'The Comedian' Allen Chaney SE2PrePro: Roast Set

'THE COMEDIAN' ALLEN CHANEY

Season 2 (Pre-production) Set 3 Screen Test: Roast Stage

Allen wakes up and gets up which of course annoys Bill who had been asleep on his stomach. He brushes his teeth and takes a shower and despite the fact he was almost certain it would happen he manages to finish his shower without slipping and breaking his neck at all.

Allen puts on sweatpants and a hoodie and slings a heavy bag of his laundry over his shoulder, managing somehow to do all of this without damaging his back to such a degree that his wrestling career would be over.

Allen emerges from his apartment. He had put on the hoodie because two days ago it was under 20 degrees. Today it was 70 because the midwestern United States is God’s favorite mistake.

He had a few errands to run today so obviously the first thing he did was take a look around to make sure a wild angry dog carrying a hornets nest in it’s mouth wasn’t about to attack him, leaving him covered in stings and angry ferocious dog bites.

Feeling like the coast was clear on that front he walked a few blocks and stopped at the corner and pressed the button to cross the street, standing there and waiting for the ‘walk’ sign to change and only 60% sure that while he was waiting here an ostrich, cassowary, or some other form of giant dangerous dinosaur bird wasn’t about to come out of nowhere and somehow bite off the tip of his penis through his sweatpants. The ‘walk’ sign kicks on and the tip of Allen Chaney’s penis lives to see another day as something aside from bird food.

Allen walks across the street almost CERTAIN that he was going to be hit by a car. Certainly it was a more likely scenario than ‘Hornet Dog’ or ‘Giant Dick-Eating Bird’ but in his mind the car would somehow be on fire when it hit him and it’d be going like SUPER fast, liquefying Allen into a paste of organs and blood and bone and fat. Allen hoped his neighbor Doris would take care of Bill after he was made a Comedian smoothie by the high-speed fire car.

By the time Allen completed the thought he was across the street and on his way to the laundromat.

‘WU TANG CLAN AINT NUTHIN TA FUCK WITH’

Allen hears his phone ringing and knows this would definitely be it. It was a call to tell him one of his childhood friends had cannibalized and eaten one of his other childhood friends. It was going to be his landlord informing him that gas had been leaking into his apartment for over a month and it was something that would certainly kill Allen slowly and painfully and it was too late reverse it. Maybe he got too drunk at a recent comedy show and said a racial slur and completely forgot about it and this was his manager calling to tell him his career as both a wrestler and a comic was over.

Nah, he could rebound from that. Allen didn’t have a lot of confidence but he knew he was funnier than Kramer and if every wrestler who ever said something racist was banned then how did wrestling shows ever even happen in Alabama?

Allen had a sudden craving for sushi he couldn’t explain but he shakes it off and remembers his phone is ringing. He answers, anticipating the bad news that was surely to come.

“Mr. Chaney? Do you have a moment?” The voice on the other end asks. Allen takes a deep breath. Here it was. Here came the bad news.

“Yeah, sure.” Allen says, acceptance in his voice. Bracing himself.

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that we were really impressed with your ideas and it looks like we’re moving forward with that Ollie animated series and we’d love you to be a part of it. We’re also interested in perhaps paying to be able to use Bill as a character in the show. Do you do any voice work? Pay is pretty competitive right now after the whole Bendergate thing. I think a lot of places are trying to avoid another voice actors strike.” The voice says. Hulu guy. Allen forgot his name again.

“Wow…yeah, that sounds great. I’m into it.” Allen says.

“We’ll go ahead and get a hold of Mr. Fitzsimmons and get a meeting set up with all of us to hammer out some contract stuff but it’s great to have you aboard! We know you’ve got a lot going on right now but we’re honored you’re giving us some of your time” Hulu guy says. Rick? No, not Rick.

“Sounds good. I’ll be seeing you then.” Allen says.

“See you soon, bud. Have a great day!” Hulu guy says before hanging up. Allen hangs up and looks at his phone. Then he looks around at his surroundings. It was a nice day. The sun was shining. The sky was perfectly blue. Birds were chirping and they were normal sized and not gunning to get a taste of his genital meat.

“Okay. Seriously.” Allen says out loud to no one in particular.

Somewhere a dog barks happily.

“Something bad please just happen so it can be fucking over with.” Allen says, again to nothing but ghosts if ghosts are real.

“I’ll even take the ostrich if it only takes the tip.” Allen says, this time as someone walks out of the pizza place behind him and sees a man talking to himself in the street about an Ostrich.

