Post by Lord Hastings on Mar 16, 2024 18:14:36 GMT -5
Human Resources.
The Office of Robert Ooley, Director.
Director Ooley sits at his desk, his office phone in his hand.
Ooley: No, I don’t want a Foster’s! Do I look like a person who can be fucked to hunt wallabes on the weekend!?
He slams the phone down and huffs.
Ooley: Where the frig did Toss get himself to? Toss!
Ooley stands and picks up his bat, slamming it atop a call bell that rests on his desk, which makes a blunted ding as it is smashed into bits.
Ooley: Get in here!
Ooley nudges the smashed bits of the bell off the desk into a trash bin, before sitting. He opens a desk drawer and takes out a new call bell that he sets on the desk as the door opens.
Ooley: What took so long?
Ooley looks up to see that standing in the doorway is, in fact, not Todd the Intern.
Ooley: The fuck do you want, Hamstrings?
Hastings: I thought you might clarify something for me.
Ooley: You need clarification on something so you came to Human Resources?
Hastings: You’re right, that was probably a silly choice. Regardless, I’m here, so you’ll have to suffice.
Donovan crosses the room and sits in the chair opposite Ooley. He takes a paper out of his pocket and reclines in the chair, putting his feet up on the desk.
Ooley’s eye twitches.
Hastings: The card for next week has me facing a “Tommaso Ferrari.”
Ooley: So?
Hastings: So I’m not up to date with your pet names for a lot of the newer people, I thought you might translate for me who this is.
Ooley: That’s not one of mine.
Hastings: This isn’t your name for someone? You’re sure it’s not John Blade.
Ooley: No. I mean yes, I’m sure.
Hastings: We actually hired someone named Tommaso Ferrari?
Ooley: Apparently.
Hastings: Why?
Ooley: Why not?
Hastings: Well, what’s his story?
Ooley: Do Ol’ Bob look like a personnel file to you?
Hastings: You’re the Director of Human Resources.
Ooley: Fine. TOSS!!
Ooley stands and grabs the bat, smashing the call bell as Donovan quickly yanks his legs back and sits up. A moment later the door opens.
Todd: You rang?
Ooley: I need our file on the Lamborghini fellow.
Ooley sits back down as Todd crosses the room and opens a file cabinet within Ooley’s reach.
Todd: Tommaso Ferrari? What do you need it for?
Ooley: Hamstrings here is asking questions.
Todd frowns and pushes the cabinet closed.
Todd: It’s not policy to share confidential personal files with other talent.
Hastings: I’d just like to know who this guy is.
Todd: Oh. I suppose I can help you with that.
Todd pulls out a brush and sweeps the bits of the call bell into the bin.
Todd: He’s a banger car racer that is wrestling for money to fix his wrecked car so he can race again.
Todd opens the desk drawer next to Ooley and pulls out a new call bell, setting it on the desk.
Hastings: He’s a…when did we become Supreme Jersey Wrestling?
Todd: That reminds me, I have a meeting at the Laconia. If you gentlemen will excuse me.
Todd adjusts the position of the call bell before leaving.
Hastings: Last week it was Thornfield, now this scrub. Is this meant to be Deimos putting me in my place?
Ooley stares at Donovan for a few moments.
Ooley: My in-ring career ended far sooner than I ever thought it would. It’s a difficult thing to accept.
Hastings: Don’t start with that.
Ooley: I’m not. You’ve done a lot for us, and you have plenty of shit still in the tank. I’ve heard what you’re up to, what you’re trying to do. You want to win the Cross-Hemisphere Title out of spite. I can respect that. Yeah, you’re getting put in there with people that you’d have never given the time of day when you were World Champion. Newsflash, Hamstrings. You ain’t the World Champion. You’ve chosen to compete in a division you never thought you’d compete in, for a title you’d have never given a thought about. Ol’ Bob’s advice? Go to the ring and get it done. Don’t play games.
Donovan stands.
Hastings: I’m not playing games. Phrixus has always claimed that the Cross-Hemisphere Title is the most prestigious in the industry. By the time I’m done with it, it actually will be.
Ooley: Good. People will pay money to see that. We like money around here.
Donovan starts to leave.
Ooley: One problem. You think another match with Rain Blott is going to end any different than it has before?
Donovan stops, and answers over his shoulder.
Hastings: Things change.
Donovan leaves, as Ooley smirks in his chair.
