So.... This was fun....






The scene opens to an open area in a rural small town. You hear distant talking as a bearded gentleman walks onto the scene on the phone. That gentleman is Mark Briscoe.

Mark: No, I ain't to fond of dem snow caps. I always liked dem twizlers.... Yeah, you can bite the ends off an use it as a straw to... what?..... Hot Tamales? Carlos, ain't nobody like hot tamales.... No, don't get me started about goobers. This one time I ate a goober and.....

Mark pulls the phone away from his ear and looks at it.

Mark: Carlos, hold on.... No I.... Uno momento, Carlos. I gotta 'nother call.....

Mark switches over.

Mark: Hello.... No, this Mark.... No, he ain't available at dis moment, can I have a message..... Oh really?..... really?..... REALLY?.... Ok, I'll make sure he get's it..... You too.

Mark hangs up and switches back over to his original call. At this time, Jay Briscoe walks up to him. Mark puts a finger up telling him to wait a moment.

Mark: Carlos, I got to let you go I.... No I.... Alright buddy I g..... Is that right..... 12 inches?.... You don't say.... Well you'll have to let me know how that turns out.... Alright, I got ta go.... All right, I'll talk to you mañano.... Bye bye.

Mark hangs up the phone.

Jay: Chicken, who the hell you talkin to on the phone? I'm expecting an important call.

Mark: That Carlos. He's got a tree frog that snuck up through the toilet while he was in there. He said it was 12 inches and grabbed hold of his rear. He thinks he got a wart.

Jay: Chicken, I don't give a damn about Carlos and his warts. Did anybody else call.

Mark: As a matter of fact, someone did. That ole Stephanie Mac-Mahon called asking for you.

Jay: Ooh-wee, it's time chicken. We movin up to the big time, boy. Gimme the phone.

Mark hands the phone over to Jay and the scene cuts out with him dialing and walking away. The scene pick back up in a barn where Mark is shoveling dirt out of the back of a truck. He has a mask over his mouth to keep from breathing in the dust. Jay walks back into the scene hollering at Mark.

Jay: Mark! It's time, boy! Whoo, it's time! We got called up to the big time, boy. Them sumbitches in EBWF finally done messed up and offered us a job.

Mark: You serious? You SERIOUS?

Jay: Shit yeah, Chicken. Go get uncle Jethro and Big Man. We gonna bring Sandy Fork to the big time, boy. Load dat damn truck up!

Mark drops the shovel and runs off as Jay moves over to the truck and gets in. The scene fades as Jay backs the truck up out of the barn.





The next scene opens in a lavish office. A commotion is heard as Jay and Mark Briscoe enter the room, followed by two portly gentlemen. The 4 country folk have been talking amongst each out, commenting on the extravagance of the facilities. Mark and the two large fellows look at the different posters on the wall spotlighting EBWF superstars who have had success in recent history. Jay makes his way to the desk and sits in the chair behind it. He leans back and props up his feat, cloaked in very expensive looking shoes. I believe they're Cole Hanns.

Jay: This is it, Big Man! We made it. It ain't nothin but the best from now on. Ain't no more Busch and Keystone, we drinkin Yuengling now! Bet you never thought you'd see us in an office like this, did you Big Man.

One of the hefty men turned away from the herd he has previously been with and walked towards Jay.

Big Man: This sure is a fancy gettup here. You dun good, Jay. You dun.... Are you wearing my shoes again!?!?

Jay quickly sits up straight, hiding his does behind the desk.

Jay: No, Big Man I bought these. Yeah, man, we in the big times now. We got ta look the part. Chicken, show Big Man what shoes you got.

Everyone turns to look at Mark, who pulls his blue jeans up to show he's wearing a pair of work boots that have certainly seen better days.

Mark: Don't you go Hollywood on me.

Jay: Hell no, I ain't goin Hollywood, son. We still country boys from Sandy Fork. (everyone nods, and echos "Mhmms") We still work on a chicken farm. ("Mhmms") We still drink beer. ("Mhmm") We still shoot guns. ("Mhmm") I still smoke brutal bobs (Jay pulls a Black and Mild cigar. He puts it in his mouth and lights it.) And we still whip some boy's ass who gets in our way. (One last round of "Mhmms")

Mark: Uncle Jethro, get the camera and take a picture of me in front of Triple H!

The other robust man brings out a camera as Mark poses next to a poster to Hunter Hearst Helmsley. The man brings up the phone to his face, but is having trouble keeping the shot steady as he slowly and rhythmically sways around in circles. He tries to steady himself to take the photo but is interrupted by....

