{I Got My Speakers on Wrecked}
{Cut Scene}
We roll into the green room, a small closet-like space with green screen on the back wall, a microphone that is barely in the line of the shot, and a white director’s chair right in the middle. The camera adjusts slightly so that you only see the image on the screen, which is the New York skyline, with the BACW logo layered over it. Within seconds, “The Italian Stallion” Giani Di Luca comes walking onto the scene. He is wearing a navy blue t-shirt with grey tattoo design all over it, a silver chain adorning an iced out cross, silver rim sunglasses, dark skinny jeans, and while we can’t see his feet at the moment, you just know the kid is rollin’ in fresh white sneakers. C’MON!
Giani takes his time getting comfortable in the canvas chair, adjusting his body so that the camera gets a perfect angle. (As if there was only one perfect angle, right?) He looks at his reflection in the lens and adjusts any hair out of place, even though it doesn’t appear out of place to the naked eye. He picks at his front teeth and then gives a thumbs up to the camera, leaning back.
Giani: Here we are again, almost a year later, dawg. So, so, so many things have changed since you last saw my perfectly chiseled ass in the Mid-Atlantic region, ey? Some people’s grew smarter, some people’s got wiser. Some people’s grew richer, or better lookin’, or healthier… You get my point don’t ya?
Giani leans back in his chair and props his right, sparkling fresh white sneaker on his left knee and he points his fingers together in contemplation. He taps his index fingers together carefully as he thinks to himself. A sly, cocky grin grows over his face and he looks to the camera once more with his signature obnoxious laugh.
Giani: Of course them things is only true if you’re talkin’ about Giani Di Luca, am I right? Of course I am cause I’m that guy; The Italian Stallion. When I look in the mirror, I see the reflection of perfection. Freakin’ A, bro. You know what I’m sayin’, don’t ya? Probably not cause half the people that watch BACW programmin’ is like half retarded or somethin’. Hahahaha!
After another hearty chuckle Giani just shakes his head. He leans forward as he takes in a purposely strained breath for emphasis, causing a very audible deep squeak. He exhales the breath and then rolls his eyes.
Giani: Okay, that ain’t fair of me to say. Not all of the audience is half retarded. Most, but not all. Ya got ya skeez balls, perverts jerkin’ it to Vixen matches in their mother’s basement, The Spectre’s imaginary friends, and people who can relate to E.D. I would list Jamie Staggs, but he falls into the retard department. So why the fuck would someone as talented, strong, intelligent, smart, and down right freakin’ sexy such as myself wanna sign up for ANYTHING with the label of BACW?
Giani stares. He does nothing else but stare blankly into the camera for nearly a full minute. It would appear that nothing is going on upstairs, but a quiver in the bottom left side of his mouth where a smile is trying to break through lets us know otherwise.
Giani: It’s because I want the world to know that I changed. I ain’t that kid who rolls around, makin’ people laugh, fist pumpin’ to get the fans goin’, bein’ somebody’s lackey bitch boy like I was in 2012. I ain’t the pathetic little boy that got the fuck beat outta him by some vampire chick at the last King of the Deathmatch Tournament. I’m harder, better, faster, and stronger than I was when you last watched me perform. I was a rookie then, but I learned some lessons thanks to our World Heavyweight Champion, Spike Staggs. I learned to look out for myself, cause no one else is gonna do it for me. I learned how to go in for the kill, and take what I want, when I want, and I want to be crowned 2013 King of the Deathmatch. I’m goin’ in for it, and nobody is gonna be able to stop me… You can’t touch me, bro…
Giani points out at the camera giving a cocky smirk and wink as we fade in.
{End Cut Scene}
{King of SWAG!}
A lot of people who don’t pay much attention to Sin City Wrestling news have this image in their heads of Giani Di Luca. They picture “The Italian Stallion” hustling the crowd for cheers, and his opponents for victories. He held the BACW Empire State Championship for nearly six months! They remember his boyish charm from his times on the show Fuhgeddaboudit, hitting up Club Karma with his housemates, drinking ungodly amounts of alcohol, and training with his friend, Teddy. Some might even remember the day NWA World Heavyweight Champion, Spike Staggs, took the young steed under his wing with promises of taking him to the top. Giani Di Luca put on that New X-Tremes t-shirt and he faded off in the distance. Not much could change within a year, right?
We fade in to see Giani Di Luca lying under the white sheets of his bed with a bundle of wadded up blankets on the bed next to his unconscious body. He is snoring away with his hands tucked behind his head. His hair is a mess as the midday sun creeps up around the corner of the blinds. He winces a bit, but just tilts his head over to the side as his snores fade out. His lips move a bit as a hand slides up from under the sheets. It caresses his chest before working over to his silver nipple ring, twisting it suddenly. A form slowly creeps from under the wads of blankets and works up his legs until a head stops right at his hips. Two more hands work up from the side as the giggling of a woman is heard during the moans of another. Giani sighs as he tilts his head to the other side. His dark eyes flutter open and a smile works over his face. He chuckles as one blonde girl comes up from under the covers. She leans up to kiss him, but his eyes get narrow as he laughs.
Giani: Ya breath still smells like my {BEEP} for real. What, you didn’t brush ya damn teeth er somethin’?
Blonde: We thought you would like a wake up {BEEP} baby.
