Post by Red Bull Icon on Jul 26, 2009 0:01:26 GMT -5
(Our scene opens into a small old living room currently encased in a state of apparent chaos. The book case has been knocked over spilling it’s treasures and heirlooms to the scarred dark hard wood flood. The smell of stale cigarettes long ago smoked and fresh bourbon seeping into the furniture fill the air. The muffled sounds of sobbing bounce off the blood splattered dry wall only dulling as it escapes through the fist sized holes randomly placed where once hung family picture. Not happy family pictures, but family pictures none the less. We know this house as the one Maddy’s abusive father raised her after her mothers death. We know this house as the prison willed to Maddy after her fathers death. We know this house as no home.
The audible torment is drowned out by the hurried thuds of heavy boots beating on the stairs as they beat on everything else. Before we know it Jeremy is downstairs and in the kitchen.
We know Jeremy as the man who married Maddy. We know Maddy as the one love in Randy Boolzians life. The one woman he was never good enough for. The one woman who knew she was just right for him.)
Jeremy; “You think I don’t know! I know bitch! I see how you are whenever you talk about him. How you pretend he pisses you off with how much work he gives you. How you try to hide what you think when you smell his ‘overpowering’ stench of Axe. Bitch you’re a lying cunt, and I’m kill that boss of yours. You’re mine! You’re my whore, and don’t ever forget it! He ain’t gonna save you, no one’s gonna save you, I’ma fuck that rotten whore snatch of yours until I’m done with ya, then I’ll probably slit your throat too! You hear me! I’m gonna go fuck Tim up, and when I get back you had better have this shit cleaned up Maddy, or you’re gonna get it twice as bad you hear me!”
(Jeremy slams the door behind him as he storms over the rubble and out of the house. The roar and backfire his car warn what ever passer bys to clear the street, but screech of the tires don’t wait for compliance.
We’re stuck to the floor with guilt. We’re in awe at our own self pity. We’re mesmerized by beautiful brutality. We’re hypnotized by the sobbing. We’re ashamed by the image of Madeline Misajon-Shrup hobbling down the stares. Broken, beaten, scarred, crying, and attempting to begin piecing her home back together.)
~*~*~
{Before we know it we’re in the middle of a run down wrestling ring. The duct tape holding together the various rips in the canvas draws our attention and forces our mind to wander. It’s a maze with surely the biggest piece of Vermont sharp white cheddar at the end. OOH or maybe a pot of gold or golden mild California cheddar. Happy milk comes from happy cows. Steak comes from bulls. Steak-ems come from the factory. Wonder where this maze starts?}
SPARCX; “Boy, you listening to me!”
{Whup, back to the past. He’s a big man, SPARCX. Big and slow but tough and mean. He’s also the father of Randy Boolzian’s best friend Ashton McCourt, and this is his ring. We see a much younger BoolZ leaning against the loose and sagging ring ropes as Ash takes a knee to try to regain his breath. By now Ash is a big man himself. Big and slow, but not nearly as tough or mean. Ash was a good man. Ash was a savior before Ran killed him in a car accident while experiencing maybe his third worst high. God Maddy looked hot that night. Smelled of summer night Jasmine.}
Ran; “Ah, yeah I’m listenin’.”
SPARCX; “Then what’d I say?”
Ran; “Ah, you said that you wish you weren’t so fat?”
Ash; “He’s joking, pop. Right?”
{Looking over to his friend and muttering just load enough for Ran to hear. He hopes.}
Ash; “Bro, come on. Pull it together.”
Ran; “Oh, yeah. No I know you’re not fat. Hey when are we gonna get a new canvas?”
{He really was pretty fat at this stage of his life. SPARCX had retired a few years prior to finally raise his two kids with his wife Bryanah ‘Redd’ McCourt, and had quickly fallen out of ring shape. The butchering twenty plus years in the ring had on his knees, hips, and back didn’t help any.}
SPARCX; “We’ll get a new canvas when you learn how to not fall and get your sweat all over this one.
Now listen up though, because the ring isn’t about how soft the canvas is or tight the ropes are. This ring, any ring, as about that chance. That one last chance. As long as you can step into the ring and fight then damnit you can fix anything. You can do anything. Boys when I’m done teaching you and you get out there in front of crowds and dealing with promoters you’re gonna fall. You’re gonna get sucked into the traps and pitfalls of this business, but you gotta remember. As long as you can step between those ropes and make the crowd whether it be ten people, a hundred people, or thousands of screaming fanatics pop when you hit your big move, then you’ve still got a chance. You’re still in the fight, and you’re still winning…”
{His words start to meld together and I think we can almost see them trying to figure out the maze themselves. Hell if a fluorescent yellow word snake is trying to get to the end it’s gotta be cheese. Mice love cheese, and snakes eat mice, so Mickey’s gettin’ bit! I wonder why Donald doesn’t wear any pants. I bet I could pull that look off. I bet Maddy looks good without pants. Just a long white t-shirt coming down to the top of her thigh just below…}
~*~*~
(We hear the deep inhalation of recycled air rushing in through BoolZ’s nostrils as we watch him snap forward in his uncomfortable air liner seat. Small beads of sweat building on his brow as the panic slowly slips from his eyes back to the hole he’s buried those feeling in for so long.
Grace Harding raises an eye brow at the modern day Red Bull Icon before ear marking her page in an on flight magazine, and turning in her seat to RBI.)
