HWA Message Board: Media Day

Open scene.

The scene opens up onto the now familiar sparse room that Tobias films the majority of his content in.

Today there’s a desk set up, upon which is a laptop.

It’s media day.

Tobias loves media day.

That was sarcasm, obviously.

Tobias hates media day.

He loves to talk. But on his terms. It’s the only way to get good quality conversation going afterall.

But, his contract requires him to do these sessions every event. The laptop is a means to an end, far better for everyone to not be in the room with him and subject to the scorching breath and cruel wit that he uses.

A small timer is counting down, giving Tobias the chance to amuse himself with a few more minutes on social media.

Looking up, he realizes everyone is there on the screen waiting for him.

He lifts up a hand to stall any questioning. Not that there can be, everyone’s on mute and only he has the control to let them speak.

(Tobias): Ground rules. You get 30 seconds to give me a good question. If it’s sh*t, it’s skipped. Don’t be lame and give me something I’ve been asked already, got it?

He doesn’t wait for any indication of acknowledgement, he just presses one of the buttons on the keyboard, releasing the first reporter.

(Tobias): And your time starts now. Go.

Not quite realizing at first that he’s unmuted, it takes a moment to get going, causing Tobias’s eyes to flare with irritation.

(Reporter 1): Stu-E Price held a conference a few days ago, have you had a chance to watch it?

(Tobias): Of course I have.

The response is snapped out.

(Tobias): I wasn’t too pleased to hear his drink addled mind could only latch on to my motto in life and try to give it back to me so poorly. “You could be more, so much more?”. Be better Price.

Not giving the chance for the reporter to ask a follow up, Tobias just carries on.

(Tobias): And that pathetic jibe about careers and bad dinners. To quote two others from the roster…Pot calling the kettle black there I see Stu-E. Speaking from experience are we? One swallow doesn’t make a summer as the saying goes, or whatever it was that the German said to Mr Multiple Personality. Just because in the Twilight of your career, you finally struck gold Doesn’t mean we can ignore what came before. Or find anything. You did so very little of note after all.

He hits a key on the keyboard, muting that reporter and unmuting another.

He holds up a finger however.

(Tobias): Excuse me. Having to quote the German and Maniac just gives me the heave.

It’s not a dry heave, but certainly an overdramatic look of disgust, as if tasting something most foul.

He recovers though, and draws his attention back to the screen.

(Tobias): Same, 30 seconds, don’t give me a sh*t question.

Momentarily taken aback, the reporter rushes through his question, lest the ire be directed any further in his direction.

(Reporter 2): Does Price not have a point when he says you’ve been, and I quote, ’taken advantage of’ by Wolfy?

(Tobias): What man would I be if I couldn’t reflect and be honest with…

A few side glances and muted coughs come from the assembled reporters.

Is he serious? Is this actual self reflection?

(Tobias): …with myself. Of course I have. Because I’m an apex wrestler coming in to stake a claim, to be the best. Or rather, prove to all these chucklef*cks that I’m the best.

The hand goes to his chest, somberly.

(Tobias): I am the best.

One hand up, he forestalls any further questioning from that reporter.

(Tobias): Listen, who else was there? What other ‘new gun’ was there to latch onto? Sean? Sure, if you wanted to go straight to the hospital bed. Branson? Now he’s interesting, now he’s got the spark. But that’s new. Not back then. Miller? It was a matter of time before his demons got him, and by that I mean the permanent threat the Irish have, excessive dinners and drink. Have you been to Ireland lately?

He gestures out at the assembled reporters on the screen before him.

(Tobias): They make you lot look healthy.

One or two noses are put out of joint at the casual insinuation and linking of all Americans with health conditions and obesity, but others just roll their eyes.

It’s Tobias afterall. Stand too close to the flames and you’ll get burnt from time to time.

(Tobias): So listen, I can, to a degree, understand why he’d latch on to me. I may have been hasty in trying to get him the f*ck away from me, but y’know, first impressions and all… I was right, the man’s an utter creep. He’s a waste and taking up a roster spot that someone far more deserving should have. Anyway, next!

He clicks another button on the keyboard, muting the last reporter and releasing the next in the chain.

(Tobias): 30 seconds, make it good.

(Reporter 3): Speaking of new guys and first impressions, what do you make of someone like Ace Sky?

The eyebrows arch up as Tobias assesses the reporter scathingly.

(Tobias): Who now? Speak English buddy, f*cking hell. Enunciate and speak proper words. Urgh!

