Post by Marcus Welsh on Mar 28, 2022 23:59:13 GMT -5
~It’s late in the evening. The chartered flight soars, quietly through the night sky. OCW’s entire staff (MINUS CHEASY) is on board. Welsh leans against the window, fast asleep. Zybala leans forward, towel over his head as though he’s trying to block the surroundings out. Greg is massaging Zybala’s shoulders. Kaley Cuoco THE FLIGHT ATTENDANT walks by~
Kaley: Excuse me but the roster wanted to know if they could break into another cart of booze and pills.
~Greg looks at Zybala...Zybala points at Welsh. Greg shakes Welsh awake~
Marcus Welsh: No, stop! Not in the…
~He pauses and looks around~
Marcus Welsh: It appears I was having a night terror thirty thousand feet above ground. My bad. What’s up?
Kaley: Sir, the wrestlers have drank all the booze and eaten all the pills. They want to break into another cart. Are you okay with this?
Marcus Welsh: What’s the problem?
Kaley: It costs more money, sir.
Marcus Welsh: Aren’t you the actress in that Flight Attendant show?
Kaley: I might be.
Marcus Welsh: You were the fuckin worst.
Kaley: -glares-
Marcus Welsh: But, sure, give them what they want. It’s a long flight.
~She heads off. Welsh stares out the window...a bunch of clouds are off in the distance, but fast approaching. He doesn’t think much of it...he’s flown thousands of times...he trusts the pilots on this flight~
~The PA buzzes. The head pilot speaks~
Captain: This is your captain speaking, ooh yea! We got some stormy weather up ahead but it ain’t nothing we can’t handle. So sit back and enjoy your royale with cheese because me and my trust co-pilot are gonna cut through this thing like greased lightning!
~Everyone seems fine~
Marcus Welsh: A very charismatic pilot.
Greg: He sounds like a scientologist, to me.
Marcus Welsh: What, exactly, does a scientologist sound like, Greg?
Greg: Like that.
~They near the clouds. Welsh watches...our view goes through the window, flying outside toward the clouds...they are deep and dark and full of energy. We can make out what looks to be a pair of eyes as a loud voice begins to laugh from within...it sounds like Ragana! The plane heads right for this highly unusual and destructive looking cloud...we watch as it disappears into the cloud. Instantly, we cut back inside as the turbulence picks up~
Marcus Welsh: Shit!
Greg: Oh my!
Zybala: Was that RAGANA’s laugh?
Marcus Welsh: Of course not, Mike. Relax...stay calm. We’re all going to be okay.
Zybala: That sounded like her!
Marcus Welsh: She’s gone, Mike. Gone.
~Gone into the clouds...this cloud, apparently. Overhead compartments start to open, the lights flicker...OCW staff and wrestlers are bounced around. The Captain speaks~
Captain: Uhm, yes, this is your captain speaking and we seem to have faced off with a mean cloud. Meaner than I expected. But we’ll be fine, just some mild -bang- OUCH! Sorry, some mild turbulence. But, all is well.
~The door to the cockpit flies open and the co-pilot gets stabbed and shoots down the back of the plane, losing all his air~
Captain: Also, if anybody knows how to co-pilot a plane, that’d be great.
~The plane suddenly jolts downward. Everybody flies out of their seats. Screams and gasps fill the plane...the lights go out~
Marcus Welsh: FUCK
Greg: MARCUS!
Captain: Okay, so the turbulence is getting a little rough and, well, yes...it appears now would be a good time to -
~The PA stops working~
Marcus Welsh: A good time to what? TO WHAT?
Greg: HOLD ME
~Marcus and Greg hold one another with Zybala in the middle. The exit door flies open, sucking a nameless OCW employee out and to his death. Plethora is seated next to him. We’ll just give him that one, another death on his tally. We cut away and watch as the plane descends...it descends through the cloud amid the cackling of a wicked goddess. It plummets out of the cloud and down to certain demise. Inside the cockpit, the Captain pulls back on his controls as hard as he can~
Captain: C’mon!!! You tricked me into starring in Staying Alive...you owe me one! You owe me, L Ron!!!
~The plane makes a miraculous recovery, turning its nose up, just slightly, so it doesn’t drive straight into whatever awaits...it catches a breeze, controlling its descent...the plane glides, albeit recklessly over the water...the bottom crashes against the calm surface of the ocean...it skips up. Everybody on board thrashes around. It skips again and again before it’s belly slams into the water...it cracks, it almost breaks...but the expert work of the captain keeps gravity from tearing the aircraft apart. It slides against the surface of the water, about to sink when it hits the sandy bottom~
WHOOSH! CRASH!
