That’s not good.
Tom rushes over to the aide of Wyatt Peterson. Wyatt’s was just thrown shoulder first into the ring post. Even with Wyatt’s size, he is no match for solid steel. Casey shows no concern for Wyatt as he turns his attention elsewhere. Then Tom gets to Wyatt, he is writhing on the ground holding his shoulder.
Wyatt: It hurts, Tom. Ah’ve never hurt this bad.
Tom makes an “X” by crossing his arms over his head to signal that Wyatt was legitimately hurt.
Tom: Where does it hurt?
It sounds like a stupid question, but minor details such as a pinnacle of the pain may give more insight into what kind of injury it is. Wyatt wasn’t much help.
Wyatt: It’s mah damn shoulder. Where the hell did ya think it hurt?
The medical staff comes out to attend to Wyatt.
Trainer: Wyatt, I need you to hold still.
Wyatt: Ah’ll try.
The trainer attempts to move Wyatt’s arm. Wyatt’s defensive instincts kick in as he pulls away and uses his powerful legs to launch the trainer ten feet away. The trainer doesn’t look too pleased as Wyatt’s tag team partner, Sean Williams comes over to check on Wyatt.
Sean: How’s he doing?
Tom: It’s definitely a bad shoulder injury. Not sure how bad though.
Trainer: Can you guys help him to the back? I don’t think we should be out here examining him.
The trainer’s eyes shoot nervously to the ring where the Aristocrats are intensely battling Jordan and Casey Williams.
Tom: No problem. Wyatt, we’ve got to get you to the back. Do you think you can get up on your own?
The pain is visible in Wyatt’s eyes as he clutches his shoulder. Wyatt closes his eyes and shakes his head.
Tom: Alright, we’re going to help you up.
Tom grabs Wyatt by his good arm.
Tom: Are you ready?
Wyatt gulps before nodding. Tom carefully pulls Wyatt to his feet. Wyatt holds his shoulder against his side as Tom and Sean steady him from either side. They make their way up the ramp as the scene fades.
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Tom (Whispering): Wyatt?
Tom slowly pushes open the door of Wyatt’s hospital room. Before it’s fully open, a nurse comes out of the room, pushing Tom away from the door in the process.
Nurse: I’m sorry, sir, but it is after visiting hours and Mr. Peterson is asleep. The only people allowed into patient rooms after visiting hours are family. Are you family?
Tom starts to shake his head, but stops himself.
Tom: He’s pretty much like a little brother to me. Please let me go in to see him. I promise I won’t wake him.
Nurse: I’m sorry, sir, you must be a blood relative to be able to enter that room.
A man wearing scrubs walks into the room, closing the door behind him.
Tom: What about that guy? He’s definitely not family.
The nurse looks at Tom, unamused.
Nurse: He is a doctor. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.
Tom: But…
The nurse gives Tom a stern look as she points down the hallway towards where the elevators are located. Tom slowly starts walking in the direction of the elevators. The doctor comes back out of Wyatt’s room and says something to the nurse. The two of them walk off in the opposite direction, leaving Tom an opportunity to slink into Wyatt’s room. Tom quietly closes the door behind him. He grabs a chair and places it next to Wyatt’s bed. Tom sits down and looks at Wyatt.
Tom: Casey’s a son of a bitch for doing this to you.
After a moment of silence, Tom gets up to grab Wyatt’s chart from the foot of the bed before sitting back down. Tom starts flipping through the chart. He grimaces when he finds Wyatt’s diagnosis.
Tom: Broken clavicle? Looks like you’re going to be out for about two months. That’s going to set you back a little bit in your training. Someone needs to teach Casey a lesson. Too bad I’m retired…
Tom’s voice trails off. He pulls out his phone and sends a direct message to SCW Co-Owner Mark Ward on Twitter (@SCWBossHS). The message said:
Wyatt’s out for 2 months. I’m willing to fill the gap in the roster, but I want Casey.
Tom puts his phone back into his pocket.
Tom: I know you were looking forward to going to Europe. You woulda liked it. I’ll take lots of pictures for you.
Tom sighs loudly.
Tom: I should let you rest up. You need to heal up and get back into the ring.
Tom stands up and lightly pats Wyatt’s hand so as not to wake him.
Tom: Get well, buddy.
Tom walks out of the room. The door clicks shut as the scene fades.
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A few hours later, Tom receives a one-word twitter message back from Mark Ward.
Done
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The scene opens inside of the darkened bedroom of the apartment that Tom Dudely has rented for a week. He would only be in Venice, Italy for a day, but it was more convenient than staying at a hotel. A couple of beams of light have found their way around the drawn curtain to illuminate the room in a dull gray color. Tom is lying on top of the covers, his body is spread in such a way to take up the entire queen sized mattress. Tom starts to stir from his sleep. He pulls himself to a half-sitting position and grabs his phone from the bedside table to take a look at the time. Tom closes his eyes and flops back down into the bed, still clutching the phone.