Grace; “It’s only been thirteen minutes, sir. She’s not going to be late for your 8:30.”
(Still searching for his right state of mind.)
BoolZ; “Huh? Thirteen minutes, you say. Nice. I feel like a new man. Hey you think they’ll turn this thing around if I light one up in the bathroom?”
Grace; “I think with as much time as you’ve spent in the commode thus far it’d be best to allow the other passengers access until 8:30.”
BoolZ; “Yeah, you’re probably right. Is it 8:30 yet?”
Grace; “No.”
BoolZ; “How about now?”
Grace; “No.”
BoolZ; “Now?”
Grace; “Are you having problems sleeping?”
BoolZ; “Pfft. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
Grace; “Because the flight attendant brought me a hammer, or small hammer like object would be more appropriate.”
BoolZ; “Oh that’s nice.”
(There is an awkward silence only because it’s silence without the awkward.)
BoolZ; “So you nervous about Saturday?”
(There is an awkward look of uncertainty in Graces eyes. Awkward, but more intrigued than uncertain.)
Grace; “Should I be?”
BoolZ; “Well, I am.”
(They share an awkward smile of playful teasing. Awkward and familiar.)
~*~*~
(We cut to a shot of a small stand serving ‘street food’ to the locals in what is a barely bustling outdoor market a few hours outside of Toyko. The vendor pours stemming bowls of an orange colored soup to the few customers he has. The air is filled with the sent of ginger, citrus, and wasabi mingling with the sounds of laughter, impatience, and exchange. We scan the few hundred people until finally resting our gaze to the corner of a small brick and mortar shop, and Randy Boolzian crouching with a long face. He finishes his own cup of Tororo soup before placing the empty container beside his feet and reaching into a plastic bag bursting with small Mandarin Oranges. He pulls one of the fruit from the bag and pauses to inhale the aroma.)
??; “There you are. Hiding from MJ now?”
(BoolZ opens his eyes as he takes the orange from his nose and looks up at Mary-Joanna Roberts who is now standing directly in his sun.)
Randy; “I guess the gig’s up. How’d you find me in Shimizu-Ku?”
(MJ with a cross look on her face hiding the acceptance of the situation.)
MJ; “Randal you’re in Shizuoka.”
Randy; “That’s like saying you’re in California when really you’re eyeballs deep in Barstow. We’re in the Shimizu-Ku ward, and you’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t head over to that cart and pick yourself up a cup of his yam soup.”
MJ; “Is Tobias ready for No Holds Barred?”
Randy; “Tradition, huh?”
MJ; “You know MJ is a creature of habit. The TWiSTeD Heiress needs to know her project is ready for the big stage. How can you ensure he is properly prepared while eating soup halfway to Osaka?”
Randy; “It doesn’t matter what I do. He’s going to do what ever want.”
MJ; “So you went sight seeing?”
Randy; “Let me tell you a story, MJ. I had been in Japan all of about two weeks. As soon as I turned 18 I hopped on that plane and set out to better learn my craft. And SPARCX was right. It’s a hard life. I had wrestled my first match in Japan about fifteen miles east from here. So I get paid, finally have some money in my pocket, and I decide I wanna take the train back to Tokyo. So the train stops and I decide I wanna take a look around and finally eat so I deboard. I hadn’t eaten in a few days you know. I spent what little I still had after the plane ticket on renting an apartment. I think it took almost ten minutes before this scrawny little bastard stole my backpack that I set down to look at a few trinkets. I chased that fucker for what seemed like days. Everything I had was in that pack. Passport, phone, money, everything. Well he got away. Hey I’m more sudden that speedy.
So here I am stuck in Shimizu-Ku, don’t speak but a few words of the language, no I.D., and no money. So I gotta get back to Toyko. Hell if nothing else Saotome, my promoter, he’ll know what I should do. So figure it’s late, and the next day I’d start the very long walk back to Tokyo.”
MJ; “You were going to walk?”
Randy; “What else could I do? So I found a quiet, mostly quiet, alley way and waited out of the way. When the sun came up I started walking down the side of the train track towards Tokyo. I hoped. Well about forty minutes in, and I was starving, I came up to an orange grove, so I picked a couple, and started eating’em. I can still remember the feel of his wax wood cane across the back of my knees. Stung like a son of a bitch. Took me right to ground. Right to the dirt. I look up, and I see this tiny, maybe barely five foot, little Japanese screaming all holy hell in this booming voice. The kinda voice that just makes you wonder where the fuck it comes you know. So he’s standing over me shouting with that damn cane over his head. This cane had to taller than he was. I don’t know what happened, but we locked eyes, and he stopped. He put the cane down to side, helped me up, picked a few oranges, and gave’em to me.
Then he picked a few more, and I ate’em. Then a few more, and I ate’em too. And when I had I fill, when I had filled my four day empty belly I gave him a cliché bow, turned, and tried to walk away. Made it about two steps before he grabbed my wrist with this god like grip. It didn’t hurt, but you knew it could have. So I turned around, and he pointed to this basket of oranges he had filled while I eating mine, and motioned that he wanted me to carry them somewhere. So I did. Fuck it, not like I was looking forward to getting hit by a train while I try to find my way back to Tokyo and an apartment I didn’t even have the key to anymore. So we start through this maze of Mandarin Orange trees, and eventually end up at this dump of a shed. I put the basket down, then he pointed at a pile of lumber, and we built a fence. Next thing I knew I was pitch black dead of night, so I hung out on his porch with him. He musta drank a case of whatever he was drinking, but he got blitzed. The whole time rambling on in Japanese with this gigantic voice.