Giani maneuvers his hips a bit as an annoyed grunt comes from under the sheets. A brunette comes from under the covers with a look that asks “What gives?” She is ready to verbalize her question when Giani looks at her as if she were the dumbest person on Earth. He waits for her to realize something, but then realizes he would be waiting forever if he did that. He leans in and sniffs the brunettes breath and then does his signature laugh.
Giani: Either you both are some nasty ass Jersey skanks who don’t own a toothbrush, or ya forgot the Golden Rule of riding the Stallion, which is…
Both girls look at each other confused as Giani waits once more to see if they had a brain cell amongst the two of them. The blonde twirls her hair around her fingers while the brunette does a breath check, completely ignoring his request for an answer. He raises his eyebrows, moving his two fingers around in a circle as if it would help them figure it out quicker. Finally he just shakes his head.
Giani: I didn’t think girls could be any more stupid than they are in Vegas, but then I come back to Jersey and realize they can get a lot skankier, and a lot more stupid! I ain’t ringin’ either of your fingers. I ain’t buyin’ ya roses and diamonds and f*ckin’ chocolates. I ain’t datin’ ya, so why the f*ck would I want to wake up to see two sluts sleepin’ in my bed? NO OVERNIGHTS!
The girls look angered by Giani’s words, as they stare at him. He glares at both of them for what seems like a minute before he slowly starts pointing to the door. They follow his direction, but roll their eyes as the blonde almost starts giggling. They think he is joking as they both go in for a kiss. Giani forcefully points at the door and then screams at the top of his lungs in a booming voice.
Giani: THAT WAS YA CUE TO GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE! HIT THE ROAD SKANKS! DON’T LET THE DOOR HIT YA ASS ON THE WAY OUT!
Blonde: You’re a’ asshole!
The girls both look at him and then promptly slap him before collecting their clothing. They whisper to each other while glaring back at him as they work toward the door. Giani gently cups his hand and raises it above his head, moving it from side to side in a sarcastic wave.
Giani: Thanks for takin’ my {BEEP}, it was fun, you was amazin’, and all that bullshit you ladies like hearin’. Tell ya friends, but don’t come back… Cab number is printed on the doorway. Don’t thank me, I know I’m a f*ckin’ sweetheart…
They slam the door closed behind them and Giani pulls his underwear back up around his waist. He pulls the sheets off of him and picks up a pair of Adidas shorts from next to his bed. He pulls them up and stretches his hands up above his head as he yawns. He is startled when the door flies open and an excited James Huntington-Hawkes III comes running in to the room. He is practically jumping up and down as he skids to a stop in front of Giani who raises an eyebrow at his friend.
JHHIII: Dude! She let me play with her boobies!
Giani has just gotten over the shock of James barging in when he drops this bombshell of a surprise on him. Giani blinks for a second as his jaw drops. A split second later, he starts laughing. James stops his bouncing and looks a little confused at Giani’s reaction. He almost looks a little angered by the reaction he receives, but Giani pulls him away from the door for a second.
Giani: Yo, dawg… play it cool bro. I’mma take a guess that you let her stay the night cause I still smell rotten fish, and I know we ain’t in South America no more, right?
JHHIII: No, but close. We’re in New Jersey, and that’s only like a fraction better than South America. But what is your point?
Giani: My point is that you don’t ever, EVER ring nothin’ that comes out of New Jersey, or even somethin’ that is close enough to Jersey. Ya wrap it, ya stick it, and ya send it on back to the sewer. If you let a girl spend the night, then they think they’re ya girlfriend or somethin’. Then they want ya money, and clothes that cover their asses and breasts, and then all of the fun is over, and ya broke.
James looks at Giani for a second and then contemplates what his friend is telling him. He grimaces at the idea, but then thinks back to the fun he had over night with his “special friend” for the evening. He looks around at the nice things Giani has in his home, and for New Jersey, it really is quite nice. He looks back into Giani’s eyes in all seriousness.
JHHIII: Broke, broke? Like, MC Hammer broke?
Giani: Yeah buddy… So broke ya gotta rely on royalties from “make that motherf*cker Hammer Time” and a McDonald’s wage to survive.
James falls down to his knees and looks up at the ceiling as we move in overhead. He raises his fists in the air as if he had heard that all babies and puppies had just been executed.
JHHIII: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
Giani holds onto his ears and just raises an eyebrow as he looks over to the camera. He waits for James’ pained cry to stop for nearly a minute until he just yanks James back up to a standing position. James clears his throat and then looks back to Giani with his excited expression on his face.
JHHIII: I’m glad I realized you aren’t like all of those disgusting poor people who normally wrestle. Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to look out for me like this. I don’t want to become… like them…
Giani: Nobody around here realizes that we are the only ones who matter around… well, anywhere. That’ll make it easier for us to climb to the top. Hell, nobody expected me to beat Frost last week, but what did I do? I massacred him. I shit on his whole life, bro. Nobody thought I could do it, but I did, and I didn’t even break a f*ckin’ sweat, dawg.
