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Date Posted: 08:11:58 12/07/02 Sat
Author: Thurman Skydive
Subject: Everybody Dance Now

(We're opening up with a close up of what looks to be a large-ish multi-story building. For almost a minute or so nothing happens...)

Voice: Wait for it...

(A flock of birds fly past the buiding but aside from that all seems to be still...

Voice: Here it comes...brace yourself!

(Everything falls silent...AS THE BUILDING EXPLODES! The structure collapses into a haze of dust, rubble and...popcorn??
Suddenly it all becomes clear, as we zoom out slightly and realise that the exploding building was on a massive television. We keep zooming out to reveal Thurman Skydive in a recliner, running pants on...and with the Cruiserweight title belt strapped firmly around his waist. He's sitting in a sea of popcorn, after spilling his bowl of the snack during the demolition...)

Female voice: You know, when you said we'd be coming back to your apartment for some 'pure dynamite'...I thought it was a goofy cheeseball line. It's 3 in the morning...we've been watching this crap for an hour now!

Skydive: Listen sweetcheeks, you'll get a chance to sample the MCW Cruiserweight Champion's fountain of Thurmania soon enough. You wanna ride the Cruiser-bruiser? You want some action from Skydive's skydrive...wait till the commercials or something. That should be plenty...errr...NOT ENOUGH time...yeeees, exactly what I meant to say...

(Thurman coughs shiftily, before making his way over to the sofa, and putting his arm round the young lady. They watch another ten minutes of various random explosions, with Thurman laughing heartily and applauding each one of them...)

Voice from TV: We'll be right back to 'All American Blowing Things Up' right after these words from our sponsors...

(Taking this as a hint that commercials are on, the woman turns, and looks to lie down on top of Skydive as he sprawls out on the sofa. She starts to lie across him...and he moves!! She gets a faceful of sofa, as Thurman stands on his feet looking near furious!)

Skydive: HEY WATCH IT LADY! Do NOT put your hands on the Cruiserweight title belt again!

Woman: But I was...

Skydive: I don't want to hear it. You try and touch the gold again I'm gonna boot you out of Thurmingham Palace before you can say 'Oh Thurman...you're the greatest wrestler of all time. I just want to be near you, and watch videos of your matches, and touch your gorgeous title belt, and touch the scars you've got because I'm a chick and chicks dig scars and...where was I??'

Woman (more to herself): Some palace...cheaply furnished New York City sweatbox more like...even if it is snowing.

Skydive: Glowing? Yeah, my belt does almost look like it glows in the dark doesn't it. It's just one of the cool things about it don'tcha know!
So tell me, when I'm walking to the ring for my match with Chris Ceslar how should I have my belt? I mean, it looks real good around my waist...check this out!

(Thurman starts pretending to strut to the ring, walking on the spot and high fiving, and waving to imaginery fans. Finally he stops...)

Skydive: You see that one looks pretty cool...but check this one out. I mean, rather than have it round my waist, I could go for the more casual look and hold the belt in my hand as I go...

(Thurman looks for the remote to his stereo, and when he finds it, he hits a button. The sounds of 'Go West' - Village People pulsates from the speakers...and Thurman dives across his sofa to yank the plug from the wall!)

Woman: What the hell was...

Skydive: Goddamnit, I told me roomate to stop listening to his CD's on my stereo!

Woman: Thurman, I thought you said you lived alone...

Skydive: Did I say roomate I meant err...I meant...I meant my guinea-pig. That's right! My guinea-pig!

Woman: Your guinea-pi...

(The woman looks to continue, but Thurman plugs the stereo back in and within seconds a womans voice is heard shrieking 'EVERYBODY DANCE NOW'...)

Skydive: Muuuuuch better!

Woman: It is?

(Thurman doesn't seem to hear her, as he is too busy strutting across his living room like it's a catwalk, demonstrating how and in what manner he'd be holding the title belt as he walked to the ring...)

Woman: Thurman I...

(Thurman starts swinging the title belt wildly above his head, thrusting his hips and pelvis in time with the music...)

Woman: THURMAN I...

(Thurman brings the title belt between his thighs, and starts gyrating frantically! His lady-friend has finally lost it. She gets off the couch, storms to the CD player and PUNCHES IT! Sparks fly, and the music slows drastically before it finally comes to a painful halt...)

Woman: YOU'RE AN ILL, ILL HUMAN BEING! I'M LEAVING!

(She grabs her coat and draws it over her shoulders. Now she picks up the glass of red wine she'd been drinking...and throws the contents into Thurman's face. Finally the young woman stomps out the door, slamming it hard behind her!)

Skydive: THAT STUPID FAT-ASSED LITTLE B*TCH! DOES SHE HAVE ANY F*CKING CLUE WHAT SHE'S DONE?

(Skydive grabs a towel, and it seems expected that he'll start by drying his face...)

Skydive: IT'S GONNA TAKE ME AGES TO GET THE WINE OFF MY DAMN BELT!

(He starts carefully dabbing the fluid off his belt. Finally he seems satisfied that he's got the job well in hand, and brings the already wine-soaked towel up to his face, dabbing it "dry")

Skydive: Yikes...good thing I kicked that ugly bizzitch to the curb. She might've got really crazy and...(Thurman shudders)...*touched* my precious belt! Her unwashed scrubber paw-prints all over my championship...I can't believe that little skank! And she's the least of my problems. I beat the hell out of Pebble, and send him and his little rinky-dink return packing...and now I have to wrestle C4 again! It's like a conspiracy or something...

(Thurman looks at the TV screen, which is still airing various explosions...for no apparent reason!)

Skydive: It really is hard to fathom how much TV at this hour really sucks. Who the hell wants to watch endless hours of buildings getting blown up. I mean, I'm sitting here doing my homework...but besides from me who the hell would watch this junk? Surely I'm the only guy that has to wrestle a deranged, defunctional pyromaniac in America right now. I bet I'm the only guy this side of the Mexican border watching this trash. Not even C4 wants to watch this. Having said that, it must be real hard for him...given that he has the explosive capabilities of a spoon.

(Thurman looks down at his belt, and breathes an audible sigh of relief that the wine appears to have done no long term damage to the 10 lbs gold plated strap...)

Skydive: Does that rotund little buttmonkey seriously think he has a chance of taking the title from me? Just like on pay-per-view at Hardcore Hell, the chances are nil to nil some more...simply put...Ceslar can want, want, want my belt all he wants, but it stays with me. The Cruiserweight revolution is on...who the hell wants the dude with eight million 'C's in his name leading that revolution? The wheels of pure unadulterated hatred have been set in motion! All's I got to do is ride my tidal wave of Thurmania...beat on Cooky Crazy Cross-Eyed Chris...retain my Cruiserweight crown...and continue on my way to evolving the meaning of the word revolution! Ladies and gentlemen...what will become known as the "Thurma-lution" is close at hand!

(He reaches up and switches his TV off. He flicks off all the lights in the room, and makes his way towards the door...)

Skydive: Wait a minute...who the hell was I just talking to? Who am I talking to now for that matter?

(He ponders this question...)

Skydive: Maybe I'm just thinking real loud...no wait...Oh God! I'm talking to myself so much it's just not right!

(The horror of the fact moves him to silence, and he readies himself to go to sleep. Within five minutes he collapses down onto his plush double bed...)

Skydive: Man, I'm glad I stopped that talking to myself. People might think I'm a little insane...hold on a sec...GODDAMNIT!!

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