Home Alone

Menace 6
Dec. 15, 2003
Starring: Trey Vincent
Writer: John Leary

Backstage, Trey Vincent had arrived, decked out in black leather pants and a black and green hockey jersey with a TV logo on the front. He was on his cell phone and he entered the back door, followed closely by a driver, or gopher or something. Some little idiot carrying his luggage.

“His name is Sean Studd. I just got back from the local hospital and he wasn’t there. I didn’t know if you might have seen him.” He waited for an answer. “Alright. Thanks.” He hung up.

Vincent looked at the camera.

“Hello dear viewers. I would, of course, come out there to talk to you people in the crowd in person, but, you have to remember, you people have not yet proven yourself worthy to bask in my greatness,” he said, getting boos from the crowd as they watched Vincent from the CorporateTron.

“Your Sports Entertainment Icon is a bit concerned. You see, I arrived at the arena in, um...whatever city this is...” He paused to let the boos grow. “Oh, wait, I know where we are! So many assholes, we’ve got to be in New York. So let me tell you New Yawkas to blow me and listen up, because I fear Sean Studd has finally succumbed to his weaknesses.”

“Asshole! Asshole!” came the chant from the crowd.

“That’s right, Sean Studd has been taking it right there. And that’s why I’ve been calling the local hospitals and the local AIDS clinics. But I haven’t been able to find him yet. Though I have quite a few calls out. Now if you’ll stop booing and doing your stupid dirty chanting in my general direction, I’m trying to do some good here.”

Vincent began dialing on his cell phone and waited.

“Hey, baby, this is Trey Vincent, sports entertainment megastar. No, I’m not kidding you. No, I don’t have to come in for a check-up. I’m actually calling around, trying to find Sean Studd. I was afraid he might have become seriously ill from all the STD’s he’s been collecting like baseball cards...uh-huh...patient confidentiality? Oh, come on, baby. OK. How about this. Have you see there tonight a tall fellow, probably staggering around, a bunch of sores on his face, retarded sloping head, and sort of resembling Scott Hall? You have? Well that’s great! Oh, it *was* Scott Hall? Ahh. I see. Alright. Well. Thanks, babe.”

Some fans got a laugh out of the Hall jab, but Vincent didn’t pay any attention as he ended the call and looked at the camera.

“I must say I’m surprised. I figured he’d be itching and burning right about now. So he must be somewhere else. Maybe Sean Studd, the man with the smallest....ego....in WWC is hiding in a closet somewhere around here. Or maybe he’s up on the roof, crying his ass off, contemplating jumping because he knows he is going to be embarrassed by Trey Vincent live on pay-per-view in the main event of the WWC’s Road To Gold. A place where I have been working my whole career toward getting to.

“And what has Studd tried to do? Get drunk and have sex.” The crowd cheered for Studd. “While I backstabbed and used politics to get my way, he was joking around and having fun. Now, I don’t need politics anymore. I don’t need to screw anybody. I can for the fun of it, but I am now the best in the business. The pinnacle. The mountain top. The peak. The man.

“Studd is just a little boy. I have been waiting for three years to get even one shot at a major title. Sure, I’ve been around titles. I’ve held titles. But if I really want to be a main eventer. If I really want to be the Sports Entertainment Icon, and not just call myself one, I need to win. And that’s what I’m gonna do. Win the title that will become the standard in this industry. The WWC Title. That is the most important title in the world. And it will be mine.

“Are me and Studd still friends? No. We don’t go out to drink together. We don’t go to strip clubs or clubs or bars together. But we are forced to work together for some stupid reason. Paul Levine believes Studd can bring in viewers. He can. When he’s facing off with me.” Boos. “I bring the buy rates. I bring the viewers. Because all you losers want to see me beaten, or because you love the Franchise Player or you want to simply live through my successes. People always said it’d be tough to be good. But life is so damn easy when you’re me.”

Vincent paused and looked at his phone.

“Road To Gold. Studd’s mouth is bigger than his talent, or any other part of his body. So, now, I’m gonna keep on calling to find your stupid STD-infected hero, see if they’ve found him in the gutter he’s been living in for all his life until I found him and gave him his 15 minutes of fame in PIW as *my* tag team partner. Studd. You got one minute left. Tick tock.”

With that, Vincent quickly walked off camera down the hall and began asking about Studd.

NEXT CHAPTER: Did I Mention Studd's a Pussy? >>