Post by terrymarshall on Oct 27, 2022 16:11:05 GMT -5
"NEXT!", Terry Marshall shouts before sighing to himself as he watches another candidate for Marshall's Militia shuffle off the stage. Marshall is recruiting a new crew, from whom he could select a partner to win the Marcus Welsh Memorial Tag Team Tournament with. Deep down Marshall knew this was a poor attempt to replace the Desolator Crew, but he couldn't just hire a new crew from Wrestling Lackeys R'Us.
Marshall sinks back into the wooden chair of the community center auditorium where he is holding open auditions. Marshall wants to keep auditions as professional as possible, instead of using a casting couch as CJ O’Donnell did for Paramount. Marshall pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes tightly as he thinks about how much more of this he has to go, as people have lined up by the hundreds to join the Marshall Militia.
Marshall is drumming along with what is without a doubt Motley Crue’s best song. The curtains on the stage slide open and Marshall sees the outline of a figure covered by the fog, but shining through the pink lights. The man has broad shoulders and looks to be pretty jacked, but not as jacked as Marshall, obviously.
The man spins around while pulling off his white leather jacket that he throws toward Marshall. The man dances forward and as he emerges from the fog, Marshall smiles as he sees one of his oldest and best friends, Harry “The Hairstyles” Hotcakes. Hotcakes hit a few poses, does some strutting, and obviously, he is ready to do some cutting.
Marshall is on his feet, clapping, and nodding his head. “HECK YEAH BROTHER!” Marshall says with a loud tone of approval. Hotcakes feels the momentum on his side but fails to realize the fog machines have not been turned off. Hotcakes begins to cough and gag as the fog builds up thickly around him. In his coughing fit Hotcakes is blinded by the fog, stumbles right off the stage, and falls to the ground with a thud, that somehow causes a giant record-scratching sound that immediately cuts the music off and brings the lights up.
Marshall runs to the bottom of the stage, and to his old friend's side. Hotcakes is laying flat on his back on the ground and seems to be a bit dazed, as Marshall kneels beside him.
Brother, are you ok?
Brother, you’re talking crazier than normal.
In the words of the late, great, Colonel Sanders…. I’m too drunk to taste this chicken,
Yeah, Dude, I’m going to have to call an ambulance for you,
Marshall pulls out his Intelligent Phone and begins dialing 911, but pauses.
You signed the waiver, right dude?
I can taste the color purple.
Marshall shakes his head and dials the phone. Marshall walks outside to wait on the EMTs as other candidates for the Marshall Milita crowd around Hotcakes to check on him. As the cool Autumn air blows on Marshall's tan skin he looks up at the starry night. Marshall can’t look to the stars without thinking of his old friend Space Lord. Marshall sighs and mumbles to himself, “if you monologue they will come.
Marshall takes a deep breath and allows himself to get into “the zone”, and when Marshall is in the zone, it means his opponents are in the… danger zone.
Monologue:
YO GILBERT! YO CJ! LISTEN UP, DUDES! I know you two like to sword fight each other for Alice’s entertainment on a Saturday night, but while you’re playing knights of the roundtable, old Terry Marshall is in the gym clanging and bangen. While you two are playing video games, I’m watching film and studying. While Gilbert drinks his HI-C, and CJ drinks his Guinness, I’m pounding down protein shakes. I’ve been preparing for this match my whole life because my whole life has been preparing for this match.
I’ve been in the ring longer than either of you two have even been alive. I’ve spent more time in the gym than CJ has in the bar and more time than Gilbert has at the asthma doctor. CJ thinks he’s going to bring all the pomp and circumstance that his OCW gig comes with, and he’s going to march through this tournament and become the MWMTT winners, but I gotta ask you something CJ. What are you gonna do?
What are you gonna do when it comes crashing down and it hurts inside? Are you gonna run and hide behind Gilbert? Or, are you gonna take a stand? I’ll tell you right now dude, it won't help to hide. You gotta be a man, and you gotta do what’s right. So, what are you gonna do CJ? Are you going to take a stand, and fight me like a man? Or, are you going to hide behind Gilbert because last time I checked Gilbert is the one with the winning streak, and you are the one collecting a string of losses and dropping out of the top ten?
Marshall smirks and nods his head up and down, really feeling his mojo working. Maybe it is a rush of adrenaline, or maybe it is the residuals of the Blue Chew running through his system, but Marshall is feeling hyped.
You two are Alice’s Knights, and you’re fighting for the pride of Mrs. WHOoters herself, what a shame to limit yourselves to such a small support system. You see me dude, me and the members of Marshall’s Militia we are fighting for the millions, AND MILLIONS OF THE THUNDER-A-MANIACS, AND THE MILLIONS, AND MILLIONS OF SEX-A-MANIACS!
