Post by Jillie on Feb 17, 2010 22:54:38 GMT -6
"Dirty Foreigner Multinational Agent Women for a Tyrannical Feminocracy meets for drinks..."
The scene opens in The Reconsider Lounge. Y Kores are sitting around the table looking rather glum, except for “The Other Girl” Petrina Rotchester, who is concentrating on something she’s writing. Behind them, on various TVs scattered throughout the restaurant, the Olympics are on but they are, of course, tuned in to an American channel. “Everyone’s Favourite Canadian Lady” Adriana Samu look from TV to TV, distressed.
Can’t we get some frickin hockey on here? Canada is playing right now.
“The Assassin” Rory Kotch looks up at Adriana, her head in her hand as if she is bored.
Who are they playink?
Norway.
I don’t know vhy you need to vatch then. It’s not like Norvay is goink to vin.
Adriana sulks but doesn’t argue. Kotch addresses Rotchester.
Vhat are you doink?
Makin’ a list.
I can see that. A list of vhat?
Sports equipment.
Petrina’s teammates and manager, Xander Nova, who looks poised and professional, as always, sipping his vodka, all look at her curiously.
I like to be prepared. What was that thing Foolery threw at yer head last week, Dria?
What do you mean, what was it? It was a football, genius.
No, no. A football’s round and black n’ white.
That’s a soccer ball.
No, she’s right. It’s a football.
Adriana rolls her eyes.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter what you two call it. And it doesn’t matter what Foolery has on hand this week. If he can get his grubby mitts on something – whether it be sports equipment or office supplies – he’s going to try to use it. If I were you, I would stop worrying about WHAT he’s going to throw and just assume it’s going to be SOMETHING.
They all sit silently for a minute before Adriana seems to lose her temper.
Seriously! Hockey!? Whose idea was it to move to Texas, anyway!?
Petrina snaps her head up, annoyed.
Look at y’three! Cheer up, cranky pants! I don’ understand why yer all so glum. Sure, Dria lost the last match t’Vinny, but Foolery ‘ad to throw sh*t at ‘er ‘ead to get ‘er down. And sure, Rory didn’ beat ol’ Manny, but she didn’ lose neither. We know their tricks; we just overlooked ‘em a bit. I sure ain’t gonna be overlookin’ ‘em this week, and yous should turn yer anger into ideas. C’mon, ladies! We’re Y Kores, damnit! We can’t let Sports Authority get away wi’this kinda crap! Let’s put our heads together and figure out what went wrong in the last two bouts and find a solution!
And don’t ev’n start wi’what Foolery and ‘is boys are sayin’ about us. Multinational agents? What th‘ell is that!? Dirty foreigner women? Adriana, I though you said before that talkin’ ‘bout our “nether regions,” as you so delicately put it, was a waste of breath.
I did say that. Clearly they took no notice. Surprise, surprise.
And tyrannical feminocracy? ‘ave they read our bios on SNW.com? Obviously not or they’d know that you three are socialist and I don’t give a damn who’s in charge as long as I get me beer.
I don’t know vhy you are surprised by this. They don’t know anythink about us and they never have. That is vhy all they do is move their mouths, sayink vords that make them sound tough and competent and threatenink. In fact, ve can see right through their macho speeches and see that deep down they are nervous.
Right. That’s why I dunno why you two are so bitchy ‘bout this. Instead of investin’ some time in researchin’ and studyin’ their opponents, The Sports Authority just continue to yap. All four of us know that actions speak louder ‘n words. Their actions are sayin’ that they need to cheat to win because they DON’ KNOW how to beat us fair an’ square.
What’re our actions gonna say? I’ll tell ye what mine’ll say this weekend – they’ll say that I’m one tough bitch and I’m not to be taken lightly. I grew up fightin’. Besides beer it’s me favourite thin’ to do. These wanna-be mobsters ain’t got nothin’ on a street kid from Belfast, that’s for sure. But I’m more than just a brawler, an’ you girls know it. I was trained by you guys, Rory and Xander, an’ both of ye are brilliant wrestlers; some o’ that has surely worn off on me. I’ve been managed me whole career by you, Dria; from you I learned that it’s not just brawn that get ye places in this business but it’s brains, too. I know you ladies don’ often think I excel in that category, but I’ve picked up the important points, believe me.
We’ve gotta figure out how to out-cheat the cheaters without getting’ kicked outta the match. I know we can come up with a plan. I’ve seen us do it.
Adriana, Rory and Xander all stare at Petrina.
I feel like I’m in the tvilight zone…
No kidding. You’re right, though. I did have that match made until Foolery started throwing stuff.
And I suppose if it hadn’t been for that silly double disqualification I vould have come out on top.
That’s more like it. If you three are done sulkin’ now, why don’ we forget about this stupid hockey game – Canada’s gonna win anyway – an’ hit the gym.
