Post by Red Bull Icon on Jul 25, 2009 21:30:13 GMT -5
(Our scene opens during the weary hours of mid-summers night inside of a very dark hotel room. The moonlight seeping in from the sliding glass door only barely illuminates the room. We can make out a large cabinet on the far wall, a small executive sized couch behind an even smaller round coffee table off to the left, and what is clearly the bed. The queen sized mattress plays home to a figure lying in the center face down, arms and legs outstretched, with the comforter lightly draped over the obvious curvy female frame. There is an eerie calm over the scene. Nothing is wrong, but there is something definitely not right. As the peaceful uneasy moments tick by a scurry is heard, over the running air conditioner, crossing the berber hotel carpeting, the shadows dance and scramble into hiding, and slowly the patio door is pulled open as a rush of the warm still air is sucked into the room causing the curtains to bellow and swell as if inhaling the very breath we breathe. Pulling the curtains to the side to unblock the entrance we can see a silhouette flick the still burning cigarette off the balcony, enter the room cautiously, and toss a hollow sounding object into the nearby trash can. The unmistakable sound of an 8.3 ounce aluminum can is instantly recognized as the stark male outline gingerly walks past, enters what we assume is the bathroom shutting the door, and then a flick of a light switch is heard. The loud ripple of a good pee echoes through the sturdy walls, followed by the howl of a toilet flushing, and the gushing of water from a sink are all heard. The figure on the bed stirs briefly, a painful jubilated squeal is heard, she rolls over, and resumes her slumber. The bar of light flooding from under the restroom door is extinguished, a squeak pierces the silence as the doorway opens, no movement wasted the living shadow painfully walks to the front door, a click, a clack, and the hallway light floods into the room as, clearly now, BoolZ leaves the room. The woman in bed remains in a deep well deserved sleep in the returned to pitch black room.)
BoolZ; “Hm, Sean Jensen brand panties. Marketing genies I’m tellin’ ya.”
(We follow the Red Bull Icon down the hallway and to the elevator. Each step excruciatingly painful.)
BoolZ; “Oh, my balls! Leave it up to a deranged clown to start whacking people in the nuts.”
(The next shot is from the lobby of a typical high end hotel. The brass shines, the chandelier sparkles, and the desk clerk stands patiently awaiting his next task. The elevator dings before the mirrored doors slide open, BoolZ nods to the elevator operator, and exits into the lobby while he is followed by a buxom blonde wearing a skin tight vinyl black one piece dress.)
Blonde; “Uhm, excuse me.”
BoolZ; “Yeah?”
Blonde; “Uhm, hey, are you BoolZ from the GIW?”
BoolZ; “Yeah.”
Blonde; “Oh my god, I knew it was you! I’m, like, your biggest fan! I knew it. Wow it’s such an honor to meet you.”
BoolZ; “Thank you.”
Blonde; “Uhm, so my name’s Ingrid, and I’m staying here too. Wow, I think you’re just great.”
BoolZ; “Thank you. The honor’s mine.”
(BoolZ returns to his pain riddled steps through the lobby. Ingrid follows.)
Ingrid; “Hey, uhm, I usually don’t do this, I was on my way to the drug store. I forgot my toothpaste. But, wow I usually don’t do this, but do you wanna come up to my room?”
(BoolZ after a moments contemplation, reaches into his back pocket, removes a room key, and hands it to Ingrid.)
BoolZ; “I tell ya what. I have to run out for a few minutes, why don’t you go wait for me in my room. It’s the Honeymoon Suite.”
(It’s obvious Ingrid’s legs begin to weaken as she, without hesitation, takes the key card and nervously smiles.)
Ingrid; “Yeah, I’d love to. Wow, BoolZ!”
BoolZ; “Yeah, cutie you’re in for it now.”
(Ingrid hurriedly returns to the elevator as BoolZ stubbornly continues his torturous march. We next see Ingrid standing in front of a hotel room door marked ‘Honeymoon Suite’ trying the key BoolZ gave her. The first try results in the first little red light indicating the door will remain locked.)
Ingrid; “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”
(She tries again with the same result this time some muffled rustling is heard from the other side.)
Ingrid; “What the hell? No, this has to work. Why isn’t this working?”
(She tries one more time. The same taunting red light blinks, and now a mans voice is heard from the other side followed by the pleas of a female.)
Male; “What the hell!”
Female; “No, no, baby don’t stop! Show me you can do it!”
Male; “Stop? Naw bitch you coming with me.”
Ingrid; “What, he said Honeymoon Suite.”
(There is a click, a shuffle, a thud, and the door cracks open. The rib cage of a female torso is the first image about half way from the floor and the door knob.)
Female; “Fuck! My head, yeah do it! Harder, do it harder! Who’s your bitch?”
Male; “Oh yeah whore, you’re my bitch, and I’ma fuck the shit outta you.”
(Ingrid already blushing turns a deeper shade of rouge, as a male head peeks out from around the corner his shoulders covered by a referees shirt. Chris Austin greets Ingrid.)
