A Day In The Life Of A WWE Creative Writer
“Kevin Owens is just a millionaire with a family to feed. He can’t pay that fine. It’s too much money. What if, and I’m just spitballing, the guy we built up as the reincarnation of Stone Cole Steve Austin a month ago becomes a subservient referee and follows the orders of his boss?” the writer pitches.
“Get this: he’s the opposite of Stone Cold Steve Austin. He turns his back on Shane McMahon—no, I know literally everybody else on the planet would have seen the attack coming, but come on, our audience is subhuman—and then Shane punches him for the heat.”
“Heel work 101,” his colleague says.
It’s time, now, for the worst, most dreadful part of the day. It is time to hand the final draft of the programme over to Vince McMahon. He storms into the meeting, muttering, and grabs it. He combs through the pages. He hasn’t blown an absolute f*cking gasket in a matter of seconds. It’s looking promising, but the atmosphere is tense; Vince breaks it with a gigantic roar of laughter.
The writer looks at his colleague. “The rat line popped him big. The rat line popped him huge,” they say to one another telepathically, before confusion etches across their faces.
“Popped? What’s “popped”?”
Vince, finished, looks up. “This episode features vile language filtered through the voice of a sexist, a Legend who makes an !*$% out of a full-time guy, short men who are reinforced as lesser, and my un-athletic 50 year-old heel son acting whip-smart and stupidly overpowered.”
“It’s such good sh*t!”