“Uh, sir? Here. I want you to have this. I’m not going to eat it and uh… here’s that for you. Take care of yourself, okay?” The man says, handing Allen his takeout box and twenty dollars before turning to walk away, assuming Allen was a homeless guy.

“Wait, no. I’m no-”

“It’s okay. No need to be too proud. You enjoy that, okay?” The man says before walking away, leaving Allen holding the box and the 20 bucks.

Allen looks down at the 20 dollars, then at the box. He opens the box and inside is a fresh calzone.

Maybe the calzone wasn’t any good? He opens the box and it was already cut in half so he takes one half and dips it into the side of sauce before taking a bite, his mouth filling with a perfect bite of sauce, crust, melty cheese, pepperoni, italian sausage, capicola, mushroom, and black olives.

“It…It’s perfect.” Allen says. Tears begin to form in his eyes and finally a sob emerges as he takes another bite. He stands there and openly weeps as he consumes half of the calzone. People definitely stare.

"It’s fucking perfect!” Allen announces through sobs and a mouthful of Italian cuisine.

And then there it was. The heavy breathing,. The pain in his chest. He makes an effort to slow his breathing as he fumbles in his messenger bag for a xanax.

“I would cling to unhappiness because it was a known, familiar state. When I was happier, it was because I knew I was on my way back to misery. I've never been convinced that happiness is the object of the game. I'm wary of happiness.”
-Hugh Laurie

The budget for Allen’s ‘sitcom’ must be ballooning as we are now on a third set aside from the house set and the stand-up stage. This one appears to be the talk show set, reconstructed from it’s brief period as ‘The Cunt Ledger’ which he used to lampoon Lewis Chad-Pinkston’s ‘The Bitch List’ and into a podium similar to the one used in the New York Friars Club Roasts.. It isn’t finished yet. It’s definitely a work in progress. Allen emerges from the curtain and some canned applause is played as he makes his way to the podium and a monitor pops up beside him. Kinda like they used to do on Conan O’Brien.

ALLEN CHANEY: There was gonna be an announcer introducing me but fuck it. Let’s dive right in.

An image of Nathaniel Dixon pops up on the screen beside Allen and Allen looks at it. Allen had been open and blatant in his previous mockery of Mr. Dixon but now he had to focus on him. Surely, Allen would approach this with all of the tact and grace that discussion of the ‘Intellectual Evolution’ called for. .

ALLEN CHANEY: Yo, I really don’t fuckin like this guy.

Well so much for that, I suppose.

ALLEN CHANEY: Well it seems like PWE management has set me on a path to beat everyone eliminated from the Olla-Rumble in reverse order and you know what? I’m here for it. Bring me a monster energy and a bump of cocaine and we don;t even have to do one match on this show. I’ll fight Shawn Warstein in the parking lot while the Main Event is going on. He’ll probably kill me but man that’d be a rad story. Hell, next time give me the Nathaniel that doesn’t suck. He’d show me a good time. Plus I hear some dude is possessed by a crazy mummy or some shit? That sounds dope as fuck, I wanna fight that dude. I’ll get all the Mummy powers if I beat him which I think is what happened in the Tom Cruise movie? I don’t know, I kept falling asleep while I was watching it. So uh, anyway next on the docket after I beat Big Vin is Nathaniel Dixon. Most eliminations in the Rumble which means of all 29 people who lost the Olla-Rumble, Nathaniel lost…better.

Allen shrugs.

ALLEN CHANEY: Still lost though, eliminated by the guy I beat last week. Dang shame. So. Why do I hate thi-

Allen turns to point at the monitor again when he realizes it’s a picture of a hammerhead shark. He clears his throat and motions for whoever is running the monitor to go back a picture.

ALLEN CHANEY: I’m not doing those jokes this time or he might get sad. I appreciate the enthusiasm, though.

The picture changes back. Ah, there’s Nathaniel.

ALLEN CHANEY: Why do I hate this guy?

Allen looks at the picture. He had so many Star Wars aliens he could compare this dude to but he promised he wouldn't go there and also it would out him as a NERD with lots of firm opinions about the Star Wars Expanded Universe and Grand Admiral Thrawn and whether or not Force Unleashed should be considered canon and why Darth Maul should be in more movies and then suddenly Allen remembers he has a camera on him. Shit.

ALLEN CHANEY: Truth be told I wish maybe someone would give him a bit of guidance. Sometimes it’s a little painful watching a dude walking on the ocean floor while telling everyone what a great swimmer he is. But that wish for him to seek actual self-actualization through self-improvement leaves the moment he opens that arrogant mouth of his.

