LIVE! From A Foreclosed Home in Key West
Friday, January 26th, 2018
Dean’s Mother: Alright Deanie, you sure you got everything?
Dean: Yes mom
Dean’s Mother: Did you get your collector’s edition DVD of Shaft?
Dean: Yes mom
Dean’s Mother: And your old inhaler?
Dean: MOM
Dean’s Mother: Well, honey, I know you haven’t had asthma in years but you never know when it could flare up again. Especially in this humid climate.
Dean’s mom hustles up and drops the inhaler into the box. Her eyes widen.
Dean’s Mother: DEAN!
Dean: What?
She removes an iTunes gift card.
Dean’s Mother: Trying to sneak away with my iTunes gift card! You know your uncle gave this to me for Christmas.
Dean: But mom, I need it to legally download music for my federation.
Dean’s Mother: I’m sorry but you can’t go around stealing people’s gift cards.
Dean: I was gonna pay it back. Double the amount.
Dean’s Mother: Honey, that’s all sweet and stuff but you’re running a wrestling promotion out of an abandoned back yard. I think I’m just going to keep the card. You can buy one when you’ve saved up enough money.
Dean: Okay, mom
Dean lowers his head. Zybala is snickering in the background. Dean’s mother comes up and gives him a big hug. Her voice breaks.
Dean’s Mother: I’m going to miss you so much. Please stay in touch honey. Leaving the nest, such an emotional moment.
Dean: I love you too, mom.
The embrace ends. As Dean walks towards the pickup, Zybala shouts out a thank you to Momma Dean. Dean’s mom waves good bye as they pull away. They drive two houses down and take a left into an abandoned driveway. The grass is overgrown and the house is falling apart. The two get out of the truck and look around.
Zybala: Well, here we are…the new headquarters of OCW!
Dean: Feels great to be on my own again!
Zybala: For as long as we can keep the bank off our tail. We could have just bought it, but I had all my assets in the banks and stocks frozen for a year. Living off my spending cash.
Dean does a double take.
Dean: Why would you do that?!?
Zybala: Because you said you wanted to start this dream from the ground up and using the literal millions I've made from 14 years of wrestling is not from the ground up.
Dean: So we've been fucking slumming it in backyards like a bunch of low rent Suckas when we could have been at least American Legion halls?!?!
Zybala: You said "from the ground up!" Don't blame me for actually listening to what you said!
Dean: Mother Fucker!
(from literally two houses down.)Dean's Mother: LANGUAGE, YOUNG MAN!!
Dean: Sorry mom.
Zybala laughs as he walks up to the front door. There is a Foreclosure sign on it, plus other signs detailing what utilities have been shut off. Zybala knocks on a few different places on the door before finding a spot he likes. He steps back and eyes the spot, then lunges forward with a big boot that swings the door open with a loud crack. Dean looks towards the sound of the noise.
Dean: Nice
He steps through the door and observes the home. The walls are cracked. The foundation is loosened. Stains are everywhere. The carpet is beyond repair. The fake tiled floor in the kitchen and bathrooms has faded into a color far removed from originality. Dean sets his box of belongings in what can best be described as the living area. A fireplace sets against the wall with piece of cardboard covering the pit. Mitch, OCW’s referee, spots it.
Mitch: Sweet! A fireplace!
He removes the cardboard, excitedly. They all shriek as several dead rats are piled up behind it. Mitch quickly replaces the cardboard covering.
Dean: Well that’s not up to code.
Zybala: Let’s check the arena
And by arena, he means the backyard. The trio head toward the kitchen where a glass, sliding door is discovered. Zybala and Dean both struggle opening it. Finally, via a combined thrust, the door squeaks loudly, opening. The yard, or more appropriately ‘jungle’ greets them. The grass is almost waist high. The fence surrounding the yard is old and worn. An occasional patch of grass moves as some type of critter(s) run wild. Dean quickly shuts the door.
Dean: So we need to mow the grass
Zybala: Sounds like a job for Mitch
Mitch: I saw some day laborers hanging around a restaurant a few miles back. I can go grab them.
Zybala: You do that
Mitch hustles for the truck. He pauses.
Mitch: Gas money?
Zybala: You can figure it out, Mitch
Dean: Yea, sucka. It’s just up the road for crying out loud
An undaunted Mitch heads for the truck and begins his search for day laborers.
Dean: Okay so I was thinking my office should be the master bedroom
Zybala: Whoa, whoa…that’s where my headquarters were to be stationed
Dean: I’m six foot seven, sucka! I think the master would only be fitting
Zybala: Yea but until five minutes ago you were living with your mom. You really think you should go from mother’s house to the master bedroom that quick? Seems like an unbelievable ascension, if you ask me.
Dean: For the last time, she was living with me!
Zybala: Whatever you say, Dean-o.
Dean: Alright, fine. We’ll throw paper, rock, scissors for it. Ready?
Zybala: I was born ready
They throw. Dean flashes scissors. Zybala does some weird, over-the-top pose with his fingers.
Dean: The fuck is that?
Zybala: That’s God or some type of higher power. It beats everything.
Dean: What are you, 12?
Zybala: I’m a winner!
Dean: Son of a bitch!