~The immovable earth causes the plane to tilt forward, nearly flipping over...but gravity pulls the plane’s ass back down where it CRASHES into the ocean. It slowly comes to rest...it’s nose embedded in mushy, muddy sand. It’s tale floating atop the ocean water, momentarily, before beginning to sink to the shallow bottom. Slowly, the tail drifts underwater before coming to rest...it’s only four or five feet deep...so the interior of the plane isn’t in danger of filling up and drowning the OCW crew. Instead, they’re simply stuck...stuck on the beach of this...this geographical saving grace~
Marcus Welsh: Are...are we dead?
~He looks over and sees Who’Re’s ass in the air~
Marcus Welsh: Is this heaven?
~He looks around and sees The Viagra Boys sporting massive boners~
Marcus Welsh: Fuck...is this hell?
~The Captain emerges~
Captain: Hey everybody! Got some good news and some bad news. Bad news, we had to make an unexpected stop. Good news, it looks as though L Ron has smiled upon us today. The thetan levels on this plane must be off the charts!
~Welsh rises~
Marcus Welsh: Where...where are we?
Captain: As best as I can tell, somewhere between California and Australia.
~We cut outside the plane...The Captain’s body suddenly flies out the open door...we hear a WILHELM SCREAM as his body flies through the air and lands in the water~
SEVERAL MOMENTS LATER
~The OCW staff and wrestlers help each other out of the wrecked plane. Welsh stumbles through the water, onto a beach. Zybala is next to him. Welsh drops to his knees and he hugs the ground. Zybala looks around...through the stars and moonlight he sees palm trees and sand...beyond that is an increasingly thick wilderness. Welsh soon realizes kissing sand is a bad idea...he rises and spits sand from his mouth, surveying the scene with Zybala~
Marcus Welsh: So, are we LOST?
Zybala: I think we’re LOST.
Greg: You guys don’t think this is Australia, do you?
Marcus Welsh: There’s only one way to find out.
~Welsh whistles at the low level OCW employees who are dragging all the ring equipment to shore~
Marcus Welsh: Get a step on it, guys! We need to figure out if we’re in Australia and, if not, we need to find out where we are. We’ve got some shows to put on! Let’s go!
~We cut away with the entire OCW roster reaching the beach and looking around, trying to gather themselves after this most unfortunate turn of events~
Kaley: Excuse me but the roster wanted to know if they could break into another cart of booze and pills.
~Greg looks at Zybala...Zybala points at Welsh. Greg shakes Welsh awake~
Marcus Welsh: No, stop! Not in the…
~He pauses and looks around~
Marcus Welsh: It appears I was having a night terror thirty thousand feet above ground. My bad. What’s up?
Kaley: Sir, the wrestlers have drank all the booze and eaten all the pills. They want to break into another cart. Are you okay with this?
Marcus Welsh: What’s the problem?
Kaley: It costs more money, sir.
Marcus Welsh: Aren’t you the actress in that Flight Attendant show?
Kaley: I might be.
Marcus Welsh: You were the fuckin worst.
Kaley: -glares-
Marcus Welsh: But, sure, give them what they want. It’s a long flight.
~She heads off. Welsh stares out the window...a bunch of clouds are off in the distance, but fast approaching. He doesn’t think much of it...he’s flown thousands of times...he trusts the pilots on this flight~
~The PA buzzes. The head pilot speaks~
Captain: This is your captain speaking, ooh yea! We got some stormy weather up ahead but it ain’t nothing we can’t handle. So sit back and enjoy your royale with cheese because me and my trust co-pilot are gonna cut through this thing like greased lightning!
~Everyone seems fine~
Marcus Welsh: A very charismatic pilot.
Greg: He sounds like a scientologist, to me.
Marcus Welsh: What, exactly, does a scientologist sound like, Greg?
Greg: Like that.
~They near the clouds. Welsh watches...our view goes through the window, flying outside toward the clouds...they are deep and dark and full of energy. We can make out what looks to be a pair of eyes as a loud voice begins to laugh from within...it sounds like Ragana! The plane heads right for this highly unusual and destructive looking cloud...we watch as it disappears into the cloud. Instantly, we cut back inside as the turbulence picks up~
Marcus Welsh: Shit!
Greg: Oh my!
Zybala: Was that RAGANA’s laugh?