Austin; “Whoa, and who do we have here?”
Ingrid; “Oh no, I think I have the wrong room. I was supposed to wait for BoolZ. Wait, oh my god are you Chris Austin?”
Austin; “BoolZ? Yeah like he could afford a suite like this. And yes I’m Chris Austin ‘The King of the Kama Sutra’, but the better question is why did BoolZ send you to my room?”
Ingrid; “Uhm, well I was, I mean I don’t usually do…”
Female; “Claim it, claim that pussy, this is your pussy!”
Austin; “Fuck it, I don’t really care. Just get your ass in here blondie, and lose those clothes.”
Female; “Huh, what?”
Austin; “Shut up, or you won’t walk straight for a week.”
Ingrid; “Uhm, well, I was supposed to… uhm, yeah ok.”
(Ingrid squeezes through the door, the other female not having the strength to move, and Austin being Austin leaves the door slightly cracked open.
The next shot we see is of a downtown coin-op laundry mat. It’s still late, and there’s still a weird uneasy peacefulness in the air. The laundry mat is the only light shining to the small sidewalk out front, the glass doors opened wide, and through the plate glass windows we can see but a handful of people inside. Most young, well kept, and keeping to themselves as they watch their clothes drying. A homeless man covered in newspaper sleeps on the bench under the industrial fluorescent lighting with a beanie pulled down over his eyes. A quick glance, and we notice RBI patiently waiting as he leans against a dryer, and playing with a thick silver ring on his right hand. BoolZ is off somewhere deep in thought, or worry, or pity it’s hard to tell with the stoic distant look on his face. A rapid banging echoes through the facility drawing everyone’s attention to the detergent vending machine. There we see a short young lady, her dark wavy hair pulled into a loose ponytail, and her olive skinned hands beating on the quarter thief. She takes a step back wearing her favorite well worn sweat pants, and spaghetti strap pink top. She exhales deeply bringing her hands to her head. No sooner does she step back we see BoolZ enter the shot holding a bottle of Tide detergent and a box of Bounce fabric softener.)
BoolZ; “You look like you’ve had a rough day. Can I help?”
Lady; “If you don’t mind, can I borrow some of your detergent? My review is coming up tomorrow, my washer took a crap on me no kidding like 20 minutes ago, and I really need to clean my uniform.”
BoolZ; “Yeah, absolutely.”
Lady; “Thank you so much.”
(The short olive skinned beauty takes the Tide and begins to load a washing machine as BoolZ returns to the dryer, his ring, and his pondering. After a minute or so the young lady returns placing the bottle of detergent next to BoolZ and extending her hand.)
Lady; “Thanks again, and my name’s Isabella. You really helped me out, and I don’t even know your name.”
(Shaking her hand.)
BoolZ; “Randy, and really it’s not a problem.”
Isabella; “Well thanks again. You know I’ve driven past this Laundromat probably a hundred times, and never seen anyone inside. I always wondered who washes clothes at 3:30 in the morning.”
BoolZ; “People whose washing machine breaks down before an important day.”
(Looking around until she fixates on the homeless man.)
Isabella; “Yeah I guess so. Hey so is that what happened to you, or was it the dryer?”
BoolZ; “No, I guess I’m just nocturnal.”
Isabella; “Oh, so are you always here this late? It’s not really that bad of a neighborhood is it?
BoolZ; “Yeah I don’t really know. I’m just passing through town.”
Isabella; “Passing through? What are you a traveling salesman? No too young. A trucker, maybe? No too skinny. Carney folk?”
(Isabella brings a smile to his face.)
BoolZ; “Kinda, no I’m a professional wrestler.”
Isabella; “Professional wrestler? Yeah right, I thought you had to be seven feet tall, or 400 pounds, or some super strong monster. You’re kinda small aren’t you?”
BoolZ; “Well some guys need to be seven feet tall, or 400 pounds, or super strong, or crazy, but some of us are just good. Besides, I’m plenty big where counts.”
(Isabella gets a playful look of shock on her face before BoolZ slowly points to his chest.)
Isabella; “Alright, wow, a real life professional wrestler. So Randy, why wrestling?”
BoolZ; “I don’t know really. I mean life’s too short to spend your days not doing what you absolutely love to do.”
{With his words and a flash of light we are suddenly in a small office somewhere in the San Diego International Airport. A cheap government issued desk sits in the center of the room, a bald overweight man sits at the desk, and a tall green file cabinet towers behind him as he clicks away at his keyboard. There is a knock at the door.}
Bald man; “Come in.”
{The door opens and in steps Clare McClain the U.S. Customs agent BoolZ met minutes after his plane landed from Tokyo. The brunettes tan a bit darker, her athletic build a bit leaner, her green eyes a bit more sparkled. Her uniform, glasses, and ponytail all gone replaced by an old pair of jeans, her hair down, and a can of Red Bull in her left hand.}
Clair; “How ya doin’ Joe?”
Joe; “Clair? I thought you’d be on a beach somewhere finishing out your suspension.”
