Cameron and Naomi were seen backstage. Each of the ladies were curled up on opposite ends of the same leather couch. Each girl had her legs tucked up underneath herself. Dressed in their red dance gear, their feet met in the middle cushion, and they both seemed inexplicably bored.
Cameron: I told you, Nay. I told you, we really can't be letting Brodus wander around by himself.
Naomi: Oh, Cameron, hush. He'll be fine.
Cameron: I swear to God. I mean, suh-wear, to the good Lord almighty that if we find Funky doing a dance break in the middle of the expressway again, I will…
The door opened slowly. The small creaking sound accompanied a space just large enough for Brodus Clay's head, adorned with black fedora. He peered in, rather comically, and darted his eyes from side to side.
Cameron: It's alright Funky! We're all alone. You come on in here.
Almost in unison the girls moved their legs to the floor, and both reached over to pat the now vacant cushion. Brodus entered the room tentatively. He looked from side to side, and then stepped in, dressed in his red track suit. He closed the door behind him and went to the couch. He almost sat down, but instead went around to the space behind the couch and started to pace.
Naomi: Uh-oh, our rompin' stompin' homey is pacing the floors. What's wrong Funky? Are you okay?
Brodus Clay: Do I look okay to you?!
Naomi: Well, no… no I guess not.
Brodus Clay: Awww… there she go. She got herself some damn sense.
Cameron: Brody! That's no way to talk to Naomi.
Brodus Clay: My bad.
Somewhat dejected, Naomi tried again.
Naomi: What's got you down, Funky? I don't like to see you so sad.
Brodus Clay: I guess it's just this… it's just this whole King of the Ring tournament! Nobody thought I could beat Alberto Del Rio two weeks ago, and now… nobody things I can beat… ummm… that I can beat….. that one guy… you know the guy who used to be Chris Jericho's partner. What's his name?
Naomi: Lance Storm.
Brodus Clay: Yeah. Yeah, that's him! You know, I'm here in the EBWF and I know who I am. I'm the Funkasaurus! I'm supposed to be a non-stop party! I get that. I know that! But really, all this negativity all the time. I can't surround my life with that. I need there to be positivity. I need there to be tranquility. A little woo-sah.
Cameron: Woo-what?
Naomi: This boy done lost his damn mind.
Brodus Clay: No! I haven't lost my mind. I see clearly. Don't you get it. All these people around me telling me I can't. I'm going to start believing I can't. We can't have that. I won't be feeling very Funky. But, this is just terrible! Terrible! I'm just, just… People think I can't win. Do you know what that does to me? This Storm guy hasn't been in a legit match in almost a year! Kane doesn't even show up last week, and then all of a sudden the thing between me and being the King of the Ring is this loser? This Chris Jericho hanger on. Most people can't remember the dude's name. I don't like all these naysayers. I don't like everybody thinking that I'm just some sort of dancing monkey! I'm ain't no damn monkey! I'm an animal. I'm the Funkasaurus. I ain't no damn loser. I ain't gonna lose to Lance Storm!
Cameron: Of course you aren't, Brodus. You just need to… well maybe…
Bordus Clay: Ya'll are some useless cheerleaders! I'mma go call my mamma.
Brodus turned and walked right out of the room, leaving Cameron and Naomi looking confused.
Calling Mama
Calling Mama
Writers aren't exactly people. They're a whole bunch of people. Trying to be one person.
The only living, breathing, Queen of Efeds in captivity
"You can't blame a writer for what the characters say." - Truman Capote