Allen takes a deep breath. Here we go.

ALLEN CHANEY: Nathaniel Dixon really really wants you to be afraid of him. He wants you to take him super seriously all the time because he’s such a badass you guise. He got all the best badass training and he likes hurting people because beyond being a ‘dapper handsome gentleman’ he is really just a violent psychopath UNLEASHED IN AN INDUSTRY THAT ALLOWS HIM TO ACT ON ALL HIS VIOLENT IMPULSES. He’s not just really proper and British. He has LAYERS. He likes DO FIGHT LIKE A NAUGHTY BOY. He wants you to know he’s a naughty boy! Naughty, naughty, naughty!

Allen takes his notebook off of the podium and spanks himself with it which suddenly snaps him back to reality.

ALLEN CHANEY: Fuck, what just happened? I blacked out.

Allen takes another deep breath. That was probably a little too over the top. Let’s scale it back a bit.

ALLEN CHANEY: Okay. Nathaniel Dixon. Nate. Mr. Dixon. You’ve got all the best wrasslin training in the world that money can buy and as intelligent as you claim to be you just can’t pull your head out of your ass long enough to put this simple fucking jigsaw puzzle together into a wrestler capable of accomplishing seemingly anything of note. Do you know how much of a fuck-up you have to be to get talked down to by The Comedian in his self-reflection era? I’ve beaten Vincent Black 3 times now and I respect him more than I will ever respect you. Vincent Black has a degree of self-awareness I don’t know that you are capable of and I wish nothing but the best for that man.

Allen pounds his fist to his chest twice as a sign of respect to Mr. Black.

ALLEN CHANEY: You, Nathaniel? You’re a confessed fucking tourist. Popping in and out of this industry whenever you feel like it with very little actual success because you think spending a nice chunk of mommy and daddy’s money learning the difference between a headlock and a headlamp means you’re ‘propa focken ‘ard mate’ but life isn’t a fucking Guy Ritchie movie and you sure as shit ain’t Jason Statham. Oh but that’s right. You’re not some common street thug. You’re one of those British dudes who thinks having a prancy posh accent and saying shit like ‘Milady’ means you’re smart.

Allen rolls his eyes.

ALLEN CHANEY: For you to remain as smug and self-satisfied as you are… your ignorance must be bliss, buddy. I didn’t call you a tourist because you have another gig aside from this. Owning a big fancy company or whatever the fuck. I’m a pro wrestling Comedian with more self-awareness than you have so I get that if that was the extent of my comparison I would be a hypocrite. No, I’m calling you a tourist because for all the jokes about how LCP can’t wrestle? He belongs in this industry more than you do. He doesn’t have to show up with piano wire and tell everyone what a sadist he is so people will consider taking him seriously. In fact, he doesn’t give two shits about how others feel about him…but you do, don’t you? If you’re really doing this because you’re such a sadist then hop on a flight to Amsterdam and drop a bunch of whatever Europe money is called and I’m sure some sad dude in leather will let you swat at his beanbag. Hell, he may even pay YOU. Pay-for-play BDSM can be weird like that… So I’ve heard.

Allen awkwardly clears his throat. Really hopes he remembers to edit out the part where he spanked himself with his notebook. He looks at the monitor and the picture of the hammerhead shark is back up. Allen grumbles and motions for it to be taken down again.

ALLEN CHANEY: Well I guess while we are on the subject. Hey Dixon. Word of advice from an ugly chubby dude, responding to criticism of your appearance by screaming that I’m a cunt is about as ‘gotten-to’ as you can appear. And you wanna try and call me ‘sensitive’? Bitch, you’re a Heckler Control away from having to worry less about looking like Sid the Sloth and more like ‘Sloth’ from the Goonies. Does that bother you, you soft, sensitive little man? Watch this shit.

Allen snaps his fingers and a picture of himself takes the place of the picture of Nathaniel Dixon.

ALLEN CHANEY: Look at this fuckin guy. This guy looks like should have the words ‘Pork Vacuum’ somewhere on his business card before ‘Comedian’ or ‘Pro Wrestler’. This guy looks like he would smell like Funyuns without having had to eat Funyuns to achieve said smell. This guy looks like he could have a finisher called ‘The Amber Alert’. This fat fuck looks like he could feed a small country with just the food that gets stuck in his beard after a visit to Golden Corral. This dude looks like he took up wrestling after he got fired as the Assistant Manager of a Foot Locker because he kept making inappropriate comments about female customers' feet. This guys looks like he knows EXACTLY how long you are supposed to microwave any given item of produce so it feels warm when you cut a hole in it and fuck it. Pumpkin? Cantaloupe? Grapefruit? This guy knows down to the second. So tell me, Nathaniel… what the fuck negative thing do you or anyone else in this company have to say to me that I don’t tell myself every single day?