Well I guess he had enough, so he went inside, I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I hung out on the porch out of the way. Just before the sun came up, the door opened, he walked out, we got in his little beat up fishing boat, and went fishing. The whole time he’s drinking and rambling on. I had no idea what he saying, he knew it, but it didn’t matter. He just kept going on. Drinking, talking, and fishing. I couldn’t do anything but listen and eat more oranges. They were the best thing I’d ever tasted. Still are. When we got back we had tuna. It was amazing.
This went on for three days. I repaired the roof, and he drank. I picked more oranges, and he lectured. I fished, and he drank while lecturing. Eventually his random nonsensical sounds starting being words. Then Saotome must sent a few of the guys to track me down, and they did. I left, we went back to Tokyo, Saotome charged me for sending his people to find me, and I was regularly booked to pay off my debt. So two months go by, and I finally starting to make some money, and one day I decide to go see that crazy hermit in woods. So I hopped on a train, then walked 40 minutes back towards Tokyo, found the orange grove and the old man.
I cleaned the fish while drank. I build a shade over his porch while he rambled on about his son who doesn’t listen or want anything to do with his old man and his wife who died two years prior and about how kids didn’t understand what hard work was. The next day I said goodbye, hopped on a train, and went back to Tokyo. When I was done with that tour, I paid the old guy another visit, and that became my routine. We’d talk about everything. I’d help him rebuild that little piece of shit hut of his, and he’d drink. Then I’d leave, and come back. And when I told him I was signing on with the GIW he told me, in that deafening voice, to remember how to get back.”
(BoolZ closes his eyes again after looking at the small orange. He inhales the bitter sweet smell before peeling back the skin.)
MJ; “Fascinating. So is this old man worth Tobias failing and your never wrestling in the GIW again? Do tell MJ how is he doing? Did he reconcile with his son?”
Randy; “I met his son this morning. A pompous and arrogant little prick with more product on his head than hair. He told me his father passed away last October. They think. They hadn’t found the body until after the first of the year, so they’re not really sure.”
(A rare flash of genuine emotion pulses over her image before completely vanishing as quickly as it had arrived.)
MJ; “Oh. Sorry to hear that Randal. What was his name?”
(Taking a wedge from the fleshy innards BoolZ tosses it into his mouth as the juice begins to trickle down his arm.)
Randy; “We never used names. But I called him Pop. Ah, let’s see if we can’t track down your pet.”
(BoolZ stands still savoring the orange, he leans over to pick up the bag of memories, and then the now visible tiny sapling Mandarin Orange tree.)
~*~*~
(It’s late, wet, and dark in the alleyway. Mostly quite save for the sounds of Grace Harding emptying her stomach onto the asphalt and Randy Boolzian finishing off his box of popcorn. BoolZ tosses the cardboard container into the trashcan before twisting the cap off of a bottle of Red Bull. He lights himself a cigarette, walks to the still regurgitating Grace, and helps her hold her hair back which had come loose of its bun do to the heaving.)
BoolZ; “That self respect can be a bit of funny little bastard, huh? Hey, you see that chic with the angel wings tattoo spread eagle letting those fat middle aged workaholic limp dicked bastards piss on her snatch? That was a sight to behold wasn’t it?”
*Splat*
Grace; “Why? Why would she do that? Where is the pleasure in that?”
(BoolZ can’t help the laughter that pours from his mouth with the smoke.)
BoolZ; “Pleasure! Grace, sex aint about pleasure. Love, maybe, and making love, and looking forward to making love again is fun. So I’m told. But sex, fucking, that’s all about power, dominance, and control. It aint got shit to do with pleasure.”
Grace; “They’re control over her?”
BoolZ; “No her control over them. And her name is Nozomi. I guess it means hope. Anyway, let me tell you about Nozomi. I met her about three years ago. I had just finished a match with a good friend named Steven Eldrich. Tore the house down. I’m told it was an amazing forty minute match of him trying to keep up and me trying to keep away. I ended up tapping out to the Effective, his inverted crucifix knee bar, but it didn’t matter. Japanese fans are some of the best, and every one of the 30 thousand there were on their feet at the end. Anyway, so after the show we’re walking of the arena and this little boy couldn’t have been more than eight comes running over for autographs. Then his mother, Nozomi, follows him.
After a few minutes of this kid asking questions and just pissing off Steven, who is to serious for his own good, Nozomi tells her son it’s time to go. She’s gotta get to work. She’s gotta get to this club. Well Eldrich had no idea, and he didn’t really care because he knew it had nothing to do with wrestling or testing himself. I knew though, and apparently so did her son. I was floored. How do you tell your son you’re a whore? Then I was intrigued. How could she tell her son she is a whore?”
Grace; “Ugly word.”
BoolZ; “Objects the woman blowing chunks in a seedy looking alleyway. Anyway, so I figure they checked me out at work, I should return the favor. A few hours later I walked right in through those doors and it blew my mind. Giving my fondness for doing absolutely disgusting things to women, shit that was my kinda place!”
Grace; “Charming. Do I want to hear where this is going?”
