Post by Kurt Burton: Script Doctor! on Apr 8, 2007 19:21:01 GMT -5
The local video store buzzes with pandemonium over the newest intelligence lacking new release. A sea of suburbanites are crowded into the tiny establishment, searching for the optimal movie to accompany their action flick. A comedy, a romance? Each group of sharply dressed families choose a different selection. In the sports aisle, Kurt Burton sticks out like a sore thumb, searching frantically through the assorted MMA DVD’s.
He is distracted momentarily by the monitor above him, where a lumbering bald man is chasing a scared teenage girl around with a hook. The giant corners this defenseless girl. As this is occurring, Kat Hamilton comes running up.
Kat: Look baby, Aerosmith’s DVD.
She proudly holds up her discovery. He pays no attention to her. She looks up to the monitor, where the bald headed Goliath now stalks a gang-banger.
Kat: What is that?
Kurt: Quite possibly the worst movie ever made. So, what did you find?
Kat: Aerosmith!
Kurt: Ahh… Good for you.
Kat: Did you find anything?
Kurt runs his hands through his hair frustratedly. He looks at her from behind his black sunglasses.
Kurt: Nothing. Not a single wrestling DVD in this entire goddamn store.
Kat: Why don’t you go get some help.
Kurt: Me, Kurt Burton, ask for help.
His indignant tone amuses her, she cracks a sly smile.
Kat: You have no problem asking me for help winning your matches.
Kurt does a mock laugh, and turns to walk to the counter. As he approaches. He hears unsynchronized beeps, as every member of the staff is hurriedly working their registers, trying to make headway in the ever-growing line of patrons, waiting to check out their movies. He sighs. No one could possibly break away from there.
Then out of the corner of his eye, he spots someone. A pimply faced kid with a bowl cut. He wears the khaki pants, and navy blue shirt that identify the employees of the store. In addition, he wears a bright red apron. In his hand is a stack of paper, promoting the specials and new releases.
Kurt approaches the teenager. He walks up, and the kid turns his back.
Kurt: Hey man.
The kid reluctantly turns to face Burton. The look of aggravation on the teenager’s face is impossible to hide.
Kid: What?
Kurt: Yeah, where are your wrestling DVD’s.
Kid: We don’t carry any.
The kid turns to walk away. Kurt lays his hand down on this kid’s shoulder.
Kurt: What do you mean you don’t carry any.
The kid looks at him, the same aggravated expression covering his face.
Kid: It’s not hard to understand sir.
Kurt: Well, I do find it a bit difficult to comprehend. See, I was in here not one month ago, and at that time, you had everything from the Drakz and Kyzer era of the WFWF, and now, nothing. Mind explaining to me what happened.
Kid: Corporate got…
Kurt: No! You are not going to dodge me. I understand that you’re a little lazy bastard. I understand you’d rather go home and play your X-box 360. But you are getting paid to do a service, and you’re going to perform this service. Now, I am looking for anything with Josh Dean on it. And… what is that guy’s name. See, I got a match against them, and I’d like to study their technique. Spot all the little flaws and such. Not that I need to.
Kid: Ohh, you need to.
Kurt: You know who I am?
Kurt was a little puzzled. Not many people in the general public ever recognized him, even though with his scar and bright green hair, he stuck out like a sore thumb.
Kid: Yeah, and I’ve seen you getting your ass handed to you by Yukio and Miguel over the past few weeks.
The kid laughs. Something inside of Kurt snapped, as he reached over and slammed his fist into a video display. The smile disappears from the kids face, and several customers turn to watch the commotion.
Kurt: You think that’;s funny, you little insignificant prick. At least I am doing something. What, are you looking forward to your three cent raise once You’ve reached a year at this crap hole. I am the world Tag Team Champion, in one of the most competitve environments in my industry. And you think, what, because you don’t like me, you’ll do your share in sabotaging my chances of keeping this belt. Well let me tell you a little secret. I’ve been cracking skulls longer than you’ve been a dungeon Master. And come FDS, me and Thunder, we’re going to tear a whole right through our competition. The Revolution is far more advanced than those little “Up-and Comers”. And we’ll see how much your enjoying yourself when I pinn their shoulders to the mat, or when we successfully defend our titles.
Suddenly, Kurt felta hand on his shoulder. He spun around, fist raised, and came face to face with Kat Hamilton.
Kat: I’ve found it.
She holds up a DVD entitled “WFWF: Superstars of Tomorrow”. Kurt lowers his hand, and takes a deep breath.
Kat: You know what, why don’t you go wait in the car, I’ll be out in just a second.
She extends the keys with a little jingle. Kurt reaches out, taking the keys from her. He turns to walk out the door. He passes the little pepperoni faced kid, and as he passes, he raises his fist. The kid throws up his papers, and the fly in the air, as he covers himself up. Now Kurt laughs.