Clair; “Yeah I thought about it. I’ve been thinking about a bunch of stuff. I’ve thought about my Grandfather, my Dad, both of my Brothers, I thought about hanging out while collecting two months’ salary, and I even thought about teaching. I know your busy so I’m going to make this quick. Joe my family wanted me to be a customs agent, and I wanted to make them happy, but I never really wanted this life. So I’ve decided to finish my Liberal Arts degree, and become an elementary school teacher. I’m here to give my notice Joe. I mean life’s too short to spend it not doing what I absolutely love to do.”
(Her words return us to the laundry in a flash. BoolZ and Isabella continue their conversation. The homeless man continues his nights sleep. The washers and dryers continue their task at hand.)
Isabella; “Hardcore? What like porn?”
(She says with a sly playful smirk.)
BoolZ; “Well, it does tend to get a little a messy, but no. Hardcore wrestling is pretty much no holds barred. Just you and an opponent, or three, and you go until one man wins. You can use anything at your disposal, but I still think the best weapon is the human spirit.”
Isabella; “Ok, so if you an I were going at it Hardcore style you’d be able to slam me into that dryer?”
BoolZ; “Wait are we talking about porn again?”
(With a grin.)
Isabella; “Not yet. But come on, doesn’t it hurt?”
BoolZ; “Now I know we’re talking about sex.”
(A chuckle and a light tap to his shoulder, and Isabella returns.)
Isabella; “No wrestling. It sounds like you fight people, and they’re allowed to do what ever they want to win. Doesn’t that hurt?”
BoolZ; “Well first off they try doing what they can to win, and my job is to make sure they don’t. As for hurting? Hell yeah it hurts!”
Isabella; “Well then why do you do it? Do you enjoy the pain?”
BoolZ; “You know, I’m not sure. I mean I forget who said it, and I’m quoting someone here, but it’s not so much that I enjoy the pain as much as I don’t mind it. Besides you could argue that my real gift is getting hit in the head. There’s also a fairly strong case for maybe I deserve to be hit in head. Either way I think it’s important to realize that I think if it’s important enough to dedicate yourself to, than it’s worth the pain and sacrifices required, and if you’re not willing to stick it out then it just wasn’t meant to be.”
{His words usher in another flash of light, and this time we’re stuck in the middle of a living room on a bright day. The summer time afternoon sun beams into the room glaring off the television displaying Grand Theft Auto IV, and stuck on pause. A young man sits on the couch, his short greasy hair in his hands, and his tears streaming down to his straggly beard. Coming from the apartments kitchen we see Emily, whom we met the night Global Domination was formed and suffered their first lost to BoolZ and Travis Roberts in there first match. Emily her milky smooth skin, her raging red hair, and blue eyes in an instant remind us of her undying beauty. She grabs a set of car keys off the counter, she takes a drink from a fresh ice cold Red Bull, and begins walking towards the door.}
Brian; “Please Emily, don’t go. I can change, I’ll get a job, I’ll keep the apartment clean, I’ll make sure to shower everyday. Please I can’t lose you!”
{Taking another swig of Red Bull, Emily stops at the open door, and turns to face her former fiancé.}
Emily; “Damnit Brian, I can’t do this anymore. If I was really that important to you then you’d already have a job instead of sitting on your ass all damn day playing video games while I pay rent. Hell you said you’d get a job if I got us out of your moms’ basement, and look at you! It’s been a month, I pay all the bills, and you can’t even find time to do the dishes. You had a job for what, like, a day! And then you quit because you said the manager wanted you to watch some training video, and you didn’t feel wanted. What the hell? If I was that important to you, you’d have stuck it out instead of mooching off me. I’m not going to do it. Brian it just wasn’t meant to be.”
(Her words send us back to the present as she slams the door shut leaving Brian alone and miserable. BoolZ and Isabella joyfully continue their conversation as the machines have stopped, it is now just the two of them, and the homeless man still asleep on the bench.)
BoolZ; “It was crowded, that’s how Japan was. I couldn’t get a decent steak, I didn’t have my own bathroom, and it took me an hour just to get to the gym. Really though I loved it.”
Isabella; “Well yeah, ok, but couldn’t you have stayed in America, and still became a wrestler?”
BoolZ; “Yeah, I could have, but it wouldn’t have been same. I mean wrestling in the Unite States on the world stage just isn’t the same. I mean you go to Canada, and they treat it as a tradition. In Mexico it’s a religion, and in Japan where I went it’s a sport. I’m pretty sure that’s what I needed. I was actually kind of worried I wind up touring the independents, collecting my paydays when they came, and settling into a nice little rut while I waited and hoped of getting noticed.”
Isabella; “Yeah but why Japan? What made you think, you know what I think I’m going to fly to Japan and get beat up for a living?”
BoolZ; “Well I always knew I’d only do myself a favor if I got out and experienced something other than American wrestling. Then one day it happened, and I just got the right push.”