*SPLAT*
BoolZ; “Probably not, but you should. Anyway, so now I see Nozomi, and I start watching her act. Pretty much what she did in there tonight, but a little tamer then. So now I gotta get me some of her. The possibilities of what I just knew she’d let me do were simply mind boggling. So they waited for me after work. I’m going to wait for her. I need to be the center of attention after all. A few hours later she comes walking out the back door, and this time I ask her for her autograph. She signs a condom for me, and I start laying it on thick with the charm. Using my best lines.”
Grace; “You have good lines?”
BoolZ; “So I’m told. Anyway though, nothing’s working. So I go for broke. I give her a resume so to speak, and flat out ask her if she wants to come back to my apartment. Even offer to pay her. I mean at this point, I gotta get me some of that.”
*SPLAT*
BoolZ; “How much can you possibly fit in there? Anyway she says no. She says as good as I say it is doesn’t matter, because it’ll never make tomorrow any better. See what I’m getting at?”
Grace; “Do you?”
BoolZ; “Probably not, but still it’s a good story right?”
Grace; “Once upon a time…”
BoolZ; “Next time. Grace I need a favor.”
(Seemingly her stomach is empty she stands straight up as BoolZ lets her hair go, and takes the cigarette from his lips. She walks away from the spill on the floor, and leans against a nearby trashcan before looking to BoolZ who has replaced the cigarette in his lips.)
Grace; “I will not help you do disgusting things to Hope, but you can barrow my hammer.”
BoolZ; “No, that’s not it. Listen, I see how you look at Gabby sometimes. I even saw how you looked at a few of the women in there before you really saw what was going on. Listen, Grace, I need you to be my compass.”
Grace; “Pardon?”
BoolZ; “Grace, I need you to remind me from time to time that we don’t have to be whores.”
Grace; “I’m ready to call it a night.”
BoolZ; “Oh, really! So back to my hotel room?”
Grace; “I do still have my small hammer like object.”
BoolZ; “Kinky, but not really my bag.”
Grace; “And mace.”
BoolZ; “I’ll drop you off.”
~*~*~
(We come back to a sunny Sunday afternoon in the parking lot of the Tokyo Dome. The sea of cars already invaded carrying with them armies of conquering fans. We turn to the production parking lot brimming with rented video trucks and limousines.
One such limousine opens as the trunk is popped, and out steps Randy Boolzian followed by Tobias Erndhart from the back, and a driver from the front. BoolZ waves off the driver who had been approaching the trunk, and now reenters the car.)
Tobias; “Huh, where the hell have you been!?! I’ve got my biggest match to date tonight, nothing I can’t handle mind you, but on top of that MJ’s been busting hump about what you’re doing to get me ready. I couldn’t care less about you, but now I’m starting to get bugged because you’re not holding up your end! And what exactly did you say I said in that radio interview, huh? Everyone’s been giving me dirty looks since we landed. And speaking about the flight, you told me I’d be sitting next to Chinatsu if I swapped seats with you not Hanson! The whole damn flight he’s beating on his dinner tray with a pair of pens!”
(BoolZ seemingly ignoring his forced protégé as he looks up at the imposing structure before him with a stoic hateful glare.)
BoolZ; “Dude, don’t worry about the match. Just get my bags eh? I’ll meet you inside.”
Tobias; “Bullshit man, this is bullshit! I’m Tomorrows Main Event! One day, when you’ve burnt out and you’re nothing but a footnote in my legacy. I hope you’ll be real proud when you can tell your like fifty illegitimate kids about the time you made the Path get your bags.”
(Tobias pulls to big backs out of the trunk. One designer leather with collapsible handle and wheels and the other an old duffle bag purchased at an Army surplus store. He slams the trunk shut before snarling at BoolZ who still hasn’t taken his eyes off the Toyko Dome and Tobias begins stomping towards the back door.)
BoolZ; “Towering Inferno match, huh?”
(BoolZ turns his head slightly as the image of Tobias and Ezekiel approaching each other, both posturing, and seemingly not willing to wait for their match. As Tobias and Ezekiel near they pick up the pace. Ezekiel drops his bag with purpose in his step, and no sooner than they are in striking distance BoolZ steps between Tobias and Ezekiel keeping them separate.
Without a word Tobias and Ezekiel don’t take their eyes off each other, but they do both stop. BoolZ looking directly at Ezekiel motions with his head for Ezekiel to keep moving. Ezekiel either doesn’t see this, or doesn’t care.)
BoolZ; “Save it for the match Zeke.”
(Ezekiel finally acknowledges the Red Bull Icon with an evil grin before returning his focus to Tobias, but speaking to RBI.)
Ezekiel; “Save it for the match Zeke. Save him from the fire Randy.”
(With that Ezekiel walks backwards to his bag, picks it up, then breaks his stare down with Tobias as he turns towards the entrance. Tobias makes sure to keep step with the Red Eyed Wonder. Ezekiel not to be intimidated turns his head and locks eyes with Tobias once again. This time BoolZ now as well keeping pace and in the middle of the two.
As they approach the backstage entrance we see a very raggedy hobo with a messy over gown dark brown beard being led disinteresting by a nagging Old Lady Levene.)
Old Lady Levene; “Whatever your struggles, you mustn’t sleep rough. There are religious charities that can help you, even in a place as ungodly as this. You owe it to yourself to look after yourself. Now come on inside and I’ll make you a nice cup of tea to warm you up. Perhaps we can find you a shower and a pair of clean clothes. Just maybe we will have success finding you some work carrying and lifting…”
(Old Lady Levene and the hobo disappear into the Tokyo Dome as the steel door clicks shut in front of Ezekiel, Tobias, and BoolZ. RBI pulls Tobias by the arm back allowing Ezekiel to enter first. BoolZ takes another puff of his legal fix as Ezekiel turns back to Tobias with one last mocking grin.)