Petrina’s three stable-mates all nod in agreement, get up, and leave for the gym to end the scene.
The scene opens in The Reconsider Lounge. Y Kores are sitting around the table looking rather glum, except for “The Other Girl” Petrina Rotchester, who is concentrating on something she’s writing. Behind them, on various TVs scattered throughout the restaurant, the Olympics are on but they are, of course, tuned in to an American channel. “Everyone’s Favourite Canadian Lady” Adriana Samu look from TV to TV, distressed.
Can’t we get some frickin hockey on here? Canada is playing right now.
“The Assassin” Rory Kotch looks up at Adriana, her head in her hand as if she is bored.
Who are they playink?
Norway.
I don’t know vhy you need to vatch then. It’s not like Norvay is goink to vin.
Adriana sulks but doesn’t argue. Kotch addresses Rotchester.
Vhat are you doink?
Makin’ a list.
I can see that. A list of vhat?
Sports equipment.
Petrina’s teammates and manager, Xander Nova, who looks poised and professional, as always, sipping his vodka, all look at her curiously.
I like to be prepared. What was that thing Foolery threw at yer head last week, Dria?
What do you mean, what was it? It was a football, genius.
No, no. A football’s round and black n’ white.
That’s a soccer ball.
No, she’s right. It’s a football.
Adriana rolls her eyes.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter what you two call it. And it doesn’t matter what Foolery has on hand this week. If he can get his grubby mitts on something – whether it be sports equipment or office supplies – he’s going to try to use it. If I were you, I would stop worrying about WHAT he’s going to throw and just assume it’s going to be SOMETHING.
They all sit silently for a minute before Adriana seems to lose her temper.
Seriously! Hockey!? Whose idea was it to move to Texas, anyway!?
Petrina snaps her head up, annoyed.
Look at y’three! Cheer up, cranky pants! I don’ understand why yer all so glum. Sure, Dria lost the last match t’Vinny, but Foolery ‘ad to throw sh*t at ‘er ‘ead to get ‘er down. And sure, Rory didn’ beat ol’ Manny, but she didn’ lose neither. We know their tricks; we just overlooked ‘em a bit. I sure ain’t gonna be overlookin’ ‘em this week, and yous should turn yer anger into ideas. C’mon, ladies! We’re Y Kores, damnit! We can’t let Sports Authority get away wi’this kinda crap! Let’s put our heads together and figure out what went wrong in the last two bouts and find a solution!
And don’t ev’n start wi’what Foolery and ‘is boys are sayin’ about us. Multinational agents? What th‘ell is that!? Dirty foreigner women? Adriana, I though you said before that talkin’ ‘bout our “nether regions,” as you so delicately put it, was a waste of breath.
I did say that. Clearly they took no notice. Surprise, surprise.
And tyrannical feminocracy? ‘ave they read our bios on SNW.com? Obviously not or they’d know that you three are socialist and I don’t give a damn who’s in charge as long as I get me beer.
I don’t know vhy you are surprised by this. They don’t know anythink about us and they never have. That is vhy all they do is move their mouths, sayink vords that make them sound tough and competent and threatenink. In fact, ve can see right through their macho speeches and see that deep down they are nervous.
Right. That’s why I dunno why you two are so bitchy ‘bout this. Instead of investin’ some time in researchin’ and studyin’ their opponents, The Sports Authority just continue to yap. All four of us know that actions speak louder ‘n words. Their actions are sayin’ that they need to cheat to win because they DON’ KNOW how to beat us fair an’ square.
What’re our actions gonna say? I’ll tell ye what mine’ll say this weekend – they’ll say that I’m one tough bitch and I’m not to be taken lightly. I grew up fightin’. Besides beer it’s me favourite thin’ to do. These wanna-be mobsters ain’t got nothin’ on a street kid from Belfast, that’s for sure. But I’m more than just a brawler, an’ you girls know it. I was trained by you guys, Rory and Xander, an’ both of ye are brilliant wrestlers; some o’ that has surely worn off on me. I’ve been managed me whole career by you, Dria; from you I learned that it’s not just brawn that get ye places in this business but it’s brains, too. I know you ladies don’ often think I excel in that category, but I’ve picked up the important points, believe me.
We’ve gotta figure out how to out-cheat the cheaters without getting’ kicked outta the match. I know we can come up with a plan. I’ve seen us do it.
Adriana, Rory and Xander all stare at Petrina.
I feel like I’m in the tvilight zone…
No kidding. You’re right, though. I did have that match made until Foolery started throwing stuff.
And I suppose if it hadn’t been for that silly double disqualification I vould have come out on top.
That’s more like it. If you three are done sulkin’ now, why don’ we forget about this stupid hockey game – Canada’s gonna win anyway – an’ hit the gym.
Petrina’s three stable-mates all nod in agreement, get up, and leave for the gym to end the scene.