JHHIII: You could have fooled me… “bro”… When you came back to the Team Erik locker room, you smelled like a dirty meatball and…
Without any kind of warning, Giani promptly smacks the Brat Prince across the back of the head, making him rub it tenderly while glaring at Giani. Giani shakes his head slowly before reaching down to pick up a pair of black and white Adidas shorts and slipping them on. He walks over toward the door, rushing James along with him. They are met by James’ bodyguard/servant, Simpson. The tall, bald-headed man-beast stands there, mild mannered as usual, with two glasses of orange juice on a serving plate, heading toward Giani’s room. Thanklessly both men snatch the glasses from the plate and take a few sips as they continue down the long, naturally lit corridor with a beachside view.
Giani: Like I was sayin’ before you used a dirty slur about my people…
JHHIII: Are you being serious right now? I watched Jersey Shore for five minutes once, and they called each other meatballs like ten times.
Giani: It’s only alright when we call each other that, bro. Anyway, would you let me get to my point already? I was about to say that everyone thinks we are some kind of a joke. I don’t know if they are in like some kind of denial or somethin’, or if they are just jealous cause I look better crawlin’ outta bed at the crack of noon than they do when they get all did up, but clearly they don’t get it. There are only three people that matter in the entire NWA. Misty, you, and myself… Do ya see where I’m goin’ with this?
James nods his head as they continue on toward the balcony door. He is suddenly overcome with confusion and stops just short of the door, and then shakes his head.
JHHIII: No… No I don’t.
Giani: What do people call Misty?
JHHII: A pasty-faced bitch?
Giani tries hard not to laugh, covering his mouth to keep his reaction concealed. He shakes his head from side to side, nearly choking on his laughter. James slides the door open and they walk out onto the large balcony, taking a seat in the lounge chairs set up to overlook the beach. James thinks it over more carefully before responding.
JHHIII: Well obviously it has to be something about being either pale or a bitch, because nobody ever says anything else about her except maybe that she’s a lesbian? Hey wait a minute… Are you coming out to me, because I don’t think I swing that way…
Giani: Jesus f*ckin’ Christ, bro… What I was gettin’ at is that she is known as The Queen of the Damned. Now, what do they call you?
Giani kicks his bare feet up onto the lounge chair before taking a sip from his orange juice. James’ eyes widen and then he seems to get it. He mimics Giani’s pose, trying to look cool as he takes a sip from his orange juice as well.
JHHIII: I don’t even want to repeat half of the lies they tell about me, but you are probably getting at me being the Brat Prince, right?
Giani: Yeeeeah buddy!
James nods his head is if some sort of music was playing to up his swag, but it just isn’t quite working. Giani raises an eyebrow and then shakes his head from side to side. James quickly stops and passively drinks from his orange juice. His eyes wander around the waves of the ocean, as they seem to mesmerize him. Suddenly he realizes something.
JHHIII: I know that you are a kick ass wrestler, but what is the connection between the three of us?
Giani: Look, bro… the answer is gonna come up and smack ya in the face. Brat Prince… Queen of the Damned… And on May 30th, I will be KING of the Deathmatch.
As if the secret to life had just been revealed to James, his eyes widen and he lets out an audible “Ohhhhhhhhh…” and then he nods his head and points at Giani after clicking his jaw. Giani gets a cocky smirk on his face and his signature laugh escapes his lips. James tries to mimic the laugh, but it is an epic fail, causing Giani to groan, shaking his head as we fade out.
{I Got My Speakers on Wrecked}
{Cut Scene}
We return to the green room where Giani sits in the black canvas chair. He is wearing his sunglasses, and his black Italian Stallion tank top proudly. He is leaned back in his chair, looking comfortable with his hands laced behind his head and a smile on his face.
Giani: So tonight, I got a “special meetin’” with The Queen of the Damned, Misty. We’re gonna walk around the Boardwalk, and I’m gonna lay it on thick so she has no choice but to give in. I’m viewin’ this as more of a challenge now. Of course I’m diggin’ her, but it’s even more incentive to win on account of my pride now. I ain’t never been turned down by a girl that was into guys. Hell, I even turned some chicks who was lesbionic.
Giani leans forward, flipping his glasses onto his forehead. His eyes are lit up with determination and excitement all at once. He laughs a little in a nervous manner.
Giani: What can I say? I’m just that good at what I do. Ain’t no shame in my game. Besides, I could use some stress relief going into this tournament cause I wouldn’t wanna slip up and make a mistake cause I noticed the bubbies on the broad in the third row behind the time table who is cheerin’ for the other guy. Get my mind off of it, and there is no way I won’t win this.
Giani shrugs his shoulders and puts his hands out to the side as if he realizes he can’t help but be honest. He flashes his perfectly white smile at the camera and arches his brows innocently.
Giani: It never fails. Take some broad on the Boardwalk, win her a stuffed bear shootin’ some hoops, show her my impressive Ski Ball skills, take her on the Ferris Wheel, and it’s a done deal, panties is hittin’ my bedroom floor. It’s like an unwritten rule or somethin’… We’ll see, cause this one is a tough nut to bust… er crack I mean. Yeah, that’s it… Hahaha!
Giani laughs for quite a while, obviously with a few drinks in him as this point. He moves forward with a pimp lean for emphasis of his confidence. Giani’s laughter fades as does the cut scene.
