Post by Red Bull Icon on Jul 25, 2009 22:06:53 GMT -5
-Tuesday 13:00-
(Our scene opens inside what is clearly a franchise gym facility. The tiled floors and spiked hair shine with fresh coats of product. The chrome finished free weights and bleached teeth sparkle under the fluorescent lighting. Sweat pours out, money pours in, and clearly there is nothing more important in the world than cutting that last extra .5% of body fat. Egos and muscle flex, spandex and tendons stretch, and vision and reality blur.
We look past the enormous body builders. We look past the formerly pregnant trying to lose the excess baby weight. We look past the yoga class on the other side of a glass wall. We look past the yoga class on the other side of a glass wall. We can’t look past the yoga class on the other side of the glass wall until we’ve scanned each and every women, and observed the ‘downward facing dog’ position performed by their mostly 34DD bodies.
Finally taking our own attention back from the 34DDs we return to gym and our tour. We glance past a pair of jacked up meat orange meatheads posing their mountains of muscle. We almost miss her. Her natural looking tan over shadowed by the brutes store bought spray. Her 34DDs almost dwarfed by the gas heads 46” chest. Her light almost snuffed out by the mental voids standing before her. Her blue eyes twinkle however as she smiles politely, and looks through the two empty spaces fixated on her 34DDs.
Curiously we turn our own fixated view from her 34DDs, and turn to see what has her so enthralled. Over across the room we see what just makes sense. Running on a treadmill in a pair of black basketball shorts we see BoolZ. Sweat pouring from both him and his Red Bull stationed in the water bottle sized cup holder. His lungs burn with every breath, and every puff of the cigarette dangling in his lips. Noticing the 34DDs fixated on his waist he can’t help but mockingly pose for the woman which received the desired smirk before the undesired attention of her current companionship.)
??; “She’s only staring at that title belt.”
(Taking in more the surroundings we notice flanked on RBI’s right side jogs Chris Austin. He’s matching BoolZ’s pace, but not the pain that comes with running while smoking. On his left side Conni, Randy’s American Red Nosed Pitbull companion, happily trots down his conveyer panting as he chases a chew tow tied to the hand rail.)
Austin: “And what gives. I was under the impression you didn’t really care about that Hardcore title. Now you’re wearing it during your workouts?”
(Finishing his Red Bull and sliding his cigarette into the empty can smoke bellows from his mouth as he responds while trying to keep his breath.)
BoolZ; “Eh, I gotta tell ya it was no secret… that I wasn’t exactly thrilled how I came… in possession of the Hardcore championship at Guerilla Warfare. Now though.., well since In Your Hands.., I don’t know it’s just really kinda important to me. I mean coming in last.., beating a man who’s already really wrestled two matches.., and calling yourself any kind of champion… would have just been silly. I think the only thing worse would be… having a pair of jealous jackasses take out your opponents, still having to hit your finisher..., and then hold up the title in celebration like you did something monumental.
But now after In Your Hands… I really feel like a champion. It finally really feels… like I deserve this title. I mean… there wasn’t any weird… interference. There didn’t have to… be some new stable or alliance, or over dramatized plot. There didn’t have to… be some screwed up kind of… running joke. Just me and you.., the only other man to hold… this title.., no excuses.., just a pinfall.”
(Done trying to talk BoolZ reaches up to the ledge where magazines or MP3 players are supposed to go. He takes a new cigarette from his now empty pack, reaches for his Zippo, and a flick and a pop later inhales the sweet, sweet, smoke. BoolZ crushes the Marlboro Blend 27 box, tosses it onto the treadmill in front of Conni, and watches at the puppy goes ballistic. First trying to run faster to catch the not moving piece of garbage, then trying to snap at the cardboard box as it passes under him, and finally stumbling and falling off the treadmill tripping a passerby in the process.)
Austin; “Yeah I guess.”
BoolZ; “So you sure… you don’t want… another shot?”
Austin; “Oh yeah I’m sure. I’ve moved on, and give it time you’ll do the same. You’ll find that yeah being the Hardcore champion is pretty fucking awesome, but you’ll only always be looked at as the Hardcore champion. Motherfucker I didn’t lose for like three months. Then I lose that belt, and damn near everyone but me at least gets a chance to earn a Global Heavyweight Title match. That belt is a hell of an accomplishment, but don’t let it trap you BoolZy.”
BoolZ; “I’ll… drink to… that.”
(Seemingly from out of no where BoolZ produces a new can of Red Bull, a crack and a pop later, and he’s struggling to remove the cigarette from his mouth and bring the Red Bull to his lips. Finally as the 34DDs from across the room look on in amazement a tall fit man walks to the treadmills wearing a uniformed t-shirt and white shorts.)
