Post by Phil Goode on Jul 25, 2020 5:56:41 GMT -5
Flashback to Primetime 5. A series of Phil Goode highlights or should we say lowlights play on the titantron.
Phil Goode
(In slow motion for cinematic effect) "I made my way to the home of AWF’s next PPV; The Brawl at Yankee Stadium. I needed that main event energy. I thrive off it."
"I’m no stranger to the Big Apple, the goode people of New York City embraced me with open arms when I was drafted FIRST overall by their team.
"
Cut to the last part of his adventure that night.
(Another instance of slow motion for cinematic effect) The cameraman captures his face before riding off in the police vehicle and it is not a pretty sight. Goode’s eyes are in the back of his head and his tongue is flopping across his chin like a purebred boxer.
Outtakes from that infamous night begin to roll. The AWF universe finally gets to witness the aftermath of Phil Goode’s night on the town.
(Laying on the floor of the drunk tank, incoherently yelling to the others) WHATA YA IN 4 BRODIEZ? IZ ANYBODDOING 25 TA LYFE?
WHEIR MY GEES AHT.
IMA SOUP-A-STAR. IMA BEAST. IMA MOAFUCKING PHIL GOODE. YOU KNOW ME?
(Genuinely concerned) Hey man, can you keep it down? These guys aren’t here because they some criminally insane folks. They are here because they shot-gunned a couple of Red's Big Apple drinks earlier. A few of them used their wives as punching bags too but I guess… that means they really aren't that tough to begin with.
(Loud and belligerent) IM DA TUFF-EST OF EM ALL. IM KICK ANYBODS ASS.
At this point, the guys in the cell are already sick of Goode’s hollering but there is still a small piece hope for one of them.
(Inching closer to Goode) Yo! Can you tell me something? What are you trying to prove?
Phil Goode
(Contemplating this sobering thought… Goode is cold, stern, and quite) I have a thirst for something more. I have a desire to show everyone that I can withstand in this business. (A slight reflective pause) Despite all of the mishaps and follies made by upper management, I still want to be there, and I still want to be a vital part of the card. For some reason, I can’t get enough of it.
(Obviously confuzzled) I thought you were supposed to be drunk?
Goode understands he has to cut the act. Someone finally cracked his code and he can’t help but realize it. Regardless of the fact that his cover is blown, Goode doesn’t stop his “drunk” tirade, it only intensifies.
(Pretending to be rocked) WHAT BRODIE, YOU REALLY TRNA CLL MEH OUTT!? PHILLY GETS CHILLY. DOUN PLAY WIT MEH.
See I call bullshit. Like seriously… you’re in a position that the rest of us can only dream about and you’re fumbling that bag. You’re squandering every opportunity given to you and you think it’s a joke. You shouldn’t’ be getting high or drunk when you have hundreds of resources at your disposal. You gotta use your brain. I know you got one… everybody in this cell does. (Honest pause) The only difference you ask? Application.
Phil Goode
(Just being a complete dick) WEIGHT, WHATA YA SAY? APPRECIATA APPLICATA??
(Impatient) Do you understand the impact you can make in this world? You are not just a bar-crowding, trash picking, homeless guy with spunk on his mink. Man, you’re multi-faceted and talented, why can’t you get it together?
Goode is hunched over and barely standing.
Guard
(Throwing a small coin at Phil) Here kid. (Brutally soft and miserable) You got 5 minutes.
Goode snatches the silver dollar out the of the air like a former tight end in a major professional football league.
The battered star dials his mother’s number and hesitates to press the final digit. She is the last person in the world Phil wants to see in this situation, but he knows it’s the right thing to do. His gigantic index finger trembles as he attempts to press the number 1. Goode stops himself one more time… eventually, he follows through with the call and waits anxiously.
(Looking at her owl alarm clock to see what time it is and answering the ringing phone) Hello? Who’s this? What could ya possibly want?
(Embrassed and ashamed) Ma… its Philly, I’m in a tight spot right now.