Marcus Welsh: Of course not, Mike. Relax...stay calm. We’re all going to be okay.
Zybala: That sounded like her!
Marcus Welsh: She’s gone, Mike. Gone.
~Gone into the clouds...this cloud, apparently. Overhead compartments start to open, the lights flicker...OCW staff and wrestlers are bounced around. The Captain speaks~
Captain: Uhm, yes, this is your captain speaking and we seem to have faced off with a mean cloud. Meaner than I expected. But we’ll be fine, just some mild -bang- OUCH! Sorry, some mild turbulence. But, all is well.
~The door to the cockpit flies open and the co-pilot gets stabbed and shoots down the back of the plane, losing all his air~
Captain: Also, if anybody knows how to co-pilot a plane, that’d be great.
~The plane suddenly jolts downward. Everybody flies out of their seats. Screams and gasps fill the plane...the lights go out~
Marcus Welsh: FUCK
Greg: MARCUS!
Captain: Okay, so the turbulence is getting a little rough and, well, yes...it appears now would be a good time to -
~The PA stops working~
Marcus Welsh: A good time to what? TO WHAT?
Greg: HOLD ME
~Marcus and Greg hold one another with Zybala in the middle. The exit door flies open, sucking a nameless OCW employee out and to his death. Plethora is seated next to him. We’ll just give him that one, another death on his tally. We cut away and watch as the plane descends...it descends through the cloud amid the cackling of a wicked goddess. It plummets out of the cloud and down to certain demise. Inside the cockpit, the Captain pulls back on his controls as hard as he can~
Captain: C’mon!!! You tricked me into starring in Staying Alive...you owe me one! You owe me, L Ron!!!
~The plane makes a miraculous recovery, turning its nose up, just slightly, so it doesn’t drive straight into whatever awaits...it catches a breeze, controlling its descent...the plane glides, albeit recklessly over the water...the bottom crashes against the calm surface of the ocean...it skips up. Everybody on board thrashes around. It skips again and again before it’s belly slams into the water...it cracks, it almost breaks...but the expert work of the captain keeps gravity from tearing the aircraft apart. It slides against the surface of the water, about to sink when it hits the sandy bottom~
WHOOSH! CRASH!
~The immovable earth causes the plane to tilt forward, nearly flipping over...but gravity pulls the plane’s ass back down where it CRASHES into the ocean. It slowly comes to rest...it’s nose embedded in mushy, muddy sand. It’s tale floating atop the ocean water, momentarily, before beginning to sink to the shallow bottom. Slowly, the tail drifts underwater before coming to rest...it’s only four or five feet deep...so the interior of the plane isn’t in danger of filling up and drowning the OCW crew. Instead, they’re simply stuck...stuck on the beach of this...this geographical saving grace~
Marcus Welsh: Are...are we dead?
~He looks over and sees Who’Re’s ass in the air~
Marcus Welsh: Is this heaven?
~He looks around and sees The Viagra Boys sporting massive boners~
Marcus Welsh: Fuck...is this hell?
~The Captain emerges~
Captain: Hey everybody! Got some good news and some bad news. Bad news, we had to make an unexpected stop. Good news, it looks as though L Ron has smiled upon us today. The thetan levels on this plane must be off the charts!
~Welsh rises~
Marcus Welsh: Where...where are we?
Captain: As best as I can tell, somewhere between California and Australia.
~We cut outside the plane...The Captain’s body suddenly flies out the open door...we hear a WILHELM SCREAM as his body flies through the air and lands in the water~
SEVERAL MOMENTS LATER
~The OCW staff and wrestlers help each other out of the wrecked plane. Welsh stumbles through the water, onto a beach. Zybala is next to him. Welsh drops to his knees and he hugs the ground. Zybala looks around...through the stars and moonlight he sees palm trees and sand...beyond that is an increasingly thick wilderness. Welsh soon realizes kissing sand is a bad idea...he rises and spits sand from his mouth, surveying the scene with Zybala~
Marcus Welsh: So, are we LOST?
Zybala: I think we’re LOST.
Greg: You guys don’t think this is Australia, do you?
Marcus Welsh: There’s only one way to find out.
~Welsh whistles at the low level OCW employees who are dragging all the ring equipment to shore~
Marcus Welsh: Get a step on it, guys! We need to figure out if we’re in Australia and, if not, we need to find out where we are. We’ve got some shows to put on! Let’s go!
~We cut away with the entire OCW roster reaching the beach and looking around, trying to gather themselves after this most unfortunate turn of events~