Employee; “Mr. Boolzian we’re trying to be accommodating here. We allowed you to bring the dog into the building, we dealt with the complaints we received after your display in the showers with the yoga girl, we tried to turn a blind eye to your first cigarette, but now your puppy is posing a hazard. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to take your dog outside, or leave all together.”
(Pressing a button on the computerized display the treadmill slows to a stop as the Red Bull Icon rides it to the floor. Placing his hands on his knees he tries to catch his breath as Austin continues his run watching on.)
BoolZ; “Fine, fine… I’ll leave. Yeah I guess you’ve been… most accommodating. I mean I probably would have thrown me out as… soon as I was told to go clean up Patricia’s, uhm, ‘chili’.”
Austin; “Dude, again?”
BoolZ; “Hey, I can’t help myself sometimes. Any way the 34DDs over there, you want?”
Austin; “Nah, I’ve moved on. I do my conquering in the ring now. She’s all yours.”
BoolZ; “Hell she was always all mine.”
Austin; “Yeah, if you say so.”
(The scene fades out as BoolZ confidently strolls to the women pushing past the two overly inflated buffoons in front of her. We can’t hear what’s being said, but we watch as BoolZ escorts the 34DD’ed framed from the lobby with Conni in tow.)
-Wednesday 03:00-
(It’s pitch black dark save for an orange dot floating in the distance. As it nears the dot flares showing the shadow cloaked vision of BoolZ’s face. He quickly passes us, opens what sounds like a door, and light engulfs the room. We’re in a hotel room clearly. Face down on the bed lays the perfectly tanned body of the latest of BoolZ’s trophies.)
BoolZ(whispered); “Conni, come on.”
(The scratching of Conni’s paws are louder than BoolZ would have liked as once his puppy is through the door he quickly closes it and makes his escape. The last image from the room is of a white lacy bra on the floor. The tag simply reads 34DD.)
-Thursday 14:30-
(Our scene reopens this time in the brightly lit lobby of what appears to be a nursing home. The patients though all mostly young, or at least not senior citizens. We see BoolZ leaning on the counter smiling, drinking a Red Bull, Conni at his side, and a brunette clerk on the other side. Her hair cut short to match her unpainted fingernails. Her smile masking a sudden but obvious fright. Her face covered by the shadow cast by the third member of the group as he approaches.)
??; “Mr. Boolzian, what is this about?”
(Turning we with BoolZ see Perla wearing a white lab coat and a scowl befitting ominous intents.)
BoolZ; “Perla, how ya been?”
Perla; “Stop with the pleasantries, BoolZ what is this about? Rachel tells me you’re hear to see Savana.”
(Taking his flip-top box of smokes from his pocket with is Zippo, a flick and a clack later, and he exhales a plume of white smoke.)
BoolZ; “Yeah, well we got this tag match coming up this week, and just wanted to touch base with my forced partner.”
Perla; “You can’t smoke in here. This is a hospital.”
BoolZ; “Yeah, for crazies. Just tell them the imagined it all, up their meds or something, and problems solved. Now about Savana. What room’s in?”
Perla; “You can’t see Savana.”
BoolZ; “Why not?”
Perla; “Savana is in a very delicate place right now, and any disrupt… is that a dog? You can’t bring a dog into a hospital!”
BoolZ; “Didn’t we just have this conversation? Up their meds or shock them a little more or something. Problems solved. And why can’t I see Savana?”
Perla; “Why do you need to see Savana?”
BoolZ; “You know when I pinned him to get the Hardcore title I looked into his eyes. Then last week when I was calling his match I did it again. Now maybe it was Aragato’s foul breath screwing with my vision, maybe it’s the fact that someone done shot and killed Doctor, but they were different. I need to know when we face that fat Asian ox head who does flips, Gabby’s third boob, that kid who’s so consumed with doing what ever it takes not to lose that he’s willing to forget that his mothers murder is still on the loose, Prescott’s old boy that he’s trying to flush like some giant red used tampon, and Prescott’s new TWiSTeD lying little bitch that I can trust him.
That last one really kinda stings you know. I remember watching the TWiSTeD Fight Club as a kid, and being in aw of Travis Roberts. When I heard he hired on with the GIW like the same week as I did, I was ecstatic, and then boom my first match and it’s a tag match with the ‘Headliner’! Then it all went to pot. He was ‘forced’ to be Cara’s hired gun, he was going to lead a revolution against a dead un-oppressive group, and boom truth be told he’s been scheming from the start on how to politic his way back to the top.