{His words shift our reality again, and in a flash the silent images of a younger BoolZ arguing with Maddy begin swirling through our line of sight. Maddy, who we’ve only known as Ashton’s girlfriend seems to be pleading with Randy. Her eyes welled with tears, her nose red, and her skin flush. She stands before BoolZ with huge saucer like eyes, and places a hand on his chest. In an instant we’re filled with pain, and guilt. Pain for knowing it can’t be we it seems, and guilt for knowing what BoolZ might have done for his moment, and knowing it was for nothing. We see BoolZ turn and walk away as Maddy continues to cry while taking a seat. The next shot in Maddy’s place we see Heidi, the Waffle House waitress we met last week sitting on the counter joking with the very manly looking line cook..}
Heidi; “Mary, and so I said to the manager, you either pay us or we’ll start a riot with our next song and all these little punks will tear your club to the ground.”
Mary; “No! So did he pay you?”
Heidi; “Of course, we had the crowd eating out of our hands that night. Fuck I guess wish we could have had a talent scout out there.”
Mary; “Talent scout? Baby, there ain’t no talent scouts comin’ to these parts. You wanna get noticed you gotta go to Hollywood or something.”
{Heidi pops the top on a Red Bull, takes a drink, and hops off the counter.}
Heidi; “Hollywood! I can’t go to Hollywood, I don’t have the money, Jack will never give me time off for a vacation like that, and I gotta make rent anyway. No, I gotta get spotted right here Mary, or it’ll never happen. I’m just stuck.”
{The two restaurant workers quietly go about there jobs, Mary cleaning her grill, and Heidi refilling bottles of ketchup when a tall skinny man in his late 50’s walks in from the back office. The man is holding a clip board, a pencil, and a worried look. Mary notices him coming, and as Heidi reaches for her Red Bull, Mary tosses one of the ketchup bottles into the trash.}
Mary; “Yeah Heidi, you’re right. That Jack is a son of a bitch.”
{The older man’s worried look is replaced with insult as he marches over to the duo.}
Jack; “You know would it really be that damn hard for me to get an ounce of respect out of you two. All day I deal with placing orders, keeping inventory, day off requests, trying to keep this place open, and all you two do is shit on me.”
{Heidi in shock.}
Heidi; “Mary?”
Mary; “What you said it. Plus what’s he going to do? Fire you for throwing away that same bottle we’ve been using for three years. Fuck off Jack.”
{Heidi gets a panicked look on her face as Jack eagerly examines the trash can.}
Jack; “Yeah, yeah you’re damned right I’ma going to fire you Heidi. I talked about wasting dinner supplies the last time you ordered all new ketchup bottles. We’re not made of money, bitch. You fired! You can pick up your last check on Friday.”
{Jack gets a huge smile on his face as he storms back to his office. Heidi turns in horror to the women she had thought a friend. Mary quietly walks to the cash register, pulls out all 80 dollars or so, and shoves the bills into Heidi’s pocket.}
Mary; “What the hell Heidi? I don’t rent to thieves, you need to get out of my apartment.”
Heidi; “Mary?”
Mary; “Hun, you just needed the right push.”
(In an instant we’re back at the Laundromat, this time outside, and the sun slowly begins to rise in the east. BoolZ and Isabella stand by the ‘U-Suk’ mobile as BoolZ slides a box marked ‘May/June 08’ into the cargo compartment before pulling a Red Bull out his back pocket.)
Isabella; “I still don’t get it. So every time you keep our panties?”
BoolZ; “No, only the first time.”
Isabella; “And I thought I was special. Can at least have one of those Red Bulls?”
BoolZ; “Oh, you were special. And the first one’s always free.”
(BoolZ hands Isabella a Red Bull from the cooler he keeps in the passenger cab of his truck, she opens it, and takes the first swig before looking down at the can.)
Isabella; “Wow, this is pretty good. So BoolZy how’s it end?”
BoolZ; “Excuse me? How’s what end?”
Isabella; “Well you can’t wrestle forever right? What happens when you can compete anymore, is there like a wrestlers retirement home or something?”
BoolZ; “You know honestly I try not to think about. There’s no point, I mean it never ends the way it should.”
{Again a flash of light, this time a scream of submission, and we see a close up of Dana who we met one very late night at a supermarket. Her tiny frame looks even skinnier, her light brown hair a mess, her green eyes teary. With each trickle down where hollowed cheek we see the reflection of a manager yelling at her, her father climbing on top of her, her step father beating her, a tall man handing her over to a short man, a pipe, and finally her hand picking up a bag of unknown substance, and then her feet running across the pavement. We zoom out and the full view of Dana on her knees in an ally a hundred feet or so from a Cadillac, and the same tall man standing behind her.}
Tall Man; “You ready bitch?”
{Dana only weeps as she reaches down to the pavement to retrieve her Red Bull. She finishes the can, and then slowly places in back on the asphalt.}
Dana; “…”
Tall Man; “What did you think would happen? Did you really think one of my ho’s could steal my shit, and get away with it? Did you think it would be all fairy tales and happy endings? You miserable little cunt, did you think I’d ever let you out? Shit especially after what you did.”
