Post by Johnny Ruff on Jul 20, 2014 13:34:44 GMT -5
“Okay, my turn! So, Jenny McCarthy and Melissa McCarthy exit a room that only has one chair. The question is, do you sniff the chair?”
Our scene fades in immediately following that question, posed by OCW's latest recruit, Johnny Ruff. The pizza delivery boy is sitting back-to-front on an old office chair, directly across from his colleague, Pete. Both men are shooting the breeze and killing time while waiting for their next delivery job; however, before Pete can respond, the staff room door swings open with ferocity.
“WHAT-A THE FUCK-A IS THIS?!”
An angry, fifty-something Italian man enters the frame, displaying an intensity that contrasts the relaxed atmosphere we were originally introduced to. He's waving a folded piece of paper in his right hand, executing enough force to create a snapping sound with it. Johnny and Pete jump, having both been startled by the abrasive interruption.
Johnny: “Jesus, Carlo! You just about scared my lunch out of me.”
Carlo tosses the folded sheet towards Johnny and eyeballs him with a vested interest in his response.
Carlo: “Why you hand-a me this? Huh?! Wassa'madda with you?!”
Pete looks decidedly uncomfortable at this confrontation, so remains quiet. Johnny, on the other hand, appears to be relaxed. He doesn't even need to look at the paper, as he knows what it is.
Johnny: “It's my two weeks. I told you, I landed a dream gig with a wrestling promotion, boss. I'm off to live the dream!”
Carlo wiggles his finger and shakes his head in unison, giggling under his breath.
Carlo: “No, no, no, no. This another one of your smart-ass jokes, my boy.”
Silence. Ruff stares blankly towards his soon-to-be ex-employer, a little confused by Carlo's reaction. The Italian restaurant proprietor continues.
Carlo: “Johnny, you're a good kid, but-a you 'av tits! You're a lot of things, but you're not a wrestler! Wassa'dis really about, huh? Did that motherfucker Luigi offer you better pay over with-a him? Jus-a tell me the truth! Don't bullshit me, my friend!”
Johnny sighs and rolls his eyes, before ushering Carlo to calm down with a gentle hand gesture.
Johnny: “Carlo, Carlo – relax. Luigi didn't offer me more money, or even a job for that matter. Nobody's bullshitting you, man. This is legit. I've been given a contract with a wrestling company and they want me to start next week – in Israel.”
Carlo's eyes protrude to an almost dangerous extent.
Carlo: “Israel! You hearing this, Pete., boy? Now this-a meatball going to the Holy land! Johnny, you're a fucking liar, my friend. How you gonna sit there and lie to my-a face like-a-that, huh? I give you food. I give you good job. I look after you like-a you my own-a son. Fottuto bastardo!”
The furious Italian turns his back on his drivers and swats a tower of pizza boxes off the counter beside him, simply to vent his frustrations. Johnny shakes his head and stands forcefully, having heard enough from his disrespectful boss.
Johnny: “Whoa! Now hold on a minute, dude. You're out of line here. Yes, I may have tits; and yes, I may be a body shape that bares a slight resemblance to a meat ball. But I'm not lying to you, Carlo. I don't care if you don't believe me, but this time next week, I'll be eating pizza with kosher meat on it and drinking soda from a bottle that looks a lot like a candle stick. I'm moving up! I thought you'd be happy for me, man.”
Carlo turns around swiftly and marches over towards Johnny, biting back.
Carlo: “Okay, mister tough-a guy. So you're off to be a wrestler? Who for?”
With confidence, Johnny puffs his chest out.
Johnny: “Online Championship Wrestling!”
The old Italian pauses briefly, furrowing his brow at this revelation.
Carlo: “You-a mean to tell me that you-a gonna quit this real life-a job-a to go wrestle on the fucking internet?!”
The confidence begins to hemorrhage from Ruff, following the ridicule.
Johnny: “Well, it's not actually on the internet, man. That's just the -”
The delivery boy is cut off.
Carlo: “- I don't-a want-a to hear it! You know what? Go-a wrestle on the fucking internet, my friend! I-a hope the connection is good-a in Israel! Get-a your shit together and get out. You're done!”
Johnny looks stunned by this instruction, as Carlo motions to turn away.
Johnny: “What? You're shit-canning me? Dude, I've given you my two weeks.”
Carlo: “I don't care! I don't-a-want liars and bullshitters working for me! You're fired. Tell Luigi his pizza dough tastes like his-a wife's pussy. Dry-a and yeasty.”
Before Johnny can respond, Carlo points towards the staff room door and nods him out of the room. Ruff sighs and shakes his head, although reluctantly obliges.
Johnny: “This is bullshit, Carlo. You've got it all wrong. Just you wait until you see me kicking names and taking ass all over the World; then you'll be sorry!”
Carlo: “You can't even talk-a-da-smack right! Idiota!”
Johnny leaves Carlo's Pizzeria, having been escorted from the building by the Italian. He scowls and looks around the street, looking a little hopeless. The hard-done-by dreamer strolls away, however, he's soon joined by his ex-colleague Pete, who calls out to him.
Pete: “Johnny, wait!”
Ruff turns back and stares towards Pete, who approaches him and places one solitary hand on his shoulder. There's a real sincerity about his facial expression and vocal tone, as he retorts.
Pete: “I just want you to know... I would sniff the chair.”
Johnny closes his eyes slowly and nods, all while drawing his lips into his mouth, as if to suggest that he's proud of his friend. He places his cold hands on the warm face of Pete, delicately patting his cheeks.