Kurt: Have fun cleaning that up.
Kurt walks out the door of the establishment. Kat watches until he’s out the door. She mouths, sorry at the kid, and steps past him, entering the line of about thirty people.
He is distracted momentarily by the monitor above him, where a lumbering bald man is chasing a scared teenage girl around with a hook. The giant corners this defenseless girl. As this is occurring, Kat Hamilton comes running up.
Kat: Look baby, Aerosmith’s DVD.
She proudly holds up her discovery. He pays no attention to her. She looks up to the monitor, where the bald headed Goliath now stalks a gang-banger.
Kat: What is that?
Kurt: Quite possibly the worst movie ever made. So, what did you find?
Kat: Aerosmith!
Kurt: Ahh… Good for you.
Kat: Did you find anything?
Kurt runs his hands through his hair frustratedly. He looks at her from behind his black sunglasses.
Kurt: Nothing. Not a single wrestling DVD in this entire goddamn store.
Kat: Why don’t you go get some help.
Kurt: Me, Kurt Burton, ask for help.
His indignant tone amuses her, she cracks a sly smile.
Kat: You have no problem asking me for help winning your matches.
Kurt does a mock laugh, and turns to walk to the counter. As he approaches. He hears unsynchronized beeps, as every member of the staff is hurriedly working their registers, trying to make headway in the ever-growing line of patrons, waiting to check out their movies. He sighs. No one could possibly break away from there.
Then out of the corner of his eye, he spots someone. A pimply faced kid with a bowl cut. He wears the khaki pants, and navy blue shirt that identify the employees of the store. In addition, he wears a bright red apron. In his hand is a stack of paper, promoting the specials and new releases.
Kurt approaches the teenager. He walks up, and the kid turns his back.
Kurt: Hey man.
The kid reluctantly turns to face Burton. The look of aggravation on the teenager’s face is impossible to hide.
Kid: What?
Kurt: Yeah, where are your wrestling DVD’s.
Kid: We don’t carry any.
The kid turns to walk away. Kurt lays his hand down on this kid’s shoulder.
Kurt: What do you mean you don’t carry any.
The kid looks at him, the same aggravated expression covering his face.
Kid: It’s not hard to understand sir.
Kurt: Well, I do find it a bit difficult to comprehend. See, I was in here not one month ago, and at that time, you had everything from the Drakz and Kyzer era of the WFWF, and now, nothing. Mind explaining to me what happened.
Kid: Corporate got…
Kurt: No! You are not going to dodge me. I understand that you’re a little lazy bastard. I understand you’d rather go home and play your X-box 360. But you are getting paid to do a service, and you’re going to perform this service. Now, I am looking for anything with Josh Dean on it. And… what is that guy’s name. See, I got a match against them, and I’d like to study their technique. Spot all the little flaws and such. Not that I need to.
Kid: Ohh, you need to.
Kurt: You know who I am?
Kurt was a little puzzled. Not many people in the general public ever recognized him, even though with his scar and bright green hair, he stuck out like a sore thumb.
Kid: Yeah, and I’ve seen you getting your ass handed to you by Yukio and Miguel over the past few weeks.
The kid laughs. Something inside of Kurt snapped, as he reached over and slammed his fist into a video display. The smile disappears from the kids face, and several customers turn to watch the commotion.
Kurt: You think that’;s funny, you little insignificant prick. At least I am doing something. What, are you looking forward to your three cent raise once You’ve reached a year at this crap hole. I am the world Tag Team Champion, in one of the most competitve environments in my industry. And you think, what, because you don’t like me, you’ll do your share in sabotaging my chances of keeping this belt. Well let me tell you a little secret. I’ve been cracking skulls longer than you’ve been a dungeon Master. And come FDS, me and Thunder, we’re going to tear a whole right through our competition. The Revolution is far more advanced than those little “Up-and Comers”. And we’ll see how much your enjoying yourself when I pinn their shoulders to the mat, or when we successfully defend our titles.
Suddenly, Kurt felta hand on his shoulder. He spun around, fist raised, and came face to face with Kat Hamilton.
Kat: I’ve found it.
She holds up a DVD entitled “WFWF: Superstars of Tomorrow”. Kurt lowers his hand, and takes a deep breath.
Kat: You know what, why don’t you go wait in the car, I’ll be out in just a second.
She extends the keys with a little jingle. Kurt reaches out, taking the keys from her. He turns to walk out the door. He passes the little pepperoni faced kid, and as he passes, he raises his fist. The kid throws up his papers, and the fly in the air, as he covers himself up. Now Kurt laughs.
Kurt: Have fun cleaning that up.
Kurt walks out the door of the establishment. Kat watches until he’s out the door. She mouths, sorry at the kid, and steps past him, entering the line of about thirty people.
