Join Date: Jun 2006
Location: Béal Feirste, Ireland
Re: The McMahon-Levesques
Season One, Episode One
The Rise of the Empire
The McMahon-Levesques was filmed in front of a live studio audience.
Scene One- Interior- Day.
Hunter is lounging on the couch in the living room, watching a video of himself going over Chris Jericho at Wrestlemania X8. He is masturbating vigorously, and climaxes after the three count. He exhales a deep breath and relaxes. He then turns his head and looks upstairs.
Hunter: Steph? Steph!
Stephanie comes down the stairs to rapturous cheers from the live studio audience.
Stephanie: Sorry, I was just on the phone to some retard from Be A Star. Anyway, big news, baby. I was talking to Lenny Goldstein, the Head of Programming for NBC earlier- we're having him over for dinner tonight, and if things go well, I think we can move Monday Night Raw from USA Network to N-B-C!
Hunter jumps and punches the air.
Hunter: AND THE PUCK HITS THE NET! (Hunter then stops and looks scared) Wait- your dad CAN'T find out about this. The guy is off his fucking nut now that he's in his 80s, he'll blow the whole deal.
Stephanie: Christ, you're right.
Hunter smiles wryly.
Hunter: I am Christ. I am so great.
Stephanie: You know, I have a plan to keep dad busy that just might be crazy enough to work...
Stephanie whispers something in Hunter's ear which makes his eyes widen as cheesy sitcom music plays.
Scene Two- Interior- Day
Vince is sat in his office, on the phone.
Vince: (speaking down the phone) FOX SPORTS WANTS TO PICK UP THE XFL AGAIN? AND THEY WANT TO HAVE A MEETING IN TIJUANA THIS AFTERNOON? GODDAMMIT I'LL BE RIGHT THERE.
Scene Three- Interior- Day
Stephanie is preparing a roast in the oven. Hunter walks into the kitchen wearing a Kippah and a fake beard.
Stephanie: What are you wearing?
Hunter: GOLDSTEIN? A television producer? The guy has to be a Jew! We might as well get in on the ground floor.
Stephanie: Oy Vey! Take it off before he gets here, or the only "raw deal" we'll be getting is being glossed over by NBC.
Hunter: You don't have good comic timing. You're not funny like me.
The door bell rings and Hunter quickly rips off the hat and beard. Hunter and Stephanie answer the door, Hunter carrying a bottle of wine with him, to Lenny Goldstein and another man, both middle-aged and dressed in suits.
Stephanie: Good evening, Mr. Goldstein! And nice to meet you sir, are you another one of those big fat-cat producers from NBC?
Hunter and Stephanie share an exaggerated, patronising laugh.
Goldstein: (laughing) No, no. This is my husband- Chico.
Hunter and Stephanie's jaws drop, Hunter dropping and smashing the bottle of wine on the floor.
Fade to black.
Scene Three- Interior- Continued
Goldstein and Chico are sat at the dinner table. Hunter and Stephanie are pacing back and forth in the kitchen.
Hunter: Queers! In my very own home?! I'm going to go out there and Pedigree both of them right now.
Stephanie: Dammit Hunter, stop! We need this NBC deal. This is the deal we could use to finally muscle dad out of the company- and then? We take over!
Hunter stops and takes a deep breath.
Hunter: I'll try. But I'm making no guarantees.
Stephanie kisses Hunter.
Stephanie: Thank you. Besides, I know all about you and Shawn Michaels in the 90s, I heard the stories...
Hunter's body stiffens and he points back to the dining room, changing topic quickly and ushering Stephanie out of the kitchen.
Hunter: To the dinner table!
Hunter and Stephanie join Goldstein and Chico at the dinner table.
Goldstein: You have a beautiful home here, Mr and Mrs McMahon-Levesque. I truly love what you've done with the decor, and I can tell just by the area and this fantastic house that you are exactly the kind of people we would like to enter into business wi--
Hunter slaps down a large wad of cash on the table, the loud bang it causes stopping Goldstein mid-sentence. He slowly and awkwardly slides it across the table to Goldstein.
Hunter: I understand you people love this stuff.
