You can follow all of Drake's story in the NeWA Roleplay Showcase...
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Tuesday May 28, 2013 9:30 am
[The camera fades in to a press conference room. There are about twenty reporters crammed into the small room. Some are holding out tape recorders and some are jotting things down on little notepads. There are about a dozen photographers lined up along the back of the room, taking picture after picture. Their flashes are bright and blinding and are going off in rapid succession. The reporters can barely be heard. Their muffled voices are almost in the background. The camera continues to pan across the room. It gets to the wall on the left side of the room, passed all of the reporters. There are two large men standing in black t-shirts that read ‘SECURITY’. Next to them is a well-built, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair. He is wearing a blue suit and a white shirt with the collar opened. Next to him is a man in his late thirties with slicked back, ear-length dirty blonde hair. He is wearing a black suit with blue pinstripes, a white button-down shirt and a blue tie. Stuck out of his right ear is a rather large and ridiculous Bluetooth device. The camera then moves to the man standing in front of the reporters at a podium. He is wearing a light gray suit, with an open collar lavender shirt. His five-o’clock shadow is quickly turning into a beard and his eyes are red and glazed over. He tries to pay attention to the question coming from an attractive young redheaded reporter but his eyes begin to wander. He starts to feel dizzy as his eyes roll around his head. He tries to move to his right but he stumbles and then falls right onto his face in front of the 30+ reporters and photographers. As he hits the ground the photographers run forward and start picking up the pace of the shots. The camera zooms in on the fallen man and we can finally make out who he is. He is ‘Mr. Showtime’ Drake Green.]
Sunday May 26th, 2013 11:15 pm
[The camera cuts to Drake’s dressing room in the Halifax Forum. He has just won the ACW Maritime Junior Heavyweight Championship from Ben Jordan on ACW’s Championship Wrestling Live. He is standing there in black pinstripe pants and white button down shirt. He puts his platinum Breitling watch on and then picks up his wallet and shoves it into his back pocket. He starts picking up his gear off of the blue couch across the room and setting it all into the big, black duffel bag sitting on the chair in front of the vanity. As he throws stuff into the bag he hears a knock on the door. He walks over and answers the door and in bursts Max. Max is wearing a red ‘IT”S SHOWTIME’ t-shirt, black pants, and a black leather jacket. As he busts through the door he picks up Drake in to a big giant bear hug.]
Drake: Ok, ok.
Max: You fucking did it! I knew you would do it, D.
[Max puts Drake down.]
Max: Show me the gold.
Drake: You really wanna see it?
Max: Do I? Of course I do, you nut! You know how hard we worked for this?
Drake: Okay…
[Drake walks over to the bag and pulls out his new ACW Maritime Junior Heavyweight title belt and hands it to Max.]
Max: This is awesome, D. How’re we gonna celebrate?
Drake: Well I would say we could go grabs some beers and have sex with some strippers but I know you’re lame-
Max: Funny. How ‘bout some steaks? I saw a good place over by the hotel.
Drake: Yeah. That sounds good.
[Max dumps the title belt back into the duffel bag and zips it up. He throws the strap from the bag over his shoulder and the two men head for the door. Drake stops at the door and grabs his suit jacket that is hanging in the open closet and slips it on as they head out the door. They walk through the hallway and around the corner. As the get around the corner Drake spots Elise Leblanc. He grabs Max and drags him back around the corner.]
Max: What the hell?
Drake: Did she us?
Max: What? Who?
Drake: Did she see me?
Max: Did who see you?
Drake: That nutcase in the red dress.
[Max peers around the corner and sees Elise standing there talking with a few ACW production staff members.]
Max: Isn't that the chick from the convention in Amherst?
[Drake pulls Max back around the corner.]
Drake: Dude, get back! Don't let her see you!
Max: What the hell is going on, D? Something you want to tell me?
Drake: No. She's just crazy.
Max: I've known you for almost 30 years, kid. What's going on?
Drake: Ok. She's a little bit of a clinger.
Max: Clinger? But how could she be a clinger? They're only clingers after...
[Max suddenly realizes what is actually going on between Drake and Elise.]
Max: D? Really? What about Rosie?
Drake: I know. I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist.
Max: Didn't I ever tell you not to shit where you eat?
[Max peers around the corner.]
Drake: I know. I can't help it.
[Max looks her up and down.]
Max: I can see why...
Drake: You think you can distract her for me?