{End Cut Scene}
{That’s Amore! (Part II)}
“Die Young” by Ke$ha pans in as we get a shot of the Jersey Shore Boardwalk from a distance. The moon doesn’t compare to all of the lights of the various attractions that seem to glow almost as bright as a little shard of Vegas. The water ripples against the wooden walkway as we switch to the Boardwalk itself. Standing in front of the Ferris Wheel, Giani Di Luca is looking mint in his fresh white sneakers, tight fitting jeans white tattoo design climbing up the left leg, and a tribal tattoo design tank top to show off his massive arms. He pops his iced out chain, and despite the lack of sun, he is wearing his signature cross designed sunglasses. He leans against the red railing leading to the gate of the Ferris Wheel, checking out some of the fine pieces that walk by. He lifts up his sunglasses as he enjoys one specifically, a fiery redhead wearing almost nothing but some torn jean shorts and a shirt that hardly qualifies as one. He narrows his eyes and puckers his lips as he sighs in delight. She looks back at him with a wink as she shakes it on her way out of the shot. Giani doesn’t do the chase because he gets chased enough as it is. He plays it cool and glances on down the Boardwalk. Sticking out like a sore thumb, The Queen of the Damned saunters through the crowds of people. Her duster jacket swings against her stocking-clad legs leading up to a modest (for the Shore) black skirt adorned with a silver skull and purple ruby eyes as a belt buckle. A leather corset with purple lace seems to push everything up front, and Giani mouths “Daaaaamn…” He tries to look as if he hasn’t noticed her, but the half smile on her face lets up know he failed.
Giani fans his face with a wad of cash, as if that would impress Misty. She walks up to him and pulls it out of her hands and tosses it behind her, letting it rain down to the ground. She rolls her eyes as Giani mimics this.
Giani: You didn’t even try to blend in, did ya? Hahahaha!
Misty looks around at the various skanks and unkempt women walking around in half beachwear, and half Real Jersey Housewives and she nearly gags. She gives him a playful shove as Giani almost looks surprised at her actions.
Misty: How do I say it politely…? Hell f*cking no!
Giani: C’mon!!! It ain’t even half that bad. You got the right amount of ass to pull it off, girl.
Misty almost looks offended as she gives him another shove. Giani shrugs and laugh his obnoxious laugh before giving her a playful shoulder nudge that sends her back a few inches. She slaps his shoulder and adjusts her jacket to conceal her perfectly balanced backside. She shoots him a devious glare before leaning against the railing next to Giani. She looks down at her feet, feeling something slippery underneath her boots, only to notice that someone had thrown up right where she stands. Her face twists in disgust.
Misty: Nice… Why did we come to this dump again? I thought Vegas was a pit of filth, but the second I stepped onto the Boardwalk, I was hit with the stench of fake Noir and urine.
Giani: It’s all about where ya roots are sometimes. I grew up here, and even though I got a taste of the good life, I gotta remember where I came…
Giani’s attention is taken away as a tall, slender blonde walks right by them. His eyes follow her clear across the boardwalk. He is only brought back to reality when he feels Misty’s icy stare resting on him. She puts her hands on her hips as her expression turns back into a devious smile.
Misty: Yeah, I’m sure this was a noble trip, wasn’t it? You wanted to show me that you grew up around drunken skanks and steroid obsessed metrosexual men, right? Mission accomplished, Giani.
Giani: C’mon, dawg… It is the perfect place for you.
Misty: I’m intrigued, because I couldn’t possibly fathom how that could be even the slightest bit true.
Giani points around the entire Boardwalk very slowly so that Misty can follow along with his guidance. She takes a second slow look over her surroundings, and she still doesn’t quite get it. She looks up to him for some sort of explanation.
Giani: Look at the vanity. Look at the lust. Look at the ignorance, the violence, and the lies… It is a breedin’ ground for sin. It’s almost sickenin’ how perfect this place is for you, and for “her”. And it is my humble beginnin’.
Misty: I guess I didn’t think of that. I do feel charged here. The vanity alone is intoxicating.
Giani: Every Queen needs a King. Once I am King of the Deathmatch, I will fit kinda nicely next to a Queen like you.
Misty: Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself there, Mr. Di Luca? I mean, you haven’t even won the tournament yet.
Giani looks over at her slowly and points up at his hair with both of his index fingers, his thumbs pointing up in the air. He runs his fingers down until they point at his toes. He then holds his hands out to the side with his cocky smirk as if to say “C’MON!!!” He nods his head as Misty’s eyes travel down his perfect form.
Giani: I’m the Italian Stallion, baby; the Reflection of Perfection. I’m gonna win this thing without a doubt, “Ms. Waters”. I mean, look who is standin’ in my way of the first round. Is that really what they think of me in the NWA office? Becky “Ragdoll” Jones? And the rest of the tournament ain’t much better.
Misty: Nobody realizes exactly who you are. The one person who should know your level of talent is Mr. Batee since you worked for him back then. Soon they will realize exactly who you are. But it won’t be easy…
Giani: I don’t expect it to be easy. Hell, last year I was dropped outta the first round by Gothika in the biggest upset of my career. I came ready this year. No Mr. Nice Guy attitude to hold me back. No qualms about hittin’ a girl, cause she is brave enough to step in the ring against me. That tournament won’t be able to handle my swag.
Misty doesn’t want to admit it, but his level of sheer confidence, and lack of a moral base makes Giani seem that much more appealing to her. It is no secret that neither one is the other’s type, but that makes it feel even more inevitable. Both do their best to resist, seeing which one will crack first. In the meantime, Giani gets what seems to be a brilliant idea. He holds up a finger in Misty’s direction and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He does a few keystrokes on it before sliding it back in his pocket.
