(NWF President Juan Santoro receives a message on his cell phone from Jon Tees. Santoro makes the assumption that the following message is in regards to his birthday and a possible surprise party.)


Jon Tees: Juan, swing by my office when you get the chance. There is something urgent I need to speak to you in regards to. It’s much too urgent to get into over the phone. Just as soon as you get this message shoot over. See you then.

(Santoro changes out of his casual cargo shorts and polo shirt and puts on a rather expensive charcoal colored pinstripe suit with a blue dress shirt and a golden tie. He puts on his black wingtip shoes and heads outside of his large Mexican style mansion where a large black limousine is waiting for him. The driver opens the door and Santoro gets into the back. The driver proceeds to drive to where Tees’ office is located in midtown Manhattan. Tees actually has several offices but this is just one of many that he uses to conduct business when he is in and around New York City. Some time passes and Santoro sips Champagne thoughts race through his head and he makes assumptions about the guest and the theme of his surprise party. He finally arrives at Tees office and is let in by Deborah, Tees’ secretary who informs him that “The Boss” “has been waiting for him.” Santoro enters the office.)

Tees: Have a seat.

(Santoro takes a seat.)

Tees: You know Juan, you and I have known each other for a very long time. I knew you since you were a young boy and used to team and wrestle against your brother. Drink?

Juan: No thank you.

(Tees proceeds to pour himself some bourbon as he continues speaking)

Tees: Smoke?

Juan: No thanks, trying to quit.

Tees: (With a cigar in his mouth) good, that stuff will kill you.

(Tees lights his cigar and Santoro is beginning to have second thoughts about this being a surprise party and begins to get a bit worried.)

Tees: I’m going to get right to the point here Juan, things are just not working out with you at the helm of the NWF. Ratings are down in the crapper, people seem to be leaving in droves, new talent is bypassing us in favor of other promotions and people are leaving live events and changing the channel before the main event even starts. It’s downright sad and pathetic. I gave you this job because I thought you could handle it and as a favor to your brother, but honestly kid it just seems to me that you’re in over your head.

(Santoro begins sweating heavily.)

But, Mr. Tees, it’s only my second week on the job, it will take a bit of time to turn things around.

Tees: I’m not a patient man Juan. This is a results oriented business and you just aren’t bringing me the results that I want. On top of all this, I was fingered as the authority here when I was trying to keep that under wraps because you just aren’t legitimate enough and no one ever really took you seriously.

Tees: So Juan

(Getting on the floor and beginning to beg.)

Tees: Get up you look pathetic.

Tees: Consider

Juan: NO Please!!!

Tees: Yourself.

Juan: Noooooooooooo don’t say it Mr. Tees.

Tees: FIRED!!!!

Juan: (beginning to cry.)

Juan: But I have a family.

Tees: Not my problem. If you can’t feed em don’t breed em. Brophy get this piece of shit out of my office.

Juan: Who’s Brophy?

Tees: You’ll find out soon enough.

(Just then a large, hulking man who looks to be nearly 7 feet tall comes out of the bathroom. Santoro tries to leave on his own but Brophy grabs him and choke slams him to the floor. He picks him up and does it several more times. For unknown reasons he begins grinding into Santoro’s head with a sharp metal object. )

Tees: Brophy take it someone else I just had those carpets cleaned.

(Brophy doesn’t say a word he simply picks up the limp, lifeless body of the now former NWF President, Juan Santoro and drapes him over his shoulder with a grunt. He carries Santoro out of the office and the building and places him in the back of a trunk of a car. He taps the back of the trunk and men inside a driver and a passenger drive off. Brophy returns to Tees’ office. )

Tees: Don’t worry Brophy, soon you’ll have all of the blood and guts you can handle.

Fade Out