Not put off, the reporter tries again.

(Reporter 3): No, Tobias, the new wrestler signed to the HWA. His promo was shown at the latest Havoc… y’know… like yours were in the run up to your debut…

Staring blankly at him for another moment, something obviously twigs.

His chest swells pridefully.

(Tobias): Ah yes, my promos. They had people on the edge of their seats for weeks. A pity they couldn’t shut the f*ck up when I finally got out there, but they see me put on a clinic each time I’m in the ring. I’m sure if they could go back in time they’d react far more appropriately.

Not bothering to answer properly, he again hits a key, muting the reporter who just throws his hands up in disgust.

(Tobias): Next! 30 seconds. Make it snappy.

(Reporter 4): Tobias, I’ve got a request here from one of the local sponsors of the last Havoc show there in Nashville. They want to ask you if you had the chance to sample their products and if you’d recommend any of them to a wider audience?

(Tobias): Local?

(Reporter 4): Yes, based in Nashville, proud employers of local people, family run…

(Tobias): Oh that I can believe. Everything in Nashville ’runs in the family’.

The air quotes are out, dramatically waving at head height before one finger jabs down and mutes the reporter.

(Tobias): But no, if it’s not Canadian or French, or French-Canadian I don’t use it or drink it or eat it… anyway, next.

He makes a ‘hurry up’ motion with one hand, willing the reporter to get to the point.

(Reporter 5): Stu-E Price made mention of Butch Parker’s ‘ranking’ system and put it to you that a good performance versus him might get you up that ladder. What do you say to that?

(Tobias): Now that, that…

He purses his lips, nodding his head towards the laptop.

Shockingly, he actually seems impressed with the question.

(Tobias): … that is something worth answering.

He stabs a finger at the screen.

(Tobias): Something the rest of you need to pay attention to! Anyway…

He runs his hands down his chest, smoothing the fabric of wrinkles and settles back into his chair.

(Tobias): I think that’s an interesting concept. And again, given how terrible some of the recent additions to the roster have been and the promotion of them above luminaries such as myself, y’know buddy, yeah… I can see it.

He s######s somewhat gleefully as he recalls something.

(Tobias): I mean, I went and saw the ‘boss’ last week, and he looked surprised… shocked even to see me. Seemed all out of sorts… I mean I put that down to him knowing that he was looking right at the person who’d be taking all his records, and y’know… that’s gotta hurt knowing that. But still, maybe it was the jolt that he needed to stop putting me in pointless matches versus the animal f*ckers every other day of the week, know what I’m saying?

But look, Butch, he reminds me of ole’ rapey McMahon. Sure, a legend in his time, now just a complete liability. He changed his mind every other day, Butch is doing the same. He’ll walk into a door one day and sign it because it stood up to him.

A wave of dismissal occurs.

(Tobias): I’m beyond that.

He points at the screen again.

(Tobias): You can be invited back.

Not allowing a response however, he again stabs at the keyboard, muting the reporter and unlocking another.

(Tobias): Be as good as the last one or just end yourself.

Not expecting that at all, the reporter just flubs.

It was a harsh statement to be fair, but that’s not what Tobias was thinking about or indeed wanting to hear.

(Tobias): Nope, too late buddy.

Again with the descending finger and the muting.

(Tobias): Next one. Be better.

(Reporter 6): Speaking of being better Tobias…

His ears prick up at this.

(Reporter 6): Have you considered what your redeeming features might be?

It’s said so matter of factly, without malice… and well, it flies right over his head.

(Tobias): Redeeming features…

He ponders this for a moment, giving it serious thought, ignorant of the looks from those on screen.

(Tobias): No. No I’ve not.

Feeling brave, the reporter continues.

(Reporter 6): And why is that?

A small shrug of the shoulders with a look of nonchalance on his face as he answers honestly.

(Tobias): Because ‘redeeming features’ implies that I’m not perfect.

He looks at her like a piece of dog turd on the heel of his shoe.

(Tobias): And that buddy is very f*cking wide of the mark. Duh!

Muttering ‘honestly’ to himself as much as everyone else and just shaking his head, he again stabs down and mutes the reporter.

And again.

And again.

In fact, he’s hammering the button now, just skipping through the reporters.

He doesn’t have the good grace to look apologetic about it.

And with that, the feed ends, Tobias sliding the laptop across his desk, as he leans back, feet up as the scene fades to black.