Post by Dirk Dagger on Mar 27, 2013 19:10:05 GMT -5
SCANTILY-CLAD PROSTITUTES! That is exactly what he needs, he thinks as he reaches inside his back pocket and retrieves his wallet. He thumbs through a thick set of twenties and walks across the street. Once across the street, the camera man and the crew followed the on-site producer as he walks up to a group of prostitutes leaning against a wall in the middle of downtown Los Angeles.
His hand is clenching onto the fistful of twenties as he approaches a very voluptuous redheaded woman. He puts on his very best smile, which isn't saying much, as he tries, in vain, to smooth his balding hair with a lick to his palm and a faint brushing motion with it.
Producer: Hello there ladies, I'm Paul Anderson and I'd like to see if I could hire you girls for about an hour.
The red-headed woman stares at Paul up and down with a withering eye... a slight, almost invisible look of scorn and disgust actually crosses this woman's face.. but it vanishes in an instant as she furrows her brow at him.
Red-Haired Prostitute: $2000 for all four of us for the hour.
Paul just about has a stroke. In fact, you're pretty sure he does, because he's clutching his left arm and all of the color has drained from his face.
Paul Anderson: ARE YOU INSANE? I don't have that kind of money! I have $500 at the most. Please! I'm supposed to be setting up an interview for this guy, but one of his requirements for all interviews is that there are at least two prostitutes that he can spend some time with after the interview.
A look of relief crosses over the prostitutes face as she nods over at Paul, the nervous, profusely-sweating producer.
Red-Haired Prostitute: Oh okay. This is for someone else? Lemme see a picture of this guy.
Paul nods quickly as he turns and one of the camera crew hands him a vanilla envelope. Paul opens it up, takes a quick peek inside, and then pulls out an 8x10 photo of Dirk Dagger. He hands it over to the prostitute, who takes it with her dark red painted nails.
She stares at it for a moment, and then hands it over to the rest of the women in her little group. They all take turns staring at the photo. A slightly attractive Asian woman hands the photo back and then the four women gather up into an almost huddle-like fashion and can be heard murmuring and whispering to one another. The African American woman shrugs her shoulders, while the red-headed woman nods her head. The other remaining two simply tilt their heads to the side. Finally, the red-headed woman turns and walks back over towards Paul.
Red-Haired Prostitute: Okay, we'll do it for what you have.
Paul Anderson: Thank you very much! You don't know how long I've been driving around trying to find some real hookers! Here! Here!
Paul thrusts the money at the woman, grateful to have finally met the requirements needed for the interview with this Dirk Dagger fellow. He now points over at one of his production assistants and nods, the production assistant now reaches inside his front pocket for his cell phone. The young man dials a number and is soon heard speaking with someone... presumably Dirk Dagger himself.
A few non-committal grunts and nods later.. the young man is seen writing something down on his arm with a ball point pen. He nods and says something affirmative and then uses his thumb, index and middle fingers to close the flip on his cell phone. He now walks over to Paul and shows him his arm.
Assistant: Here's the address he wants us to drive to. He said he wants the whores there too.
Paul runs a hand through his balding hair and bites his bottom lip.
Paul Anderson: He wants us to go THERE? I wouldn't go over there during the day, let alone at night!
The assistant just shrugs his shoulders.
Assistant: It's either there or not at all.... and you've already paid these whores for the hour.
Paul Anderson: Okay okay! I get your point. Let's go!
Quite a few minutes pass as Paul, the camera crew and the prostitutes all load up into the van with the PW Logo painted into the side. Even more minutes pass as the van takes off and heads down the road. The van continues down the road and soon takes an exit ramp and heads into the middle of the south side of town.
The further the van travels the more and more dilapidated the homes become. The nicer ones soon turn into crumbling, abandoned, and foreclosed buildings. The van soon comes to a stop outside of a run-down apartment complex. The scene shifts and pans in closer towards the complex, where several broken windows, a few rotted out pieces of wood and an unkempt, uncared-for lawn sits there, with grass growing higher and higher with each passing week.
This is where we find Dirk, who is sitting outside on a steel chair, smoking a hand-rolled sub-generic cigarette. He finishes smoking the cigarette and carelessly flicks it away from himself, where it lands in a nasty puddle of mud. He leans back in the chair and smirks as he sees the van driven by the PW production crew. After a few long, boring moments of watching the crew bumble their way out of the van and hastily setting up the equipment, Dirk stands up and walks over to them. By "them", naturally we are talking about the prostitutes.