Giani: I had an idea for a nice little evenin’ on the Boardwalk, but it’s obvious you ain’t into the Jersey charm of vomit and funnel cake. Let’s say we take this back to my place?
Misty looks appalled by Giani’s direct approach and she scowls at him, highly displeased. She grumbles something under her breath, before glaring right at him.
Misty: I don’t know what you are used to “Mr Di Luca”, but I am not some easy Jersey Shore reject harlot, and…
Giani: Whoa, whoa, whoooooa there. Hold up. That ain’t what I was gettin’ at. I thought I could give ya a real taste of the Shore minus the puke under ya shoes. I can show you my world, and you can show me yours.
Misty thinks it over carefully before nodding her head. Giani takes her by the hand as they walk across the boardwalk. Everyone stares at the odd duo, but neither one really seems to care much as they disappear into the crowd.
An Hour Later
We pan around Giani’s beachside home, catching the breath taking unique design. It is white brick all around with white Roman style pillars holding up the balcony and the awnings over the doors, as well as the corners of the rectangular two story home. A black Escalade sits outside of the garage next to the front door. MTV Cribs style, we move inside the home, finding a more circular feel than the outside would suggest. The living room looks like a pimped out version of a lion’s den, white pillars leading up to the ceiling with a nice view of the moon, furnished with a white sectional couch. We move up the nearby spiral staircase to get to the second story, heading into the master bedroom, which seems to be set up more like a Hollywood dressing room times ten. There are two silhouette curtains hanging up as two stylists stand on each side, handing clothes to the two presumably nude figures on either side. A generic looking man, brown hair, goatee, glasses, and a black turtle neck, stands on the side with the Adonis-like silhouette, handing a variety of black clothing items to him. The other side shows a blonde woman with a variety of rejected clothing items thrown around her feet.
Misty: Is this your idea of sexy? I think you need to leave the strip club that is your mind and enter the real world, Giani.
Giani: Hey now, I’m bein’ a good sport about all this. I feel just as awkward as you do…
Misty: Might I remind you that this was YOUR idea? I hope you don’t expect me to go out in public like this…
Giani: I hope you don’t expect me to say we ain’t! Yeah buddy, you better believe we are.
Misty groans on one side of the curtain. She snatches some sort of black and tan fabric from the female stylist. She pulls it on over her head as the stylist steps in to help her adjust it. She growls at the lady as she mutters something inaudible to her. The lady holds her hands up in surrender and walks from behind the curtain. Giani giggles as he hears it. He takes a box from the stylist and opens it, laughing louder this time.
Giani: Ohhh you gotta me kiddin’ me. Are these even for dudes? Seriously, do dudes wear stuff like this? I feel like Alice Cooper and Edward Cullen defied physics and had a baby. Hahahah!
Misty: So basically, you look like Goth? If I knew you were going to subject me to this, I would have made you wear platforms, so consider yourself lucky!
Giani laughs out loud once again, though kind of nervously. Misty straightens out her clothing and sighs as a make up artist steps into view, walking over to her with large black make up pallet and a brush. She quickly goes to work, dabbing and brushing in rapid succession. Giani takes a deep breath when the male stylist nods his head. Giani shakes his head as he walks out. He is wearing a pair of tight leather pants with a pyramid studded belt and a torn fishnet shirt. In place of his fresh white sneakers, he is wearing combat boots. In place of his iced out cross necklace is a variety of chains, the largest one sports a gothic cross that barely hangs down to his chest, and a leather studded choker. However, the clothing is only half of it, as he looks like he jumped into a bag of flour, with thick black eyeliner and black lipstick. His hair is colored black with white streaks, done into short liberty spikes. He takes a look into a mirror and his eyes widen, but not quite as wide as his mouth.
Giani: Shut the f*ck up, bro… I look like shit! Where’s my perfect tan?!
Misty: Again, it was YOUR idea, Giani… I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.
The make up artist steps out with a smile before nodding to Giani. Giani reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wallet that is attached to a chain and he tosses bills out at them and then silently waves them off to dismiss them from the room. After they leave, Giani crosses his arms over his chest and taps his foot impatiently.
Giani: Well? When do I get to see ya looking fabulicious?
Misty suddenly pushes the curtain out of the way angrily and Giani lets out a shocked squeak from his throat. Misty is wearing black pumps with very high heels, a leopard print mini dress that leaves little to the imagination, and her hair is done up with a large Bump It up top as the rest waves down over her shoulders with leopard hair extensions blended in. She is spray tanned from head to toe, but due to her very fair skin tone, she looks orange. Her make up is overdone with long eyelashes added in. She matches his pose, crossing her arms over her chest as she stands awkwardly. Giani tries to contain it, but he is actually liking the result.
Giani: You are the queen of DAAAAAMN tonight, Misty. Haha.
Misty: I look… like I’m covered… in… Cheetos dust… Besides, what are you laughing at? You look just as ridiculous as I do.
Giani: I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about… I’m lookin’ fresh to death and you know it…
Giani lets out his laugh as he pulls Misty by the arm. She tries not to budge, but he simply does not allow her to sit still. She picks up a leopard print handbag on her way out as she nearly trips from the heels. Giani intends to show her how it’s done in Jersey, and he won’t stop until she beats up her first beat!
