Post by ianwright on Jun 13, 2014 19:34:57 GMT -5
EXT. ORLEANS ARENA - LAS VEGAS - EVENING (IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING ROULETTE)
The parking lot has mostly cleared out, although pockets of stragglers are scattered about in the background. The ground is littered from tail gaiters. "RIGHTEOUS" IAN WRIGHT, mid 30's, jeans and a plain white t-shirt, perhaps a little to tight, surveys the parking lot with disgust.
He looks into the camera and shakes his head.
IAN WRIGHT: No Limit Wrestling, you come in here every Wednesday night, and you bring with you all the drunks and the gambling addicts and the fornicators who support your trash. And these fans of your sex and violence and profanity do their thing, and then they leave, and they leave it to hard working locals like me to clean up after them-- well, maybe not me per se, because I'm not a garbage man, but you get my point.
Ian looks to the ground. He spots a Trojan wrapper. He picks it up and holds it up to the camera.
IAN WRIGHT: Look at this. It's a condom wrapper. What kind of a sick individual uses a condom at a professional wrestling event? And think about this: that's just the wrapper-- that means out there somewhere, right now, is a used condom-- just waiting to be stepped on. I mean, where else does someone dispose of a used condom in a parking lot?
Ian tosses the condom wrapper and continues his assessment of the damage.
IAN WRIGHT: James Bullet, I blame you for this mess, sir. I know that you know that sex and gambling and potty mouths and beating people inside of steel cages are a good time for a lot of people, and they would pay top dollar for that kind of entertainment. And so you stack your roster with the criminals and the drunks and the thugs and the crazies and I can go on and on and you don't care, because you're just raking it in, raking it in. And then every Wednesday night, right about this time, your sideshow roster of circus freaks take their fancy cars and planes and hightail it out of town, and I've gotta live with this:
As Ian utters the words, he passes by a two kids huddled together, sharing a beer, and grabs the beer and pours it out as he keeps walking. Again, he looks into the camera as he walks.
IAN WRIGHT: So now you've made me do what I didn't want to do. That's right. I've signed a No Limit Wrestling contract, but make no mistake about it-- I don't want to be here. Can I wrestle? H-E-Double Hockey Sticks I can wrestle. Do I want to be doing this? H-E-Double Hockey Stocks no, I do not want to be doing this. But the only way I am going to be able to reclaim any sense of moral decency in my backyard is by flushing out all of the undesirable human beings employed by this company. And once all of the undesirables are done, Mr. Bullet, then you'll have a wholesome company-- one you can be proud of-- and then you'll thank me.
Ian comes to a stop. He crosses his arms and gives his series face.
IAN WRIGHT: Because what No Limit Wrestling needs is an enema to flush out all the excrement-- and I am just that enema. I am Ian Wright, and around here we do things the Wright Way.
FADE TO BLACK