The audible torment is drowned out by the hurried thuds of heavy boots beating on the stairs as they beat on everything else. Before we know it Jeremy is downstairs and in the kitchen.
We know Jeremy as the man who married Maddy. We know Maddy as the one love in Randy Boolzians life. The one woman he was never good enough for. The one woman who knew she was just right for him.)
Jeremy; “You think I don’t know! I know bitch! I see how you are whenever you talk about him. How you pretend he pisses you off with how much work he gives you. How you try to hide what you think when you smell his ‘overpowering’ stench of Axe. Bitch you’re a lying cunt, and I’m kill that boss of yours. You’re mine! You’re my whore, and don’t ever forget it! He ain’t gonna save you, no one’s gonna save you, I’ma fuck that rotten whore snatch of yours until I’m done with ya, then I’ll probably slit your throat too! You hear me! I’m gonna go fuck Tim up, and when I get back you had better have this shit cleaned up Maddy, or you’re gonna get it twice as bad you hear me!”
(Jeremy slams the door behind him as he storms over the rubble and out of the house. The roar and backfire his car warn what ever passer bys to clear the street, but screech of the tires don’t wait for compliance.
We’re stuck to the floor with guilt. We’re in awe at our own self pity. We’re mesmerized by beautiful brutality. We’re hypnotized by the sobbing. We’re ashamed by the image of Madeline Misajon-Shrup hobbling down the stares. Broken, beaten, scarred, crying, and attempting to begin piecing her home back together.)
~*~*~
{Before we know it we’re in the middle of a run down wrestling ring. The duct tape holding together the various rips in the canvas draws our attention and forces our mind to wander. It’s a maze with surely the biggest piece of Vermont sharp white cheddar at the end. OOH or maybe a pot of gold or golden mild California cheddar. Happy milk comes from happy cows. Steak comes from bulls. Steak-ems come from the factory. Wonder where this maze starts?}
SPARCX; “Boy, you listening to me!”
{Whup, back to the past. He’s a big man, SPARCX. Big and slow but tough and mean. He’s also the father of Randy Boolzian’s best friend Ashton McCourt, and this is his ring. We see a much younger BoolZ leaning against the loose and sagging ring ropes as Ash takes a knee to try to regain his breath. By now Ash is a big man himself. Big and slow, but not nearly as tough or mean. Ash was a good man. Ash was a savior before Ran killed him in a car accident while experiencing maybe his third worst high. God Maddy looked hot that night. Smelled of summer night Jasmine.}
Ran; “Ah, yeah I’m listenin’.”
SPARCX; “Then what’d I say?”
Ran; “Ah, you said that you wish you weren’t so fat?”
Ash; “He’s joking, pop. Right?”
{Looking over to his friend and muttering just load enough for Ran to hear. He hopes.}
Ash; “Bro, come on. Pull it together.”
Ran; “Oh, yeah. No I know you’re not fat. Hey when are we gonna get a new canvas?”
{He really was pretty fat at this stage of his life. SPARCX had retired a few years prior to finally raise his two kids with his wife Bryanah ‘Redd’ McCourt, and had quickly fallen out of ring shape. The butchering twenty plus years in the ring had on his knees, hips, and back didn’t help any.}
SPARCX; “We’ll get a new canvas when you learn how to not fall and get your sweat all over this one.
Now listen up though, because the ring isn’t about how soft the canvas is or tight the ropes are. This ring, any ring, as about that chance. That one last chance. As long as you can step into the ring and fight then damnit you can fix anything. You can do anything. Boys when I’m done teaching you and you get out there in front of crowds and dealing with promoters you’re gonna fall. You’re gonna get sucked into the traps and pitfalls of this business, but you gotta remember. As long as you can step between those ropes and make the crowd whether it be ten people, a hundred people, or thousands of screaming fanatics pop when you hit your big move, then you’ve still got a chance. You’re still in the fight, and you’re still winning…”
{His words start to meld together and I think we can almost see them trying to figure out the maze themselves. Hell if a fluorescent yellow word snake is trying to get to the end it’s gotta be cheese. Mice love cheese, and snakes eat mice, so Mickey’s gettin’ bit! I wonder why Donald doesn’t wear any pants. I bet I could pull that look off. I bet Maddy looks good without pants. Just a long white t-shirt coming down to the top of her thigh just below…}
~*~*~
(We hear the deep inhalation of recycled air rushing in through BoolZ’s nostrils as we watch him snap forward in his uncomfortable air liner seat. Small beads of sweat building on his brow as the panic slowly slips from his eyes back to the hole he’s buried those feeling in for so long.
Grace Harding raises an eye brow at the modern day Red Bull Icon before ear marking her page in an on flight magazine, and turning in her seat to RBI.)
Grace; “It’s only been thirteen minutes, sir. She’s not going to be late for your 8:30.”
(Still searching for his right state of mind.)
BoolZ; “Huh? Thirteen minutes, you say. Nice. I feel like a new man. Hey you think they’ll turn this thing around if I light one up in the bathroom?”
