PROMO III: "IT HURTS THAT YOU HATE ME / DON'T TALK TO ME: IGNORED BUT NOT ALONE ANYMORE: THE MUSICAL: STARRING DRASTIK: EAW'S RESIDENT DADDY: PLEASE END ME" THE THIRD INSTALLMENT IN THE SHOCK VALUE SAGA (WRITTEN AND STARRING DRASTIK, EAW'S RESIDENT DADDY)(Copyright Pending)(The scene opens up with Drastik lying on his bed, checking his phone constantly. He refreshes his emails over and over again hoping to get some notification that Nathan Fiora had responded to his message already. Impatient, he rolls off the bed and gets to his feet, turning on the TV to distract himself. He takes off his shirt and puts on a “Maria is my EVERYTHING” Troy Archello AWF-era t-shirt before flipping on the TV. On TV, MTV is playing “Marvin’s Room” by Drake. Drastik breathes heavy, goes over to his cardboard cutouts of naked women that he considered propping up to combat the six naked bimbos Nathan had in his video package and then decides it’s no use. He pulls his phone out again and checks it, but no response. He tries to facetime Nathan, but no use. So instead, he turns on his front camera and records out of frustration.) Really, Nathan? It’s been like fifteen minutes since I uploaded my package and you STILL haven’t responded? What am I supposed to do with myself man? I mean, I let you hear what I had to say early on in the week, let you have some time to digest it, and then got right back to responding when I saw what you had to say. But then, while I’m in post editing out my blemishes and slipups to maintain my awesome image, you go ahead and act like you already miss me. Well tell you what, Nathan: I’m clingy too, man. How’re you gonna play with my emotions like that? I’m over here trying my best to put on the best match I could in my return to free television specials and you’re gonna give me the cold shoulder? This is the equivalent of you sending me a “Sup” text, I respond quick, and then you don’t text back. I’m not sure if you can tell, but my heart’s in shambles.
(Drastik turns up the TV as “Marvin’s Room” continues playing. Someone bangs on the wall. The camera faintly picks up “Turn that shit off you fucking faggot.” Drastik picks up his phone and looks at it again, going through his twitter mentions, texts, and e-mails. Nothing.) Where are you, Nathan? Are you suddenly afraid of me? Cat’s got your tongue after I dropped that
#fire promo on you less than a half hour ago? Predictable. This is why I can’t buy into this new generation of elitists, man. If you’re so scared of me, then why not just say it? Say it, Nathan. You’re afraid. You’re trembling in your boots. You’re wishing you didn’t wear tighty whities tonight around your brigade of bimbos because you’re worried you’re gonna be adding a little bit of color. I’m a little bit offended. After all this talk, I haven’t heard ANYTHING back from you or your stupid preacher or your eye candy you trot around like a show horse. COME ON!
(Drastik checks the time again and sees that it’s already been fourteen minutes since the video package was released. FOURTEEN WHOLE MINUTES! Drastik puts his hand over his head, trying to think of what to do. He shakes his head and takes another deep breath, then starts singing along with Drake on the last part.) I’m just sayin’ you could betterTell me have you heard that lately?I’m just sayin’ you could do betterAnd I’ll start hatin’ only if you make me (The guy in the room next to Drastik’s bangs on the wall again and threatens to come over and kick his ass if he doesn’t turn off that “soft cuckass music for faggots”. The song, ironically ends and Drastik lays back on his bed, holding his phone over him to get the final shot in.) I see how it is, Nathan. Well I’ve got a long day tomorrow since I’ve got to fly out to Oklahoma City in the morning and I better catch some sleep. I’m not gonna be checking up anymore. My phone’s going off. If you don’t want to talk, you don’t have to anymore. What’s said has been said. Just know that I’m not waiting around anymore tomorrow night. We’ll be face to face. In fact, maybe we just need a face to face. You can pick the time and the place. And THEN we’ll get to work, work, work, work, work. Nighty.
(Drastik winks at the front-facing camera and smirks before turning the camera off, obviously playing up to all of the ridiculousness that Nathan has thrown at him in the last thirty hours or so. The camera cuts to black and the signature white text flashes on the screen again.) SAIL 
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