The two begin to scuffle as Mitch returns with what looks like a mariachi band. Dean and Zybala quickly compose.
Dean: Is this the lawn crew?
Mariachi Guy 1: Si si
Suddenly they break out in a song. Mitch hops around. Zybala exits through the front door. Dean seems unpleased.
Dean: What is this? I hate it!
They continue to play. Zybala re-enters with a push mower. He shoves the handle into the Mariachi leader’s stomach. The mariachi band quiets as the leader looks sad.
Mariachi Guy 1: No no no. Como….
Zybala: Como yard need mowing! You like dinero?
Mariachi Guy 1: Si si si
Zybala: Mucho dinero after el yardo es mowed…o
With a reluctant sigh, the Mariachi Band heads into the backyard and begins to mow.
Dean: Where did you get the mower?
Zybala: I borrowed it from our neighbor.
Dean: Nice guy. What’s his name?
Zybala: I don’t know
Mitch: What about the ring?
Dean: Well, sucka, I’m no yard guy but I’d assume once they are down mowing the back yard we will be able to set up the ring.
Mitch: Cool
Zybala: Mitch, come here
Zybala and Mitch have a private convo. Mitch exits the front door.
Dean: What was that all about?
Zybala: Oh nothing…hey, Dean!
Dean: Yea?
Zybala: I noticed a few wrestling trophies in that box. You want to show them to me, explain to me how and when you won them?
Dean’s chest swells with pride.
Dean: Why sure, sucka. I’d love to
They turn their back to the front door as Dean is too busy showing off his past in ring achievements. While doing so, we watch Mitch drag Zybala’s stuff through the front door and into the master bedroom. Zybala reaches into a box and pulls out a sizeable trophy with what looks like a miniature steelchair wrapped in barbed wire on top. Obviously a King of the Deathmatch prize, but Zybala plays dumb and holds it up.
Zybala: I've never been good in tourneys Deano. What was this trophy for?
Dean: That was one of my proudest moments of my career Z-man. That was for a Deathmatch tourney where I outlasted FIFTEEN other people in one night of carnage and....
Dean continues to go on about this particular night as Zybala looks at him like a wide eyed fan. Occasionally, Zybala looks behind Dean to check on Mitch's progress, but Dean doesn't notice. He is too wrapped up in his memories. The nostalgia is broken however when one of mariachi members start yelling in the yard. Dean breaks out of his trance like state and both he and Zybala run to the yard. Mitch appears from the master bedroom and head towards the yard but Zybala stops him.
Zybala: (in hushed tones) Dude, finish moving my lighter stuff before Dean notices. I'll deal with this.
Mitch: I'm not moving the bed and dressers by myself.
Zybala: I'm gonna help with that. Just hurry with the light crap so I claim the room as mine!
Mitch flashes a thumbs up and continues moving boxes. Zybala quickly runs next to Dean before he notices the absence. They look at the mariachi folk and see them hopping around and away from a very active rabbit.
Dean: What in the name of Monty Python is going on?!?
Mariachi Man 1: ¡'S rabbid señor!!
Dean: I see it's a rabbit! Just catch it or something.
Mariachi Man 2: No bueno señor. I tink is rabid.
Dean: He just said that!
Mariachi Man 3: ¡No amigo! ¡Not bunny rabbid! ¡Like Cujo rabid!
Dean: Huh???
Zybala: Oh shit!!! Like rabies?!?!
Mariachi Band: Si señor.
Zybala rushes back into the house and grabs the deathmatch trophy Dean was going on and on about and runs out into the yard trying to club the rabbit with the trophy.
Dean: My deathmatch trophy! They don’t call them death matches for no reason, sucka! The blood, sweat and…(pauses, realizing he’s a man and real men don’t cry)…fucking blood! Give that back!
Zybala: You don’t understand…there are rabid rabbits with rabies out here!
Dean does not like the sound of that so he locates an award given to OCW years back for their efforts in philanthropy and decides to help out in murdering the diseased hare. A few hours later the sun is setting. Wood crackles under a lit fire. Three dead rabbit carcasses spin around, cooking. The Mariachi band and Mitch are finishing the final touches on the new ring. Dean’s face stares at the fire while Zybala continuously rotates the stick.
Dean: You’re sure they weren’t rabid?
Zybala: Positive. Shit just got lost in translation. Happens all the time.
Dean: Well, alright sucka. So after making some calls over at the neighbor’s house.
Zybala: Which one?
Dean: Not the lawnmower man’s house. I heard him bitching about the whereabouts of his lawnmower and took a right instead of a left. Thankfully some toothless woman answered the door and gave me permission to use her phone.
Zybala: So who did you reach?
Dean: Guy Cashe’s probation officer said he was available to compete. I think Uber Man’s boss said something along the lines of him being available on Monday nights. Jam G and Billy Thomas randomly showed up at my mom’s house, so they are down. And, well, that’s about it for now.
Zybala: Meyhu?
Dean: Uh, yea, about that…I checked my messaging service and it sounds like Meyhu’s legal team is demanding we remove any history mentioning The Marvel from our records. I’d fight it but, seeing as I’m borrowing a neighbor’s phone to reach clients, well, I think it’s best if we just obey the order.
Zybala: What’s his claim?