Grace; “I think with as much time as you’ve spent in the commode thus far it’d be best to allow the other passengers access until 8:30.”
BoolZ; “Yeah, you’re probably right. Is it 8:30 yet?”
Grace; “No.”
BoolZ; “How about now?”
Grace; “No.”
BoolZ; “Now?”
Grace; “Are you having problems sleeping?”
BoolZ; “Pfft. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
Grace; “Because the flight attendant brought me a hammer, or small hammer like object would be more appropriate.”
BoolZ; “Oh that’s nice.”
(There is an awkward silence only because it’s silence without the awkward.)
BoolZ; “So you nervous about Saturday?”
(There is an awkward look of uncertainty in Graces eyes. Awkward, but more intrigued than uncertain.)
Grace; “Should I be?”
BoolZ; “Well, I am.”
(They share an awkward smile of playful teasing. Awkward and familiar.)
~*~*~
(We cut to a shot of a small stand serving ‘street food’ to the locals in what is a barely bustling outdoor market a few hours outside of Toyko. The vendor pours stemming bowls of an orange colored soup to the few customers he has. The air is filled with the sent of ginger, citrus, and wasabi mingling with the sounds of laughter, impatience, and exchange. We scan the few hundred people until finally resting our gaze to the corner of a small brick and mortar shop, and Randy Boolzian crouching with a long face. He finishes his own cup of Tororo soup before placing the empty container beside his feet and reaching into a plastic bag bursting with small Mandarin Oranges. He pulls one of the fruit from the bag and pauses to inhale the aroma.)
??; “There you are. Hiding from MJ now?”
(BoolZ opens his eyes as he takes the orange from his nose and looks up at Mary-Joanna Roberts who is now standing directly in his sun.)
Randy; “I guess the gig’s up. How’d you find me in Shimizu-Ku?”
(MJ with a cross look on her face hiding the acceptance of the situation.)
MJ; “Randal you’re in Shizuoka.”
Randy; “That’s like saying you’re in California when really you’re eyeballs deep in Barstow. We’re in the Shimizu-Ku ward, and you’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t head over to that cart and pick yourself up a cup of his yam soup.”
MJ; “Is Tobias ready for No Holds Barred?”
Randy; “Tradition, huh?”
MJ; “You know MJ is a creature of habit. The TWiSTeD Heiress needs to know her project is ready for the big stage. How can you ensure he is properly prepared while eating soup halfway to Osaka?”
Randy; “It doesn’t matter what I do. He’s going to do what ever want.”
MJ; “So you went sight seeing?”
Randy; “Let me tell you a story, MJ. I had been in Japan all of about two weeks. As soon as I turned 18 I hopped on that plane and set out to better learn my craft. And SPARCX was right. It’s a hard life. I had wrestled my first match in Japan about fifteen miles east from here. So I get paid, finally have some money in my pocket, and I decide I wanna take the train back to Tokyo. So the train stops and I decide I wanna take a look around and finally eat so I deboard. I hadn’t eaten in a few days you know. I spent what little I still had after the plane ticket on renting an apartment. I think it took almost ten minutes before this scrawny little bastard stole my backpack that I set down to look at a few trinkets. I chased that fucker for what seemed like days. Everything I had was in that pack. Passport, phone, money, everything. Well he got away. Hey I’m more sudden that speedy.
So here I am stuck in Shimizu-Ku, don’t speak but a few words of the language, no I.D., and no money. So I gotta get back to Toyko. Hell if nothing else Saotome, my promoter, he’ll know what I should do. So figure it’s late, and the next day I’d start the very long walk back to Tokyo.”
MJ; “You were going to walk?”
Randy; “What else could I do? So I found a quiet, mostly quiet, alley way and waited out of the way. When the sun came up I started walking down the side of the train track towards Tokyo. I hoped. Well about forty minutes in, and I was starving, I came up to an orange grove, so I picked a couple, and started eating’em. I can still remember the feel of his wax wood cane across the back of my knees. Stung like a son of a bitch. Took me right to ground. Right to the dirt. I look up, and I see this tiny, maybe barely five foot, little Japanese screaming all holy hell in this booming voice. The kinda voice that just makes you wonder where the fuck it comes you know. So he’s standing over me shouting with that damn cane over his head. This cane had to taller than he was. I don’t know what happened, but we locked eyes, and he stopped. He put the cane down to side, helped me up, picked a few oranges, and gave’em to me.
Then he picked a few more, and I ate’em. Then a few more, and I ate’em too. And when I had I fill, when I had filled my four day empty belly I gave him a cliché bow, turned, and tried to walk away. Made it about two steps before he grabbed my wrist with this god like grip. It didn’t hurt, but you knew it could have. So I turned around, and he pointed to this basket of oranges he had filled while I eating mine, and motioned that he wanted me to carry them somewhere. So I did. Fuck it, not like I was looking forward to getting hit by a train while I try to find my way back to Tokyo and an apartment I didn’t even have the key to anymore. So we start through this maze of Mandarin Orange trees, and eventually end up at this dump of a shed. I put the basket down, then he pointed at a pile of lumber, and we built a fence. Next thing I knew I was pitch black dead of night, so I hung out on his porch with him. He musta drank a case of whatever he was drinking, but he got blitzed. The whole time rambling on in Japanese with this gigantic voice.
