HD: Cribs

[Patty O'Green 0]

I don't know if this should go before or after KC's funtime skit so I leave it's placement up to the wisdom of KingPK!

 

COLE
Folks, Living Angleously is this Sunday, and we have a stacked card planned for you! However the show got a bit more interesting when Miss California herself Krista Isadora Duncan issued an invitation of sorts to Flex Phillips, Biff Atlas, Melvin Nerdly, Marvin Nerdly, Alix Maria Spezia, and Leon Rodez, to participate in Run For The Gold 2 at her house in Los Angeles! On the line in this Living Angleously edition of RFTG is the highly sought after 24/7 title. The belt has been hotly contested over the past few weeks, and now the top contenders are getting their chance to lay their hands on it. It should be amazing!

COACH
Hold up, Tinkerbell. I can understand Alix, Leon, Flex, and [i]maybe[/i] Biff being in the RFTG but what are Melvin and Marvin doing there?

COLE
Maya thinks Marvin and Melvin are the hottest thing ever so she begged her mom to let them come over, and Krista agreed. And I don't really care for you calling me Tinkerbell, thank you.

CABOOSE
This whole setup doesn't sound like something Krista would be willing to do. Completely out of character. Is this some kind of joke? If Krista doesn't even like wrestling, why would she ever let a wrestling match happen inside her million dollar home? She knows good and well the place is going to get trashed by those psychopaths.

COLE
The inside scoop is that she proposed the match with the caveat that anything the wrestlers break the company has to reimburse her for at three times the original retail price. She's looking to redecorate on the company's dime, and this is the best way to it. 

CABOOSE
Now, that sounds more like Krista.

COLE
Now folks, the OAOAST has partnered with MTV to bring you a special HeldDOWN edition of [i]Cribs[/i] featuring the lavish Beverly Hills estate of Krista Isadora Duncan. This will give you a sneak peek at the course of the second annual Run For The Gold. Take a look....

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/mtvcribsstill.jpg]

[b]5 Bedrooms
6 Baths
Beverly Hills, California.[/b]

Once the stats fade we're shown a montage of images that display Krista's landmark estate and spare me from having to write a flowery description, providing me with more time to masturbate.

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/krisfront.jpg]
A view from the fabulous front.

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/kris2.jpg]
A charming look of basement level front walkway

[IMG=http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y39/Portfree/pool.jpg]
A shot of the pool and it's sweeping city and ocean views

The images end and we're transported to the lush settings of the front porch where Krista Isadora Duncan, wearing a fern colored tank top and desert camo print cropped pants, is leaning against her French door, tapping her foot impatiently.

KRISTA
Hurry up and get your asses in here! And make this quick, I gotta pick up my kid at soccer practice in an hour.

To accentuate the point that Krista isn't the friendliest gal on earth, the camera man zooms in on her welcome mat which reads [b]Go away[/b] in vibrant bold letters.

We're shown a highlight package of Krista's various accomplishments and performances. Conspicuous in their absence are any mentions of Krista's work in the field of pro wrestling. What is featured in the presentation are excerpts from her fitness videos, shots of her book signings, images of her on Hollywood red carpets, and images from her modeling photoshoots. When the package ends, we return to the “live” shot. 

Krista kicks the door open allowing the camera crew to step into her not so humble adobe. The home audience is blessed with a breathtaking view of her stunning hallway, who's flooring is constructed of marble tile imported directly from Italy. A water fountain stands in the middle of the floor, it's streams, illuminated by gold and blue lights, reach to the edge of the gold beamed ceiling. The wall length windows above the spiraling stair case beam down sun rays, that give the area an almost Heavenly feel that's sure to warm anyone's heart. 

KRISTA
Hallway meet cribs, cribs crew meet hallway. I think my interior decorator's secret identity must be Aqua Man, because there's this whole aquatic theme going on. Right when you walk in you see this gorgeous fountain in the middle of the floor, with these little succubus sculptures in the center spewing water towards the ceiling. I think it's a pretty cool sight.