Tom: Ugh! It’s not even seven? This time zone change is gonna kill me.
Tom slowing pulls himself to a sitting position on the side of the bed. After a moment, he pulls himself to his feet with a groan. With his arms reaching towards the ceiling, Tom stretches his entire body, even standing on his tip-toes to stretch his feet. As he relaxes the stretch, Tom stumbles a little, putting his hand on the bedside table to steady himself. Once regaining his balance, Tom shuffles over to the window and throws open the curtains. The room is immediately flooded with the orange glow of the early morning Venetian sun. Tom shades his eyes with his arm until his eyes are able to adjust to the light. Tom takes in the view of the streets of Venice from the third story flat. The streets are already populated with, by Tom’s guess, locals trying to get their errands ran before the tourists took over for the day.
Tom: It’s a good looking morning. What better way to check out the city than to go for a jog?
Tom walks over to the foot of the bed where his duffle bag had tossed carelessly the previous night. He digs around until he finds his jogging shorts and an old t-shirt with the GCW logo emblazoned across the front. He puts them on and grabs his phone. Before heading out the door, Tom taps a quick message to his Twitter followers.
7 am in Venice. Going for a jog. Hope I don’t get lost.
He clicks the button to send his tweet before stuffing the phone into his pocket. He walks out of the room as the scene fades.
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A smoky fog fills the bakery. College students that are on spring break make up most of the crowd. In the far back corner, two men are sharing a plate of brownies.
Tom: Good call with the milk. It totally helps the brownies go down.
Tom’s companion, SCW Interviewer “Stoner” Scott Oliver, swallows down another bite.
Stoner: Of course it was a good call. Who do you think you’re talkin’ to? I’ve been eating special brownies since I was a kid.
Tom: Why call them special brownies? It’s legal here. Call them what they really are.
Stoner shrugs.
Stoner: I dunno. I kinda like calling them special brownies. It makes them seem more… mysterious.
Tom laughs and shrugs.
Tom: Yeah, I guess it don’t really matter. Didn’t I tell you they were good brownies though?
Stoner nods as his mouth is full with another bite of brownie.
Tom: It was really nice of Mark to find this place. I might make this a regular vacation spot.
Tom takes another bite of brownie. After a couple of chews, Tom takes a gulp of milk to help it go down.
Stoner: Dude! Did I tell you that I finally got hired on full time?
Tom quickly finishes swallowing.
Tom: That’s awesome, dude. Congrats.
Stoner: Yeah. I got the call from Christian the other day. Perfect timing, too. They paid for my trip out here.
Tom: I coulda had them pay for mine, but I wanted to hit up Italy first. They weren’t willing to spring for the ticket if I wasn’t going to the show. Venice was worth it though.
Stoner: Did you eat some pizza.
Tom looks at Stoner like he’s out of his mind.
Tom: Duh! It’s Italy. They put some weird shit on their food though. The pizza I tried had cream cheese, peas, and potatoes.
Stoner: That sounds delicious.
Tom raises an eyebrow at Stoner.
Tom: Seriously, dude?
Stoner holds his hands up in innocence.
Stoner: What? I’ve got the munchies. I’d even eat McDonald’s if it were put in front of me right now.
As if by some form of magic, a hand comes out of the fog and places a basket containing a hamburger and fries on the table. Tom and Stoner look at each other shocked.
Tom and Stoner: Woah…
Stoner: That was trippy.
Tom: Yeah. I haven’t seen anything that cool since that time I hung out with Gabriel.
Tom stares absentmindedly at the wall which is covered in neon colored posters that are illuminated by black lights. After a couple of moment, Tom seems to snap out of it and grabs a fry from the “magic” basket.
Tom: You know what I found really interesting about Italy?
Tom puts the fry into his mouth before continuing.
Tom: They’re totally obsessed with wieners.
Stoner is caught off guard and starts choking on his mouthful of fries. Tom starts laughing uncontrollably until Stoner starts coughing chunks of food onto the table.
Tom: That’s gross, dude.
Stoner: You’re the one who was talking about wieners.
Tom: Well it’s true! It seemed like all of their paintings and statues were of naked dudes. Haven’t you ever heard of the statue of David?
Stoner scratches his head before shaking his head.
Stoner: Nope. It must be something they taught in high school. I was usually high when I showed up.
Tom: It’s a statue of a naked dude with a big ass but a small wiener.
Stoner: How small are we talkin’?
Tom: That's really the first thing that popped into your head?
Stoner nods.
Tom: Well, let’s just say that he could never pull off being a top.