Dirk walks up and slides an arm behind one of the prostitutes and smiles widely over at Paul.
Dirk Dagger: You've done a great job here, Phil!
Paul Anderson: It's Paul.
Dirk Dagger: Sure, whatever. Now how about you ladies head inside my apartment... I'll be right behind you.
The prostitutes all walk towards the opened door and step inside the apartment and close the door. Dirk smiles as he turns and heads towards the door himself. With a panicked look on his face, Paul rushes over to Dirk.
Paul Anderson: Wait! You promised me you'd agree to an interview!
Dirk Dagger: Ah, I did, didn't I? Okay.. here we go. I'm so great, I'm going to kick ass around here, I'm going to win some titles, yadda yadda yadda... oh and before I forget: Nick Rissi is a retarded piece of shit. I'm personally offended that I'm being forced to compete against him. I mean, I'm a big star here in PW. He's an idiot, and I'm pretty sure the guy blows other dudes in the alley for crack money. I don't know for a fact that it's true, but that's what some of the chicks backstage were talking about.
But who cares about that jobber? I'm more interested in making a real statement here in PW. I'm a hell of a lot bigger star than that piece of shit Corey Benjamin, but I get passed over. I came in and started making waves, but for some reason, the high and mighty CEO decided to let that piece of shit Enforcer and Corey Benjamin come in and be the "stars" of this dump. No wonder people are mocking PW online. All over the internet, all I see are people talking about how Israel Reed is a terrible owner. I see others making fun of Michael Sanzone, saying he has the IQ of a rock, and worst of all, you can see it all reflected in how this place is being operated.
That's why with my return, I'm going to do what no one else has. I'm going to actually STATE that I'm gunning for Corey Benjamin. I'm sick of the bullshit around here and it's time that PW had a REAL champion. A champion that the entire world could be proud of, not some asshole who "sandbags" as they say. I didn't want to see Corey Benjamin on my TV at all, but I have to endure him and Enforcer TWICE in one night, right before the last show? No thanks. That's two jobbers that I never want to see on my TV again.
So keep yourself aware, boys. I'm going to be the next World Champion, so like it or not, you're both going to be marked men!
Dirk now shoves Paul away as he walks over and opens the door to his apartment. He walks inside, turns around and reveals a wicked grin on his face as he slams the door shut.
Dejected, Paul walks back over to the van and slumps down as the scene fades to black.[/size]
His hand is clenching onto the fistful of twenties as he approaches a very voluptuous redheaded woman. He puts on his very best smile, which isn't saying much, as he tries, in vain, to smooth his balding hair with a lick to his palm and a faint brushing motion with it.
Producer: Hello there ladies, I'm Paul Anderson and I'd like to see if I could hire you girls for about an hour.
The red-headed woman stares at Paul up and down with a withering eye... a slight, almost invisible look of scorn and disgust actually crosses this woman's face.. but it vanishes in an instant as she furrows her brow at him.
Red-Haired Prostitute: $2000 for all four of us for the hour.
Paul just about has a stroke. In fact, you're pretty sure he does, because he's clutching his left arm and all of the color has drained from his face.
Paul Anderson: ARE YOU INSANE? I don't have that kind of money! I have $500 at the most. Please! I'm supposed to be setting up an interview for this guy, but one of his requirements for all interviews is that there are at least two prostitutes that he can spend some time with after the interview.
A look of relief crosses over the prostitutes face as she nods over at Paul, the nervous, profusely-sweating producer.
Red-Haired Prostitute: Oh okay. This is for someone else? Lemme see a picture of this guy.
Paul nods quickly as he turns and one of the camera crew hands him a vanilla envelope. Paul opens it up, takes a quick peek inside, and then pulls out an 8x10 photo of Dirk Dagger. He hands it over to the prostitute, who takes it with her dark red painted nails.
She stares at it for a moment, and then hands it over to the rest of the women in her little group. They all take turns staring at the photo. A slightly attractive Asian woman hands the photo back and then the four women gather up into an almost huddle-like fashion and can be heard murmuring and whispering to one another. The African American woman shrugs her shoulders, while the red-headed woman nods her head. The other remaining two simply tilt their heads to the side. Finally, the red-headed woman turns and walks back over towards Paul.
Red-Haired Prostitute: Okay, we'll do it for what you have.
Paul Anderson: Thank you very much! You don't know how long I've been driving around trying to find some real hookers! Here! Here!