Krista seats herself on the edge of fountain, and splashes her hands through the water.

KRISTA
Bordering the walls there's a mini lake with little gold fish swimming in it. And then the you can see that the carpeting on the stair case kind of makes it look like a waterfall with water cascading down. Definitely decorated by Aqua Man. But can you imagine how much it would suck to be in mortal danger, and your only hope of survival is Aquaman? “Help, we're trapped inside this burning eighteen story building!” “Don't worry Aquaman is on his way.” “Aquaman? He'll use his powers of water manipulation to create a giant and continuous stream of water to put out this blazing inferno! Hooray! We're saved!” “Naw, Aquaman don't do that.” “Well, what does he do?” “That muthafucka talks to fishes.”

“:o”

KRISTA
When is Aquaman ever gonna be of use to anyone? I guess if you're negotiating a hostage situation with Free Willy, or talking Flipper out of a suicide bombing, Aquaman may come in handy, until then screw 'em and screw The Flash. He can run fast. So what? Carl Lewis can run fast, is he a superhero to? Where's his red spandex tights? Anyway, there's so much more to see, so follow moi.

                        ****

The scene shifts to a wide shot of Krista's sophisticated dining room. Standing in the center is an absolutely beautiful antique table constructed from beech wood. Off to the side, striking an imposing figure, are two matching glass shelves, with beveled glass doors and beveled mirrors. However the dining room seems more like a miniature botanical gardens then a place where a formal dinner might be conducted, as gorgeous flowers and large exotic plants have overran the majority of room space.

KRISTA
Welcome to the jungle, baby, you're gonnnnna die! Well, it only looks like a jungle, but it's actually our dining room. The reason the room looks like Poison Ivy's lair is because it's supposed to be this sort of fanciful, mythical place, that makes you feel like you're in a dreamland or a fairy tale. I got the idea from the garden in the opening scene of [i]Suddenly Last Summer[/i], the Tennessee Williams play. Unfortunately, no one really ever eats in here. Maya and I  just usually eat out, or order Chinese food and eat on the couch and watch [i]Gilmore Girls[/i] or Zoey 101 on the big screen. But it's nice to know we've got our own [i]Little Shop of Horrors[/i]  in case we ever feel like getting eaten by oversized carnivorous plants. Anyway, see that bookshelf over there near the window? If you pull the copy of [i]War and Peace[/i]forward, the wall will spin around to reveal the entrance to my meth lab. Groovy, huh?

Krista walks over to the glass shelves, which house a wealth of personal pictures.

KRISTA
This is where I keep a lot of my favorite pictures. Most of them are of my daughter Maya. But here's a picture from a couple Halloweens ago, where I'm dressed as Sonny Bono. Ned was supposed to dress as Cher, but changed his mind and went as a top hatted piece of poop instead. And considering that he is in fact a piece of shit, and an unemployed one at that, it was actually a very fitting wardrobe choice. You know, I heard Ned caught a bit of an illness recently. Hopefully it's nothing [i]trivial[/i]. So what else do we have on this shelf? Here's a picture from my first major modeling gig with Revlon. Note my poofy feathered hair that makes it look like I should be dancing on top of a station wagon before a Whitesnake concert. Here's a current picture of me with my friend Megan. She happens to be about ten years younger then me, has all her expenses paid by me, and currently lives in the guest house rent free. Read into that arrangement what you will......

                        ****

The shot switches to one of Krista's bedroom. Resting inside the east wall is a fish tank that stretches the length of the room. It may be one of of the most eloquent fish tanks in the state, containing a variety of exotic and foreign salt water fish. A rock crystal chandelier hangs above the center of the room, basking the luxurious area in a radiant glow. Beyond shutter flanked French Doors on the west wall is an overhanging entertainment patio, which overlooks the entire back yard and provides a view that stretches all the way to the Pacific Ocean.