Max: What are we in high school?!
Drake: Please, Maxy. If I run into her things could get ugly. She smashed my bottle of Johnny before.
Max: Blue or black?
Drake: Blue.
Max: That bitch!
Drake: That's what I've been trying to say!
[Max peers around the corner again but this time Elise looks back over and meets eyes with him.]
Max: Shit! She saw me. She's coming over here.
Drake: Crap. What are we gonna do?
[Max looks around for a second and then sees a janitor closet.]
Max: Here…
[He opens up the door to the closet.]
Max: Get in here. I'll distract her and you sneak out.
Drake: You're kidding.
Max: Do you want her to see you or not? Shit!
[Max shoves Drake into the closet and shuts the door just as Elise comes around the corner.]
Elise: Monsieur Maxwell. How are you?
Max: Great. Just great. And how are you Miss Leblanc?
Elise: I am good. Did you see Drake tonight?
Max: Oh yeah. That was a big one.
[As Max talks to Elise, Drake slowly opens the door to the closet and sticks his head out. He looks right at Max and they make eye contact. Elise starts to turn around but Max grabs her by the arms.]
Max: I'm sorry. But Drake really wanted me to say something to you.
[He looks over her shoulder as Drake starts to quickly and quietly sneak out of the closet.]
Elise: Yes? What is it?
Max: He...umm...
[Drake sneaks completely out of the closet and around the corner and Max lets out a soft sigh of relief.]
Max: He says goodbye.
Elise: What do you mean goodbye? He said he wished to speak with me after the match?
Max: I mean. He said goodbye to me. That's it. Because he knew you were going to stop by so he wanted me to leave.
[Elise grabs Max in a big hug.]
Elise: Really!?
Max: Yeah, of course.
Elise: Thank you so much Monsieur Maxwell!
Max: My pleasure, sweetheart.
[Max watches Elise scurry down the hallway to where Drake's dressing room was. He darts around the corner and then out to the backdoor of the arena. He pushes through the door and sees Drake, standing next to the rental car, smoking a cigarette.]
Max: You’re going to hell, did you know that? And you’re gonna take me with you.
Drake: How did you get rid of her?
Max: I told her you were in your dressing room waiting for her.
Drake: That’s evil.
[Max shoots an annoyed look over at Drake.]
Max: I see you found my cigarettes. I thought you were done with those.
Drake: It's a victory smoke. It's not every day you get to say you knocked off an undefeated champ.
Max: True.
[Max pops open the trunk and drops the duffel bag inside. He picks up Drake's small suitcase and sets in inside the trunk next to the bag and shuts the trunk lid.]
Max: We ready to get out of here?
Drake: You mean you're not sick of Canada yet?
[Drake smiles.]
Max: Get in the car, D.
Drake: Fine.
[Drake takes one more drag of his cigarette and then flicks it into the wind. He walks around the rental car and opens the door. He plops down next to Max and starts to move his seat down to laying position.]
Drake: Wake me up at the airport.
[Max smiles.]
Max: Maybe I'll just leave you sleeping in the car.
[Drake laughs.]
Drake: They won't let you on the plane without me, Maxy.
Max: Yeah, yeah.
[Max starts the car and puts it into gear and then starts driving.]
Max: I can't believe you slept with that girl.
Drake: Really? You CAN”T believe it?
[Max chuckles.]
Max: Well I guess I could believe it.
[The two men share a quick laugh as the camera fades to black.]
Monday May 27th, 2013 5:45 pm
[The camera fades back into a large office. Beautiful wood with gold inlay lines covers the walls all the way to the built in bar along the back wall. The far wall has a large desk with papers shuffled around and three different computer screens on the top. Across from the desk is a large burgundy leather couch. With speakers on either side playing classical music. The front door to the office opens and in walks Drake and Max. Drake is wearing a light gray suit, brown leather shoes, and a lavender shirt with an open collar. Max, a black suit and blue shirt.]
Drake: Hello?
[A loud flush is heard from behind the bathroom door in the back of the office. Out walks Barry Goldstein who is wearing tan suit pants, an aqua green shirt, and a matching aqua green and blue striped tie.]
Barry: Champ! You made it! Come in and give me a hug.
[Barry walks over and gives a hug to Drake. He then turns and nods his head toward Max.]
Barry: Maxwell.
Max: Barry.
[He turns back toward Drake.]
