Darkness, the sound of disorganized rummaging and then light.
You're looking at an expansive trophy cabinet. Various miniature golden statues in various poses. Inscriptions championing a myriad of accomplishments. There's photos too. All of them feature one man, arms aloft, grinning with victory and wearing various golden belts. Belts adorned with familiar initials: BTW, DCW, TWF, WSC (well that last one's unfamiliar now but you'll soon connect the dots.)
A shadow forms over the cabinet, blanketing the trophies and briefly nullifying their radiant shine. As the shadow grows, a figure becomes apparent, making it's way from behind the camera. It's the figure of Jamie Krenshaw and man does it look good.
Krenshaw sits in a carefully placed swivel chair, center screen. He takes a moment to butt a finished cigarette and brush his long, unkempt red mane behind his ears. And then, just as you hoped he would, he looks at you. Yes, you. He waits a moment for your heart to stop fluttering and then, then flashes his trademark grin, waits again, then speaks.
JAMIE: Hi and welcome to another edition of Jamie Krenshaw's Superblog! I'm your host, the Virtuoso of Violence, the Australian Dream and the World Sex Champion (see?) Jamie Krenshaw.
A fraudulent warmth that would put Ryan Seacrest to shame spews forth from Your Australian Hero.
JAMIE: Last week I spoke to you all about DilDo's and DilDont's and showed you where you shouldn't store your adult toys. Namely, where curious children can reach them. Today, however, I have an even better blog planned because I just received a hilarious email from, wait for it, the Tennessee Wrestling Federation. That's right, here it is...
Jamie holds up a printout of the email.
JAMIE: For those of you who don't recall, (snigger) as if, it's been two years since I discarded Tennessee and left the world of wrestling behind. Well, Jamfans, GW Perry wants me back.
A smug, nonchalant shrug.
JAMIE: This official email from the TWF reads [i]“The TWF is getting the band together for a one night only card .. Come one come all .. BUT the card is only open to former TWF'ers ..bring back the old boys for one more go round .”[/i] Succinct, wouldn't you say? Well, in the interest of reciprocation, I'll make my response equally so. [I]Jamie pauses for a moment, mock pondering.[/i] JAMIE: Hrm... no. You see, I'm not an idiot. In fact, I'm quite possibly the only non-idiot in the history of Professional Wrestling, fans included. I wrestled for seven years. I held titles in every company lucky enough to have my presence grace it. And I saved my money. See?
Jamie pulls a wallet out of his pocket, opens it and produces a wad of Australian cash (probably worth two American nickels!)
JAMIE: Whilst almost everyone else in the wrestling industry made a lifestyle of succumbing to expensive vices, I saved. I didn't have to pay for drugs like Dylan Jones, people simply gave them to me. I didn't have to pay for women like HBM. Yes, he was a “Womb Raider” but only after he'd paid 'er. I didn't have to pay for Decapitation Cream like The Executioner because I kept my head. Yep, whilst everyone else in that disgusting industry squandered their earnings on fleeting fancies, I saved and took everything that came my way for free. And now, I'm rich.
He again flashes the wad and playfully shakes it. And that's not a double entendre.
JAMIE: And so, no, I won't be returning to Tennessee to join the “old boys” for one last go around. Don't get me wrong, I'm not judging those who accept this offer. I'm an academic and an avid news enthusiast so I know the score. I know times are tough economically and so I understand why those who didn't save as well as I did may be inclined to put their bodies through the wringer one last time, (snigger) yeah right, for a payday from GW Perry. But it's not for me. [i]A shake of the head, like a disappointed religious parent would give his newly-outed gay son.[/i] JAMIE: You see, not only do I have the savings from my glorious years conquering the world of wrestling. Since I returned to Australia, I've settled down, married, spaffed out a little Krenshaw and made myself Financial Crisis-Proof. How did I do that? Well, I invested in the safest stock in the world: Pornography. On top of that, I've been making a steady income running my very own school for children: The Jamie Krenshaw Institute For Superstardom and Megabucks!
Jamie holds up a framed picture of himself cutting the ribbon to a school, surrounded by cheering children, jealous fathers and moist mothers.