I need to know that while I’m watching Savana's back he’s not going to stab me in mine. I need to know that he’s not going to get fixated on my shiny Hardcore championship, start drooling on himself, and start flinging poo like a crazy little monkey. I need to know that he’s not going to pull out a gun and kill himself as I’m making my way to setting a history. Twelve straight this week you know?”
Perla; “Pull out a gun and kill himself? Cute, what was that a Sean Jensen reference?”
BoolZ; “For old times sake, maybe? Now where is Savana?”
Perla; “BoolZ, let me put your ease your worries. Savana was different two months ago. He was a little lost. Honestly I think as tragic as it was, having Doctor taken from him was the best thing for him. We’ve changed his meds, and now he’s more focused. He’s winning. Relax, we’ll be there at Sentinel, and we’ll continue winning. Including at EI8GHT. Where you will lose. Now if you will, I have other patients to see. Good day Mr. Boolzian.”
(Perla walks away, stunned BoolZ looks down to Conni who has repositioned himself behind the Red Bull Icon, and then turns his gaze back to Rachel who smiles. The two quickly pick up the conversation from before as Perla looks on from the hallway.)
-Saturday 15:50-
(Our scene comes back this time in a huge parking lot. GIW equipment trucks and limousines litter the mostly still empty pavement. Loudly we here the ‘U-Suk’ Mobile roar in past the gate, the breaks screech to a halt over three parking stalls, the MP3 of thousands of fans cheering accompanies the drivers side door as it flings open, BoolZ hops out with the Hardcore title in tow and Conni quickly follows. BoolZ slams the door, turns the key to lock his truck, turns around, and jumps back with a startled look on his face.
Then a look of pleasure as we again see the 34DDs from earlier in the week.)
BoolZ; “Quinn, you scared me. What are you doing here?”
Quinn; “Sorry, well when you didn’t call I started to get worried. When are you coming by the gym again?”
BoolZ; “Oh you know, uh, with touring and all. Hey why don’t we get out of the parking lot. I’ll give ya a tour, we can watch ring crew set up the arena.”
Quinn; “Or we can go to your locker room?”
BoolZ; “Uhm, yeah, lets go.”
(The scene fades out as BoolZ, Conni, and Quinn walk towards the arena.)
(Our scene opens inside what is clearly a franchise gym facility. The tiled floors and spiked hair shine with fresh coats of product. The chrome finished free weights and bleached teeth sparkle under the fluorescent lighting. Sweat pours out, money pours in, and clearly there is nothing more important in the world than cutting that last extra .5% of body fat. Egos and muscle flex, spandex and tendons stretch, and vision and reality blur.
We look past the enormous body builders. We look past the formerly pregnant trying to lose the excess baby weight. We look past the yoga class on the other side of a glass wall. We look past the yoga class on the other side of a glass wall. We can’t look past the yoga class on the other side of the glass wall until we’ve scanned each and every women, and observed the ‘downward facing dog’ position performed by their mostly 34DD bodies.
Finally taking our own attention back from the 34DDs we return to gym and our tour. We glance past a pair of jacked up meat orange meatheads posing their mountains of muscle. We almost miss her. Her natural looking tan over shadowed by the brutes store bought spray. Her 34DDs almost dwarfed by the gas heads 46” chest. Her light almost snuffed out by the mental voids standing before her. Her blue eyes twinkle however as she smiles politely, and looks through the two empty spaces fixated on her 34DDs.
Curiously we turn our own fixated view from her 34DDs, and turn to see what has her so enthralled. Over across the room we see what just makes sense. Running on a treadmill in a pair of black basketball shorts we see BoolZ. Sweat pouring from both him and his Red Bull stationed in the water bottle sized cup holder. His lungs burn with every breath, and every puff of the cigarette dangling in his lips. Noticing the 34DDs fixated on his waist he can’t help but mockingly pose for the woman which received the desired smirk before the undesired attention of her current companionship.)
??; “She’s only staring at that title belt.”
(Taking in more the surroundings we notice flanked on RBI’s right side jogs Chris Austin. He’s matching BoolZ’s pace, but not the pain that comes with running while smoking. On his left side Conni, Randy’s American Red Nosed Pitbull companion, happily trots down his conveyer panting as he chases a chew tow tied to the hand rail.)
Austin: “And what gives. I was under the impression you didn’t really care about that Hardcore title. Now you’re wearing it during your workouts?”
(Finishing his Red Bull and sliding his cigarette into the empty can smoke bellows from his mouth as he responds while trying to keep his breath.)