Barry: So how does it feel to be the new Maritime champion?
[Drake sits down behind Barry’s desk.]
Drake: I gotta say, it’s pretty freakin’ awesome.
Barry: I bet it is.
[Barry opens up a small wooden humidor on his desk a pulls out a cigar. He offers one to Drake and Max but they decline. He pulls out a match and lights his stogie up.]
Max: So what’s the plan?
Drake: Yeah. Where are we going?
Barry: Aren’t we missing someone? I thought the girlfriend was coming. No?
Drake: Nope. She’s still at her mom’s in Philadelphia. Not coming back until next week.
Barry: Fantastic. Not like you’d be getting laid with Cherry the abstinent stripper anyway.
Drake: Easy, Barry.
Max: Well it’s not exactly like Mr. Showtime hasn’t been messing around up in the great white north.
[Drake shoots a look to Max.]
Barry: Another one?
Max: What do you mean another one?
Drake: Nothing.
Barry: You didn’t tell him?
Max: Tell me what?
Drake: Nothing.
Barry: Champ here got in on with Vanessa the cocktail waitress at a club last month.
Max: You’re amazing.
Drake: I-
Barry: So who was the other one?
Max: Elise Leblanc.
Barry: Frenchy?
Max: Yup.
Barry: Showtime you are a dog. She has a ridiculous set of-
[Drake cuts him off.]
Drake: Enough. Both of you. It’s none of your business what I do on my free time.
Max: You’re right, D.
Barry: Still she’s got an ass-
[Drake cuts him off again.]
Drake: Dude. Where are we going or do Max and I have to make our own reservations?
Barry: Relax, Champ.
[Barry picks his tan suit jacket up off the back of one of the chairs in front of the desk and puts it on.]
Drake: I am relaxed. But I’m also hungry.
Barry: And eat you shall. Like a king. Reservation for four, useless as it may be now, at Peter Luger’s.
Max: Sweet.
Barry: Then we have a private booth at Provocateur. That is of course if you can hang, Max.
Max: I can hang.
Drake: What are we waiting for then?
Barry: For you to tell me what Frenchy’s a-
[Cutting him off again.]
Drake: Drop it.
Barry: Fine dropped. For now…
[The camera fades to black as the three men walk out of the office.]
Monday May 27th, 2013 8:30 pm
[The camera fades back in to the three men sitting at a table in a restaurant finishing up their dinner. All three men are eating steak. Both Barry and Drake are drinking scotch on the rocks and Max is drinking water.]
Barry: So then I said to her, there’s no way in hell I’m ever going anywhere near San Francisco again!
[The three men burst into laughter, apparently after hearing a punch line to one of Barry’s stories.]
Drake: You are too much, Barry.
Barry: I know, I’ve been told.
Max: Thanks again for this spread. This is great.
Barry: Don’t thank me, thank this guy.
[Barry points to Drake.]
Barry: He keeps winning and we’re gonna eat like kings every night. That reminds me. We have a press conference at 9:15 tomorrow morning. You know, to go over the title win and the tournament coming up.
Max: We’ll be there.
Barry: I’m not worried about you being there, Macho Man.
Max: You know, that isn’t very funny.
Drake: Cool it you two.
Barry: Sorry, sorry.
Drake: You know Barry, don’t you have some family or anything? Somebody you’d rather spend Memorial Day with other than us?
Barry: Family? Who needs family? I’ve got two ex-wives that cost me $40,000 a month in alimony.
Max: Holy shit. That’s a lot of scratch.
Drake: No kids?
Barry: I’ve got a dog who’s name is Pete but my first wife won’t let me see him. Says I’m a bad influence. It’s like I’m so fucking terrible I’d give the dog bad ideas. Fucking bitch she is. I love that dog.
[Two waiters come over and clear the dishes off of the table. As his dish is cleared, Drake takes out his iPhone and begins to type on it.]
Barry: Again with the phone, Champ. You sexting Frenchy or what?
Max: No. He’s on twitter. He’s having a twitter feud.
Barry: What the fuck is a twitter feud?
Drake: Just these guys. Starting to annoy me that’s all.
Barry: Who?
Drake: Giani di Luca from SCW and this new guy Jericho Hill.
Barry: The guy with the…?
[Barry motions his hand around his face, mimicking a mask.]
Drake: Yeah, that guy.
Barry: What the hell are you wasting your time with these losers for? You’re a double champ now, D. Don’t bring yourself down to their level.