Dana; “Just get it over with Johnny. I’m getting out.”
Johnny; “Really? You think death is gonna set you free, huh? Naw bitch, you’s a ho in life, and I got a man in that car ready to make you a ho in death. You’s always gonna be a ho. Shit that perverted little fucker’s gonna do so seriously foul shit to your corpse. Fuck it though you’s right. It don’t matter what you thought, ‘cause it never ends the way it should.”
(His words, the *BANG* from his gun, the flash from the barrel snaps us back to the current scene. We’re back in the hotel room where the night started. The sun reaching around the curtains of the sliding glass door, and falling across the bed wakes up a groggy eyed female. She sits up keeping the covers over her chest and her dyed purple hair out of her face. She wipes the sleep from her eyes before realizing she’s alone in the room.)
Women; “God, Janet what are you doing with you life?”
(The scene ends as Janet wraps the blanket around her, stands up, and painfully walks to the bathroom.)
BoolZ; “Hm, Sean Jensen brand panties. Marketing genies I’m tellin’ ya.”
(We follow the Red Bull Icon down the hallway and to the elevator. Each step excruciatingly painful.)
BoolZ; “Oh, my balls! Leave it up to a deranged clown to start whacking people in the nuts.”
(The next shot is from the lobby of a typical high end hotel. The brass shines, the chandelier sparkles, and the desk clerk stands patiently awaiting his next task. The elevator dings before the mirrored doors slide open, BoolZ nods to the elevator operator, and exits into the lobby while he is followed by a buxom blonde wearing a skin tight vinyl black one piece dress.)
Blonde; “Uhm, excuse me.”
BoolZ; “Yeah?”
Blonde; “Uhm, hey, are you BoolZ from the GIW?”
BoolZ; “Yeah.”
Blonde; “Oh my god, I knew it was you! I’m, like, your biggest fan! I knew it. Wow it’s such an honor to meet you.”
BoolZ; “Thank you.”
Blonde; “Uhm, so my name’s Ingrid, and I’m staying here too. Wow, I think you’re just great.”
BoolZ; “Thank you. The honor’s mine.”
(BoolZ returns to his pain riddled steps through the lobby. Ingrid follows.)
Ingrid; “Hey, uhm, I usually don’t do this, I was on my way to the drug store. I forgot my toothpaste. But, wow I usually don’t do this, but do you wanna come up to my room?”
(BoolZ after a moments contemplation, reaches into his back pocket, removes a room key, and hands it to Ingrid.)
BoolZ; “I tell ya what. I have to run out for a few minutes, why don’t you go wait for me in my room. It’s the Honeymoon Suite.”
(It’s obvious Ingrid’s legs begin to weaken as she, without hesitation, takes the key card and nervously smiles.)
Ingrid; “Yeah, I’d love to. Wow, BoolZ!”
BoolZ; “Yeah, cutie you’re in for it now.”
(Ingrid hurriedly returns to the elevator as BoolZ stubbornly continues his torturous march. We next see Ingrid standing in front of a hotel room door marked ‘Honeymoon Suite’ trying the key BoolZ gave her. The first try results in the first little red light indicating the door will remain locked.)
Ingrid; “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”
(She tries again with the same result this time some muffled rustling is heard from the other side.)
Ingrid; “What the hell? No, this has to work. Why isn’t this working?”
(She tries one more time. The same taunting red light blinks, and now a mans voice is heard from the other side followed by the pleas of a female.)
Male; “What the hell!”
Female; “No, no, baby don’t stop! Show me you can do it!”
Male; “Stop? Naw bitch you coming with me.”
Ingrid; “What, he said Honeymoon Suite.”
(There is a click, a shuffle, a thud, and the door cracks open. The rib cage of a female torso is the first image about half way from the floor and the door knob.)
Female; “Fuck! My head, yeah do it! Harder, do it harder! Who’s your bitch?”
Male; “Oh yeah whore, you’re my bitch, and I’ma fuck the shit outta you.”
(Ingrid already blushing turns a deeper shade of rouge, as a male head peeks out from around the corner his shoulders covered by a referees shirt. Chris Austin greets Ingrid.)
Austin; “Whoa, and who do we have here?”
Ingrid; “Oh no, I think I have the wrong room. I was supposed to wait for BoolZ. Wait, oh my god are you Chris Austin?”
Austin; “BoolZ? Yeah like he could afford a suite like this. And yes I’m Chris Austin ‘The King of the Kama Sutra’, but the better question is why did BoolZ send you to my room?”
Ingrid; “Uhm, well I was, I mean I don’t usually do…”
Female; “Claim it, claim that pussy, this is your pussy!”
Austin; “Fuck it, I don’t really care. Just get your ass in here blondie, and lose those clothes.”
Female; “Huh, what?”
Austin; “Shut up, or you won’t walk straight for a week.”
Ingrid; “Uhm, well, I was supposed to… uhm, yeah ok.”
(Ingrid squeezes through the door, the other female not having the strength to move, and Austin being Austin leaves the door slightly cracked open.