Stephanie quickly stands up and drags Hunter to the kitchen.
Stephanie: Ah, did I just hear the oven?! Hunter, come help me in the kitchen!
Goldstein and Chico are left awkwardly sat at the table. Long pause.
Chico: Is "Hunter" even his real name? I think it's "Paul".
In the kitchen.
Stephanie: You idiot! They were about to offer us the deal!
Hunter: Oh Stephanie, you're such an optimist. We were a million miles away from being offered the deal. Besides, I was just greasing the wheels, you know? Oiling the tracks. Sweetening the deal. I guarantee you when we go back out there, the wad of cash will be gone.
Hunter and Stephanie return to the dinner table. The wad of cash is still where it was before.
Hunter: (to Stephanie) Good God, it's blind.
Stephanie panics. The doorbell rings.
Stephanie: Excuse me a moment!
Stephanie answers the door. It opens to reveal The Wyatt Family on the other side. They are angrily holding scripts in their hands, waving them at Stephanie's face.
Bray: Who the hell wrote this crap?
The Wyatt Family force their way into the house and into the dining room.
Stephanie: Bray, now is not a great time!
Bray: Hunter, is this fucking serious? "John Cena pulls down Luke Harper's pants, gives Erick Rowan a wedgie and flushes Bray's head down the toilet"?! Is this for real?!
Goldstein: Is this the sort of lout we would be promoting on our network?
Stephanie: No, no--these are guest stars, they are--uh--Duck Dynasty! This is Duck Dynasty.
Hunter: You'll do as you're told you redneck freaks. Get the hell out of my home before I have you all arrested-- by ME.
Chico: I've seen Duck Dynasty, I don't think that's Duck Dynasty.
Bray: Oh, you'll regret this, Hunter Hearst Helmsley. You'll rue the day you messed with The Wyatt Family's characters.
The lights go out darkening the house, and when they come back on, The Wyatt Family are gone- although we see and hear them quickly exiting through the kitchen door.
Chico: Hunter Hearst Helmsley? I think his name is Paul Levesque.
Stephanie: Sorry about that. Mr. Goldstein, would you like some fixens with your bacon?
Goldstein: Ah, well, actually...
The doorbell rings again.
Stephanie: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!
Hunter: Yes? Haha. That was just a joke, I'm not really Christ.
Hunter stops laughing and stares angrily and directly at Goldstein.
Hunter: Although he did exist and he is our saviour.
As Stephanie is about to open the door, it is kicked in, hitting her in the face and knocking her down. VINCE has kicked down the door!
Vince: You no good sons of bitches! Tijuana, Mexico. I went to the shithole that is Mexico for a meeting that you two sons of bitches made up to get me out of town.
Chico: Sons of bitches? I think she's his daughter.
Vince: I did some horrible things to escape. Horrible, unspeakable things. I snorted coke off the back of a transgender Latino midget. I participated in a backstreet BDSM fashion show. A hefty businessman tried to attack me- ME! I'M VINCE MCMAHON GODDAMIT! I'll bet he was a homo. Went straight to the crotch. Sure-fire sign of a disgusting homosexual. Dirty queers, why do I attract them so much? The fruits always want a slice of McMahon grapefruit. HUGE grapefruits. God, I hate queers.
Goldstein: Chico! We're leaving!
Chico and Goldstein leave the house. Stephanie has her head in her hands. Hunter stands up to Vince.
Hunter: You decrepit old fool! That was a deal to bring Raw to NBC, and you blew it! I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago...
Hunter draws a gun out of his back pocket. Vince looks concerned and begins backing up. Stephanie stands up, and has a delighted, sick grin on her face, goading her husband on.
Stephanie: Do it, baby! Kill the old cunt- then the dynasty will be all ours! Our own empire!
Hunter cocks the gun and points it at Vince, who is sweating profusely.
Hunter: Say hello to Andre and Warrior for me.
Before Hunter can pull the trigger, another gun shot goes off. Hunter and Stephanie look around, both unharmed. When they look back at Vince, he has been replaced in position...by Shane McMahon!
Shane: Shane-O-Mac is back! And the heir to the throne is here to claim the empire.
Fade to black. End.