Drake: Yeah…
Max: Go ahead, tell him.
Drake: Hmm…
Barry: Tell me what?
Drake: Don’t get mad.
Barry: What is it?
Drake: I may have said yes to a tag match in SCW.
Barry: Are you fucking kidding me?
[Barry slams his glass of scotch down on the table.]
Drake: I told you not to get mad.
Barry: Don’t get mad? First you book yourself in this insane tournament on Thursday and now a tag match next weekend in SCW?
Max: It gets better. You’re gonna love this.
Barry: What?
Drake: It’s this weekend, not next weekend.
Barry: What the fuck is wrong with you!?
[He turns to Max.]
Barry: You’re supposed to watch him when I’m not around.
Drake: I can make decisions like this you know.
Barry: Oh really? Let me ask you a question. How you getting out there?
Drake: The jet, no?
Barry Aeh! Wrong answer! We only get to use the jet when I negotiate the costs into the appearance contract. What about hotels? Meals?
Drake: Umm.
Barry: And plus what if you get hurt. Are they covering that?
Drake: Umm.
Barry: Drake, you have me for a reason. Use me. You wanna fly all the way across the country because someone called your Momma fat on twitter, fine. Be an idiot. But at least let me get a five-star hotel thrown into it for you!
Drake: I’m sorry.
Barry: You should be. Now tell me why you wanna fight these guys so bad.
Drake: You know, its not so much di Luca. It’s really this Jericho Hill guy.
Barry: Why? What’s up with him? Did he bang Frenchy too?
Drake: Funny. He just irritates me that’s all.
Barry: Oh I see. Let’s waste our time with some idiot because he annoys you.
Drake: It’s more than that. There’s just something about this guy that irks me. It’s not because I feel threatened by him or anything like that because I don’t. He just irks me.
Barry: What are we children here?
Drake: Look the guy is an asshole ok? But he talks a big talk like he’s Spike f’n Staggs and I just want to shut him up. That’s all. I have an over-whelming urge to beat the living hell out of him. I understand I have nothing to gain by going out there but it’s just something I need to do. I need to step on this guy’s neck and feel it crack. Some one has to and it might as well be me. Over the last week and a half I have watched him belittle and annoy the hell out of everyone. His constant claims about being ‘God’ and from Valhalla and all this nonsensical crap about being a stripper. I don’t get it? Is he god? Is he stripping for money or is he just stripping in front of a mirror like he’s Buffalo Bill? The dude gives me the creeps and he’s gotta get shut up. If I don’t break him now I’ll have to listen to him talk shit for the next month and I don’t think I can take it anymore.
Barry: I don’t think you follow me, Champ. It’s not that you have nothing to gain. It’s that you have so much to lose. What if this guy breaks your arm. Or worse, what if he pins you? What if you lose?
Drake: Please. That’s not gonna-
[Cutting him off.]
Barry: Any given Sunday, Drake. Now I’m not gonna tell you to cancel it. Clearly you need to hurt this guy and I can understand that. I am a lawyer by trade. But next time, use your head. Get me involved.
Drake: Ok.
Barry: Good. Now what about the Italian wannabe?
Drake: Giani?
Barry: Yeah…
Drake: Honestly, I don’t know. I guess he was just an after thought. I didn’t give too much thought about him being there since I was so focused on choking the living hell out of this Jericho guy. Truth is, if he wasn’t such a dickbag I’d probably like him. He’s got talent but I don’t think he’s figured out how to use it yet. Keeps bitching about how he’s not getting respect and all that other immature bullshit. He’s not my problem. He’s all Thatcher’s. I just want Hill.
Barry: Rex?
Drake: Yeah. He’s my partner.
Barry: Hmm… What do you think about all of this, Slim Jim?
Max: Fuck you Barry!
[Drake and Barry crack up.]
Barry: At least we get to go to Vegas.
Drake: You know it.
Max: Umm, guys…
Barry: Yes, Mr. Savage?
[Drake and Barry chuckle again.]
Max: Nothing, never mind. To Provocateur?
Barry: You know it!
[The scene fades to black as Max gets up and Drake and Barry pound the rest of their drinks.]