KRISTA
Here's the bedroom, where the magic hasn't happened in six years. I probably couldn't make Whoopie if my last name was Goldberg. Anyway, over on the south wall  is a mural of the skyline of New York. The reason I have it is because as a kid I always dreamed of living in a penthouse that had a view of the NYC skyline. But when I got older, I realized that everyone east of the Mississippi river was a horrible, disturbing and black hearted human being. Just like me! Therefore I wouldn't be unique on the East Coast. But here in Cali, I am unique because everyone is a nurturing, caring, loving, and understanding person. And I'm the cold hearted bitch who's running old ladies off the road and giving the middle finger to deaf school children. In my defense I only give them the finger because they're deaf and they can't hear me scream “GET THE HELL OUTTA THE WAY, YOU DAMN BASTARDS.” Anyway above the bed post, I've got an guitar autographed by Kurt Cobain, touch it and I strangle you with the strings. Alix has a room a couple doors down, but I won't take you in there, because I'm afraid her stupidity might be contagious. I couldn't live with myself if I gave the world another person who thinks that reason that leafs fall off trees is because they're jumping off before the birds can eat them.

Mumbling something about Alix's ditziness, Krista leads us towards a nondescript door at the back of her bedroom.

KRISTA
Behind this door lies my shangri-la. My Utopia. My personal paradise. My sanctuary. My Arnold's drive in. My walk in closet! Hey, you gotta watch this; you open the door and...

(Krista opens door and trance music comes out of a ceiling based speaker inside the room)

KRISTA
Music plays. Close it? Music stops. Open it? Dance music plays again. It's like the world's smallest Abercrombie and Fitch store. All I need is a strobe light, some ecstasy, and some underage girls strung out on PCP, and I could have a bitchin' rave everyday of my life.

We're shown a roaming shot of the walk in closet, which is bigger then most people's entire apartment. The east wall is home to hundreds of shirts and tops, while the west wall contains Krista's army of pants, skirts, and dresses. Over on the south wall is the gorgeous 18th century vanity table, made up of 24 Karat gold fixtures. A wet bar stands next to it.

KRISTA
Of course I have to have a bar filled with ice cold Bud Light. That way I can use the liquor to kill off my memory cells and forget the fact that I just spent six thousand dollars on shoes. On my laptop over there on the dresser I have this neat little program that lets me preview different outfit combinations, and mix and match them to get the best look. That's what America's best and brightest minds are doing. Not working on finding a cure for cancer, or a solution to world hunger, but designing a computer program that lets me find what slutty top and what tight pair of jeans are going to make me look thirty instead of thirty five.

After pouring herself a glass of Ol No.7 from the bar, Krista ventures towards her enormous collection of expensive dresses.

KRISTA
To me it's important to be on the cutting edge of fashion and to look your sharpest. I mean, I've always been on the best dressed lists. If you were clever, you'd say and “you've always been on the least dressed list to.” And then I'd crack a beer bottle across your skull, and we'd see who's the clever one amongst us and who's the one soaked in blood and fighting a futile battle for their worthless life while I contemplate shoving the aforementioned bottle up their rectum. But you didn't make that clever quip, so this remains a non violent affair. Unfortunately. Let's move on.

                        ****

We switch to a view of Krista's living room, which, unlike the other rooms we've seen, is an utter mess of catastrophic proportions. The sea of filth and junk seems like it could consume the entire mansion at any second. If we ignore the mountains of junk, we'll notice that ocean colors are explored throughout the room's décor, bringing out the calming rhythms of nature. Large wall length windows herald the warm outdoor California climate and afford us a view of the back yard. 

KRISTA
We call this the [i]living[/i] room, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was a dead body buried underneath all this junk. Maya was in here earlier with her friend Katrina, and I guess that friend was [i]hurricane[/i] Katrina because they turned this place into a disaster area. What a mess! She's got Xbox games lying all over the place, Barbies everywhere, empty soda cans, I can't even see the god damn carpet. 