Paul thrusts the money at the woman, grateful to have finally met the requirements needed for the interview with this Dirk Dagger fellow. He now points over at one of his production assistants and nods, the production assistant now reaches inside his front pocket for his cell phone. The young man dials a number and is soon heard speaking with someone... presumably Dirk Dagger himself.
A few non-committal grunts and nods later.. the young man is seen writing something down on his arm with a ball point pen. He nods and says something affirmative and then uses his thumb, index and middle fingers to close the flip on his cell phone. He now walks over to Paul and shows him his arm.
Assistant: Here's the address he wants us to drive to. He said he wants the whores there too.
Paul runs a hand through his balding hair and bites his bottom lip.
Paul Anderson: He wants us to go THERE? I wouldn't go over there during the day, let alone at night!
The assistant just shrugs his shoulders.
Assistant: It's either there or not at all.... and you've already paid these whores for the hour.
Paul Anderson: Okay okay! I get your point. Let's go!
Quite a few minutes pass as Paul, the camera crew and the prostitutes all load up into the van with the PW Logo painted into the side. Even more minutes pass as the van takes off and heads down the road. The van continues down the road and soon takes an exit ramp and heads into the middle of the south side of town.
The further the van travels the more and more dilapidated the homes become. The nicer ones soon turn into crumbling, abandoned, and foreclosed buildings. The van soon comes to a stop outside of a run-down apartment complex. The scene shifts and pans in closer towards the complex, where several broken windows, a few rotted out pieces of wood and an unkempt, uncared-for lawn sits there, with grass growing higher and higher with each passing week.
This is where we find Dirk, who is sitting outside on a steel chair, smoking a hand-rolled sub-generic cigarette. He finishes smoking the cigarette and carelessly flicks it away from himself, where it lands in a nasty puddle of mud. He leans back in the chair and smirks as he sees the van driven by the PW production crew. After a few long, boring moments of watching the crew bumble their way out of the van and hastily setting up the equipment, Dirk stands up and walks over to them. By "them", naturally we are talking about the prostitutes.
Dirk walks up and slides an arm behind one of the prostitutes and smiles widely over at Paul.
Dirk Dagger: You've done a great job here, Phil!
Paul Anderson: It's Paul.
Dirk Dagger: Sure, whatever. Now how about you ladies head inside my apartment... I'll be right behind you.
The prostitutes all walk towards the opened door and step inside the apartment and close the door. Dirk smiles as he turns and heads towards the door himself. With a panicked look on his face, Paul rushes over to Dirk.
Paul Anderson: Wait! You promised me you'd agree to an interview!
Dirk Dagger: Ah, I did, didn't I? Okay.. here we go. I'm so great, I'm going to kick ass around here, I'm going to win some titles, yadda yadda yadda... oh and before I forget: Nick Rissi is a retarded piece of shit. I'm personally offended that I'm being forced to compete against him. I mean, I'm a big star here in PW. He's an idiot, and I'm pretty sure the guy blows other dudes in the alley for crack money. I don't know for a fact that it's true, but that's what some of the chicks backstage were talking about.
But who cares about that jobber? I'm more interested in making a real statement here in PW. I'm a hell of a lot bigger star than that piece of shit Corey Benjamin, but I get passed over. I came in and started making waves, but for some reason, the high and mighty CEO decided to let that piece of shit Enforcer and Corey Benjamin come in and be the "stars" of this dump. No wonder people are mocking PW online. All over the internet, all I see are people talking about how Israel Reed is a terrible owner. I see others making fun of Michael Sanzone, saying he has the IQ of a rock, and worst of all, you can see it all reflected in how this place is being operated.
That's why with my return, I'm going to do what no one else has. I'm going to actually STATE that I'm gunning for Corey Benjamin. I'm sick of the bullshit around here and it's time that PW had a REAL champion. A champion that the entire world could be proud of, not some asshole who "sandbags" as they say. I didn't want to see Corey Benjamin on my TV at all, but I have to endure him and Enforcer TWICE in one night, right before the last show? No thanks. That's two jobbers that I never want to see on my TV again.
So keep yourself aware, boys. I'm going to be the next World Champion, so like it or not, you're both going to be marked men!
Dirk now shoves Paul away as he walks over and opens the door to his apartment. He walks inside, turns around and reveals a wicked grin on his face as he slams the door shut.
Dejected, Paul walks back over to the van and slumps down as the scene fades to black.[/size]