{I Got My Speakers on Wrecked}
{Added Protection}
“Party Rock Anthem” by LMFAO is playing inside of the infamous Jersey club… Club Karma. Inside, the blue lights glow over the forming crowds. With season starting, things are getting pretty hectic in there. Once Giani Di Luca comes into the club, things get even more crazy. The former cast of Fuhgeddaboudit has reunited for the opening of the club, and they weren’t sure if Giani would show. Upon his arrival, he is met by a huge round of cheers, something he hasn’t heard in a long time. He is also met with more booze than he can handle. Giani wraps his arms around his old buddies Tony and Louie, slapping their backs hard as he lets out his former party boy roar. The crowds go nuts as Giani downs three consecutive shots before walking over to the bar. The party has officially begun now as the cast takes center stage. Bianca and Candy dance on each other Jersey style, grinding upon one another to the amusement of the audience. The guys pump their fists dominantly before leaning down, throwing their fists toward the ground. Giani gets rowdy as he circles around the group, instantly stealing the spotlight from his former cast. As the song comes to a close, Giani gives them all a look of disgust, leaving the dance floor. Tony quickly follows after Giani, looking as if he is ready for a confrontation. As Giani walks toward the stairs to the upper level, Tony whips his around and gets in his face.
Tony: Yo dawg, what’s up with the mean mug?
Giani shrugs his shoulders and then “accidentally” bumps into Tony, giving him a challenging look. He stands his ground, refusing to back up.
Giani: Bro… It’s just like on the show. No matter how many of you’s there was, the spotlight was always on me. I left the show, and it got cancelled like immediately, kid.
Tony: Seriously, bro? You gonna dawg ya friends like that?
Giani gets up in Tony’s face with his cocky smirk, almost looking sadistic at this point. His nostrils grow in size as he breathes in heavily. He pauses there for a second, letting the intimidation set in.
Giani: I’m done bein’ the nice kid who lets everyone walk all over him. I was done when I left that dumb ass show and all of you losers. I just didn’t realize it yet. You wanted me out of the house, so I left. You can’t shove ya lips up my ass and expect me to forgive ya like that, bro. It ain’t happenin’…
Tony: Dawg, dawg, dawg… listen to me. It wasn’t even like that. We didn’t…
Giani: Save ya busted ass excuses, cause I’m done lookin’ at ya busted ass face. Bow down before ya KING, or get the f#@& outta here, bro…
Tony is ready to plead his case when Giani leans back and quickly Headbutts Tony, unbeknownst to his adoring hometown fans. He spits in Tony’s face before turning around and walking up the steps. Tony shouts at him, but it doesn’t do any good. Giani just shakes his head in disgust, licking his thumb as he fixes his perfect eyebrows. When he gets to the upper level, across the room, he sees Erik Staggs sitting there with an older gentleman. Giani looks a little confused as he walks over toward Erik. Once he arrives, Erik stands up to greet Giani. He extends his hand toward Giani, but Giani hits a sarcastic fist bump before sliding past him.
Giani: Look, dawg… It’s bad enough that I hang out with your ancient dinosaur ass, but if I gotta hang out with two guys from the retirement home, it’s really gonna kill my creds.
The other man sitting in the booth scowls at Giani, spitting on the ground as a reaction to the disrespect. He uses his thumb to rub the excess from his lip. His salt and pepper hair is slicked back, but feathered out in some sort of mature Spike Staggs fashion. Giani raises an eyebrow as the man lifts his sunglasses up. His fiery brown eyes threaten to burn a hole through Giani as he flicks his wrist to show off a white gold Rolex watch.
Giani: Seriously… This guy looks like my dad tryin’ to be cool. Did you borrow him from Joanne Canelli er somethin’? A hot young piece like that should be surrounded by some gorillas, not dinosaur fossils.
Man: If you wanna keep disrespectin’ me, we’re gonna have problems really quick, boy…
Giani waves his hands up as if he were scared, but his face tells a different story. He rolls his eyes and then looks to Erik, pointing back with his thumb as if to ask if this guy were serious. The man reaches over quickly and hyper extends Giani’s thumb just enough to get his point across.
Erik: *Ahem* Giani Di Luca, I would like you to meet an old friend of mine from the wrestling world… Dean Lombardo. We go way back. Bitter enemies in the ring, but one helluva drinking buddy backstage, right?
Dean: I had to down drinks to deal with this guy. You kept buyin’ and I became an alcoholic. So’s if ya wanna call that a friendship, then it is what it is.
Erik: Funny, I was thinking the same thing… You’re a real jackass Dino.
Dean: Ey yo betta watch it, callin’ me that in public an all
Giani: Hahaha where’s ya buddy Fred? Did Wilma lock him out again, or is he busy lookin’s for Bam Bam?
Dean looks at Giani and he is definitely not amused, even though is the only one lacking the sentiment at the table. Dean puts his Samuel Adams bottle to his lips, sipping on it while most likely seething on the inside.
Erik: I figured with everything going on right now within SCW, and the King of the Deathmatch, along with Lord of the Rings… it would be best if one of my top male stars had someone watching his back to avoid any other screwjobs.
Giani: Oh yeah, I understand. My only question is… why’d ya bring ole Dino here to the party. Is he gonna be like my bodyguard or somethin’?
Erik: Well… more or less, that was the plan.