Monday May 27th 2013 11:30 pm
[The scene fades into a large, packed club. There are tons of people dancing to the pounding house music on the dance floor that has a fountain in the middle of it. Along the back wall are several private, roped areas. In one of them sits, Drake, Max, and Barry. Barry is sitting next to a tall, skinny, blonde woman in a short green dress. Max is sitting with a brunette in a sparkly gold shirt and black leather pants. Drake sits opposite them on another smaller couch, peering into his iPhone and typing furiously.]
Barry: If you don’t put that phone down I’m gonna toss it into that fountain over there.
Drake: Don’t worry about what I’m doing.
Blonde: Come on, Drake. Join the party.
Brunette: Yeah, have some fun with us.
[Drake takes a hard look at his friends and their companions on the couch. He then peers slowly around the dance floor. He looks down at his empty glass of scotch and then looks around for the waitress. After a moment he decides to get up and go over to the bar. As he gets up, Max stops him.]
Max: You ok?
Drake: Yeah, I’m cool. I’ll be right back.
[Drake steps down into the dance floor with his empty glass and tries to push his way through the sea of people. When he finally makes it through and he sets himself up at the bar next to a young woman with dark hair that has bright pink highlights. She is wearing a sleek black dress with tall pink heels.]
Pink: Hi.
[Drake doesn’t pay much mind to her.]
Pink: Aren’t you…
Drake: No.
Pink: Are you sure?
Drake: Yeah, pretty sure.
[The bartender comes over and Drake asks for another scotch.]
Pink: That’s too bad.
[While Drake stares straight a head he hears another girl’s heels click-clack over to the other girl. They start talking and he notices the girls have very similar voices. He turns over to look and there is another girl in tall heels, except these are blue. She is wearing a near identical sleek black dress and has long dark hair with blue highlights in it. As she turns around he can clearly see that these girls are twin sisters.]
Blue: Oh my god, oh my god. You’re Drake Green!
[Drake rolls his eyes.]
Drake: You got me.
Blue: Oh my god! Can we have a picture?
Drake: Sure.
[The two girls lean into Drake and take photos of them selves with him.]
Pink: Will you come hang with us at our booth?
Drake: Sorry girls. Just not tonight.
Blue: Aww. Are you having a bad night?
Pink: We can make it better you know.
Drake: Girls I-
[The girl with the pink hair leans in and kisses Drake. As she does this, the blue-haired twin drops something into Drake’s glass of scotch that the bartender had just dropped off. She then picks up the drink and shoves it into Drake’s mouth. Holding it there while Drake drinks it down.]
Pink: Come on, let’s dance!
[The girls pull Drake onto the dance and they start to dance. Drake starts to feel woozy. His eyes start to burn as he tries to walk back toward the bar and almost instantaneously, he gets a feeling of euphoria. He starts to move with the music and dance with both girls. A giant smile comes across his face and the camera fades to black.]
Tuesday May 28th, 2013 8:50 am
[The camera fades in to a hotel room. It’s a pretty normal looking room, nothing too fancy about it. Tan colored walls with a big picture of a flowerpot above the bed and a TV across the way. In the bed are three people. Two girls with multi-colored highlights in their hair and a man. All of a sudden the man sits up in bed with almost a frightened look in his eyes. It’s Drake. He turns quickly toward the digital clock on the nightstand and he freaks out when he reads it and it says ‘8:50’. He looks to his right and sees the two girls and looks equally as frightened when he sees them. He pans around the room and looks for his clothes. As he sees them, he slips quietly out of the bed as to not wake anyone and the very carefully puts on his lavender shirt and his light gray suit pants. He checks to make sure he has his wallet and his phone and then picks up his shoes and his light gray suit jacket and bolts out the door. He runs quickly down the hallway, hopping a bit as he puts on his shoes, and catches the elevator. As he gets out to the lobby he darts out the front door to a crowded New York City street. He hails a cab and jumps in and then mumbles out some address where he hopes he has to be. He starts to realize that he’s still not sober. His head is pounding and his mouth is dry. He tries to recall the events from last night. He tries to recall how he ended up in a hotel bed with two young woman who had blue and pink highlights in their hair but he can’t remember a thing. All he can remember is that he has a press conference at 9:15 and Barry told him not to be late.
The cab pulls up to a building and Drake throws some money at him. As he jumps out of the cab he starts to feel a bit dizzy. He looks at his platinum watch and he thinks it reads 9:10 but he’s not too sure. He busts through the front door of the building and then off through a hallway down the left side of the lobby. He comes to a side door where two large men are wearing black ‘SECURITY’ t-shirts. He walks through the door and he sees Max, who is wearing a blue suit and a white shirt.]