Ooley: For your sake, Hamstrings, I certainly hope so.
The Office of Robert Ooley, Director.
Director Ooley sits at his desk, his office phone in his hand.
Ooley: No, I don’t want a Foster’s! Do I look like a person who can be fucked to hunt wallabes on the weekend!?
He slams the phone down and huffs.
Ooley: Where the frig did Toss get himself to? Toss!
Ooley stands and picks up his bat, slamming it atop a call bell that rests on his desk, which makes a blunted ding as it is smashed into bits.
Ooley: Get in here!
Ooley nudges the smashed bits of the bell off the desk into a trash bin, before sitting. He opens a desk drawer and takes out a new call bell that he sets on the desk as the door opens.
Ooley: What took so long?
Ooley looks up to see that standing in the doorway is, in fact, not Todd the Intern.
Ooley: The fuck do you want, Hamstrings?
Hastings: I thought you might clarify something for me.
Ooley: You need clarification on something so you came to Human Resources?
Hastings: You’re right, that was probably a silly choice. Regardless, I’m here, so you’ll have to suffice.
Donovan crosses the room and sits in the chair opposite Ooley. He takes a paper out of his pocket and reclines in the chair, putting his feet up on the desk.
Ooley’s eye twitches.
Hastings: The card for next week has me facing a “Tommaso Ferrari.”
Ooley: So?
Hastings: So I’m not up to date with your pet names for a lot of the newer people, I thought you might translate for me who this is.
Ooley: That’s not one of mine.
Hastings: This isn’t your name for someone? You’re sure it’s not John Blade.
Ooley: No. I mean yes, I’m sure.
Hastings: We actually hired someone named Tommaso Ferrari?
Ooley: Apparently.
Hastings: Why?
Ooley: Why not?
Hastings: Well, what’s his story?
Ooley: Do Ol’ Bob look like a personnel file to you?
Hastings: You’re the Director of Human Resources.
Ooley: Fine. TOSS!!
Ooley stands and grabs the bat, smashing the call bell as Donovan quickly yanks his legs back and sits up. A moment later the door opens.
Todd: You rang?
Ooley: I need our file on the Lamborghini fellow.
Ooley sits back down as Todd crosses the room and opens a file cabinet within Ooley’s reach.
Todd: Tommaso Ferrari? What do you need it for?
Ooley: Hamstrings here is asking questions.
Todd frowns and pushes the cabinet closed.
Todd: It’s not policy to share confidential personal files with other talent.
Hastings: I’d just like to know who this guy is.
Todd: Oh. I suppose I can help you with that.
Todd pulls out a brush and sweeps the bits of the call bell into the bin.
Todd: He’s a banger car racer that is wrestling for money to fix his wrecked car so he can race again.
Todd opens the desk drawer next to Ooley and pulls out a new call bell, setting it on the desk.
Hastings: He’s a…when did we become Supreme Jersey Wrestling?
Todd: That reminds me, I have a meeting at the Laconia. If you gentlemen will excuse me.
Todd adjusts the position of the call bell before leaving.
Hastings: Last week it was Thornfield, now this scrub. Is this meant to be Deimos putting me in my place?
Ooley stares at Donovan for a few moments.
Ooley: My in-ring career ended far sooner than I ever thought it would. It’s a difficult thing to accept.
Hastings: Don’t start with that.
Ooley: I’m not. You’ve done a lot for us, and you have plenty of shit still in the tank. I’ve heard what you’re up to, what you’re trying to do. You want to win the Cross-Hemisphere Title out of spite. I can respect that. Yeah, you’re getting put in there with people that you’d have never given the time of day when you were World Champion. Newsflash, Hamstrings. You ain’t the World Champion. You’ve chosen to compete in a division you never thought you’d compete in, for a title you’d have never given a thought about. Ol’ Bob’s advice? Go to the ring and get it done. Don’t play games.
Donovan stands.
Hastings: I’m not playing games. Phrixus has always claimed that the Cross-Hemisphere Title is the most prestigious in the industry. By the time I’m done with it, it actually will be.
Ooley: Good. People will pay money to see that. We like money around here.
Donovan starts to leave.
Ooley: One problem. You think another match with Rain Blott is going to end any different than it has before?
Donovan stops, and answers over his shoulder.
Hastings: Things change.
Donovan leaves, as Ooley smirks in his chair.
Ooley: For your sake, Hamstrings, I certainly hope so.