Oh god Phil… I told ya not to call me when ya having vile, nasty, rotten se…
Phil Goode
No. Ma. Listen. You never listen to me when I speak. I’m locked up. I’m over here in Manhattan. I got into some shit.
What now? WHAT NOW?
(Lying) I was sipping a little bit too much, got caught up you know… the whole nine yards.
(Fed up and tired) SEE! This is it. This is the exact reason why ya can’t be in that industry. The burden is too hot to handle. Ya spiraling down a dark and twisted path hun. I refuse to sit here week by week and watch ya self-destruct. It seems like ya don’t even know what’s going on. Nobody knows what ya saying and ya been acting like a blubbering baboon.
You don’t get it. You watched from a far… but you never recognized the pressure. (Deep pause) There have been millions of fans on my side since day one. The people love Phil Goode, Ma. The People need Phil Goode.
Son, I DO GET IT. The problem is that YA DON’T. (Gathering her words) It’s not about what THEY love and need… it’s about what YA NEED. I think it’s help.
(Questioning the elder Goode) Huh?
(In a stern manner… hmm wonder where she gets it from) Ya need help. Serious help. Big help right now or ya going to be off the rails and running. If ya don’t work on it now, ya only gonna see it get worse… I promise you that.
But Ma… I’m a future champion. I can be the face of this company.
Philly, you won’t ever be a champion... if you keep going out like this. That’s the harsh reality of it boy. I’m sorry but it ain’t gonna happen.
Goode begins to open his mouth but is cutoff by the patrol guard.
(Showing no remorse or external reaction) Hey champ… your time is up.
Phil Goode
(In slow motion for cinematic effect) "I made my way to the home of AWF’s next PPV; The Brawl at Yankee Stadium. I needed that main event energy. I thrive off it."
Cut to another part of the promo.
Phil Goode
"I’m no stranger to the Big Apple, the goode people of New York City embraced me with open arms when I was drafted FIRST overall by their team.
"
Cut to the last part of his adventure that night.
(Another instance of slow motion for cinematic effect) The cameraman captures his face before riding off in the police vehicle and it is not a pretty sight. Goode’s eyes are in the back of his head and his tongue is flopping across his chin like a purebred boxer.
Outtakes from that infamous night begin to roll. The AWF universe finally gets to witness the aftermath of Phil Goode’s night on the town.
At a local Manhattan precinct.
Phil Goode
(Laying on the floor of the drunk tank, incoherently yelling to the others) WHATA YA IN 4 BRODIEZ? IZ ANYBODDOING 25 TA LYFE?
WHEIR MY GEES AHT.
All but one of the men ignore Goode.
Phil Goode
IMA SOUP-A-STAR. IMA BEAST. IMA MOAFUCKING PHIL GOODE. YOU KNOW ME?
Again, all but one of the men ignore Goode.
Overnight Inmate
(Genuinely concerned) Hey man, can you keep it down? These guys aren’t here because they some criminally insane folks. They are here because they shot-gunned a couple of Red's Big Apple drinks earlier. A few of them used their wives as punching bags too but I guess… that means they really aren't that tough to begin with.
Phil Goode
(Loud and belligerent) IM DA TUFF-EST OF EM ALL. IM KICK ANYBODS ASS.
At this point, the guys in the cell are already sick of Goode’s hollering but there is still a small piece hope for one of them.
Overnight Inmate
(Inching closer to Goode) Yo! Can you tell me something? What are you trying to prove?
Phil Goode
(Contemplating this sobering thought… Goode is cold, stern, and quite) I have a thirst for something more. I have a desire to show everyone that I can withstand in this business. (A slight reflective pause) Despite all of the mishaps and follies made by upper management, I still want to be there, and I still want to be a vital part of the card. For some reason, I can’t get enough of it.
Overnight Inmate
(Obviously confuzzled) I thought you were supposed to be drunk?