Krissy gets on her knees to pick up a few Barbies and dump them into a nearby toy bin.

KRISTA
I have a maid, she's Lithuanian. I guess in Lithuania the word maid translates to sitting on your ass all day, drinking my beer, watching soap operas and smoking Virgina Slims while I pay you an exorbitant fee because I'm too self righteous and liberal to exploit illegal immigrants and hire cheap labor that actually does what they're paid to do! Anyway, over on top of the big screen TV are a lot of my awards. They function as a not subtle reminder to guests such as yourself, that I am in fact better then you. But you can take solace in the fact that your living room, unlike mine, does not look like it's being used as a reenactment for the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings.

Stepping over the piles of filth, Krissy leads us to an impossibly complicated panel on the east wall, that consists of numerous video screens and over one hundred different buttons.

KRISTA
This is the security system, and you have a better chance of figuring out the meaning of life then figuring out how to work it. I have two masters degrees from Stanford and I can't figure out where the damn on/off switch is. Basically this thing let's me monitor every room in the house and get my creepy voyeur on when I have guests. Some of these buttons let me open and close all the curtains in the house, others let me turn on the sprinkler system, and the rest do some other stuff that I don't know about and never will know about because Alix used the instructions to wipe up the Kool-Aid Jammer she spilled on the carpet. That Alix, such a sweetie! I need a drink.

                        ****

The shot changes to one of Krista in her home gym, walking on a treadmill that's situated in the middle of a row of cardio machines. The equipment faces a line of wall based flat screen TVs, each showing different programs, from [i]Real World[/i], to [i]Passions[/i], to [i]Pardon the Interruption[/i]. Life size posters of Krista decorate the sea blue walls. The wood floored room takes up the length of the basement level and is adorned with numerous pieces of exercise equipment, and several Powerade vending machines. 

KRISTA
Just in case you lack any sort of capacity for logical thought and couldn't tell from the hundreds of weights and exercise equipment, this is my private gym. To be honest, I don't use half of this silly crap and stupid machinery. But as a fitness queen, people have this lofty expectation of what your home gym should be like. And I don't wanna disappoint so that why it looks like I've raided your local Ballys. Over on the west wall is the famous symbol of KID fitness, a very large outline of my body, done in 24 karat gold. Way over on the right is the racket ball court, which no one ever uses. In the back is the dance studio where I defy the sterotype that “middle aged white women can't dance” on a daily basis. I used to be a dancer for Guns N Roses so I know how to bust a move or two, kids.


                        ****

We're shown a shot of Krista standing on her spectacular patio that overlooks her rear yard. The patio boasts a tropical atmosphere with bamboo furniture and hurricane lanterns. The immaculate yard is an enormous compound, large enough to encompass another mansion. It's a splendidly private location, that sports a guest house in the back of the spacious grassy area.

KRISTA
If you put a fence around the better part of Disneyland, you'd have my backyard. Over there near the pool is the cabana, with some stupid little tiki torches around it. I have no idea why I even own tiki torches. Although they make nice flaming spears to throw at narcissistic dead beat ex-boyfriends. Uh, the gated tennis court is waaaaaay down on the south end. Whenever I have any free time I'm usually swinging the racket. Although I'm typically swinging it at somebody's head and not at a little yellow ball.

Krista walks down the patio steps and into the grassy area.

KRISTA
To the west we have the pool, which I never go into because it creeps me out. It reminds me of one of those [i]Penthouse Letters[/i] stories, where two college aged jocks who are doing some house sitting are swimming naked in the backyard pool, and somehow wind up in a mutual masturbation session, with promises of more to come in the future. Name and address withheld by request of the author. That's why I like the tennis court, because I don't think college aged jocks masturbate each other on tennis courts. Something to think about.

                        ****

The scene shifts to Krista standing at her front door holding her two month old puppy, with the camera positioned on the porch.