Stoner looks confused. Tom quickly changes the subject.
Tom: I’ve always been curious. Why’d you start smoking weed in the first place?
Stoner shrugs.
Stoner: I dunno. Something to do?
They both start laughing hysterically. Stoner’s laugh mellows a bit.
Stoner: Wait. Why are you laughing?
Tom’s face gets dead serious.
Tom: I dunno. Something to do?
Both men start laughing again, even harder this time. Tom stops suddenly.
Tom: Did you just hear the picture move?
Both men look at the picture over their table suspiciously.
Stoner: I dunno. Looks like it’s in the same place to me.
Tom: What do you mean? It’s moving right now. Look at it.
Stoner stares at it for a moment.
Stoner: I don’t see it. Dude, those brownies must be messing with ya hardcore.
Waiter: Can I get ya some more brownies, mon?
The men are startled and quickly turn to face the waiter, a tall, skinny, black man with long dreadlocks. The best way to describe his appearance would be Rastafarian. He spoke with a Jamaican accent. The Stoner leans across the table and audibly whispers to Tom.
Stoner: I thought we were in Amsterdam? What’s with the Jamaican guy?
Tom just shrugs, too captivated by the waiter’s hair to give it a second thought. He reaches out to touch it, but the waiter smacks his hand away.
Tom: Dude, just let me touch the octopus on your head.
Waiter: What de ‘ell is wrong with ya white boys?
Stoner: I dunno. Maybe the brownies were made with a bad batch.
Waiter: Ya know those weren’t special brownies, right?
Tom suddenly sobers up. Stoner just nods and laughs.
Tom: What the hell do you mean they weren’t special brownies?
The waiter shrugs.
Waiter: We were outta da special ones so I gave ya regular brownies.
Tom turns to Stoner.
Tom: You knew they were regular brownies?
Stoner: Yeah. I could tell by the taste.
Tom: Then why’d you let me go on acting like an idiot.
Stoner shrugs.
Stoner: I dunno. Something to do?
Tom and Stoner burst into uncontrollable laughter as the scene fades.
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Stoner: Ladies and gentlemen, I am happy to introduce a man who’s getting ready to have his first match in three years, Tom Dudely.
We are now backstage at the University Sports Centre at Amsterdam University. Tom, wearing jean shorts, sunglasses, and a newly designed “Who’s Your Dudely?” t-shirt, is standing next to SCW’s newest interviewer, “Stoner” Scott Oliver. They are doing an interview for Tom’s upcoming match against Casey Williams.
Stoner: Tom, you were so set on retiring for good. You said that you were never stepping into the ring again. What made you change your mind?
Tom: Before I answer your question, I want everyone to feast their eyes on this.
Tom points at his shirt.
Tom: The new “Who’s Your Dudely?” t-shirt. Available only as scwrestling.net.
Stoner: Nice plug.
Tom: Thank you. As far as why I’ve decided to get back into the ring, it’s really quite obvious. What Casey Williams did two weeks ago was completely uncalled for. He fractured Wyatt’s clavicle by throwing him into the ring post after Wyatt had already been eliminated from the match. I, being a man who honors the sport of wrestling, feel that Casey needs to show some respect to the sport and all it stands for.
Stoner: Is wrestling a sport?
Tom: Yeah, it is.
Stoner: Other people may not agree.
Tom: Like who?
Stoner: Like Vin...
Tom quickly puts his hand over the Stoner's mouth, hushing him.
Tom: Okay. Okay. Let's move on. We don't need a lawsuit on our hands.
Stoner: Okay. Are you sure you didn’t just decide to do this so you can get a free trip to Europe?
Tom: I’ll admit. I’ve been living it up out here. I’m sure you will agree that we’ve had a good time.
Stoner nods.
Tom: But Casey… that boy has be infuriated right now. First he injures Wyatt, then, when I call him out on it, he starts calling me names. String bean, has-been, inbred, the only compliment he gave was on the way my legs look in my shorts. He talks about Dudelyville being a hick town. He should really do his homework. Dudelyville is home to the world famous Table Museum. It’s where they house the table that Robert E. Lee signed the confederate surrender to Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox. If you don’t know what that is then pick up a history book. Casey, you’re bigger than me. There’s no doubt that you can do damage. But, I’ve faces bigger. I’ve faced badder. There used to be a guy in GCW named Apocalypse.
Tom makes a cross pattern across his chest before pointing to the sky.
Tom: He was one bad ass dude, but I beat him on every occasion that we met. The way I look at it, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. You’re just another big, big man that’s going to be taking a big, big fall. After I pin you, you’re going to find yourself rocking in a corner repeating “Tom’s my Dudely.” I’ll see you in the ring.
Tom walks away, clearly pumped for the match. The scene fades.
