Post by Red Bull Icon on Jul 25, 2009 23:11:11 GMT -5
(Our scene opens in the very wide and crowded corridors of the San Diego International Airport. Busy business men bark into their Blackberries. Sightseers slowly stroll steadily clogging the walkways. Army Privates patiently pass the time waiting for their departure. College co-eds scurry desperately trying to catch their flight. The terminal is packed with wall to wall chaos. Out of the crowd however, through the mass of people, we focus on one.
Randy Boolzian calmly proceeds through the throngs of people. He stands out agilely avoiding the obnoxious overcrowding. Without hesitation or hazard he weaves through the jam up, and enters the bar. We follow as best we can, but it’s a long hard path. When we catch up BoolZ is standing at the counter of an equally full bar with the bartender. A hauntingly beautiful pair of green eyes briefly catches our attention, but only long enough to see them sizing up the Hardcore champion.)
Bartender; “So a double Red Bull and vodka?”
BoolZ; “No, no vodka. Just two Red Bulls.”
Bartender; “You don’t want the vodka?”
BoolZ; “No, just the Red Bull.”
(The bartender, a young man with spiky faux hawk, a popped collar, and a yellow ‘Live Strong’ rubber bracelet on his wrist looks at RBI as if pondering one of life’s great mysteries.)
Bartender; “Uhm, we can just sell the Red Bull.”
(BoolZ a serious almost tired look on his face stares at the young man, looks past the kid, and gazes hopefully at the mini refrigerator stocked with nothing but Red Bull.)
BoolZ; “What are you talking about? You got it right there.”
Bartender; “Yeah, but my register doesn’t have a ‘Red Bull’ button. I wouldn’t know how much to charge you.”
BoolZ; “Why do you have Red Bull if you can’t sell it?”
Bartender; “Dude, why are you in a bar if you only want Red Bull?”
BoolZ; “You gotta be kidding me. Alright how’s this. Charge me for a Red Bull and vodka, heavy on the Red Bull, hold the vodka.”
Bartender; “Aight, yeah I can probably do that. You want ice?”
(The kid takes out a Red Bull from the fridge, and begins shaking it as he reaches for a glass.)
BoolZ; “No, dude, just no. Listen put that one back, grab me two more, and don’t even open the cans. Just put them on the counter.”
Bartender; “Yeah, I can’t do that. You’re already past screening, and you might take the can on board, and use it as a weapon.”
BoolZ; “I might take that can upside your head, and use it as a weapon. Fine, just you don’t shake Red Bull.”
(Opening two fresh cans of Red Bull the bartenders pours them into a tall tumbler glass, slides the Red Bull Icon his drink, and hits one button on the cash register twice.)
Bartender; “That’ll be $12.50.”
BoolZ; “Fine whatever.”
(BoolZ takes out his wallet, pays the tab, and turns around to take in the scenery. We glance back to the pair of eyes, but they dart down towards the table and her cell phone. It doesn’t take long until RBI is drawn to a heavenly figure sitting in the corner by herself. He hadn’t noticed her sitting there before, but she has the most stunning pair of eyes. Even sitting down she is clearly a tall woman, maybe just under six feet. Her ample chest rises and falls with each breath. Never too big, but never too small. Her hair the color of a midnight angel tainted by only the blackest of souls. BoolZ grabs a napkin, and skillfully sets off to her table. He doesn’t notice through the crowd as she glances repeatedly at him before leaving her gaze at the table as he arrives napkin in hand.)
BoolZ; “Mary-Joanna Roberts. I’ve been a huge fan for as long as I can remember, may I please have an autograph.”
(She looks up with the deepest set of green eyes. The smooth soft skin of her cheek bones come to an end at her full delicate lips as they part in just the slightest bit of a smile. She’s just as breathtaking as ever.)
{{And in a flash we’re out of the bar. The television set displays a young Travis Roberts in a ring adorned by the Fight Club graphics. Behind him confidently stands Mary-Joanna looking out over a sea of cheering fans. The view pulls back revealing poster after poster of the biggest stars in wrestling from a decade ago covering the walls of the small bedroom. The desk cluttered with school books and action figures. The couch is old and broken down. The Red Bull Icon is young and naïve. His best friend Ashton McCourt is faithful and honest.
Randy, his hair parted to the side, looks out the window with innocent yet pain filled eyes. He can’t be more than 14, and he can’t wait for it to be over. Ashton, the same age or close, is mesmerized by the television as he watches in awe.}}
Ashton; “Just look at that, wow. That’s going to be us one day.”
Randy; “Yeah she’s hot. Wait, what? Dude, you wanna be a chic? Who are these two?”