Max: Jesus Christmas, D. Where the hell have you been?
Drake: I don’t know what happened. I woke up in a hotel room.
Max: Barry is freaking out.
Drake: What else is new. How do I look?
Max: Like shit.
[Barry walks into the room wearing a black suit with light blue pinstripes, a white shirt and a bright blue tie. He is talking on his unnecessarily large Bluetooth device that is sticking out of his ear.]
Barry: I gotta go, Chuck.
[He turns to Drake.]
Barry: Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to call you all morning.
Drake: Sorry, my phone is-
[He gets interrupted by Barry giving him a giant hug.]
Barry: Thank God! I thought you’ve been kidnapped.
Drake: I’m ok. Just a little woozy.
Barry: Well straighten up. You’re going out there.
Drake: Wait. I think I need a minute to-
[Barry pulls Drake by the arm and drags him to a door way and then shoves him through. He stands shocked to see a couple dozen reporters and photographers in the room waiting anxiously to greet him. He starts to feel dizzy again as he makes his way toward to the podium. He looks up at the reporters and they start to ask questions.]
Reporter 1: Drake, how does it feel to be the new Maritime champion?
Drake: Umm…great. It…um…feels great.
Reporter 2: How much did this boost your confidence going into the annual King of the Death Matches tournament?
[The flashing lights begin to take a toll on Drake’s eyes and he starts to wobble toward his right.]
Drake: They…umm…it…umm…I think I need some water.
[He takes one step to the right and then crashes down, face first to the floor. A loud gasp is heard through the crowd as the reporters come up and snap pictures of Mr. Showtime on the ground. Barry and Max come running over with the two security guards.]
Barry: Nothing to see folks. Press conference is over. Thanks for coming.
[Max and one of the security guards help Drake to his feet and bring him back into the other room and close the door. They sit him on a chair and Barry walks back in.]
Barry: Is he ok?
Max: I think so. I think he’s just dehydrated.
[The other security guard brings over a cup of water.]
Barry: Out of all the days today is the day you decide to go out and do drugs. All the times you could’ve gotten blasted with me…No! Not good enough. But I’m sure some slut comes along and boom! You’re Jim fucking Morrison!
Max: Relax will you, Barry.
[Max turns to Drake.]
Max: You ok?
Drake: Yeah I think I’m good.
Barry: This is a PR nightmare, Champ.
Drake: Barry, do me a favor?
Barry: What?
Drake: Shut up. You’re making my headache worse.
[Drake stands up and walks over to Barry.]
Barry: This is the biggest press conference we’ve had so far.
Drake: I don’t care about this stupid f’n press conference. I don’t care about your rules and I really don’t care about being some mainstream superstar.
[Max smiles.]
Drake: I’m with you man. I’m on board but don’t forget that I’m a wrestler. I’m not an actor or a model. My entire existence is based on aggression and impulse. Yeah I screwed up and probably did something I shouldn’t have last night. But so what. The only two things on my mind right now are King of the Death Matches and Jericho fucking Hill. I don’t care about public appearances or anything else. After I walk into the Prudential Center on Thursday and win, I’m gonna go to Vegas and all my attention is gonna go to Hill. All of it. And maybe after I kick his tiny little head in, then and ONLY then will I do a press conference. Are we clear?
Barry: Yeah, Champ. Loud and.
Drake: Good.
[Drake walks back over to the chair and sits back down. He picks up his water and takes a few big gulps.]
Drake: Now, where are we staying in Vegas?
[Barry relaxes a bit.]
Barry: Where else? The Hard Rock, baby.
[Max tries to interrupt.]
Barry: Three days and two nights of the most ridiculous shit in the world. I got strippers, I got private blackjack tables and I got private sections of clubs baby. After you waste that weirdo Hill, it’s all about party-time with the hottest chicks on the strip. Bought and paid for, bitches. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas baby.
Max: Umm…
Barry: What is it Slim Jim? I’m having a moment here.
Max: I know its called Sin City Wrestling and everything, but this weekend’s show isn’t in Vegas.
Drake: What?
Barry: Where the hell is it then?
Max: Hayward, California.
Drake: Where the hell is that?
Max: About a half hour east of San Francisco.
Barry: Oh, come on!
[The camera fades to black as Max and Drake chuckle.]