BoolZ; “Eh, I gotta tell ya it was no secret… that I wasn’t exactly thrilled how I came… in possession of the Hardcore championship at Guerilla Warfare. Now though.., well since In Your Hands.., I don’t know it’s just really kinda important to me. I mean coming in last.., beating a man who’s already really wrestled two matches.., and calling yourself any kind of champion… would have just been silly. I think the only thing worse would be… having a pair of jealous jackasses take out your opponents, still having to hit your finisher..., and then hold up the title in celebration like you did something monumental.
But now after In Your Hands… I really feel like a champion. It finally really feels… like I deserve this title. I mean… there wasn’t any weird… interference. There didn’t have to… be some new stable or alliance, or over dramatized plot. There didn’t have to… be some screwed up kind of… running joke. Just me and you.., the only other man to hold… this title.., no excuses.., just a pinfall.”
(Done trying to talk BoolZ reaches up to the ledge where magazines or MP3 players are supposed to go. He takes a new cigarette from his now empty pack, reaches for his Zippo, and a flick and a pop later inhales the sweet, sweet, smoke. BoolZ crushes the Marlboro Blend 27 box, tosses it onto the treadmill in front of Conni, and watches at the puppy goes ballistic. First trying to run faster to catch the not moving piece of garbage, then trying to snap at the cardboard box as it passes under him, and finally stumbling and falling off the treadmill tripping a passerby in the process.)
Austin; “Yeah I guess.”
BoolZ; “So you sure… you don’t want… another shot?”
Austin; “Oh yeah I’m sure. I’ve moved on, and give it time you’ll do the same. You’ll find that yeah being the Hardcore champion is pretty fucking awesome, but you’ll only always be looked at as the Hardcore champion. Motherfucker I didn’t lose for like three months. Then I lose that belt, and damn near everyone but me at least gets a chance to earn a Global Heavyweight Title match. That belt is a hell of an accomplishment, but don’t let it trap you BoolZy.”
BoolZ; “I’ll… drink to… that.”
(Seemingly from out of no where BoolZ produces a new can of Red Bull, a crack and a pop later, and he’s struggling to remove the cigarette from his mouth and bring the Red Bull to his lips. Finally as the 34DDs from across the room look on in amazement a tall fit man walks to the treadmills wearing a uniformed t-shirt and white shorts.)
Employee; “Mr. Boolzian we’re trying to be accommodating here. We allowed you to bring the dog into the building, we dealt with the complaints we received after your display in the showers with the yoga girl, we tried to turn a blind eye to your first cigarette, but now your puppy is posing a hazard. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to take your dog outside, or leave all together.”
(Pressing a button on the computerized display the treadmill slows to a stop as the Red Bull Icon rides it to the floor. Placing his hands on his knees he tries to catch his breath as Austin continues his run watching on.)
BoolZ; “Fine, fine… I’ll leave. Yeah I guess you’ve been… most accommodating. I mean I probably would have thrown me out as… soon as I was told to go clean up Patricia’s, uhm, ‘chili’.”
Austin; “Dude, again?”
BoolZ; “Hey, I can’t help myself sometimes. Any way the 34DDs over there, you want?”
Austin; “Nah, I’ve moved on. I do my conquering in the ring now. She’s all yours.”
BoolZ; “Hell she was always all mine.”
Austin; “Yeah, if you say so.”
(The scene fades out as BoolZ confidently strolls to the women pushing past the two overly inflated buffoons in front of her. We can’t hear what’s being said, but we watch as BoolZ escorts the 34DD’ed framed from the lobby with Conni in tow.)
-Wednesday 03:00-
(It’s pitch black dark save for an orange dot floating in the distance. As it nears the dot flares showing the shadow cloaked vision of BoolZ’s face. He quickly passes us, opens what sounds like a door, and light engulfs the room. We’re in a hotel room clearly. Face down on the bed lays the perfectly tanned body of the latest of BoolZ’s trophies.)
BoolZ(whispered); “Conni, come on.”
(The scratching of Conni’s paws are louder than BoolZ would have liked as once his puppy is through the door he quickly closes it and makes his escape. The last image from the room is of a white lacy bra on the floor. The tag simply reads 34DD.)
-Thursday 14:30-
(Our scene reopens this time in the brightly lit lobby of what appears to be a nursing home. The patients though all mostly young, or at least not senior citizens. We see BoolZ leaning on the counter smiling, drinking a Red Bull, Conni at his side, and a brunette clerk on the other side. Her hair cut short to match her unpainted fingernails. Her smile masking a sudden but obvious fright. Her face covered by the shadow cast by the third member of the group as he approaches.)
