Arm-Wrestling for the Right to be Mayor

* Important notice: This is a Fistpumps first: For the very first time, not one but two pictures will serve to compliment this particular entry. It's a special moment. The reason is simply that I couldn't decide which promotional poster for the film "Over the Top" was more bad-ass. Honestly, it's a toss-up. If you have a preference, I'm amazed by your ability to discern between minute increments of awesomeness. Also: I'm trying to expand as an artist. I'm breaking the barrier of my one-picture per column quota.

If, somehow, you're able to pick a favorite, e-mail me to let me know. Feedback is encouraged, except with the writing, of course, because I'm still going to do that even if you hate it.

EXT. COURTHOUSE BUILDING

A still shot of this somewhat ramshackle structure is shown in the rural south. An ANNOUNCER who typically uses his intense and booming voice to promote monster truck rallies sounds off, accompanied by a trite and repetitive heavy-metal riff. (Note: all words uttered by the Announcer that appear in CAPS are duplicated as graphic messages on the screen.)

ANNOUNCER: (VOICE-OVER) Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday—the place to be is the Lawn-dart County Municipal Building in Cooter, Mississippi. It’s gonna be an electoral extravaganza as two candidates of carnage arm-wrestle in order to determine, once and for all: WHO GETS TO BE MAYOR!

INT. TV STUDIO

A green-screen depicts a graphic of a muscle-bound eagle wrapping its mighty talons around the neck of a terrified Osama Bin Laden. In the foreground is the first candidate: Russell Stanke.

ANNOUNCER: RUSSELL STANKE is a part-time dune-buggy repairman and a full-time terrorist hater. He has worn the same Stone Cold Steve Austin shirt for almost one-thousand consecutive days. He claims he once lifted an obese foreigner WAY OVER HIS HEAD while surfing atop a van in the express lane, and he knows the words to all of Larry the Cable Guy’s BEST ROUTINES. His political credentials? IRRELEVANT.

RUSSELL: Get a load of your new mayor, Cooter! You know, if I had just one wish, I’d want to be locked inside a room with Osama Bin Laden for ten solid minutes. And don’t think there’d be any of that gay stuff goin’ on; I’d just be givin’ that Iraqi son-of-a-bitch the ass-pounding of a lifetime!

CUT TO:

In the background, a different backdrop. This one shows a blown-up photograph of the candidate Stiltsken Corverton riding down a steep and muddy hill, hollering elatedly, choking a live chicken in one hand with the other hand wrapped around the neck of a nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s. In the foreground, the candidate menaces and sneers in the same fashion as his opponent.

ANNOUNCER: STILTSKEN CORVERTON is a former pro-wrestling referee who turned his back on the sport once he realized it was not as authentic as he believed it to be. He is between jobs, and remains DISILLUSIONED. He has seen the film “OVER THE TOP” dozens of times, and has recently founded a non-profit organization called: FIST PUMPS FOR JUSTICE. His stance on budget reform? What kind of a pussy would even ask that question?

STILTSKEN: I don’t know much about how to boost tourism or cut down on Cooter’s high crime rate, but here’s something I do know: Russell Stanke quivers at the sight of THIS!

He flexes his biceps for the camera. The bulge is hardly noticeable underneath his red flannel jacket.

STILTSKEN: That’s right, Stanke, this here is your worst nightmare! You ain’t seen “Over the Top” half as many times as I have.

CUT TO:

In front of a backwoods shack, a MALE RESIDENT of Cooter holds onto a microphone with jittery and excited hands.

ANNOUNCER: Cooter is in the grips of election fever, fever, FEVER, and it’s more potent than HEPATITIS. Just listen to what THESE RESIDENTS are saying.

MALE RESIDENT: I used to live in Tupelo, and the mayor there was some nasal-talkin’ geek what couldn’t even bench-press 200 pounds, I’d reckon. It sure is nice to live in a place where the candidates keep in mind the real issues.

A FEMALE RESIDENT stands before a junkyard, equally exhilarated.

FEMALE RESIDENT: I figure if we got a mayor that’s strong like a juiced-up grizzly bear, he’ll protect us from them neighboring mayors that get violent when they’ve done had too much liquor. As a woman, that’s a real comfort.

CUT TO:

A solemn POLITCAL ANALYST appears on-screen. His cleanliness and formal attire are in stark contrast to the candidates and residents shown previously.

POLITICAL ANALYST: As a political analyst, and more importantly, a rational human being, I must say that the notion of two poorly educated men arm-wrestling for the right to be mayor is completely absurd. Furthermore, the public's fervent support of these shenanigans has tarnished my faith in the basic intellect of small-town America.

He is confronted by an irate Russell Stanke.

RUSSELL: Now, hold on a second, Professor PHD. Me and Stiltsken don't have no Ivy League degrees, an' maybe we'd rather watch the “American Gladiators” than read the instructions on the side of a TV dinner or pay child support, but DAMMIT, we love Cooter with our hearts an' then some, an' you best believe we want to make it a better place to live.

POLITCAL ANALYST: Well, I think your sense of community pride is commendable, but nonetheless, I must object to--

In the midst of his rebuttal, Stiltsken sneaks up behind him and bashes him between the shoulder blades with a steel folding chair. He slumps to the floor, moaning woefully, and the candidates loom over his unconscious body.

STILTSKEN: Now THAT was real! You don't know when to pipe down, poindexter!

RUSSELL: Damn straight. Finally, we agree on SOMETHING!

They scowl at the camera and clutch hands, mimicking the arm-wrestling pose. As their hands connect, an animated, fiery explosion consumes the screen, and the following graphic appears: “Lawn-Dart County Municipal Building. Tuesday. Door open at 7 p.m. Carnies drink for free!”

ANNOUNCER: The politics of pansies have failed! Be there on Tuesday to help usher in the politics of punishment!

FADE OUT: