Freakshow sits on a stool. He is wearing glasses. Aviators, a suit, class. In his hands, note cards. Puffing on a big cigar. Phallic cigar? No. A cigar is a cigar. Eyes red, lots of drink. Alcoholism is bad. Bandage on his head. From a DDT. From a weapon shot. From bad decisions. Hand through greased hair. Poor personal hygiene. Growing out the mustache again. No one wants this. Its incredibly uncool, the stache. Into the camera he speaks. A lungful of smoke puffs.
"Freakshow.." Freak licks his lips. "Great wrestler. Great man, the best," He folds his arms. "Tag team specialist?" He pauses contemplatively. 'Yeah, number one," In satisfaction he nods. He begins snapping. No clear reason why. "WWFG Grand Slam Champion?" Freak looks to the side. This is why he's midcard. For life. "You bet your sweet a**.." He says, voice gravelly. "Philanthropist?" Freak licks his thumb. Smooths out his eyebrow. "..Hah, I won't brag," He's still snapping. Inexplicably light jazz sax plays. More pornographic than sophisticated. "But a poet?" He holds out notecards, "Don't be surprised.." He drops the cigar. Its okay, floors concrete. He pops his neck. Reads the first poem.
"Salem Croft, the worst,"
"Like a river of horseshit"
"Salem, I hate you
Canned applause. Stage hands clap. Freakshow signals for silence. Remarkable amounts of self importance. Inferiority complex from unloving mother. Bitterness from unfulfilled potential. Career midcarder. Carried by good partners. Almost pushed in EWA. Got himself fired.
"Losers Wrestling League,"
"LWL, Too good for this,"
"Freak. Big fish. Small pond"
More canned applause. Peaked too early. Drug use and booze. One major world title. Transitional champion. Lost it in a week. Not big enough. Not fast enough. Once left WWFG without notice. Vacated intercontinental title. Unreliable worker. Small name, big ego.
"Kayla King, my love,."
"Freak is single, forget dad."
"I'll break you in two."
Tongue probes inside of mouth. His legs spread open. He winks at the camera. Then he blows a kiss. Hopefully she's over eighteen. Never made a difference. He mouths silently, "Call me.." Makes a hand phone gesture. "Thank you all, for listening." He rubs his hands together. "And before I leave.." Money in his eye. Obviously still talking to Kayla. "I'd like to thank LESBO. The greatest lesbian promotion. Hands down."
Graphic for LESBO fades in. You can still hear snapping.
