground, pumping the base of the crowbar with his left hand. The cold weather secondary to his fury. His thoughts turn to everything he’s lost, how he’s been punished in the past, overlooked, and underestimated. He looks forward to the holidays. Another empty house on Christmas with nothing but memories. And he thinks of Lindsay Troy….:::
JATT STARR: WHY DO YOU GET TO HAVE IT ALL????
::::WHACK! Joltin’ Jatt Starr connects with a shot to the gut. The bent claw at the top of the crowbar pierces the stomach of the faux Lindsay Troy. The claw gets stuck in the cavity and Jatt Starr yanks it out. A spray of faux blood hits him in the face. His eyes are wild and tearing up. His breathing becomes heavier and more erratic.::::
JATT STARR: YOU ARE NOT BETTER THAN ME!!!!
::::Instead of hitting the Frankensteined Lindsay Troy dummy he sniffs, makes a noise like he is clearing his throat, and spits in Lindsay Troy’s face. The glob of phlegm oozes down the right cheek of the Lindsay Troy masks.::::
JATT STARR: I deserve that title! You deserve shit! In fact, check that, here’s an idea, maybe your bratty little kids should ask Santa Claus for something useful. HOW’S ABOUT A WHEELCHAIR FOR DEAR OL’ MOMMY!!!!
::::WHACK!!! The Champion of Jattanooga connected with a shot to the side of the head. The sound of blunt force trauma to the skull echoes in the field as the force causes the mask to turn, some of the staples holding it on pop off, and the slowly timbers down to the ground. The Starrabian Knight looks down at the mask, being held on the dummy by a single staple.::::
JATT STARR: I think you, Harrison, and Freeman need a reminder. I AM THE RULER OF FUCKING JATTLANTIS, BITCH!!!
::::Jatt Starr raises the crowbar above his head and brings it down, like a mallet at a Test of Strength carnival game. CRAAA-ACK. The faux viscera erupts from the head as the claw penetrates the mask, ballistic gelatin, and skull. The mask is bloodied and torn, it attaches itself to the crowbar as Jatt Starr pries it out of the skull. It flops down on the ground, it’s hair matted in blood, the left side of it’s face ripped apart.::::
JATT STARR: ….in the end, I always win.
:::Jatt Starr stares at the broken, “bloodied” mess before as Mario begins clapping as he approaches his former tag team partner. Mario takes his index finger and wipes away what may or may not be a real tear under his right eye.:::
MARIO: I’m so proud of you for taking this step. But let’s just take this away from you, Killer….
::::Mario takes the crowbar from him and hands it one of his henchmen. The Saviour of Starrkham stands there, shivering. The repressed rage he has felt towards that harpy has exploded. He looks down, a strange feeling comes over him. It’s almost a zen sense of serenity with a cloud of disappointment. What lays before him is a work of art painted in brutality. “The Consequence of Arrogance”. Mario takes Jatt’s arm and begins leading him away. He mentions something to the Ruler of Jattlantis about owing him three thousand dollars for the effigy, but Jatt Starr doesn’t really hear him. All he can think about now, is how at peace and completely satisfied he will be when he maims Lindsay Troy at ICONIC in front of the fans…..in front of her kids….in front of the world. ICONIC is his moment. Not that huckster, Steve Harrison’s. Not that Irish fopdoodle, Hughie Freeman’s. And certainly not Lindsay Troy’s. END SCENE.::::