Giani laughs, waiting for Erik to join along for a hearty laugh. He slows his down to allow Erik time to catch up, and then realizes the laugh isn’t coming. Erik sits down in the booth next to Giani, trapping him in between, and Giani shakes his head from side to side. Dean pulls a cigar from his pocket, lighting it in frustration. He puffs on it as Giani’s reaction is heard.
Giani: Nope, nuh uh… ain’t happenin’ bro. I don’t need some washed up, flabby, former gorilla watchin’ my back. I’m better off askin’ James to accompany me to the ring.
Dean: Look here ya little prick…
Dean violently taps the end of his cigar, letting the ashes fall on top of Giani’s head. Giani’s eyes widen as he brushes them out of his hair angrily. He turns with a deadly glare to the much smaller Dean, but Dean is quick to press an index finger against Giani’s lips to quiet him down.
Dean: I’m a former one time Gateway Championship Wrestling Heavyweight Champion…
Giani: Oh yeah, that’s impressive…
Dean: I’m a one time champion cause I held the belt for two years, until I exited the company. I’ve faced some world class athletes and left them on their backs or beggin’ me to stop kickin’ their asses. Capisco puttana?
Giani: Hold up, dawg. Nobody’s gonna call me a bitch and get away with it… “Capisco”?
Giani turns to face the man, but he doesn’t back down. Both men glare at each other when Giani raises a fist. Dean gets a cocky smirk on his face, almost begging Giani to take a swing. Erik grabs onto it, throwing it back to his side before clearing his throat loudly.
Erik: Let’s cool it. You Italians and your fiery tempers, I swear. Giani, you are intended to benefit from my ring experience for training and learning the ropes. In my absence, I have provided you with someone who is almost as qualified as me…
Dean: Ey!
Giani: I’m telling ya that I don’t need the help.
Erik: And I’m telling you that you do. You are impressive, but my nephew really lacked in training you. You are no better or more disciplined than you were when you entered SCW. Plus, it never hurts to have someone in your corner to back you up. Why don’t you tell us a little about your experience, Dean. We all know you like talking about yourself… Something else the two of you have in common!
Erik tries to turn his comment into something positive, and it should have failed, but both men seem to use it to form a foundation for understanding each other. Dean’s smile fades as he taps the end of his cigar to his side. He takes a big sip from his beer bottle before leaning back in his seat to puff his chest out.
Dean: Don’t know if it matters much to the young blood, but I served in the US Army for five years where I learned combat trainin’… While I was there, I got stacked like a brick shit house. For fun, I picked up Greco-Roman skills before getting discharged for certain confidential matters.
Erik: You beat the crap outta a superior officer…
Dean: I said confidential, Erik… He banged my wife behind my back. Anyway, I entered pro-wresslin’ where I developed my technical skills. Travelled down to Mexico where I learned a little Lucha, not much but some. I really learned my shit when I went to Japan and shadowed some top names like Hayabusa and El Samurai. I stayed there about six years before I met ya uncle in St. Louis. To keep in shape, I have studied a few different martial arts like Brazilian Jui Jitsu and kickboxin’ just to stay in shape.
Giani seems to be rethinking his stance now. While he had a distinct size advantage over Dean, he wouldn’t want to really get on his bad side either. He almost seems like a young child listening to a war story from a grandfather figure. Erik smiles, patting Giani on the back before standing up from the booth. He walks off toward the stairs to allow them time to get to know each other.
Dean: Work was slow, so I got into the security field. Erik called in a favor, so it looks like I’m stuck wipin’ your ass, kiddo. Life’s a bitch, ey?
Giani: Oh yeah? What if I say no? Sure, you got some impressive skills, but I said it before and I will say it again… I don’t need nobody’s help. I can take care of myself.
Dean pulls the glasses off of his forehead and slides them in his open black dress shirt. He leans forward, stretching the charcoal grey jacket out just a little to show some definition on his smaller frame. He takes another puff of the cigar, exhaling the smoke right in Giani’s face.
Dean: Look, I think you are some cocky pup, still wet behind the ears. Under all of that hair glue and spray, I think you got a brain. Might not be the biggest, but it’s somethin’ you obviously ain’t usin’. Don’t be stupid, kiddo. You could find some big dumb gweed who is stacked with muscles but don’t know a German Suplex from a German chocolate cake. I’m sure some dumb shit out there might buy it, but anyone with half a brain could see there ain’t nothin’ really scary about that. Look at Casey Williams for Christ sake…
Giani: I guess there are a lot of jealous people out there who ain’t even half as good as I am. They might not wanna see me win the King of the Deathmatch tournament cause then they would all see that I belong at the top. They would see that Erik was right, and they wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.
Dean: There ya go, kiddo. That’s what I was hopin’ you would understand. We could both benefit from this little arrangement. I get to pay for my ex wife and her handicapped ex-staff sergeant boyfriend’s annual trip to Cancun and you get one of the best bodyguards money can buy.
Dean leans back against the booth, stretching out as he puts his arms over the back of the booth. He blows out one last cloud of smoke before dropping the cigar to the ground. He stomps it out as the thick cloud of smoke bellows out of his mouth. He chases it with the last of his beer as Giani nods his head while thinking to himself.