I’m fueled by the strongest force known to mankind, the power of Sexamania combined with the power of Thundermania. Nothing can stop that force, not even you two wanna be Lancealots on your hobby horses with your sticks you like to poke each other with. Cause you two may be Alice’s Knights, but I’m the big red and yellow dragon that is going to burn your hopes and dreams down as I horde the gold that comes along with the MWMTTT.
Marshall stops talking as the EMTs come rolling out of the auditorium with Hotcakes on a stretcher. Hotcakes gives Marshall a big thumbs up, and Marshall gives one back. Marshall marches back into the auditorium, picks up his clipboard, and marches onto the stage.
Alright, if I call your name come up onto the stage you have made the cut for Marshall’s Militia. The rest of you, well, thank you for your time and I hope you all continue to support Thundermainia.
The camo armor-clad man makes his way onto the stage. Slowly of course because the armor weighs and slows him down.
“WELL GOLLY!” a man dressed in army clothes shouts from the crowd before joining the others on stage.
Next, my Sargent. SARGENT SAL!
Sal Vulcano of Impractical Jokers fame rushes on stage. Hey, he’s a big wrestling fan, why wouldn’t he want to be in Marshall’s Militia?
Next, my Major. This one may be controversial, but he has changed his ways since his Nefarious Wrestling Outsiders days and is 1-0 in Outsiders. MAJOR FLAVOR!!!
Major Flavor, sporting his flame shit runs onto the stage.
Jimmy Fallon runs on stage, acting so shocked and humbled. The rest of the crowd begins clapping for the newly formed Marshall Militia. Marshall quiets the crowd and makes one last announcement.
What you are looking at is the crew that will be riding into battle with me as we take out Alice’s Knights and battle our way through the Marcus Welsh Memorial tag team tournament.
Jimmy Fallon steps forward looking both puzzled and concerned.
Uhhh… hahaha, ah Terry. We are actually going to be fighting people? Uh, hahaha, uh, haha.
Yes, Jimmy, one of you will be my new tag team partner, and while the rest of you can’t be a part of Sports Entertainment Xpress, you all can be S.E.X supporters.
Oh, Haha. Terry, I thought this was an audition for a movie.
The crowd and the rest of the Militia members begin mumbling and the general consensus is that they all thought it was a movie or play audition. The crowd begins to disperse and slowly dwindles until it is just Terry Marshall left standing on stage alone.
I don't need a partner for S.E.X. I can do S.E.X all by myself because I’ve got the power of all the THUNDERAMANIACS AND SEXAMANIACS ON MY SIDE! IN THE BACKYARD, S.E.X IS GONNA RUN WILD ON ALICE’S KNIGHTS!
Marshall sinks back into the wooden chair of the community center auditorium where he is holding open auditions. Marshall wants to keep auditions as professional as possible, instead of using a casting couch as CJ O’Donnell did for Paramount. Marshall pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes tightly as he thinks about how much more of this he has to go, as people have lined up by the hundreds to join the Marshall Militia.
Suddenly, the lights dim in the auditorium, and an old familiar tune begins to play over the PA system. The music cracks a bit as the system is old and outdated, but the fog machines and flashing lights bring Marshall to an upright position as no one has been entertaining thus far.
Marshall is drumming along with what is without a doubt Motley Crue’s best song. The curtains on the stage slide open and Marshall sees the outline of a figure covered by the fog, but shining through the pink lights. The man has broad shoulders and looks to be pretty jacked, but not as jacked as Marshall, obviously.
The man spins around while pulling off his white leather jacket that he throws toward Marshall. The man dances forward and as he emerges from the fog, Marshall smiles as he sees one of his oldest and best friends, Harry “The Hairstyles” Hotcakes. Hotcakes hit a few poses, does some strutting, and obviously, he is ready to do some cutting.
Marshall is on his feet, clapping, and nodding his head. “HECK YEAH BROTHER!” Marshall says with a loud tone of approval. Hotcakes feels the momentum on his side but fails to realize the fog machines have not been turned off. Hotcakes begins to cough and gag as the fog builds up thickly around him. In his coughing fit Hotcakes is blinded by the fog, stumbles right off the stage, and falls to the ground with a thud, that somehow causes a giant record-scratching sound that immediately cuts the music off and brings the lights up.
Marshall runs to the bottom of the stage, and to his old friend's side. Hotcakes is laying flat on his back on the ground and seems to be a bit dazed, as Marshall kneels beside him.
Brother, are you ok?
I’m fine momma, I can still take my test today.
Brother, you’re talking crazier than normal.
In the words of the late, great, Colonel Sanders…. I’m too drunk to taste this chicken,
Yeah, Dude, I’m going to have to call an ambulance for you,
Marshall pulls out his Intelligent Phone and begins dialing 911, but pauses.
You signed the waiver, right dude?
I can taste the color purple.
Marshall shakes his head and dials the phone. Marshall walks outside to wait on the EMTs as other candidates for the Marshall Milita crowd around Hotcakes to check on him. As the cool Autumn air blows on Marshall's tan skin he looks up at the starry night. Marshall can’t look to the stars without thinking of his old friend Space Lord. Marshall sighs and mumbles to himself, “if you monologue they will come.