A smile forms on Allen’s face.

ALLEN CHANEY: Do you think you’re gonna get in my head, Dixon? I’ll leave out a fucking welcome mat for you. Once again I don’t think I’m the best wrestler on the planet or anything and I still don’t quite know if I belong in the main event scene in Pro Wrestling Excellence but do you know what I DO think, Mr. Intellectual Evolution?

Allen pauses for emphasis, almost waiting to see if Mr. Smart guy can take a guess at what he has to say.

ALLEN CHANEY: I think I might be smarter than you.

Another pause, this time to let his statement sink in.

ALLEN CHANEY: I think I realized it when you referred to me as ‘The Comedian who cries every time he loses’. Oh you were hoping I forgot about that didn’t you? Frankly, I would have if it didn’t fall out of specifically YOUR fucking face. I openly admit what Vincent Black theorized. When I lost that Invitational? I almost quit. I had been building up to winning that whole thing from the moment it was announced and I publicly staked my entire reputation on being the winner and then I lost and it FUCKING HURT. I DID in fact have a good cry over that. Men are allowed to do that now, you tea-sucking dickstain. I don’t claim to be any kind of genius or even particularly bright but the moment I realized I was smarter than you is the moment I heard that dumb shit escape your crumpet-hole without any degree of irony or introspection. I had my cry and I showed back up to work. If Vhodka Black beats me and retains that title which she very probably will? I’ll be booked on the next show and there to fight after I likely have another good cry. But let’s talk about YOU.

Some of that honesty that is beginning to become an Allen Chaney trademark is rising to the surface.

ALLEN CHANEY: YOU seem to leave and come back to this industry like a Union Jack Yo-Yo. Because when you’re raised with a silver spoon in your mouth you flake the moment things get difficult. I may buckle, I may crack…but I don’t fuckin flake. There is ONE show in the history of this company I haven’t fought on and if I have my way I’ll never miss another. Tell me to my fucking face that I’m not allowed to cry or have doubts when I take a hard loss. Question my fucking dedication again. Better yet, come up to myself and Vinnie who had those same doubts recently and tell us how lesser we are because of how we get knocked down and we’ll show you two dudes who got the fuck back up and send you back to the revolving door to leave this business again and come back six months from now to continue to not win any god damn titles.

Allen is starting to realize maybe he brings up Vincent Black too much but he can’t help it. He liked the guy.

ALLEN CHANEY: The ink is dry on my title shot. I won the rumble and I could ask for a few shows off and just train and coast until then but I’m not going to do that. Hell, I could just kick you in the dick and take a DQ loss and it wouldn’t affect my Excellence Title shot in the slightest. But that’s not how this is going to go. You’re getting the Allen Chaney who said he was coming to hurt people. Not just because I feel I have a standard to live up to now but because Fuck You. I’m not coming just to win a match. I want to bite out your throat. To revisit my opening statement I don’t like you. I don’t like you for a lot of reasons. I think maybe mostly I don’t like that you aren’t Damian Ayla. I have unanswered questions and I don’t like them. Not one single little bit. The fact that our first World Champion split and I’m stuck fighting this limey fucking goober... Well I have a lot more to say about that but I have to save that for someone else. This isn’t just like when you ask for Coca-Cola and they ask if Pepsi is okay. Asking for Damian Ayla and getting Nathaniel Dixon instead is like asking for Coca-Cola and then, without being offered any alternative, the waiter then wrings out the rag he’s been wiping tables down with into your face while your mouth is open.

Allen let’s us sit with that disgusting visual before deciding we needed a reminder of something he perhaps didn’t make entirely clear.

ALLEN CHANEY: I kind of don’t like Nathaniel Dixon.

Good. Glad he cleared that up for us.

