Post by Press1269 on Mar 5, 2020 19:59:03 GMT
[The scene opens as Bobby Benson paces in the gorilla position wearing a line green jogging suit covering a white t-shirt. On his head rests a headband with the words “Manager of Manager’s” emblazoned across it, but despite his fresh attire, the man doesn’t seem to exude confidence. He looks over at the camera with a forlorn expression and begins shaking his head in disbelief.]
BB: I…I can’t believe this. I didn’t say or do anything to Allegra…surely it isn’t cause I made fun of the fact that her name just so happens to be a fantastic allergy medication. I mean, it is just over the counter, so how good could it really be? BUT HEY! That’s no reason to force me into two different situations tonight that might put myself at harm!
[Bobby rings his hands nervously.]
BB: I’m not an athlete! I’m an advocate for athletes! I have no business being in that squared circle unless it’s to try and gain the advantage for one of my clients…I mean…I’m all of a hundred and seventy-five pounds for Christ’s sake!
[Bobby looks at his watch and goes ghost white at the time, realizing that he’s seconds away of having to make his way to the ring.]
BB: I…I’ll pay you! Anyone on the roster that is watching a monitor right now, I’ll pay you! I’ll give you twenty thousand in cold hard cash to step in on my behalf and keep me from getting hurt in this farce of a promotion! Tanner Buchannon…you sound like the guy who could do with an infusion of cash! Or what about Liv Mercer? No, no…you sound too much like a venereal disease.
[Bobby racks his brain trying to come up with an answer.]
BB: Logan MacLeod…bet he’s not even Scottish. Connor Macnamara? Maybe…kind of sounds like a dish at Panera Bread Company. Nina Violet? Fuck! Those are two separate people…oh no, no, no no, no…
[The defeated Benson shakes in dismay as his music cues up, a version of “T-R-O-U-B-L-E” by Travis Tritt that has been changed to suit Bobby’s interests. The producer comes up to Bobby with his clipboard and points towards the entrance curtain, but the wily manager begins shaking his head vehemently ‘No’. Just as the producer begins to push Bobby along, he looks over his shoulder, overcome by a sudden rage that has his nostrils flaring and his voice as high as a falsetto.]
BB: Allegra, you evil bitch! You haven’t heard the last of me, goddamn it! I’m going to shit in your biscuits if it’s the last thing I ever do! You mother fuc---
[With a final shove the wiry man is flung through the curtain, cutting off his last words, but we’re pretty sure you can figure out what he was thinking.]
BB: I…I can’t believe this. I didn’t say or do anything to Allegra…surely it isn’t cause I made fun of the fact that her name just so happens to be a fantastic allergy medication. I mean, it is just over the counter, so how good could it really be? BUT HEY! That’s no reason to force me into two different situations tonight that might put myself at harm!
[Bobby rings his hands nervously.]
BB: I’m not an athlete! I’m an advocate for athletes! I have no business being in that squared circle unless it’s to try and gain the advantage for one of my clients…I mean…I’m all of a hundred and seventy-five pounds for Christ’s sake!
[Bobby looks at his watch and goes ghost white at the time, realizing that he’s seconds away of having to make his way to the ring.]
BB: I…I’ll pay you! Anyone on the roster that is watching a monitor right now, I’ll pay you! I’ll give you twenty thousand in cold hard cash to step in on my behalf and keep me from getting hurt in this farce of a promotion! Tanner Buchannon…you sound like the guy who could do with an infusion of cash! Or what about Liv Mercer? No, no…you sound too much like a venereal disease.
[Bobby racks his brain trying to come up with an answer.]
BB: Logan MacLeod…bet he’s not even Scottish. Connor Macnamara? Maybe…kind of sounds like a dish at Panera Bread Company. Nina Violet? Fuck! Those are two separate people…oh no, no, no no, no…
[The defeated Benson shakes in dismay as his music cues up, a version of “T-R-O-U-B-L-E” by Travis Tritt that has been changed to suit Bobby’s interests. The producer comes up to Bobby with his clipboard and points towards the entrance curtain, but the wily manager begins shaking his head vehemently ‘No’. Just as the producer begins to push Bobby along, he looks over his shoulder, overcome by a sudden rage that has his nostrils flaring and his voice as high as a falsetto.]
BB: Allegra, you evil bitch! You haven’t heard the last of me, goddamn it! I’m going to shit in your biscuits if it’s the last thing I ever do! You mother fuc---
[With a final shove the wiry man is flung through the curtain, cutting off his last words, but we’re pretty sure you can figure out what he was thinking.]