Scene opens. We find ourselves in the middle of a crowded gymnasium. At the top of the huge room, we find several large banners, colored red and white, hanging from the lattice work of metal beams at the top. The large, halogen lights hum as their luminescence burns down towards the ground. The walls, made up of cinderblocks painted with white and accents of red, horizontal lines, appear to be scrubbed clean, the only interruption, a huge red scoreboard drilled into the center of the wall, is turned off, except for the timer display, which burns with the number 2010. The floor is comprised of polished wood, although it’s shine is difficult to see as it’s covered by dozens of plastic folding chair that stretch from the two sets of red, metal double doors at the back of the room, all the way to the foot of a huge stage that is set into the wall on the opposite side of the gym. Each folding chair is filled by teenagers, each wearing a red, and shimmering robe that hang down to the floor, and goofy, red, rectangular caps that are housed with a white tassel on its center. The sides of the apparent students are kept in check by a set of matching plastic bleachers, colored in a red and white pattern as they are pulled out to the edge, just next to the students on the floor. The bleachers also are filled with people chattering amongst themselves and creating a murmuring that seems to cover up almost all other sound in the gym. On the stage at the front of the room, several more folding chairs have been set up in a straight line, each one of the chairs are filled with a different individual. These individuals are also wearing robes, although their robes are filled with different ornamentation, tassels around their necks, decorations around their shoulders, embroidered school logos on their breasts. But all eyes appear to be turned towards the center of the stage where a man in a blue and black patch robe, and floppy hat stands in the center of the stage, behind a wooden podium, and leans towards a turned microphone at the center. He clears his throat before beginning.

Principal: Good afternoon.

Slowly the murmuring of the crowd begins to die down as all eyes lock onto the principal at the center of the stage. He waits several seconds for the last of the side conversations to dissipate before beginning.

Principal: And welcome to the commencement of Lincoln Park High School’s Class of 2021.

A roar of applause and cheers erupt from both the students and the observers around them, bringing a smile to the face of the principal before he begins again.

Principal: And might I say that you deserve that ovation. It has been a long, four years, and each and every one of you have worked hard to get you. And that is why, I have continued a tradition that has become a favorite of the students and even the faculty at the school.

He pauses for a second, reaching down to shuffle through a grouping of papers resting on the podium underneath his arms.

Principal: As part of our giving back to the seniors for all of their hard work, we allow for them to vote for a commencement speaker that they wish to see, and then the school board and myself will do everything that we can to get that graduation speaker to come and address the graduating class during their commencement.

He clears his throat once again, turning his eyes towards the paper on the podium.

Principal: And I’m happy to announce to all of you, that we have achieved our goal of getting your top choice to enthusiastically accept this honor.

Applause rings politely through the group of students as the principal continues on.

Principal: I am also happy to announce that the students have chosen to extend the honor of speaking at graduation to a fellow native of the greater Chicago Area. He is known as EBWF’s Straightedge Savior. He is here today, to tell you all about how you can follow your dreams. Ladies, and gentlemen, won’t you please join me in welcoming Phil Brooks, or as he’s known to all of you, CM Punk.

The audience begins to applaud again, as the man who has been hidden behind the podium, stand up to reveal himself. CM Punk looks much different from the clean cut individuals around him. His long hair and beard a sharp contrast. He also isn’t wearing the same robes as everyone else, instead wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans, and a white towel slung over his shoulder. The principal turns towards him and extends his hand forward. He drops his voice lower, but it can still be picked up slightly by the microphone behind him.

Principal: Did the robe we left for you not fit?

CM Punk: Nope. I just wasn’t gonna wear that ridiculous thing…

The principal squints his eyebrows together, his hand still extended forward.

Principal: Um… ok…

Punk ignores the outstretched hand, instead weaving around it, and choosing the bat the man on the back. The principal looks stunned, but stumbles his way backwards, spinning around and finding his way to the same chair Punk rose from a few moments earlier. Punk instead leans forward and grabs onto the microphone, to tilt it up towards his mouth.

CM Punk: Ladies and gentlemen, faculty, and most of all the graduating class of Lincoln Park High School, 2021, I would like to begin by having all of you give this class another round of applause.

Leaning back, he mumbles lower than the crowd could hear over the applause.

CM Punk: They better enjoy it. It’ll be the last time they hear any applause for a long time.

Several of the faculty members squint in confusion, but before they can say anything, the applause is already drowning out, and Punk has begun again.

CM Punk: When I was first offered the opportunity to come and speak to each and every one of you here today, I could not have accepted fast enough. Because, you see, I know that all of you needed to hear my message more than anyone. Because I have never seen a more undeserving group of spoiled brats in my life.

The crowd falls into a stunned silence as a smirk appears on Punk’s face. The principal quickly pops up from his seat, and makes his way towards the podium.

Principal: Alright, I think you’re done here.

But by Punk simply extending his arm, he quickly knocks the man back onto his chair.

CM Punk: Oh, I’m just getting started here Skippy.

The faculty members help to catch the principal as he bounces back, and in the confusion, Punk reaches forward, removing the microphone from the podium and beginning to pace towards the front of the stage.

CM Punk: Let me give you an example of what I’m talking about.

Quickly he jumps down from the stage, and begins to slowly move towards the rows of children. After getting a few steps in, he pauses next to a boy on the edge of the rows of seats. Moving his hands down to his knees, he leans forward, pointing his eyes at the young man’s.

CM Punk: Like you. You’re looking a little pale, a little sweaty son. Are you feeling a bit sick?

The boy swallows a large lump in his throat as Punk gives him a slight smile. But as quickly as the smile appeared, it disappears into a sneer.