ALLEN CHANEY: I ain’t looking past him, though because frankly I hope I pissed him off enough that I’ll get a good fight out of him but I still have to at least glance beyond. Dark Victory gets closer every day and I’ve got a match with one of the most talked-about wrestlers in this industry right now and I’m a guy who has accidentally been called ‘Alex’ four times by both wrestling journalists and someone who has known me for over a decade. I am not the favorite. I’m also not the kinda face that companies like to have to put on their posters. Well the funny thing about that is….I’m kinda tickled by the idea of forcing their hand in that regard. The idea of this place being forced to market this ugly mug. That’s the kind of joke I can get behind. As it stands there’s still a spotlight on me and last week I was given an opponent who was damn good and who really really wanted to beat me and had something to prove and I still won. So.…let’s keep it going, yeah? Set-Up. Punchline.

“Seriousness is no more a guarantee of truth, insight, authenticity or probity, than humour is a guarantee of superficiality and stupidity.” -Stephen Fry

A ticking clock.

“I will admit I am slightly relieved to hear the whole story.” Dr. Howell says.

“Why is that?” Allen asks.

“Because now I have context. I came here fully prepared to start you on some heavy anti-psychotic medication and more intensive therapy after you called me an hour ago crying and repeating over and over ‘I have to see you. The calzone is too good.’ I suppose it’s fortunate Mr. Fitzsimmons canceled his appointment for the day.” Dr. Howell says.

“Devil Daddy canceled on you while he’s going through a divorce? That’s probably bad.” Allen says, raising an eyebrow.

“Probably but also none of your business. So. Let’s get right down to it then. You had an anxiety attack because everything in your life is…going too well?”

Allen tilts his head. It DID sound stupid when someone came out and just said it.

“It’s just happened so many times in the past and no, I won’t talk about the sitcom again. Relationships falling apart. Important people in my life passing away, sometimes by their own hand. A huge loss that takes me from the talk of the industry to a laughing stock. When things are REALLY good I just…I know the other shoe has to drop eventually and yeah. Things have been going REALLY REALLY well lately. Also while I have been imagining nightmare scenarios I think I may have given myself a phobia of large birds. That’s only kind of related.” Allen says. The ostrich has it’s hold on him now. He would never fully be rid of it.

“Is it, though?”

“I said ‘kind of’.”

“You took it to an extreme but save for this bird thing there isn’t really anything unusual about this. It’s pessimism.” Dr. Howell says. Allen inhales to start chewing him out for being a terrible hack of a psychologist for maybe the 15th or so time but Howell puts up a hand so Allen would let him explain.

“Are you familiar with Sesame Street?” Dr. Howell asks. Allen’s rant is stopped dead in it's track by a brick wall of confusion but he was admittedly curious about where this was going.

“Uh… yes. I am familiar with… Sesame Street. The children’s program. Is this about Big Bird? Is this about the dick Ostrich? I know the difference between real and fictional birds. Ostriches are real, sir. And they are mean. And fast.”

“Focus. There’s a children’s book featuring the character Grover that was very popular called ‘The Monster at the End of This Book’. At the beginning of it Grover sees the title of the book and becomes paranoid, trying to keep the reader from turning the pages and reaching the end of the book. He’s afraid to just live his life because he knows that at the end of the book something bad is going to happen. His worrying becomes the entire book and nothing else ever gets to happen in the story.” Dr. Howell says. Allen got it. And it was so simple Howell even used a children’s book as an example.

Fucker.

“So now that THAT’S out of the way it’s time for you to ask yourself a question that I want you to take a good amount of time to think about. Was the calzone really that good or were you just allowing yourself to enjoy it?” Dr. Howell asks before closing his notepad.

Allen gets dizzy as he feels his entire perspective shift.

“Life is more than waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m not saying that other shoe is never going to drop but maybe… you should learn to enjoy the time between shoes hitting the ground.” Dr. Howell says. Allen just sits there in silence for a good long while, thinking about it. He’d been to that Italian place before. They were….okay.

“Looks like our time is up, Mr. Chaney.” Dr. Howell says, Allen snaps out of it and nods before walking to the door.

“Right. Yeah. Hey….quick question before I go.” Allen asks.

“Sure, I won’t even bill you for it.”

‘How does the book end? Is there a monster at the end of the book?” Allen asks.

“Well in the context of the Sesame Street universe, Grover IS a monster, Mr. Chaney. He had been afraid of himself the whole time and when he realized his blunder…he realized how silly it had been to be afraid at all.” Dr. Howell says. Allen thinks about this for a second.

“Huh.” Allen says, apparently taking that to heart. He feels a little bit of a smile start to creep onto his face.

Fucker.

On the way home Allen passed an ice cream place he had been to before. It was nothing special. He ordered a dipped cone and took a bite.

And wouldn’t you know it?

It was as perfect as that calzone from earlier.