JAMIE: The JKIFSandM is a school designed for children and, more importantly, their rich yet still money-hungry parents who crave fame. It's a class where I teach every child that kneels before me how they can use their unique assets, traits and bone structure to achieve celebrity in whichever field they're suited to and even those that they aren't. A man who claimed to be filming a documentary captured this footage of me taking some childlings under my wing...
CUT TO:
Jamie stands in a suede jacket with leather patched to the elbows. He paces back and forth before a throng of seated, captivated adolescents, musing.
JAMIE: Childlings, success is not dependent on looks. It's not even dependent on talent. I used to work with many untalented men who were ugly as sin. Tomas Luger, JD Lawson, some guy called Insomnia, they could all induce blindness in anyone they afflicted with their visage yet they all succeeded and you know why? Because they had mastered the two P's: Persistence and Politics.
Jamie stops pacing and turns to the children, spreading his gaze throughout the mass, enforcing his point.
JAMIE: Boys and girls, to succeed in anything in the entertainment industry all you need is to be persistent and to play politics. Make friends with the right people, form cliques, kiss rectums and constantly tell anyone in a managerial position that you are great at what you do because sooner or later, whether it be through a slow chipping away at their critical faculties or simply an erosion of their patience, they will believe you and they will push you to the moon. If you don't believe me, ask my old TWF work colleague Rob Blondie. I mean, how many World Championship reigns has he bluffed his way to?
CUT BACK TO:
Mr. Krenshaw is still seated on that swivel chair.
JAMIE: So as you can see, I've moved on. I'm beyond wrestling. I'm above wrestling and I'm most certainly above the TW...
Suddenly Europe's “The Final Countdown” blares from Jamie's pocket. He quickly reaches in and retrieves a mobile phone.
JAMIE: (into his phone) You've called Jamie Krenshaw, how can I improve you?
CALLER (on speaker): Jamie, it's Ken Valdick, you're manager. We need to talk.
JAMIE: Oh, go ahead Ken, I'm just doing my blog. You're on speaker.
KEN: Ah, could you maybe stop doing the blog so we could chat?
JAMIE: Sorry, Ken, blog stops for no-one. Just talk. Give the fans an insight into my awesome life.
A brief, uncomfortable pause. Dead air.
KEN: Okay. Well, Jamie, I'm calling because... you're broke.
Another uncomfortable pause, this time accompanying an incredulous contortion in Jamie's face.
JAMIE: I'm WHAT?
KEN: Jamie, the porn business you invested in went broke. They've gone down, hard.
Jamie can barely comprehend the news.
JAMIE (stammering): B..b..but, how?
KEN: Well, it turns out people didn't want to buy porn videos with your face superimposed onto that of every character. They thought it was creepy. Some people actually needed counselling.
JAMIE: But that's ridiculous! I'm sexy!
KEN: Apparently not when there's five of you in the same scene.
Jamie gasps for breath, desperately trying to come to grips with the situation.
JAMIE: But, I mean, I've still got the Institute For Superstardom and Megabucks! How can I be broke?
You can almost hear Ken cringe over the speaker-phone.
KEN: Well, there were problems with that too. You see, the parents have withdrawn their children.
JAMIE: What, all of them?
KEN: Yes, all of them. And...
JAMIE (crazed, petrified): There's an “and”?
KEN: They've filed a civil suit against you.
JAMIE (ever more petrified): For what?
KEN: Jamie, one of the children found an enormous stash of “adult” magazines in your office.
JAMIE (infuriated): What the hell was a kid doing in my office?
KEN: It was a game of hide and seek gone curious. It doesn't matter. The bottom line is a child found a pile of, well, I've seen it now and it's best described as potentially arousing and/or sickening material and now all the parents want to sue.
JAMIE: But those magazines were for research! I was canvassing the market for my porno company! I barely even opened them!
KEN: There were pages stuck together, Jamie.
A long silence. Jamie sits in his sweet, sweet, swivel chair, stunned.
JAMIE: But... if I'm broke, I can't fight a civil suit. Not if they have a case.
KEN: They do.
JAMIE: Then what do I do?
KEN: Jamie, did you respond to that email from GW Perry yet?
Jamie's face twists with outrage. He reaches through his mind desperately for a solution but none is forthcoming. He remains silent.
KEN: Jamie, do you want me to book you a flight to Tennessee?
Another long pause. A tear snakes down Jamie's cheek.
JAMIE: Can you spot me first class?
CUT.