RIGHTWAY, WRONG TIME

We see Johnnie Newsman standing next to Mortgomery Byrnes, his mask is no longer the smooth and distractingly cool two tone of black and teal as there is shoddily sewn in olive green fabric which clashes with the entire ensemble.  Mortgomery stands in front of the official G.A.S. epicenter (i.e. Tony Gamble’s personal dressing room/office) flanked by Frank Pastore and Domingo Cruz.

Johnnie Newsman:  Okay, so, here I am with super talented member of G.A.S. who was super screwed over by super shady Arthur Pleasant two weeks ago during the super competitive Intense Title match against the super French Flamberge.  Mortgomery, I, for one, felt you had the match in the bags but—–

Voice (Off Camera):  Mortgomery Byrnes?

Entering the frame is a young man, mid-to-late twenties wearing a designer suit (Hugo Boss, perhaps?) with a very large security officer looming next to him.

Mortgomery Byrnes:   Who’s askin’?

Designer Suit Man:  Myron Righway on behalf of the Law Offices of Arliss Peters.   Are you Mortgomery Byrnes a.k.a. Rowan Scatino a.k.a. Mortimer Kjedelig a.k.a. Mortimer Knightingale?

Mortgomery Byrnes:  Arliss….?  Who the fuck….?

Myron Righway:  Here you go.

Myron Rightway, the young and eager junior attorney hands Mortgomery Byrnes a manila envelope.

Myron Rightway:  You’ve been served.

Mortgomery Byrnes:  What the fuck is this?

Myron Rightway:  Restraining order.  You are prohibited from coming within one hundred feet of our client, Arthur Pleasant, for the next six weeks unless you are professionally sanctioned to do so by PRIME within the wrestling ring.

Mortgomery Byrnes:  Is this a fuckin’ joke?  

Myron Righway:  I don’t joke.

Mortgomery’s opens the envelope and peruses the document (or pretends to) as Myron and his heavy start to leave.  Morty holds up his hand.

Mortgomery Byrnes:  OH!  Hold up there!  This ain’t in my name.

Myron lets out an exasperated sigh, stops and walks back towards Mortgomery Byrnes.

Myron Rightway:  It is probably under one of your aliases.

Mortgomery Byrnes:   I think that if you’re gonna fuck with people like this that it’s impervious that you get the fuckin’ name right.

Myron Rightway:  Let me see this. 

Mortgomery Byrnes:  C’mon, you really need to do through this thing with a fuckin’ comb.

Myron grabs the documents and begins looking them over as Mortgomery opens the door to Tony Gamble’s Den of Business and leads Myron inside (who is too busy reading to notice where he is headed).  As the door closes behind them, Mortgomery is seen grabbing a Louisville Slugger.

Mortgomery Byrnes:  You like baseball?

The door closes behind him as Frank and Domingo stand in front of the door.  The security guard takes a step to enter the room but Frank and Domingo stop him.

Security Guard:  Hey!

Frank Pastore:  Nah.

Domingo Cruz:  You don’t wanna go in there.

Security Guard:  I think I do.

Frank Pastore:  Nah.  You wanna walk away.

Security Guard:  No, I don’t.

Domingo Cruz:  Yeah, you do.

Security Guard:  I got a job to do.  Move.

Domingo Cruz puts a wad of cash in the Security Guard’s hands.

Domingo Cruz:  You still wanna go in there?

The Security Guard looks at the pile of cash in his hands.

Security Guard:  I’m thinking about it.

Frank Pastore pulls out some cash and a coupon for Subway and hands it to the Security Guard.

Frank Pastore:  How about now?

Security Guard:  Probably not.

The Security Guard begins counting the money as Johnnie Newsman who has been silently watching speaks up to no one in particular.

Johnnie Newsman:  What is going on behind these closed doors here?

Domingo Cruz:  Clarification.

Frank Pastore:  Reading.

Domingo Cruz:  Legal documents and such.

Frank Pastore:  Weren’t you listening?

Johnnie Newsman:  Wow!  Well, I am very curious to get the reaction of Morty after these events that have been transpiring here.  A restraining order?  Are you kidding?  That is real chicken shit right there.

Frank Pastore:  Pretty messed up.

The door opens and Mortgomery Byrnes enters, there is blood spattered on his teal and white tracksuit.  

Johnnie Newsman:  What happened????

Mortgomery Byrnes:  I don’t know, this Myron prick is a fuckin’ clutz.  Slipped on the fuckin’ baseball bat.

Johnnie, Frank, Domingo, and the Security Guard look inside the room.   Myron Rightway lying on the ground in a pool of blood, something protruding from his mouth.

Johnnie Newsman:  What’s in his mouth?

Mortgomery Byrnes:  The restrainin’ order.

Johnnie Newsman:  The…how?

Mortgomery Byrnes:  He landed on it.  Flukiest thing.

Johnnie Newsman:  I totally believe you but some peoples might not think that’s happened the way you say it happened.

Mortgomery Byrnes:  And yet, that is what occurred. You wanna roll that fuck outta there?

Frank and Domingo roll their eyes as they proceed to roll Myron’s bloodied, crippled and possibly disfigured body towards the door.

Mortgomery Byrnes: Now, Johnnie, I believe you were about to ask a question maybe about Arthur Pleasant?

Johnnie Newsman: Yes, my—-

Mortgomery Byrnes: I don’t care if that prick’s got a million restrainin’ orders and two million sleazy attorneys.  Nothin’ changes.  Motherfucker thinks he can try to Green Mile me and get away with it?!  I will burn his fuckin’ life to the fuckin’ ground.

Without saying another word, he attempts to adjust his ill fitting, patchwork mask as he walks off camera.  Johnnie looks over just in time to see Domingo and Frank plop Myron Rightway in the middle of the corridor.  The restraining order dislodges from his mouth and he emits a slight wheezing and gurgling sound as the scene ends and we cut to… someone who wouldn’t put up with this nonsense.