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Patty O'Green

AP: Heavenly Rockers drawing

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(We're whisked backstage to HD GM Axel's office where the man himself is positioned with interviewer Tony Schiavone. Situated between the two is the Lethal Rumble tumbler containing entry numbers for this years highly anticipated match.)

AXEL
Who's next?

TONY SCHIAVONE
(reading his list)
Wahoo McDaniel.

AXEL
I thought he was dead.

TONY
Oh. Well, I'll cross him off the list then. Um, next up we have Craven Moorhead...damn it! That's the last time I let the Sk8er Boiz draw up the list. Okay, next we have Logan Mann and Synth Eszier.

(On cue, The Sin City duo strolls into the neatly organized office. Both men wear ripped up jeans and tattered black Rolling Stones t-shirts. Their appearance on screen scores a large pop from the arena audience.)

AXEL
Logan and Synth, how are you doing? Tony, I'm not any good at the meaningless chit-chat part of the job, so go ahead and say something to ease the awkwardness, eh.

TONY
Uh...you guys like music right? Did I ever tell you about that time I went to that REO Speedwagon concert, and I almost made out with this girl who was a dead ringer for Diana Ross. Except for the fact that this girl was Asian, and fat, and had one leg. And it wasn't a girl at all actually......

SYNTH
Ya've only told us about it one billion times.

AXEL
I think hearing it once might be a bit too much for me.

(Fuming, Logan kicks the table where the tumbler is located.)

LOGAN
Jesus, can we just draw our damn numbers? Why are we even here? This really is corporate inefficiency at it's most glaring. Couldn't we have done this whole thing online?  You can do anything on the Internet.

SYNTH
Uh-uh. Can ya fly ta Romulus home of the Romulan empire on the Internet?

TONY
That'd be boss if you could.

LOGAN
Of course you can't, Synth.

SYNTH
Ahz rests mah case! Wut's the hurry, L-Mann? You got some tail waiting for you back on the tour bus or sumthing? Be cool and be easy, mah ice mocha brudda. That girl ain't going no wheres. You a rock supa-star! Sho, she might be a lil upset you late, but when you hit the hotel room, all you'll need to do is say your name and you'll have that chicks panties 'round her ankles.

LOGAN
I've got a girlfriend, who I promised I'd call at this exact moment, but I can't because I'm dicking around here waiting for you to draw your stupid little number so I can go on and get up outta here.

TONY
Okay, well, let's get this party started. Huh guys? That sounded pretty hip, am I right? Tony S's still got it, eh.

(As Axel groans in the background, Tony commences a fast turn of the lethal tumbler. Synth patiently waits to pull out his number, carefully considering which life alerting container he should chose. After much deliberation and an order to “hurry the hell up, doofus” from Logan, Synth, hands soaked with nervous sweat, pulls out a container.)

SYNTH
Come on numba thirty!

LOGAN
Tiffany, don't you pay any attention to what goes on here? Number thirty already got won by that dude who's nailing that chick you kept trying to score with. There's no way you can get it. If you somehow get number thirty, I'll French kiss Michael Cole.

SYNTH
.......Come on numba thirty!

(With great anxiousness Synth slowly peers at his draw. His face brightens with wondrous joy when he sees what number he's acquired.)

SYNTH
HA-HA-HA! EAT MY ASS, LOGAN MANN! I'M MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE, BABAAAAAY! Where ya shit talking at now, Logan? Hey Ax, what comes before Part B?

AXEL
Part A?

SYNTH
Yeaaaaaauh! Dat's what the Synth-a-nator is gonnna go do! Ah got some jailbait to nail! See ya'll dudes on da witness stand! Deal wit dat ya'll mutha'fuckas!

(Lucky draw firmly in hand, Synth glides out of the room, singing [i]TNT[/i] by ACDC.)

TONY
Ho-ho, he cracks me up. What a character!

LOGAN
He..he..I mean..number thirty isn't in there. Correct? I..I..I'm not gonna kiss Cole. I don't go in for that sort of thing. I know what you read in the tabloids, but that same tabloid also said an eighty year old man in Montreal gave birth to a three hundred pound Condor. So come on now, we all know Condor's can't get that big. Lemme just get my number and we can forget all about that Cole kissing bit.

(Unlike Synth, who treated this as a matter of life and death, Logan casually reaches in and pulls a container. His apathetic expression soon morphs into one of total confusion when he looks at his draw.)

LOGAN
What the hell? This isn't a number! This is a voucher for a free lap dance at Busty Leroux's palace of sin and lust!

TONY
Hmmm....I, uh, wonder how that got in there. Heh-heh. Why don't I just hold onto it for posterity's sake? Go ahead and pick again. It'll be [i]Logan's pick, the remix[/i]. See that's funny, because you're a rockstar. Remix? Music? Rockstar? That's funny to me.

(After a heavy sigh, Logan digs into the tumbler once more. This time he pulls up a draw that makes him wish he would've stuck with the free lap dance.)

LOGAN
No way! Gimme a redo!

TONY
Sorry, Logan. No mulligans here, my Mann. Heh. That was kind of funny. M-a-n-n instead of the typical M-a-n.

LOGAN
Do you know who I am? Do you know who I know? I've gone from the AM to the PM with Christina Milan, hit Britney one more time, got drrty with Christina, holla backed at Gwen Stefani, checked on Beyonce, kicked Hillary Duff outta bed because she was so yesterday, and Kylie Minogue still can't get me out of her head. My loving is all she thinks about. But hey, you want me at this number? That's fine. Let's do it that way, Axel. Tony Schiavone, Anglemania will be the day the heavens rock, because Logan Mann's LP will be going double gold, first as a tag team champion, and then as the hardest rocking world champion this fed has ever seen!

(Determination lining his face, Mann exits the room)

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