The scene opens up on the Pub and Grub. The camera walks through the front doors and into the bar area. It looks over to Porter’s usual seat, but he is not in it. The usual men are sitting around, singing drunkenly and chattering with their stammered and slurred speaking. Scotty, also known as the guy who gets hit in the head with a mug by Porter, points towards the back to Porter’s office. The cameraman gives Scotty a thumbs up. Scotty smiles a toothless grin.
The camera goes back into the back and you can see flashing lights coming under the crack of the door to Porter’s office. You can hear from a distance a faint bass line groove booming in the room. The cameraman approaches the door slowly. As he gets nearer you hear the first line of the chorus to the song, “I’m just a love machine, and I won’t work for nobody but you, I’m just a love machine.”
The cameraman opens the door slowly as the music begins to blast even louder inside the room. We can see Porter in his normal garb, dancing under a strobe light, reliving the glory days of the disco era with this pop culture hit, “Love Machine,” Porter is dancing feverously, and is doing it quite well. He starts doing a dance move that turns him around towards the camera, when he sees the camera, he freezes in his tracks. He reaches over slowly and turns off the music.
“How long have you been standing there, lad? Were enjoying me, busting my arse to this music, boy-o? Wouldn’t you say that I have some personality?”
The cameraman stays silent.
“Well, obviously you’re not going to open your mouth lad, which is what I would have wished Count Chocula and Mr. Razor Blade Willie would have done, and kept quiet, now I am forced to take physical action into these matters. As GM, I have certain responsibilities you see lads, and I can’t have a lad running around nipping on the necks of my roster and I certainly can’t have a lass running around waving a razor blade like it’s a winning lotto ticket.”
Porter wipes sweat from his brow and goes behind his executive desk. He pulls out the chair and sits down. He leans back in the chair and props both his legs up on the desk, spread apart. If it weren’t for pre-recorded segments outside the live events, we would have gotten more than we paid for a ticket. Porter then realizes he is in a kilt and laughs and simply puts his legs back down. He continues.
“Razor Blade Willie and Count Chocula, you both have said your fair share of things about ol’ Porter Macleod. And quite frankly lasses, it flatters me. I have two loose cannons on my show, and I think that is just about time that ol’ Porter Macleod douses the fuses on these cannons, and removes the ammunition to them. You two lads are just be wee toddlers in the ring compared to my abilities. I was winning championships before either of you Fangora excerpts came to the ring for the first time. Tomorrow, I vow to take Kaos to the wood shed, lads. He may overpower me in the long run, but it is Porter Macleod that has the veteran advantage. But that’s not the only advantage that I have over you two lasses, I have something that both of you are lacking, and I believe that is why you both act like disgruntled, anal retentive movie monsters. You see, I have what you call personality lad. Like his finisher, Hallow Wicked is Bone Dry of personality, and not only is he good at sucking blood, I hear he is pretty good at sucking in the ring, lads. And Kaos, where do I start, there are so many things that I could go on about, but I have limited time. I think lad, that you just long for attention since ol’ Skully boy has left no one is here to give you a run for your money and make you feel important. So you have to just throw yourself into the main stream without earning your spot in it. And attacking a child, for the love of St. Peter lad, is that how you make a statement? Let me tell ya, if you really want to make a statement, you have to do something that just makes people revel you. I mean, like hanging a midget by his underwear off of a door knob, or super gluing an old lady’s walker to the floor, or asking a blind man what color his shoes are, or telling a man with no legs that his shoes are untied, playing guess who with a deaf man. I mean I could have done so many better things lad, but you choose to pick up a fan and threaten him, I had to pay his parents off with an autographed photo of me and front row tickets to this PPV. And now that I sit and I think about how you have been acting lately, both you and the Cunt, I mean the Count, it just runs me up a wall boy-os. I think Porter Macleod is beginning to get a little riled up over this lads, it may be time for you two to see the other side of the REAL DEAL, the Scottish pride and the Irish desire to fight. And unluckily for you, I am both, I am a deadly concoction, Scotch-Irish. Speaking of scotch, I think I’ll have me one.”
Porter walks over to a table with drinks on it, he pours him some scotch and takes a shot, then he smiles and gives the camera a look with his crazy, wild eyes. He takes a large mug and sets it down on the table, he begins pouring drinks from this bottle and the next, when he has finished, he has used large portions of all the drinks that are around him, he sniffs his masterpiece of alcohol and is almost knocked back by it. He then looks at the drink, then at the camera and back at the drink. He tosses his head back and downs the drink. The camera gets a close-up of his face, once he swallows the drink his eyes cross and he is overtaken by his deadly concoction. He begins to shake his head as he fights with this consumption of alcohol. Almost instantly, as if something snapped in him, Porter’s eyes open up and his eyes go wild, the camera reveals what would look like a member of the looney bin, Porter begins to laugh.
“WOOOO, ruffle my kilt up and call me Sally, Jack! Porter Macleod is getting more riled up than Rosie O’Donnell at a free banquet buffet. You can say all you want to princess, but Razor Blade Willie…You won’t have a successful tenure in this business as long as you continue your little childish rampage on your way to the title, because I am what stands between you and the champ and the door just shut in your face on your way out of the closet, boyo! So don’t be surprised if you get caught up in the fury of the kilt, because I am a REAL man, I am the REAL GM, and I am the REAL DEAL, jack! I’m gonna make both of ya famous, number one cause you’re both on my show, and number two, because both of ya are looking to strike something against me. So tomorrow, the Pride of the Emerald Isle comes down on the Menstrual Maniac, Kaos….and now, it is time to pay the piper!”
Home 
January 13th 2007, 10:05 pm