Well I guess he had enough, so he went inside, I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I hung out on the porch out of the way. Just before the sun came up, the door opened, he walked out, we got in his little beat up fishing boat, and went fishing. The whole time he’s drinking and rambling on. I had no idea what he saying, he knew it, but it didn’t matter. He just kept going on. Drinking, talking, and fishing. I couldn’t do anything but listen and eat more oranges. They were the best thing I’d ever tasted. Still are. When we got back we had tuna. It was amazing.
This went on for three days. I repaired the roof, and he drank. I picked more oranges, and he lectured. I fished, and he drank while lecturing. Eventually his random nonsensical sounds starting being words. Then Saotome must sent a few of the guys to track me down, and they did. I left, we went back to Tokyo, Saotome charged me for sending his people to find me, and I was regularly booked to pay off my debt. So two months go by, and I finally starting to make some money, and one day I decide to go see that crazy hermit in woods. So I hopped on a train, then walked 40 minutes back towards Tokyo, found the orange grove and the old man.
I cleaned the fish while drank. I build a shade over his porch while he rambled on about his son who doesn’t listen or want anything to do with his old man and his wife who died two years prior and about how kids didn’t understand what hard work was. The next day I said goodbye, hopped on a train, and went back to Tokyo. When I was done with that tour, I paid the old guy another visit, and that became my routine. We’d talk about everything. I’d help him rebuild that little piece of shit hut of his, and he’d drink. Then I’d leave, and come back. And when I told him I was signing on with the GIW he told me, in that deafening voice, to remember how to get back.”
(BoolZ closes his eyes again after looking at the small orange. He inhales the bitter sweet smell before peeling back the skin.)
MJ; “Fascinating. So is this old man worth Tobias failing and your never wrestling in the GIW again? Do tell MJ how is he doing? Did he reconcile with his son?”
Randy; “I met his son this morning. A pompous and arrogant little prick with more product on his head than hair. He told me his father passed away last October. They think. They hadn’t found the body until after the first of the year, so they’re not really sure.”
(A rare flash of genuine emotion pulses over her image before completely vanishing as quickly as it had arrived.)
MJ; “Oh. Sorry to hear that Randal. What was his name?”
(Taking a wedge from the fleshy innards BoolZ tosses it into his mouth as the juice begins to trickle down his arm.)
Randy; “We never used names. But I called him Pop. Ah, let’s see if we can’t track down your pet.”
(BoolZ stands still savoring the orange, he leans over to pick up the bag of memories, and then the now visible tiny sapling Mandarin Orange tree.)
~*~*~
(It’s late, wet, and dark in the alleyway. Mostly quite save for the sounds of Grace Harding emptying her stomach onto the asphalt and Randy Boolzian finishing off his box of popcorn. BoolZ tosses the cardboard container into the trashcan before twisting the cap off of a bottle of Red Bull. He lights himself a cigarette, walks to the still regurgitating Grace, and helps her hold her hair back which had come loose of its bun do to the heaving.)
BoolZ; “That self respect can be a bit of funny little bastard, huh? Hey, you see that chic with the angel wings tattoo spread eagle letting those fat middle aged workaholic limp dicked bastards piss on her snatch? That was a sight to behold wasn’t it?”
*Splat*
Grace; “Why? Why would she do that? Where is the pleasure in that?”
(BoolZ can’t help the laughter that pours from his mouth with the smoke.)
BoolZ; “Pleasure! Grace, sex aint about pleasure. Love, maybe, and making love, and looking forward to making love again is fun. So I’m told. But sex, fucking, that’s all about power, dominance, and control. It aint got shit to do with pleasure.”
Grace; “They’re control over her?”
BoolZ; “No her control over them. And her name is Nozomi. I guess it means hope. Anyway, let me tell you about Nozomi. I met her about three years ago. I had just finished a match with a good friend named Steven Eldrich. Tore the house down. I’m told it was an amazing forty minute match of him trying to keep up and me trying to keep away. I ended up tapping out to the Effective, his inverted crucifix knee bar, but it didn’t matter. Japanese fans are some of the best, and every one of the 30 thousand there were on their feet at the end. Anyway, so after the show we’re walking of the arena and this little boy couldn’t have been more than eight comes running over for autographs. Then his mother, Nozomi, follows him.
After a few minutes of this kid asking questions and just pissing off Steven, who is to serious for his own good, Nozomi tells her son it’s time to go. She’s gotta get to work. She’s gotta get to this club. Well Eldrich had no idea, and he didn’t really care because he knew it had nothing to do with wrestling or testing himself. I knew though, and apparently so did her son. I was floored. How do you tell your son you’re a whore? Then I was intrigued. How could she tell her son she is a whore?”
Grace; “Ugly word.”
BoolZ; “Objects the woman blowing chunks in a seedy looking alleyway. Anyway, so I figure they checked me out at work, I should return the favor. A few hours later I walked right in through those doors and it blew my mind. Giving my fondness for doing absolutely disgusting things to women, shit that was my kinda place!”
Grace; “Charming. Do I want to hear where this is going?”
*SPLAT*
BoolZ; “Probably not, but you should. Anyway, so now I see Nozomi, and I start watching her act. Pretty much what she did in there tonight, but a little tamer then. So now I gotta get me some of her. The possibilities of what I just knew she’d let me do were simply mind boggling. So they waited for me after work. I’m going to wait for her. I need to be the center of attention after all. A few hours later she comes walking out the back door, and this time I ask her for her autograph. She signs a condom for me, and I start laying it on thick with the charm. Using my best lines.”