Goode understands he has to cut the act. Someone finally cracked his code and he can’t help but realize it. Regardless of the fact that his cover is blown, Goode doesn’t stop his “drunk” tirade, it only intensifies.
Phil Goode
(Pretending to be rocked) WHAT BRODIE, YOU REALLY TRNA CLL MEH OUTT!? PHILLY GETS CHILLY. DOUN PLAY WIT MEH.
The rest of cell let out a long, dry sigh in unison.
Overnight Inmate
See I call bullshit. Like seriously… you’re in a position that the rest of us can only dream about and you’re fumbling that bag. You’re squandering every opportunity given to you and you think it’s a joke. You shouldn’t’ be getting high or drunk when you have hundreds of resources at your disposal. You gotta use your brain. I know you got one… everybody in this cell does. (Honest pause) The only difference you ask? Application.
Phil Goode
(Just being a complete dick) WEIGHT, WHATA YA SAY? APPRECIATA APPLICATA??
The inmate manages to keep his composure, but it is certainly dwindling.
Overnight Inmate
(Impatient) Do you understand the impact you can make in this world? You are not just a bar-crowding, trash picking, homeless guy with spunk on his mink. Man, you’re multi-faceted and talented, why can’t you get it together?
Goode is hunched over and barely standing.
Phil Goode
To be real… I don’t know dude.
Right on time, like your favorite sitcom of the early 1990s, Goode gets his chance to make a phone call.
Guard
(Throwing a small coin at Phil) Here kid. (Brutally soft and miserable) You got 5 minutes.
Goode snatches the silver dollar out the of the air like a former tight end in a major professional football league.
The battered star dials his mother’s number and hesitates to press the final digit. She is the last person in the world Phil wants to see in this situation, but he knows it’s the right thing to do. His gigantic index finger trembles as he attempts to press the number 1. Goode stops himself one more time… eventually, he follows through with the call and waits anxiously.
Mama Goode
(Looking at her owl alarm clock to see what time it is and answering the ringing phone) Hello? Who’s this? What could ya possibly want?
Phil Goode
(Embrassed and ashamed) Ma… its Philly, I’m in a tight spot right now.
Mrs. Goode sucks her teeth.
Mama Goode
Oh god Phil… I told ya not to call me when ya having vile, nasty, rotten se…
The younger Goode is quick to interrupt.
Phil Goode
No. Ma. Listen. You never listen to me when I speak. I’m locked up. I’m over here in Manhattan. I got into some shit.
Mama Goode
What now? WHAT NOW?
Breathing heavy as she tries to listen.
Phil Goode
(Lying) I was sipping a little bit too much, got caught up you know… the whole nine yards.
Mama Goode
(Fed up and tired) SEE! This is it. This is the exact reason why ya can’t be in that industry. The burden is too hot to handle. Ya spiraling down a dark and twisted path hun. I refuse to sit here week by week and watch ya self-destruct. It seems like ya don’t even know what’s going on. Nobody knows what ya saying and ya been acting like a blubbering baboon.
Mrs. Goode sucks her teeth again.
Phil Goode
Mama Goode
Son, I DO GET IT. The problem is that YA DON’T. (Gathering her words) It’s not about what THEY love and need… it’s about what YA NEED. I think it’s help.
Phil Goode
(Questioning the elder Goode) Huh?
Mama Goode
(In a stern manner… hmm wonder where she gets it from) Ya need help. Serious help. Big help right now or ya going to be off the rails and running. If ya don’t work on it now, ya only gonna see it get worse… I promise you that.
Phil Goode
But Ma… I’m a future champion. I can be the face of this company.
There is silence on both ends of the line.
Mama Goode
Philly, you won’t ever be a champion... if you keep going out like this. That’s the harsh reality of it boy. I’m sorry but it ain’t gonna happen.
Goode begins to open his mouth but is cutoff by the patrol guard.
Guard
(Showing no remorse or external reaction) Hey champ… your time is up.
With nothing else to say, Goode’s releases his particular grasp of the jail phone and ends the call abruptly. Fade to BLACK