Marshall takes a deep breath and allows himself to get into “the zone”, and when Marshall is in the zone, it means his opponents are in the… danger zone.
Monologue:
YO GILBERT! YO CJ! LISTEN UP, DUDES! I know you two like to sword fight each other for Alice’s entertainment on a Saturday night, but while you’re playing knights of the roundtable, old Terry Marshall is in the gym clanging and bangen. While you two are playing video games, I’m watching film and studying. While Gilbert drinks his HI-C, and CJ drinks his Guinness, I’m pounding down protein shakes. I’ve been preparing for this match my whole life because my whole life has been preparing for this match.
I’ve been in the ring longer than either of you two have even been alive. I’ve spent more time in the gym than CJ has in the bar and more time than Gilbert has at the asthma doctor. CJ thinks he’s going to bring all the pomp and circumstance that his OCW gig comes with, and he’s going to march through this tournament and become the MWMTT winners, but I gotta ask you something CJ. What are you gonna do?
What are you gonna do when it comes crashing down and it hurts inside? Are you gonna run and hide behind Gilbert? Or, are you gonna take a stand? I’ll tell you right now dude, it won't help to hide. You gotta be a man, and you gotta do what’s right. So, what are you gonna do CJ? Are you going to take a stand, and fight me like a man? Or, are you going to hide behind Gilbert because last time I checked Gilbert is the one with the winning streak, and you are the one collecting a string of losses and dropping out of the top ten?
Marshall smirks and nods his head up and down, really feeling his mojo working. Maybe it is a rush of adrenaline, or maybe it is the residuals of the Blue Chew running through his system, but Marshall is feeling hyped.
You two are Alice’s Knights, and you’re fighting for the pride of Mrs. WHOoters herself, what a shame to limit yourselves to such a small support system. You see me dude, me and the members of Marshall’s Militia we are fighting for the millions, AND MILLIONS OF THE THUNDER-A-MANIACS, AND THE MILLIONS, AND MILLIONS OF SEX-A-MANIACS!
I’m fueled by the strongest force known to mankind, the power of Sexamania combined with the power of Thundermania. Nothing can stop that force, not even you two wanna be Lancealots on your hobby horses with your sticks you like to poke each other with. Cause you two may be Alice’s Knights, but I’m the big red and yellow dragon that is going to burn your hopes and dreams down as I horde the gold that comes along with the MWMTTT.
Marshall stops talking as the EMTs come rolling out of the auditorium with Hotcakes on a stretcher. Hotcakes gives Marshall a big thumbs up, and Marshall gives one back. Marshall marches back into the auditorium, picks up his clipboard, and marches onto the stage.
Alright, if I call your name come up onto the stage you have made the cut for Marshall’s Militia. The rest of you, well, thank you for your time and I hope you all continue to support Thundermainia.
First, the privates. Boba Fat Tea.
The camo armor-clad man makes his way onto the stage. Slowly of course because the armor weighs and slows him down.
Next, Private Pyle.
“WELL GOLLY!” a man dressed in army clothes shouts from the crowd before joining the others on stage.
Next, my Sargent. SARGENT SAL!
Sal Vulcano of Impractical Jokers fame rushes on stage. Hey, he’s a big wrestling fan, why wouldn’t he want to be in Marshall’s Militia?
Next, my Major. This one may be controversial, but he has changed his ways since his Nefarious Wrestling Outsiders days and is 1-0 in Outsiders. MAJOR FLAVOR!!!
Major Flavor, sporting his flame shit runs onto the stage.
And finally my newest first mate. FIRST MATE FALLON!!!
Jimmy Fallon runs on stage, acting so shocked and humbled. The rest of the crowd begins clapping for the newly formed Marshall Militia. Marshall quiets the crowd and makes one last announcement.
What you are looking at is the crew that will be riding into battle with me as we take out Alice’s Knights and battle our way through the Marcus Welsh Memorial tag team tournament.
Jimmy Fallon steps forward looking both puzzled and concerned.
Uhhh… hahaha, ah Terry. We are actually going to be fighting people? Uh, hahaha, uh, haha.
Yes, Jimmy, one of you will be my new tag team partner, and while the rest of you can’t be a part of Sports Entertainment Xpress, you all can be S.E.X supporters.
Oh, Haha. Terry, I thought this was an audition for a movie.
The crowd and the rest of the Militia members begin mumbling and the general consensus is that they all thought it was a movie or play audition. The crowd begins to disperse and slowly dwindles until it is just Terry Marshall left standing on stage alone.
I don't need a partner for S.E.X. I can do S.E.X all by myself because I’ve got the power of all the THUNDERAMANIACS AND SEXAMANIACS ON MY SIDE! IN THE BACKYARD, S.E.X IS GONNA RUN WILD ON ALICE’S KNIGHTS!