Grace; “You have good lines?”
BoolZ; “So I’m told. Anyway though, nothing’s working. So I go for broke. I give her a resume so to speak, and flat out ask her if she wants to come back to my apartment. Even offer to pay her. I mean at this point, I gotta get me some of that.”
*SPLAT*
BoolZ; “How much can you possibly fit in there? Anyway she says no. She says as good as I say it is doesn’t matter, because it’ll never make tomorrow any better. See what I’m getting at?”
Grace; “Do you?”
BoolZ; “Probably not, but still it’s a good story right?”
Grace; “Once upon a time…”
BoolZ; “Next time. Grace I need a favor.”
(Seemingly her stomach is empty she stands straight up as BoolZ lets her hair go, and takes the cigarette from his lips. She walks away from the spill on the floor, and leans against a nearby trashcan before looking to BoolZ who has replaced the cigarette in his lips.)
Grace; “I will not help you do disgusting things to Hope, but you can barrow my hammer.”
BoolZ; “No, that’s not it. Listen, I see how you look at Gabby sometimes. I even saw how you looked at a few of the women in there before you really saw what was going on. Listen, Grace, I need you to be my compass.”
Grace; “Pardon?”
BoolZ; “Grace, I need you to remind me from time to time that we don’t have to be whores.”
Grace; “I’m ready to call it a night.”
BoolZ; “Oh, really! So back to my hotel room?”
Grace; “I do still have my small hammer like object.”
BoolZ; “Kinky, but not really my bag.”
Grace; “And mace.”
BoolZ; “I’ll drop you off.”
~*~*~
(We come back to a sunny Sunday afternoon in the parking lot of the Tokyo Dome. The sea of cars already invaded carrying with them armies of conquering fans. We turn to the production parking lot brimming with rented video trucks and limousines.
One such limousine opens as the trunk is popped, and out steps Randy Boolzian followed by Tobias Erndhart from the back, and a driver from the front. BoolZ waves off the driver who had been approaching the trunk, and now reenters the car.)
Tobias; “Huh, where the hell have you been!?! I’ve got my biggest match to date tonight, nothing I can’t handle mind you, but on top of that MJ’s been busting hump about what you’re doing to get me ready. I couldn’t care less about you, but now I’m starting to get bugged because you’re not holding up your end! And what exactly did you say I said in that radio interview, huh? Everyone’s been giving me dirty looks since we landed. And speaking about the flight, you told me I’d be sitting next to Chinatsu if I swapped seats with you not Hanson! The whole damn flight he’s beating on his dinner tray with a pair of pens!”
(BoolZ seemingly ignoring his forced protégé as he looks up at the imposing structure before him with a stoic hateful glare.)
BoolZ; “Dude, don’t worry about the match. Just get my bags eh? I’ll meet you inside.”
Tobias; “Bullshit man, this is bullshit! I’m Tomorrows Main Event! One day, when you’ve burnt out and you’re nothing but a footnote in my legacy. I hope you’ll be real proud when you can tell your like fifty illegitimate kids about the time you made the Path get your bags.”
(Tobias pulls to big backs out of the trunk. One designer leather with collapsible handle and wheels and the other an old duffle bag purchased at an Army surplus store. He slams the trunk shut before snarling at BoolZ who still hasn’t taken his eyes off the Toyko Dome and Tobias begins stomping towards the back door.)
BoolZ; “Towering Inferno match, huh?”
(BoolZ turns his head slightly as the image of Tobias and Ezekiel approaching each other, both posturing, and seemingly not willing to wait for their match. As Tobias and Ezekiel near they pick up the pace. Ezekiel drops his bag with purpose in his step, and no sooner than they are in striking distance BoolZ steps between Tobias and Ezekiel keeping them separate.
Without a word Tobias and Ezekiel don’t take their eyes off each other, but they do both stop. BoolZ looking directly at Ezekiel motions with his head for Ezekiel to keep moving. Ezekiel either doesn’t see this, or doesn’t care.)
BoolZ; “Save it for the match Zeke.”
(Ezekiel finally acknowledges the Red Bull Icon with an evil grin before returning his focus to Tobias, but speaking to RBI.)
Ezekiel; “Save it for the match Zeke. Save him from the fire Randy.”
(With that Ezekiel walks backwards to his bag, picks it up, then breaks his stare down with Tobias as he turns towards the entrance. Tobias makes sure to keep step with the Red Eyed Wonder. Ezekiel not to be intimidated turns his head and locks eyes with Tobias once again. This time BoolZ now as well keeping pace and in the middle of the two.
As they approach the backstage entrance we see a very raggedy hobo with a messy over gown dark brown beard being led disinteresting by a nagging Old Lady Levene.)
Old Lady Levene; “Whatever your struggles, you mustn’t sleep rough. There are religious charities that can help you, even in a place as ungodly as this. You owe it to yourself to look after yourself. Now come on inside and I’ll make you a nice cup of tea to warm you up. Perhaps we can find you a shower and a pair of clean clothes. Just maybe we will have success finding you some work carrying and lifting…”
(Old Lady Levene and the hobo disappear into the Tokyo Dome as the steel door clicks shut in front of Ezekiel, Tobias, and BoolZ. RBI pulls Tobias by the arm back allowing Ezekiel to enter first. BoolZ takes another puff of his legal fix as Ezekiel turns back to Tobias with one last mocking grin.)