Giani: A lot of people remember me losin’ to a broad in the first round of this tournament last year. I think they might know I’m ready and try to make me repeat the same mistake against Becky “Ragdoll” Jones this year. I’m determined to massacre her and move along to the finals of this damn thing. I will win it, cause there ain’t a damn person out there who can stop me, bro.
Dean: Well, even if there was, there ain’t nobody out there who can beat the both of us together, if ya catch my drift, son?
Giani slowly looks over to Dean and a smile grows over both of their faces simultaneously. Both men share a laugh before exchanging a loud palm slap followed by a firm handshake. Erik Staggs comes back to the table with a round of drinks in his hands. He seems surprised at how well they are getting along and he sighs in relief before joining in on their laugh.
Giani: YEEEEEEAH buddy!
Erik sets the drinks down in front of Giani and Dean while taking his own glass of wine to his lips. He seems to be laughing the loudest in between sips as he claps his hands together. The three men huddle in to discuss strategy as we fade one last time.
{I Got My Speakers on Wrecked}
{Cut Scene}
As we come into the green room one last time, we not only see Giani sitting in his usual spot, dead center in front of the camera, but Dean is standing off to the side, only half way in view of the camera. His sunglasses are down over his eyes and his arms are crossed over his chest. He watches on as Giani sits in a very contemplative position. His fingers are laced together except his index fingers. He taps them together slowly as he sits there silently for a moment. He finally breaks his silence with a very calm demeanor.
Giani: I will get the respect I deserve. When I walk out to that ring, people are gonna boo the hell outta me. I get it, people hate me. But then, when I beat Becky “Ragdoll” Jones and show her why it was the biggest mistake of her life to sign up for this tournament, people will pay closer attention. I will go on to beat Spectre, cause he is obviously gonna beat DJ. He came from the same place I did, so of course BACW is gonna overcome this. Sadly, it don’t matter where ya from when you come up against the Stampede or the Jersey Turnpike. Then, every other stupid sonuvabitch who thought they stood a chance against the likes of The Italian Stallion, the Reflection of Perfection… they’re gonna learn the same lesson as Becky and Specky…
Giani’s voice doesn’t change as he leans back in his seat. He adjusts himself to get comfortable before fixing his hair once again. He mouths “okay, perfect” before looking dead center into the camera once again.
Giani: No matter what anyone else in this tournament thinks, I’m the one who is gonna walk out as the winner. All my Vegas and Atlantic City folks better get in touch with ya bookies and put every last cent of ya money on this stallion. I’m gonna be that underdog that comes out on top, and everyone is gonna ask themselves the same question… “Why didn’t I see this before?” This kid is a natural. All the signs have been there since day one. A couple months after I debuted in the world of professional wrestlin’, I had one bullshit loss to my name and the BACW Empire State Championship. I held that title for like six months, dawg. No joke. Six… freakin’… months bro!
Giani reaches his hand back and Dean places a bottle of Smart Water in his hands. He pops open the sports bottle cap and takes a refreshing sip from the bottle. He sighs in relief before handing the bottle back to the stern Dean.
Giani: I shoulda never left BACW, cause as soon as I did, my career went to shit. I went to Sin City where I was constantly overlooked for people with the same old shit and the same old drama and bullshit tired old lines. They didn’t want anythin’ fresh in their world. Not like the kickass Mr. Batee as a boss. If I have one regret, it is not stickin’ around to try winnin’ the Heavyweight title, or maybe a Grinder. Batee gave me a chance, but I was blinded by promises of spotlights and fame. Empty promises.
Giani sighs in regret before shaking his head. He runs his fingers over his face, as if trying to wipe away that regret. However, it doesn’t work. Giani takes a second to collect his thoughts.
Giani: It feels like I spit in the face of the only person who truly believed in me. I can’t undo it, What’s done is done, but I wanna go out there and do ya one better, Bats. I wanna go out to that ring and prove that the faith you put into me wasn’t for nothin’. You saw talent, and you cashed in on it. As someone who owes a lot to ya, I’m gonna go out there and win this thing. I’m gonna be the King of the Deathmatch 2013 winner. I’d be lyin’ if I said it was all for you, cause God knows I ain’t that selfless. I deserve to be a King. I earned that right. But, I wouldn’t be in this position without ya. Last year, PRA won the tournament. This year, someone who is BACW at heart is gonna win it. I’m gonna prove why BACW is the only place worthy of hostin’ King of the Deathmatch.
Taking another moment to collect himself, Giani takes another sip from the water before spraying it on his face and handing it back over to Dean.
Giani: Now, with that said, I was destined to win this tournament. Not only is this make or break for me, but it’s also what I am dedicatin’ every ounce of blood in my body to. I don’t care if I leave half of it on the mat. I don’t care what gets broken. I will stand up and accept the most glorious of titles. I will accept my birthright, and I will take up my throne. Your KING has spoken…
With that, Giani gives one last lengthy glare at the camera. He then stands up from his seat. He straightens out his clothes, making sure his exit is just as perfect as his entrance. He walks over to the door, exiting the room. Dean looks at the camera, lifting his glasses up so that he might glare at the fans so they can know how serious this is. He tucks the bottle of water under his arms before leaning back up. He presses a button on the wall, and we fade out to snow.
{End Cut Scene}
{I Got My Speakers on, Speakers on, Speakers on, Speakers on, … Got My Speakers on Wrecked}
{fin}