The next shot we see is of a downtown coin-op laundry mat. It’s still late, and there’s still a weird uneasy peacefulness in the air. The laundry mat is the only light shining to the small sidewalk out front, the glass doors opened wide, and through the plate glass windows we can see but a handful of people inside. Most young, well kept, and keeping to themselves as they watch their clothes drying. A homeless man covered in newspaper sleeps on the bench under the industrial fluorescent lighting with a beanie pulled down over his eyes. A quick glance, and we notice RBI patiently waiting as he leans against a dryer, and playing with a thick silver ring on his right hand. BoolZ is off somewhere deep in thought, or worry, or pity it’s hard to tell with the stoic distant look on his face. A rapid banging echoes through the facility drawing everyone’s attention to the detergent vending machine. There we see a short young lady, her dark wavy hair pulled into a loose ponytail, and her olive skinned hands beating on the quarter thief. She takes a step back wearing her favorite well worn sweat pants, and spaghetti strap pink top. She exhales deeply bringing her hands to her head. No sooner does she step back we see BoolZ enter the shot holding a bottle of Tide detergent and a box of Bounce fabric softener.)
BoolZ; “You look like you’ve had a rough day. Can I help?”
Lady; “If you don’t mind, can I borrow some of your detergent? My review is coming up tomorrow, my washer took a crap on me no kidding like 20 minutes ago, and I really need to clean my uniform.”
BoolZ; “Yeah, absolutely.”
Lady; “Thank you so much.”
(The short olive skinned beauty takes the Tide and begins to load a washing machine as BoolZ returns to the dryer, his ring, and his pondering. After a minute or so the young lady returns placing the bottle of detergent next to BoolZ and extending her hand.)
Lady; “Thanks again, and my name’s Isabella. You really helped me out, and I don’t even know your name.”
(Shaking her hand.)
BoolZ; “Randy, and really it’s not a problem.”
Isabella; “Well thanks again. You know I’ve driven past this Laundromat probably a hundred times, and never seen anyone inside. I always wondered who washes clothes at 3:30 in the morning.”
BoolZ; “People whose washing machine breaks down before an important day.”
(Looking around until she fixates on the homeless man.)
Isabella; “Yeah I guess so. Hey so is that what happened to you, or was it the dryer?”
BoolZ; “No, I guess I’m just nocturnal.”
Isabella; “Oh, so are you always here this late? It’s not really that bad of a neighborhood is it?
BoolZ; “Yeah I don’t really know. I’m just passing through town.”
Isabella; “Passing through? What are you a traveling salesman? No too young. A trucker, maybe? No too skinny. Carney folk?”
(Isabella brings a smile to his face.)
BoolZ; “Kinda, no I’m a professional wrestler.”
Isabella; “Professional wrestler? Yeah right, I thought you had to be seven feet tall, or 400 pounds, or some super strong monster. You’re kinda small aren’t you?”
BoolZ; “Well some guys need to be seven feet tall, or 400 pounds, or super strong, or crazy, but some of us are just good. Besides, I’m plenty big where counts.”
(Isabella gets a playful look of shock on her face before BoolZ slowly points to his chest.)
Isabella; “Alright, wow, a real life professional wrestler. So Randy, why wrestling?”
BoolZ; “I don’t know really. I mean life’s too short to spend your days not doing what you absolutely love to do.”
{With his words and a flash of light we are suddenly in a small office somewhere in the San Diego International Airport. A cheap government issued desk sits in the center of the room, a bald overweight man sits at the desk, and a tall green file cabinet towers behind him as he clicks away at his keyboard. There is a knock at the door.}
Bald man; “Come in.”
{The door opens and in steps Clare McClain the U.S. Customs agent BoolZ met minutes after his plane landed from Tokyo. The brunettes tan a bit darker, her athletic build a bit leaner, her green eyes a bit more sparkled. Her uniform, glasses, and ponytail all gone replaced by an old pair of jeans, her hair down, and a can of Red Bull in her left hand.}
Clair; “How ya doin’ Joe?”
Joe; “Clair? I thought you’d be on a beach somewhere finishing out your suspension.”
Clair; “Yeah I thought about it. I’ve been thinking about a bunch of stuff. I’ve thought about my Grandfather, my Dad, both of my Brothers, I thought about hanging out while collecting two months’ salary, and I even thought about teaching. I know your busy so I’m going to make this quick. Joe my family wanted me to be a customs agent, and I wanted to make them happy, but I never really wanted this life. So I’ve decided to finish my Liberal Arts degree, and become an elementary school teacher. I’m here to give my notice Joe. I mean life’s too short to spend it not doing what I absolutely love to do.”
(Her words return us to the laundry in a flash. BoolZ and Isabella continue their conversation. The homeless man continues his nights sleep. The washers and dryers continue their task at hand.)
Isabella; “Hardcore? What like porn?”
(She says with a sly playful smirk.)
BoolZ; “Well, it does tend to get a little a messy, but no. Hardcore wrestling is pretty much no holds barred. Just you and an opponent, or three, and you go until one man wins. You can use anything at your disposal, but I still think the best weapon is the human spirit.”