??; “Mr. Boolzian, what is this about?”
(Turning we with BoolZ see Perla wearing a white lab coat and a scowl befitting ominous intents.)
BoolZ; “Perla, how ya been?”
Perla; “Stop with the pleasantries, BoolZ what is this about? Rachel tells me you’re hear to see Savana.”
(Taking his flip-top box of smokes from his pocket with is Zippo, a flick and a clack later, and he exhales a plume of white smoke.)
BoolZ; “Yeah, well we got this tag match coming up this week, and just wanted to touch base with my forced partner.”
Perla; “You can’t smoke in here. This is a hospital.”
BoolZ; “Yeah, for crazies. Just tell them the imagined it all, up their meds or something, and problems solved. Now about Savana. What room’s in?”
Perla; “You can’t see Savana.”
BoolZ; “Why not?”
Perla; “Savana is in a very delicate place right now, and any disrupt… is that a dog? You can’t bring a dog into a hospital!”
BoolZ; “Didn’t we just have this conversation? Up their meds or shock them a little more or something. Problems solved. And why can’t I see Savana?”
Perla; “Why do you need to see Savana?”
BoolZ; “You know when I pinned him to get the Hardcore title I looked into his eyes. Then last week when I was calling his match I did it again. Now maybe it was Aragato’s foul breath screwing with my vision, maybe it’s the fact that someone done shot and killed Doctor, but they were different. I need to know when we face that fat Asian ox head who does flips, Gabby’s third boob, that kid who’s so consumed with doing what ever it takes not to lose that he’s willing to forget that his mothers murder is still on the loose, Prescott’s old boy that he’s trying to flush like some giant red used tampon, and Prescott’s new TWiSTeD lying little bitch that I can trust him.
That last one really kinda stings you know. I remember watching the TWiSTeD Fight Club as a kid, and being in aw of Travis Roberts. When I heard he hired on with the GIW like the same week as I did, I was ecstatic, and then boom my first match and it’s a tag match with the ‘Headliner’! Then it all went to pot. He was ‘forced’ to be Cara’s hired gun, he was going to lead a revolution against a dead un-oppressive group, and boom truth be told he’s been scheming from the start on how to politic his way back to the top.
I need to know that while I’m watching Savana's back he’s not going to stab me in mine. I need to know that he’s not going to get fixated on my shiny Hardcore championship, start drooling on himself, and start flinging poo like a crazy little monkey. I need to know that he’s not going to pull out a gun and kill himself as I’m making my way to setting a history. Twelve straight this week you know?”
Perla; “Pull out a gun and kill himself? Cute, what was that a Sean Jensen reference?”
BoolZ; “For old times sake, maybe? Now where is Savana?”
Perla; “BoolZ, let me put your ease your worries. Savana was different two months ago. He was a little lost. Honestly I think as tragic as it was, having Doctor taken from him was the best thing for him. We’ve changed his meds, and now he’s more focused. He’s winning. Relax, we’ll be there at Sentinel, and we’ll continue winning. Including at EI8GHT. Where you will lose. Now if you will, I have other patients to see. Good day Mr. Boolzian.”
(Perla walks away, stunned BoolZ looks down to Conni who has repositioned himself behind the Red Bull Icon, and then turns his gaze back to Rachel who smiles. The two quickly pick up the conversation from before as Perla looks on from the hallway.)
-Saturday 15:50-
(Our scene comes back this time in a huge parking lot. GIW equipment trucks and limousines litter the mostly still empty pavement. Loudly we here the ‘U-Suk’ Mobile roar in past the gate, the breaks screech to a halt over three parking stalls, the MP3 of thousands of fans cheering accompanies the drivers side door as it flings open, BoolZ hops out with the Hardcore title in tow and Conni quickly follows. BoolZ slams the door, turns the key to lock his truck, turns around, and jumps back with a startled look on his face.
Then a look of pleasure as we again see the 34DDs from earlier in the week.)
BoolZ; “Quinn, you scared me. What are you doing here?”
Quinn; “Sorry, well when you didn’t call I started to get worried. When are you coming by the gym again?”
BoolZ; “Oh you know, uh, with touring and all. Hey why don’t we get out of the parking lot. I’ll give ya a tour, we can watch ring crew set up the arena.”
Quinn; “Or we can go to your locker room?”
BoolZ; “Uhm, yeah, lets go.”
(The scene fades out as BoolZ, Conni, and Quinn walk towards the arena.)