KRISTA
So that would be my house. Thank you for allowing me to show you around. If you're ever in the neighborhood, [i]do[/i] hesitate to stop by. (Krista tosses a beer to the camera man). Have a cold one for the road. 

Krista slams the door on the camera's face, and we fade out. 

We cut back to an actual live feed and see that Melvin Nerdly and his elder sister Melody have situated themselves in front of a TV in the locker room hallway. Melvin has a crazed look in his eye, one of an utter maniac hellbent on some lunatic goal. Melody is simply thumbing through an OAOAST magazine, drawing hearts around the pictures of Leon Rodez.  

MELODY
Dude, if you're gonna be over Krista's house with Leon, see if you can get his number for me! And tell him that despite what the rumors say, that little thing I got....it isn't contagious.

MELVIN
(ignoring his sister and staring into space like a psychopath)
Call the company and tell them to draw up the Melvin Nerdly name plate because that title is all mine, Melody.  I'm looking at the list of Run For The Gold participants and I oughta text message them a piece of advice; stay home, don't bother wasting your time, do something worthwhile with your life, because Melvin's getting that strap, baby. The [i]Run For The Gold[/i] should be renamed Melvin slaughtering five other tricks and bitches for his gold. They think they can take my belt. That's my belt. My shit. I'm keeping it. I'm saving it. And they think they can just walk up to Krista's house and take my shit? My own personal shit, right in front of my two eyes. That's not right. That's not happening.

MELODY
Are you Alix Spezia? Because it's still Ali's shit. And I bet Marv might have a thing or two to say about what you just said.

MELVIN
Marvin? Yo, forget that dude. The 24/7 title is a sucka free belt, and he's the biggest sucka I know. I love him but I've been waiting two years to get my hands on a singles title. Two long years of suffering. They say I was too short to be given a chance. Screw that. They say I didn't have the skills to hold a singles title. Screw that. They say I ain't high profile enough to be put in a title match. Screw that. They say I can't run with the so called big boys. Screw that. This no talent, low profile, unskilled midget will run their big boys right off the road, and take his 24/7 title and anything he else he damn well pleases. I may take their cars, I make their houses, I may take their sister's virginity, I may take their virginity. I may take whatever the hell I want. No more of this civil war, Upstart crap. The real upstart, the real man sneaking in the OAOAST's back door and wrecking their pristine little shit is Melvin Nerdly. Whenever I leave the house and step outside, the whole world gets put on alert, because I make big business happen everyday of my life. Sunday's going to be no different, I assure you that. I got dreams, Melody, major leauge Martin Luther dreams. I'm talking California dreamin'. I'm dreaming myself in a home that big, I'm dreaming myself with a ride that's tight, I'm dreaming myself with a stable of fine babes, I'm dreaming myself on the cover of [i]Entertainment Weekly[/i], I'm dreaming myself a handsome leading man in blockbuster Action Movies. Arnold, Van Damme, The Rock, and now... Melvin! And where does this dream start, Mel-o?

MELODY
With a snort of whatever cocaine you happen to be on a this moment?

MELVIN
All wrong, dudette. This dream starts with the 24/7 title. On Sunday night, the world will be mine. The 24/7 title is no mere wrestling belt, Melody. Oh no, oh no, oh no. It is a gateway that will take me up the stairway to heaven. And when I reach heaven, I will be crowned the holy kingdom's ruler. Come Sunday I will no longer be your brother, Melody, I will be your God! Worship me!    

Melvin hops up onto a table and throws his arms into the air, striking a triumphant pose.

MELODY
You drank a lot of Mountain Dew today didn't you?

MELVIN
Only about thirty or forty cans.

Because I can't think of any other way to end this segment we'll abruptly cut back to Sofa Central and hopefully KingPK will have come up with some clever or profound piece of wisdom for the announcers to impart on you.

Edited April 28, 2006 by Patty O'Green