Isabella; “Ok, so if you an I were going at it Hardcore style you’d be able to slam me into that dryer?”
BoolZ; “Wait are we talking about porn again?”
(With a grin.)
Isabella; “Not yet. But come on, doesn’t it hurt?”
BoolZ; “Now I know we’re talking about sex.”
(A chuckle and a light tap to his shoulder, and Isabella returns.)
Isabella; “No wrestling. It sounds like you fight people, and they’re allowed to do what ever they want to win. Doesn’t that hurt?”
BoolZ; “Well first off they try doing what they can to win, and my job is to make sure they don’t. As for hurting? Hell yeah it hurts!”
Isabella; “Well then why do you do it? Do you enjoy the pain?”
BoolZ; “You know, I’m not sure. I mean I forget who said it, and I’m quoting someone here, but it’s not so much that I enjoy the pain as much as I don’t mind it. Besides you could argue that my real gift is getting hit in the head. There’s also a fairly strong case for maybe I deserve to be hit in head. Either way I think it’s important to realize that I think if it’s important enough to dedicate yourself to, than it’s worth the pain and sacrifices required, and if you’re not willing to stick it out then it just wasn’t meant to be.”
{His words usher in another flash of light, and this time we’re stuck in the middle of a living room on a bright day. The summer time afternoon sun beams into the room glaring off the television displaying Grand Theft Auto IV, and stuck on pause. A young man sits on the couch, his short greasy hair in his hands, and his tears streaming down to his straggly beard. Coming from the apartments kitchen we see Emily, whom we met the night Global Domination was formed and suffered their first lost to BoolZ and Travis Roberts in there first match. Emily her milky smooth skin, her raging red hair, and blue eyes in an instant remind us of her undying beauty. She grabs a set of car keys off the counter, she takes a drink from a fresh ice cold Red Bull, and begins walking towards the door.}
Brian; “Please Emily, don’t go. I can change, I’ll get a job, I’ll keep the apartment clean, I’ll make sure to shower everyday. Please I can’t lose you!”
{Taking another swig of Red Bull, Emily stops at the open door, and turns to face her former fiancé.}
Emily; “Damnit Brian, I can’t do this anymore. If I was really that important to you then you’d already have a job instead of sitting on your ass all damn day playing video games while I pay rent. Hell you said you’d get a job if I got us out of your moms’ basement, and look at you! It’s been a month, I pay all the bills, and you can’t even find time to do the dishes. You had a job for what, like, a day! And then you quit because you said the manager wanted you to watch some training video, and you didn’t feel wanted. What the hell? If I was that important to you, you’d have stuck it out instead of mooching off me. I’m not going to do it. Brian it just wasn’t meant to be.”
(Her words send us back to the present as she slams the door shut leaving Brian alone and miserable. BoolZ and Isabella joyfully continue their conversation as the machines have stopped, it is now just the two of them, and the homeless man still asleep on the bench.)
BoolZ; “It was crowded, that’s how Japan was. I couldn’t get a decent steak, I didn’t have my own bathroom, and it took me an hour just to get to the gym. Really though I loved it.”
Isabella; “Well yeah, ok, but couldn’t you have stayed in America, and still became a wrestler?”
BoolZ; “Yeah, I could have, but it wouldn’t have been same. I mean wrestling in the Unite States on the world stage just isn’t the same. I mean you go to Canada, and they treat it as a tradition. In Mexico it’s a religion, and in Japan where I went it’s a sport. I’m pretty sure that’s what I needed. I was actually kind of worried I wind up touring the independents, collecting my paydays when they came, and settling into a nice little rut while I waited and hoped of getting noticed.”
Isabella; “Yeah but why Japan? What made you think, you know what I think I’m going to fly to Japan and get beat up for a living?”
BoolZ; “Well I always knew I’d only do myself a favor if I got out and experienced something other than American wrestling. Then one day it happened, and I just got the right push.”
{His words shift our reality again, and in a flash the silent images of a younger BoolZ arguing with Maddy begin swirling through our line of sight. Maddy, who we’ve only known as Ashton’s girlfriend seems to be pleading with Randy. Her eyes welled with tears, her nose red, and her skin flush. She stands before BoolZ with huge saucer like eyes, and places a hand on his chest. In an instant we’re filled with pain, and guilt. Pain for knowing it can’t be we it seems, and guilt for knowing what BoolZ might have done for his moment, and knowing it was for nothing. We see BoolZ turn and walk away as Maddy continues to cry while taking a seat. The next shot in Maddy’s place we see Heidi, the Waffle House waitress we met last week sitting on the counter joking with the very manly looking line cook..}
Heidi; “Mary, and so I said to the manager, you either pay us or we’ll start a riot with our next song and all these little punks will tear your club to the ground.”
Mary; “No! So did he pay you?”
Heidi; “Of course, we had the crowd eating out of our hands that night. Fuck I guess wish we could have had a talent scout out there.”