CM Punk: Bullshit!

The crowd begins to murmur again as Punk stands back up to his full height, and continues on.

CM Punk: I know that that was probably the excuse that you have your parents this morning, or you just told them that you were nervous, but we all know the real reason. You probably went out to a nice little party with yourself and some of your friends. And what did you do at that party? You probably drank enough alcohol that you barely remembered your own damned name when you woke up this morning. This was supposed to be the first day of your life as a responsible adult, and what did you chose to do? You chose to inject poison into your body. Not to mention that it’s a miracle that you’re here instead of hitting someone in your car after being under the influence. You have your entire future in front of you, and you could have thrown it away on the way to jail. Pathetic.

The crowd’s murmuring picks up as Punk begins to pace down the rows once again, stopping in front of a girl on the corner.

CM Punk: And you, young lady. What’s the matter? Did the eye drops you picked up at the drugstore this morning not do a good job of hiding the sins of last night?

The girl turns her eyes towards the ground, but Punk simply squats down onto his haunches, continuing to twist his neck to remain in contact with her.

CM Punk: Do you really think that using drugs is the best way to start today? I mean this is supposed to be one of the greatest days of your life, do you really want to look back at it, and see it as a haze because you wanted to ‘have fun’ before it? Do you think that I did any drugs before I went out and beat the crap out of Cameron Grimes? No. And you know why? Because I wanted to remember it. And it’s sad to say that probably this message won’t get through to you, because your brain is already so fried that you can’t retain any information. Which makes it even sadder that you won’t remember today because this is the highest level that you will ever get even close to. And that, is a sad but true fact.

Punk pushes himself up to his full height and his joined by the near roar that is coming from the crowd around him, but Punk quickly spins around, looking out into the crowd.

CM Punk: And don’t think that I haven’t forgotten about you audience. Other than the obligatory being dragged here by your parents against your will, I see your being here as only the result of one of two different reasons.

He raises a single finger in the air as he scans his eyes around your room.

CM Punk: Number one. That you are some sick, disgusting, waste of egg and sperm, and are only here by the off chance that one of these misguided youth members down here on the floor has chosen to dawn a piece of skimpy swimwear underneath their gown, and will disrobe to it in some weird tradition that I will never understand. You see these people’s addiction to online pornography has become so lasting, that they must do anything to satisfy their sick pleasures that they are here. It’s sick and twisted. And then people wonder why Dateline is forced to air specials about online predators every week.

Spinning around, his eyes find the girl he looked at a few moments earlier.

CM Punk: Probably because sad girls like this are so empty inside that they would come home with a sick man like that because their bodies are so numb from the constant use of substances that dull them to the world.

Clearing his throat, he begins to scan the crowd once again. He raises two fingers above his head.

CM Punk: Number two. You are here as glory whores. Your lives have not amounted to anything, and so you must try to catch onto the tail of success of one of your offspring to try and raise your own worth. You’re lives are so pathetic that you can do nothing but dream of things better by looking at this youth, and hoping that they can at least raise to a level that when you’re drooling away at a nursing home, they can pay for your treatment.

He turns towards the students.

CM Punk: But I hate to disappoint you, but looking at the stunned faces around me, these boys seem to be addicted to mediocrity, and this will most likely be the highest achievement they will reach to.

Punk again turns towards the front of the room, raising up a hand defensively before his lips begin to twist into a sneer.

CM Punk: Hell, take me for an example. I had everything in the world. I was the best in the world at the thing that I had worked my entire life for. But because some doff suits couldn’t see that someone that didn’t look like them was better than them, they had doctors and media and everyone they could bury me to the point that I couldn’t even look at a wrestling ring without feeling physically sick to my stomach. To the point that they drug me through legal battles and media blitzes and one thing after another that I actually left the business for another. And even then, you people couldn’t get enough of me, so I had to step into an octagon unprepared and way too early to get embarrassed, and lose another career. And to, here I lie, at the showcase of misspent youth, having to reflect on myself in front of slack jawed idiots. If I didn’t make it, if I ended up here, then what chances do any of you have?

He shakes his head again before grunting in disgust. His eyes seem to stare off into the distance for a few seconds before he seems to snap back out of it, shifting his weight, and looking back over the crowd once again.

CM Punk: Now before any of you get on your little iPhones, or whatever and call for security to come and take me away, I’m going to actually escort myself out because believe it or not, I still respect my Straightedge Lifestyle. And judging by old red eyes over here.

[He points again towards the girl.]

CM Punk: She might start hot boxing in here any minute.

He turns and makes his way towards the doors at the back of the room.

CM Punk: And after being here only for a few moments, it has inspired me to make sure that I remain better, than you Cameron Grimes. I’m going to drop you’re face across my knee, and put you to sleep Cameron and eliminate you from the King Of The Ring.

Dropping the microphone, Punk disappears through the back door accompanied by the muttering of the crowd. Everyone remains in shock for a few moments, but after clearing his throat, the principal, who has dug up a new microphone has taken the podium once again.

Principal: Well. After that, I think it’s safe to say that we need another inspirational message. Luckily for all of you, the board of directors and I have also attained your second place choice for commencement speakers. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mr. Finn Wolfhard…

Upon the mention of the name, the crowd quickly pops up to their feet cheering. The curtain at the back of the stage parts, and a small boy with a huge tuft of curly, brown hair, red pants a suit coat, and large aviator sunglasses makes his way to the front of the stage. Taking the microphone, he begins throwing his hand out awkwardly as he speaks.

Finn Wolfhard: Wait, can only a virgin give a graduation speech like that? Am I right boys?

The crowd erupts in a loud cheer as the scene fades to black.