Female Voice: What the hell is going on!?!?!?!

Mark freezes in his place which is mouth ajar in shock. Into the scene walks Stephanie McMahon, Vice President of Talent Relations for EBWF. She walks further into the office and looks at Jay, who is still sitting behind the desk smoking his Black and Mild cigar.

Stephanie: What in the hell... Who in the hell are you people? Why the hell are you sitting at my desk? And are you smoking in my office?

Jay quicky puts his Black and Mild cigar out on a stack of papers and throws it in the trash. He gets up from the desk and walks towards Stephanie McMahon.

Jay: I'm sorry Miss MacMahon. Here you go.

Stephanie scans the scene with a peturbed look on her face.

Stephanie: Look, I don't know who the hell you are, but you need to find grandma and Jed and get the hell out of my office.

Mark: No, this isn't Jed. His name is uncle Jethro. Uncle Jethro, say hi to Miss MacMahon

Jethro: Pleased to ma... make your aquaintance.

Stephanie: Is he drunk?

Jay: Shit yeah, he's drunk. We've been celebrating. It ain't every day The Briscoes get called up to the big leagues, is it Chicken?

Mark: Hell no, we been partying the way here.

Stephanie: You're The Briscoe Brothers?

Mark: In de flesh.

Jay: Who'd you think we was?

Stephanie: I don't know, The Beverly Hillbillies?

Jay: Beverly Hillibillies? Naw, we like to think of us as more of The Jeffersons. Ya know? Fish don't fry in the kitichen, beans don't burn on the grill. (uncle Jethro begins to clap and stomp a foot to provide rhythm for Jay's rendition of the classic TV theme song) Took a whole lot of climbin just to get up dat hill.

Big Man begins to dance a sort of "jig" as the littler Briscoe joins in the singing. Jay also starts clapping in an attempt to keep beat.

Mark: Now we up in the big leagues. Gettin.... Um... Fools in bed.

The other 3 stop clapping and dancing to look at Mark.

Jay: Man, you don't even know the damn words.

Mark: You don't eitha! You said climbin, but it's tryin. Everybody know that!

Jay: Don't you mouth off to me, boy. You fittin to get an ass whoopin.

Jay gets in Mark's face, but Mark doesn't back off. Mark reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small pocket knife. He opens it and shows it to Jay.

Jay: You think I'm scared of that bade? I got one too.

Jay pulls out a pocket knife of his own and opens it Mark's face.

Mark: Don't threaten me. I'll cut ya! I'll cut ya deep.

Big Man: You too quit fightin like kids.

Both Jay and Mark turn to Big Man.

Jay: Don't you start lippin off either. There two of us here. You may be older, but we'll double team your ass.

Mark: I'll hit ya with the stunna!

Stephanie: Is this really happening?

There's an akward silence with both Mark and Jay looking at each other and then...

Jay: Well we're movin on up.

Mark: Movin on up!

Jay: To the east side!

Mark: Movin on up.

The two begin to dance again as Jethro and Big Man resume the clapping of hands and stomping of hands. Mark and Jay circle around each other and then proceed with a redneck dance I believe is called the Do Si Do.

Stephanie: Guys! GUYS! STOP THIS!

Everyone stops what they're doing and look at Stephanie

mark: Uh oh, she used the mom voice. Boy, you in trouble now.

Stephanie: YOu still haven't told me what the hell you're doing here.

Mark: We're here to rassle!

Stephanie: We? No, I hired Jay Briscoe, not the Briscoe Brother.

Mark's face turns from jovial to angry as he slowly moves his head to look his brother in the eye.

Mark: Oh really? Is that so?

Jay: Oh, man... Look Chicken, I may have heard wrong on the phone. You know how dem damn phones never work out there.

Mark: That's baloney. You made me drive all the way out here for nothin? I had to cram myself into that little truck and smell Jethros gas for 3 states. I ate beef jerky and nachos for 7 hours.

Jay: Well, to be fair, you woulda eaten that back home anyway.

Mark: That ain't the point! You told me that WE were going to rassle in the EBWF. You said their tag division ain't nuttin and The Briscoe Brothers were going to take the straps in the first month.

Jay: Well, I may have said...

Mark: And you didn't even let me bring my Dodge!

Stephanie: Dodge?

Mark: Dodge! Dodge!

Jay: Oh Lord, you dun got him started already.

Mark: Dodge (Mark starts to speak rhythmically) I drive a Dodge. I drive a Dodge. You can pull a trailer, you can pull a boat. You can haul some chickens, you can haul a goat. I drive a Dodge! I drive a Dodge.