Mary; “Talent scout? Baby, there ain’t no talent scouts comin’ to these parts. You wanna get noticed you gotta go to Hollywood or something.”
{Heidi pops the top on a Red Bull, takes a drink, and hops off the counter.}
Heidi; “Hollywood! I can’t go to Hollywood, I don’t have the money, Jack will never give me time off for a vacation like that, and I gotta make rent anyway. No, I gotta get spotted right here Mary, or it’ll never happen. I’m just stuck.”
{The two restaurant workers quietly go about there jobs, Mary cleaning her grill, and Heidi refilling bottles of ketchup when a tall skinny man in his late 50’s walks in from the back office. The man is holding a clip board, a pencil, and a worried look. Mary notices him coming, and as Heidi reaches for her Red Bull, Mary tosses one of the ketchup bottles into the trash.}
Mary; “Yeah Heidi, you’re right. That Jack is a son of a bitch.”
{The older man’s worried look is replaced with insult as he marches over to the duo.}
Jack; “You know would it really be that damn hard for me to get an ounce of respect out of you two. All day I deal with placing orders, keeping inventory, day off requests, trying to keep this place open, and all you two do is shit on me.”
{Heidi in shock.}
Heidi; “Mary?”
Mary; “What you said it. Plus what’s he going to do? Fire you for throwing away that same bottle we’ve been using for three years. Fuck off Jack.”
{Heidi gets a panicked look on her face as Jack eagerly examines the trash can.}
Jack; “Yeah, yeah you’re damned right I’ma going to fire you Heidi. I talked about wasting dinner supplies the last time you ordered all new ketchup bottles. We’re not made of money, bitch. You fired! You can pick up your last check on Friday.”
{Jack gets a huge smile on his face as he storms back to his office. Heidi turns in horror to the women she had thought a friend. Mary quietly walks to the cash register, pulls out all 80 dollars or so, and shoves the bills into Heidi’s pocket.}
Mary; “What the hell Heidi? I don’t rent to thieves, you need to get out of my apartment.”
Heidi; “Mary?”
Mary; “Hun, you just needed the right push.”
(In an instant we’re back at the Laundromat, this time outside, and the sun slowly begins to rise in the east. BoolZ and Isabella stand by the ‘U-Suk’ mobile as BoolZ slides a box marked ‘May/June 08’ into the cargo compartment before pulling a Red Bull out his back pocket.)
Isabella; “I still don’t get it. So every time you keep our panties?”
BoolZ; “No, only the first time.”
Isabella; “And I thought I was special. Can at least have one of those Red Bulls?”
BoolZ; “Oh, you were special. And the first one’s always free.”
(BoolZ hands Isabella a Red Bull from the cooler he keeps in the passenger cab of his truck, she opens it, and takes the first swig before looking down at the can.)
Isabella; “Wow, this is pretty good. So BoolZy how’s it end?”
BoolZ; “Excuse me? How’s what end?”
Isabella; “Well you can’t wrestle forever right? What happens when you can compete anymore, is there like a wrestlers retirement home or something?”
BoolZ; “You know honestly I try not to think about. There’s no point, I mean it never ends the way it should.”
{Again a flash of light, this time a scream of submission, and we see a close up of Dana who we met one very late night at a supermarket. Her tiny frame looks even skinnier, her light brown hair a mess, her green eyes teary. With each trickle down where hollowed cheek we see the reflection of a manager yelling at her, her father climbing on top of her, her step father beating her, a tall man handing her over to a short man, a pipe, and finally her hand picking up a bag of unknown substance, and then her feet running across the pavement. We zoom out and the full view of Dana on her knees in an ally a hundred feet or so from a Cadillac, and the same tall man standing behind her.}
Tall Man; “You ready bitch?”
{Dana only weeps as she reaches down to the pavement to retrieve her Red Bull. She finishes the can, and then slowly places in back on the asphalt.}
Dana; “…”
Tall Man; “What did you think would happen? Did you really think one of my ho’s could steal my shit, and get away with it? Did you think it would be all fairy tales and happy endings? You miserable little cunt, did you think I’d ever let you out? Shit especially after what you did.”
Dana; “Just get it over with Johnny. I’m getting out.”
Johnny; “Really? You think death is gonna set you free, huh? Naw bitch, you’s a ho in life, and I got a man in that car ready to make you a ho in death. You’s always gonna be a ho. Shit that perverted little fucker’s gonna do so seriously foul shit to your corpse. Fuck it though you’s right. It don’t matter what you thought, ‘cause it never ends the way it should.”
(His words, the *BANG* from his gun, the flash from the barrel snaps us back to the current scene. We’re back in the hotel room where the night started. The sun reaching around the curtains of the sliding glass door, and falling across the bed wakes up a groggy eyed female. She sits up keeping the covers over her chest and her dyed purple hair out of her face. She wipes the sleep from her eyes before realizing she’s alone in the room.)
Women; “God, Janet what are you doing with you life?”
(The scene ends as Janet wraps the blanket around her, stands up, and painfully walks to the bathroom.)
