(The Great is at home, munching on a bagel and a variety of multiple colored pills that we’ll refer to as “vitamins”. He’s in full wrestling gear, tye dyed tighty whities, discount knee pads, and budget black wrestling boots that looks like an 8 year old painted yellow capital “G”’s on them.)
“The Great”: Nick is 10.
(Close enough? Okay, it looks like a 10 year old painted them on. The Great finishes his supplements and begins doing push-ups when his family walks in, fresh off a trip to Hawaii. They’re all wearing lays and the Mother in Law, disgustingly enough, is wearing a hula skirt and a coconut bra that hangs somewhere around her naval.)
The Great’s Wife: Honey, WE’RE HOME!
“The Great:” Lovely. (He continues doing push-ups.)
The Great’s Wife: Oh, well we’re GLAD to see you too. The least you could do is get up off the floor and welcome me back with a kiss!
“The Great”: The Great wishes to not ruin The Great’s fitness progress by having all The Great’s growth hormone suffer a regurgitate.
The Great’s Wife: STOP THAT! Get up and give me a kiss!
(He begrudgingly does. His wife notices a change.)
The Great’s Wife: Hey! You look like you’ve put on 30 pounds!
“The Great”: You have nice tan. And you’ve lightened your hair. The Great must say you look somewhat attractive.
The Mother in Law: Whuh whuh, whah whah whah!
“The Great”: Yes, The Great actually meant that.
The Great’s Wife: Well let’s do it then!
“The Great”: You’re not THAT attractive.
The Mother in Law: WHAH WHAH WHAH!
“The Great”: You’re right. That wasn’t very nice. Maybe it’s roid rage.
The Great’s Wife: You’re doing those?! Your nuts are going to shrink and you’ll become impotent! We won’t be able to have any more kids!
“The Great”: You make that sound like a tragedy. If The Great has to have The Great’s balls shrivel down to BB’s to avoid any more kids, The Great thinks that’s a pretty decent trade off.
The Great’s Wife: That’s a terrible thing to say! You’re horrible!
“The Great”: The Great is telling you that The Great can’t help it. It must be steroid induced aggression. The Great is out of control, and The Great might say something, due to steroid abuse, like your mother looks so ridiculous in her outfit that if your father hadn’t have run off with that flight attendant and saw her wearing that, he’d kill himself just so he could roll over in his grave.
The Great’s Wife: Sometimes I hate you so much! You can be such a bastard!
“The Great”: But taking those will make The Great very successful in the wrestling business.
The Great’s Wife: Oh, okay then.
(She composes herself)
Speaking of the wrestling business, I saw a representative from Kellogg’s in Hawaii and told him about you. I think we can get an endorsement deal if you win that title. He said that after you win, you get all dressed up in your wrestling stuff, come up to a table with the title on your shoulder, say you’re The Great, take a bite of Frosted Flakes, and yell, “THEY’RE GREEEEEAT!”
“The Great”: The Great can handle that.
The Great’s Wife: Tell him you work for WWE, though.
“The Great”: Why?
The Great’s Wife: That’s where I told him you work. Do you think they really want somebody pushing their cereal that wrestles in a place called Brawlers on a Budget?
“The Great”: The Great imagines they would. The Great is on the verge of becoming the biggest star in the Brawlers on a Budget. Call him back and close that deal before Lucky Charms get’s a hold of Hornswoggle.
The Great’s Wife: You have to win the title first.
“The Great”: We could have a problem then. I saw recently that Death might bribe the BigBOSS with a payoff.
The Great’s Wife: Well figure something out and win that title! That endorsement deal could pay for another trip to Hawaii!
“The Great”: That reminds The Great, where are the kids? You did bring them back with you, right?
The Great’s Wife: Of course I did, didn’t you see them walk in when you were doing push-ups?
“The Great”: The Great must be honest, they only thing on The Great’s mind when you guys walked in was droopy coconuts.
The Mother in Law: Whuh whuh whuh whah whah whuh.
“The Great”: Exactly.
The Great’s Wife: Nick is playing Halo 3, Little Johnny is upstairs downloading ingredients off the internet to make biological weapons out of household cleaners, and Lori is calling Hawaii on her iPhone. She found a boyfriend over there.
“The Great”: YOU SAID WHAT? LORI, GET DOWN HERE!
(Moments later, The Great’s 14 year old daughter is in the camera’s view.)
“The Great”: You can’t call Hawaii! The bill will be outrageous!
Lori: But I love him! I love him, I love him, and I love him even though when I told him my name was Lori, he kept calling me Holly.
“The Great”: The Great thinks you mean haole. It’s Hawaiian for Caucasian. And The Great thinks they use it as a disparaging term.
Lori: I don’t care! He’s my little Tiki Wiki!
“The Great”: Isn’t that the gay Teletubbie?
Lori: DAD! You’re a butthole! (she runs away crying.)
The Great’s Wife: Oh, for crying out loud! Now look what you did! Now I’m going to have to go up there and act like a caring mother! I’ll be up half the night consoling her!
“The Great”: Don’t strain yourself. On the subject of straining, The Great needs to get back to working out. The Great needs to muster all The Great’s juiced up strength. The Great MUST win THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. It’s The Great’s fate.
Death, at New Horizon, Death will finally take a holiday.
The Great’s muscles, you can’t equate.
The Great’s vitamins, you can’t calculate.
The Great’s determination, you can’t duplicate.
The Great will grace you soon. Are you ready?
The Mother in Law: Whuh whah whah, whah whah.
“The Great”: That was good enough. And please, go change. You look absolutely silly. Take that stupid hula skirt off.
The Mother in Law: Whuh whuh whuh, WHAH WHAH whuh.
“The Great”: You already did? And you’re not wearing panties? Son of a bitch, here come those pills after all! Thanks a lot mother in law! Now The Great is going to have to start today’s regimen all over again!
(Moderately slow fade to sounds of hurling, dry heaves, and assorted belches.)