Jay turns to Stephanie McMahon

Jay: He likes Dodge.

Stephanie: Be that as it may, the truth here is The Briscoe Brothers are just not marketable. We're bringing in your brother as a singles competitor.

Mark: Not marketable? NOT MARKETABLE? We sell the hell out of them telaphone number Dem Boys t-shirts. That's Market!

Jay: Oh shit, Chicken this is why they don't want you. I've told you, it ain't telaphone number, it's a hash tag.

Mark: I don't touch the hash tag, that stuff is bad for you. I know we in canada where that stuff is legal, but I still don't like it.

Jay: No not... you know what, never mind. You're right. Just like our website is Briscoe-Brothers period com. You're right.

Mark: Are you disrespecting me? Don't make me pull my knife back out, cuz I will cut you.

Jay: No, keep your knife away, Chicken. I would never disrespect you.

Mark: Well, alright then. (He turns to Stephanie) Are we done here?

Stephanie: I sure am.

Mark: Good.

Mark pulls out a block of chew and takes a big bite. He turns to Jay to give him one last look and walks out the door, leaving Stephanie with a bewildered look on her face. The scene fades to black.



"REACH FOR THE SKY BOY"

Two gunshots are heard after as the scene opens back up a country setting. Trees are seen in the background and in the foreground is a gravel pile and a dirt road. You hear a truck pull up as it drives into the scene and parks at an angle that's ajar from the road. Both doors open as The Briscoe brothers each exit their side of the vehicle. They the camera zooms in as as the boys stop at the tailgate of the truck.

Jay: June 13th Jay Briscoe makes his EBWF debut in the opening round of The King Of The Ring tournament. And I know Chicken is stil a little upset about it, but don't you worry about that son. You'll get your time in the big show real soon.

Mark: I ain't even mad.

Jay: Good. Cuz you see, June 13th marks the beginning of Pro Wrestling being returned to the EBWF. And it starts by my taking out The Miz. Now I know a lot of you know The Miz pretty well. He's been all over TV for years. He goes to big fancy parties and rides in limos and thinks he's the next Ric Flair. But you see, the biggest difference between The Miz and Ric Flair is Ric Flair knows how to wrestle. The Miz just knows how to talk and look good. The Miz ain't even known best as a wrestler. Yeah, he may have had some success here, and he may have been to a few Wrestlemanias, but The Miz will always be known as that boy on The Real World. That reality TV bitch that argued with his roommates and created good TV. You see, Miz, I don't give a damn about good TV. I don't care about what gossip magazines are talking about me or what parties I get invited to on the weekends. I aint got time to eat at fancy restaurants or dance with movie stars. I work for a livin, son. Me and Chicken are out here on the farm workin, son. We ain't got time for reality TV.

But don't ask The Miz about his reality TV. The Miz acts like he's past The Real World. Like's he's above that shit. Like all that is behind him. Yet the boy lives his life like he's in a damn soap opera. Hell, I wish he was still on The Real World because then at least I could tell myself that this shit ain't real. That the messed up life he lives is just make believe. I can't honestly believe people live the way you do, Miz. I can't believe that you live without responsibility. Did your momma not love you, as a child? Did you not get enough attention? Is that why you act the way you do? Is that why you go from woman to woman?

Mark: I heard this one dude say that a man is always trying to marry his momma.

Jay: Well, I did marry a woman who makes good frog legs, like momma. But that ain't the point. The point is all this shit you surround your life with ain't health. And that's why you always fail when it matters. You may have won a few titles, ya know beatin Spanky one time. But now all you do is come up short. You know chicken, that also might be why he keeps striking out with the ladies. He may come up short there too.

Mark: You mean, like he's got a small penis?

Jay: Yes, Chicken. But you don't have to say that. It's called an inference.

Mark: Incense? You messing with that hash tag again? I told you, I don't want nothin to do with that.

Jay: No chicken in.... ya know what, it don't matter. What matters is this Thursday night when I teach the Miz what it really feels like to come up short. The Miz thinks he's a ladies man with all these women he runs around with. Shit, this pro wrestling son. Ain't nobody got time to be a ladies man, pretty boy bitch.

Mark: He ain't even that good looking.

Jay: Hell no, he ain't. There's more shit in his hair than is in the gulf right now. Chicken, how man seagulls you think get stuck when that boy washes his hair.

