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Muh-Muh-Muh-Max Corona!; Some musical stylings...
Topic Started: Mar 13 2005, 07:01 PM (54 Views)
BobPalindrome
Unregistered

[The scene opens in a dingy garage – much like the one you likely have/had in your house. The walls are lined with gardening utensils and a bright red driving lawnmower is parked off to the side. Piles of old newspapers and trash bags take up space against the door leading into the house. There are no actual cars present, the space intended for them taken up by a group of five young men with instruments, all of whom look like they are just out of high school. The drummer, the bassist and the two guitarists are pretty unobtrusive in appearance. All have shaggy dark hair, loose clothes and shorts, their expressions relaxed and focused. The lead singer, however, has that “cool look” all frontmen need to succeed. His jet black hair is done up with spikes and his well-built frame is covered nicely by a simple tight black shirt. He wraps his hand around a mic and its stand as if it was his lover, and as the rest of the band begins to start up the music, the singer begins to gyrate in tune with the rhythm.

Before long, the song they are playing is recognizable. It’s “My Sharona” by The Knack. Okay, granted, it’s a one-hit wonder, but it’s a classic rock classic, and if you don’t know it, stop reading this post haste and download it, ask your parents, whatever… You need to know this song! The only difference is that these kids play it a little more “power pop”… Think of it was Weezer doing a cover.]


Singer: Oooh, the little pussy one, the pussy one! You know you’re going down with three, Co-rona! You know you should run, you should run. Second-rate is all you can be, Co-rona!

[One of the guitarists does the neat little trick where he slings the guitar around his body using the strap around his chest. As he catches it, he enters into the next part of the song. The singer keeps up, banging his head along with the beat.]

Singer: Why don’t you stop? Give it up? Such a stupid mind, Lobo will blow you up, like he did, yes he did, the last time. My, my, my, my, aye, yee…Wooooooooooo!

[Yeah, all Ric Flair-style. Now the whole place is shaking as the band really gets into it, moving along with their hands as they play their equipment with equal passion and glee. The singer pulls the mic close to his lips, as if he was about to plant a tender kiss upon it.]

Singer: Muh-muh-muh-Max Corona!

[He whips the mic off its stand and kicks the stand away as he stares at the camera, his whole frame still moving along with the song.]

Singer: Come to Albuquerque, huh? Ah, will ya, huh? What will you do when you look in his eyes, Corona? The face under the mask is a mystery, and all over the ring he flies, Corona! Why don’t you stop? Give it up? You’re the losing kind, always lying down for the count, what’s in your mind? My-my-my-my-aye-yee… Whoooooooooooooooo! Muh-muh-muh… Max Corona!

[The song comes to an abrupt hand, and as the sound of the band dies down, we soon hear nothing but two hands clapping. The band members fall silent as a figure emerges from the shadows of the garage, and the camera zooms in so we can see… El Lobo Loco. He smiles broadly under his mask. He wears a Molotov t-shirt (the band, not the Soviet foreign minister) and beat-up jeans. He turns to the singer of the band first.]

Lobo: Well done, Andy. When I first saw the ad for Breadwinner on the telephone pole, I did not know what to expect. But I am pleased with the results. A rather humorous piece of rock for all the fans watching at home. But one man who should not be amused is Max Corona.

[Lobo snickers as he addresses the camera now, folding his arms and flexing his biceps.]

Lobo: Is your pride hurt, Max? I doubt it, since I destroyed any self-esteem you likely had in our first encounter. I’m not anticipating much of a challenge this Tuesday, so I decided I would patronize the less than awesome musical scene here in Albuquerque. No, not work out, not practice in the ring. Because I already know I’m ready for you, Max. I beat you handily the first time, and what’s the reason for me to worry now? It’s been awhile since you spoke out, making fun of my name. What’s the matter? Run out of variations? Since it’s been done so much, I can probably refer you to a few people who have done it before. There’s Bunzo Fujiwara, who I faced in Japan a few times… But he was mangled so much that he really only speaks in clicks and whistles now. You see, Max, you can try and pretend to be clever all you like, but if you don’t have the neurons, there’s no point!

[Lobo taps a finger against his head as he approaches closer to the camera.]

Lobo: I beat you last time with the Bueno Baja Bomb. Tuesday night, history will repeat itself. I will pull it out of my arsenal once more, and as you look up at me from the canvas, you will see this mask standing triumphant over you. And maybe then it will sink in… I’m better than you. Face it, Max… Your time is over. The time of El Lobo is… now.

[Fade to black.]
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