Johnny: “You'll go far, my son. You'll go far.”
The scene draws to a close, leaving the two friends to savour this moment.
Fade.
Our scene fades in immediately following that question, posed by OCW's latest recruit, Johnny Ruff. The pizza delivery boy is sitting back-to-front on an old office chair, directly across from his colleague, Pete. Both men are shooting the breeze and killing time while waiting for their next delivery job; however, before Pete can respond, the staff room door swings open with ferocity.
“WHAT-A THE FUCK-A IS THIS?!”
An angry, fifty-something Italian man enters the frame, displaying an intensity that contrasts the relaxed atmosphere we were originally introduced to. He's waving a folded piece of paper in his right hand, executing enough force to create a snapping sound with it. Johnny and Pete jump, having both been startled by the abrasive interruption.
Johnny: “Jesus, Carlo! You just about scared my lunch out of me.”
Carlo tosses the folded sheet towards Johnny and eyeballs him with a vested interest in his response.
Carlo: “Why you hand-a me this? Huh?! Wassa'madda with you?!”
Pete looks decidedly uncomfortable at this confrontation, so remains quiet. Johnny, on the other hand, appears to be relaxed. He doesn't even need to look at the paper, as he knows what it is.
Johnny: “It's my two weeks. I told you, I landed a dream gig with a wrestling promotion, boss. I'm off to live the dream!”
Carlo wiggles his finger and shakes his head in unison, giggling under his breath.
Carlo: “No, no, no, no. This another one of your smart-ass jokes, my boy.”
Silence. Ruff stares blankly towards his soon-to-be ex-employer, a little confused by Carlo's reaction. The Italian restaurant proprietor continues.
Carlo: “Johnny, you're a good kid, but-a you 'av tits! You're a lot of things, but you're not a wrestler! Wassa'dis really about, huh? Did that motherfucker Luigi offer you better pay over with-a him? Jus-a tell me the truth! Don't bullshit me, my friend!”
Johnny sighs and rolls his eyes, before ushering Carlo to calm down with a gentle hand gesture.
Johnny: “Carlo, Carlo – relax. Luigi didn't offer me more money, or even a job for that matter. Nobody's bullshitting you, man. This is legit. I've been given a contract with a wrestling company and they want me to start next week – in Israel.”
Carlo's eyes protrude to an almost dangerous extent.
Carlo: “Israel! You hearing this, Pete., boy? Now this-a meatball going to the Holy land! Johnny, you're a fucking liar, my friend. How you gonna sit there and lie to my-a face like-a-that, huh? I give you food. I give you good job. I look after you like-a you my own-a son. Fottuto bastardo!”
The furious Italian turns his back on his drivers and swats a tower of pizza boxes off the counter beside him, simply to vent his frustrations. Johnny shakes his head and stands forcefully, having heard enough from his disrespectful boss.
Johnny: “Whoa! Now hold on a minute, dude. You're out of line here. Yes, I may have tits; and yes, I may be a body shape that bares a slight resemblance to a meat ball. But I'm not lying to you, Carlo. I don't care if you don't believe me, but this time next week, I'll be eating pizza with kosher meat on it and drinking soda from a bottle that looks a lot like a candle stick. I'm moving up! I thought you'd be happy for me, man.”
Carlo turns around swiftly and marches over towards Johnny, biting back.
Carlo: “Okay, mister tough-a guy. So you're off to be a wrestler? Who for?”
With confidence, Johnny puffs his chest out.
Johnny: “Online Championship Wrestling!”
The old Italian pauses briefly, furrowing his brow at this revelation.
Carlo: “You-a mean to tell me that you-a gonna quit this real life-a job-a to go wrestle on the fucking internet?!”
The confidence begins to hemorrhage from Ruff, following the ridicule.
Johnny: “Well, it's not actually on the internet, man. That's just the -”
The delivery boy is cut off.
Carlo: “- I don't-a want-a to hear it! You know what? Go-a wrestle on the fucking internet, my friend! I-a hope the connection is good-a in Israel! Get-a your shit together and get out. You're done!”
Johnny looks stunned by this instruction, as Carlo motions to turn away.
Johnny: “What? You're shit-canning me? Dude, I've given you my two weeks.”
Carlo: “I don't care! I don't-a-want liars and bullshitters working for me! You're fired. Tell Luigi his pizza dough tastes like his-a wife's pussy. Dry-a and yeasty.”
Before Johnny can respond, Carlo points towards the staff room door and nods him out of the room. Ruff sighs and shakes his head, although reluctantly obliges.
Johnny: “This is bullshit, Carlo. You've got it all wrong. Just you wait until you see me kicking names and taking ass all over the World; then you'll be sorry!”
Carlo: “You can't even talk-a-da-smack right! Idiota!”
Johnny leaves Carlo's Pizzeria, having been escorted from the building by the Italian. He scowls and looks around the street, looking a little hopeless. The hard-done-by dreamer strolls away, however, he's soon joined by his ex-colleague Pete, who calls out to him.
Pete: “Johnny, wait!”
Ruff turns back and stares towards Pete, who approaches him and places one solitary hand on his shoulder. There's a real sincerity about his facial expression and vocal tone, as he retorts.
Pete: “I just want you to know... I would sniff the chair.”
Johnny closes his eyes slowly and nods, all while drawing his lips into his mouth, as if to suggest that he's proud of his friend. He places his cold hands on the warm face of Pete, delicately patting his cheeks.
Johnny: “You'll go far, my son. You'll go far.”
The scene draws to a close, leaving the two friends to savour this moment.
Fade.