Mark: I don't know. But it's like this: around here we raise pit bulls. Now, a pit bull is a majestic creature. It has great muscle tone, natural good looks, and it's a staple of what America really is. The Briscoe Brothers... we're pit bulls. We're hard nose country boys that got great natural instrincts. Now, we ain't all about fighting. We can be your best friend. We'll play catch with ya, run around with ya, and eat on the floor witcha. But if you piss us off, we gonna bite ya.

Jay: And he ain't talking about some Michael Vick, shit. No, he's talking about the law of nature. That killer instinct that every superior being has when they're pushed to the edge.

Mark: That's right. And, The Miz.... Well he's like a poodle. Nice hair, maybe some color added to your fur to highlight the natually femanine traits. Probably smells good and eats those fancy feast meals that cost 15 dollas a can.

Jay: That's right, but we out here eating meat, son. We got grits and mac and cheese. We got okra and we grill our shit. We don't go to some fancy european/asia shit place that serves food raw. We grilling steaks and chicken, not sushi and tuna!

Mark: Man, you making me hungry. I thought you was talking about The Miz

Jay: That's right. But like I said, Miz, being a ladies man ain't gonna get you nowhere in this business. Ask Val Venis what being a ladies man gets you. That boy came out in a towel and getting all the ladies, but the only thing he got in the business is a date with Kai En Tai's sword.

Mark: And he runs around with Kai En Tai.

Jay: That's right! That dumb son of a bitch runs around with Kai En Tai! You ain't very smart are you, Miz. Maybe that's why your life is so shit. In the tabloids, talking about cheating on your girlfriend or whatever. What the hell's wrong with you? You're a grown ass man. Start actin like it.

Mark: His tag team partner ain't much better!

Jay: Yeah, AJ ain't much better! What, are y'all having a contest on who can mess up their life more? Grow the hell up. and y'all supposed to be a tag team? This is the shit that the EBWF puts on TV as their tag team division? And yet didn't have room to put my brother in? (Jay points motions his hand between his brother and himself) This is a tag team. we're seven time ROH Tag Champions. We won the FIP tag strap on the first night! What y'all know about tag team wrestling? Y'all better off entering into a tag team beauty pagent. That's something that's more your style. Leave the wrestling to the big boys! Cuz y'all sure as hell don't have what it takes to hang with The Biscoes. Despite what you call youself.

Mark climbs into the truck bed and opens up the tool box. He starts looking through the box as Jay continues to talk.

Jay: The Miz likes to call himself "Your favorite wrestler's favorite wrestler." Shit, maybe if my favorite wrestler was Rico. He's probably like your pink wearing ass. I bet Rico would love to have a wrestling match with you, pretty boy. Or maybe if my favorite wrestler was Eugene. Cuz I'd have to have something messed up with my head to call you my favorite wrestler.

Mark: Hey, who's your favorite wrestler, man?

Jay: Bruiser Brody, man. What kind of a question is that?

Mark: My fault.

Jay: Shit, where was I? Oh yeah, Miz things he's wrestler's favorite wrestler. Boy, ain't nobody in the back that gives you the credit of being their favorite wrestler. Ain't nobody with a fauhawk going to be a wrestler's favorite wrestler.

Mark: Terry Funk ain't wear no fauhawk.

Jay: Hell no, Terry Funk ain't wear no fauhawk. Ricky Steamboat ain't wear no fauhawk. Bruiser Brody.... Freddy Blassey... Steve Austin..... Dean Malenko.... These are wrestler's favorite wrestlers. No some little bitch boy like you. You might be my favorite Diva's favorite wrestler. But then again, maybe not since you already ran through their entire roster. They probably got a big red reason why you ain't their favorite wrestler.

Mark: You mean, like chlamydia?

Jay: Dammit, Chicken. Just keep looking through that tool chest.

Mark: My fault.

Jay: The Miz likes to call himself awesome. And I guess other people must think that too, because they're having him on their radio and tv shows asking him all these questions. But I don't get it. When I step back and take a look at The Miz, I don't see awesome. I don't even see great. Hell, if it ain't a good day, I bet you I won't even see decent. The Miz might be good at some things like stylin his hair, driving his fancy car, or playing beer pong with his frat bros....

Mark: What the hell is beer pong?

Jay: You know, chicken. Beer Pong! It's that damn game the kids play where they throw ping pong balls in cups and the loser drinks beer.

Mark: The loser drinks beer? Wouldn't it be the winner that gets to drink beer?

Jay: That's what I said. Since when do you need a damn game to drink beer. We play a game around here it's called open the top. And guess what, everybody wins. Aint no ping pong balls, dice, or playing cards necessary to enjoy a good beer. But shit, you got me off topic again. What I was saying is there are some things that The Miz might be good at, but I wouldn't say those things make him awesome. It makes him normal. Because when it comes the one thing that separates you from awesome, you fail misserably. And that thing is competing in the ring. And that's one thing that I do best.

You see, The Miz probably doesn't know a lot about me. But that right there shows you why The Miz isn't a real wrestler, he's a sport entertainer. You see, I know about the indy levels of wrestling. I know who Kevin Steen is. Who El Generico is. Who Colt Cabana is. I know all these people. The Miz don't. I bet you The Miz is going to talk about how we in the lesser fereration down in ROH or CZW or Big Japan. Hell, I remember back when The Miz used to worth a little bit back when he had a radio show in Texas. He used to talk about sports and shit, comparing people sports teams. He probably going to refer to us as a lesser team like the Astros, or something. And gonna call himself The Yankees. Man, this pro wrestling, son. This ain't some David Stern sports shit. We don't give a damn who's winning what trophy in the NFL. We don't give a damn if you think you're Derek Jeter and we're some rookie kid playing in some farm town. That shit don't mean nothin!

Mark: That ain't got nothin to do with nothin

Jay: Yeah boy, and talking about shit you know nothin about. You might as well compare us to the power rangers or pokemon or some shit. Yeah, he probably going to try talk down at us as not being good enough for the big show. But that just shows you what kind of a man The Miz is. You see, The Miz never had to come up through the indy wrestling shows. The Miz never learned what it was like to perform for 30 fans in a high school gym. I know what that's like. I remember performing at the Murphey Rec and setting up seats before the show. I remember what it was like to sit backstage and people like Chris Benoit would come and we'd tear the house down. I remember sitting in the back with Necrobutcher and Homicide, getting stitched up because somebody hit me in the head with a light tube. I know what it's like to learn in the ring, and not some fancy wrestling school.

The Miz may not know who I am, but I know exactly who he is. I was in the back in UPW when this green as goose shit kid named Mike came in and told everybody he wanted to be a wrestler. And we all laughed thinking this punk kid don't know the first thing about wrestling. But he was on TV, so they decided to put him out there to gain publicity. You hear that, Miz? YOu were nothing but a publicity stunt. Ain't nobody in the back believe that you had what it takes to make it as a pro wrestler, and nobody still does. You just got lucky that people like Vince MacMahon decided he wanted to turn wrestling into sports entertainment, and put pretty boys on TV. So I give you some credit, you made something of yourself, but you still don't have my respect. Because you don't know what it's like to learn the real way. Your boy AJ Styles knows what it's like. CM Punk knows what it's like. I remember batting CM Punk at Hammerstein Ballroom tearing the roof off the damn place. You see, I know what it's like to take a bad bump and land on your damn head. I know what it's like to fly off the apron and separate my collerbone. They say there ain't no better training than on the job training, and that's exactly what I learned through. Miz, I may not be as good as you at cutting promos or dressing nice.

Mark: Man, he ain't got nothin on you brotha. Guicci ain't shit compared to Carhardt.

Jay: You said it, little brother. But The Miz thinks he can out think me. And hell, that might be true. I've you in your little strategize meetins with AJ Styles. You two gettin your game plan together. I ain't got time for that. My game plan don't take that long to put together. Here's my game plan.

Jay straightens up to put emphasis on his plan. In the background, it looks like Mark finds what he's looking for. The camera zooms in on Jay to show how he's going to portray his game plan.

Jay: 1) Show up. 2) Kick Ass. That's it. That's all it takes to beat somebody's ass in the middle of that ring. But alright, I'll give it to you, you and AJ like to talk shit out. Ok. I understand you need to coordinate your outfits and make sure your hair is perfect. And you got to smell real good out there, too in case one of your future victems... I mean girlfriends is in the front row. But there is one thing that cought my eye when I heard about your game plan. It came when you were talking about Dean Ambrose for wrestlemania. You said something about Dean Ambrose wearing a bulletproof vest so you couldn't shoot him in the chest. Now, this struck me paticulary because around here, we like our guns.

The loud "chick chick" of a shotgun is heard. The camera zooms out to show Mark Briscoe standing in the stuck bed with a Mossberg 500 in his hands.

Jay: But around here, we don't take threats lightly. If gonna come at me, make sure to put me down. Because if you don't, I'll take you out.

Mark cocks the shotgun once more for good measure as the scene fades to black.