Ashton; “Randy, no, that’s Travis and Mary-Joanna Roberts. They got that whole crowd eating outta there hands. It’s awesome the control he has over them.”
Randy; “So you think if you’re a chic you can get people to cheer for you?”
Ashton; “No man.”
Randy; “So if you were Travis Roberts you could get people to cheer for you?”
Ashton; “Damn right, but we’re going to be bigger. See they just got to the Fight Club, and already one of the most over acts they got.”
Randy; “Why, cause of the tits standing behind him?”
Ashton; “No, never mind dude. Just know one day that’s gonna be us.”
Randy; “If you say so champ, but you gotta be the chic.”
{{The frustration grew in Ashton until he couldn’t take anymore.}}
Ashton; “It aint got nothing to do with the chic!”
Randy; “I’m pretty sure it does. Look at her, I’d cheer too if I thought she’d let me skull fuck her till she puked, and then let me jizz in her eye. Oh no dude, I’d stick it up her ass so hard she’d lose control and shit herself!”
Ashton; “The hell? Where do you come up with that shit. I think that might one of the most repulsive things you’ve ever said.”
{{Randy shrugs his shoulders, now completely focused on the woman in the ring.}}
Randy; “Whatever, you dream of being a world champion. I dream about fucking bitches in the ass. What’s more normal?”
Ashton; “Hold on, do you have any idea how much ass you could pull as world champion?”
{{The two boys silent in thought for a second before coming to an agreement.}}
Randy; “Yeah, you’re right. Alright we’ll be bigger than that jackass, or the boner his chic’s given me.”
Ashton; “How is that cool to say, Ran? What the hell! I’m changing the subject. What do you think of that new girl, Maddy.”
Randy; “What new girl? Will she give me a boner?”
Ashton; “Why, why’s it always gotta be about sex?”
Randy; “It keeps people off guard, keeps them from asking any real questions.”
Ashton; “Fair enough. Anyway, she’s in second period with us. Dark hair, blue eyes, decent tits.”
Randy; “It’s not ringing a bell.”
Ashton; “Good, keep it that way ‘cause I saw her first.”
Randy; “What, she could do better than me anyway.”
{{In a flash we’re back in the bar.}}
(Now seated across from Mary-Joanna, BoolZ sits quietly listening a small grin on his face.)
Mary-Joanna; “Oh you’re so cute.”
BoolZ; “Yes I am, thank you. Kinda weird though, no?”
Mary-Joanna; “NO, it’s not. Weird is lying in a bed in a coma for years, only to wake up, and not call your wife that's weird. I did everything I could have done to be a good wife to Travis, and he forgets about me? He’d rather smoke his dope and sleep with his groupies and yell at eD than pick up the phone and ask if I was still alive after two damn years.
But, listen don’t let me ramble on like that. Thanks you really made my day, I didn’t think anyone in this town still remembered me. I’ve got to go meet my attorney in Florida. It was really nice meeting you Randy.”
(She stands up, her long slender perfectly curved legs erupting out from her black mini-skirt, and opens her small leather hand bag.)
BoolZ; “Oh no, thank you. The pleasure was all mine.”
Mary-Joanna; “Not all of it. OH SHIT! I left my money in my suitcase. Do you think they’ll let me run and get it? Oh I hope it’s not already on the plane?”
(BoolZ shakes his head, stands up, and reaches into his pocket producing a small stack of folded bills.)
BoolZ; “No, no, listen this is on me.”
Mary-Joanna; “Oh, are you sure? You so sweet.”
BoolZ; “Yeah, it’s cool. Hell I’m the one that gets to tell everybody else I met Mary-Joanna Roberts.”
Mary-Joanna; “You’re a life saver. Here, take my number. I’ll be back in town next week, give me a call, and I’ll pay you back.”
BoolZ; “It’s alright, don’t worry about.”
Mary-Joanna; “BoolZ I insist.”
(For a second it strikes the Hardcore Champion as odd that she had been calling him Randy for the last hour. Quickly he dismisses the thought as she bends over to pick up a small carry-on sized bag, and leans in for a hug.)
Mary-Joanna; “Now, promise you’ll call me next week when I get back.”
BoolZ; “Yeah, it’s a promise.”
(The scene fades out as BoolZ and Mary-Joanna leave the bar, and head in separate directions towards their respective gates. We follow BoolZ as again he weaves through the crowd looking back occasionally at Mary-Joanna until he can’t see her. We see her look back often until she can tell he can’t see her, and then she leaves the terminal and the airport.
When the scene comes back we are in the first class section of a large British Airways jet. Passengers are still boarding. Businessmen are still battling on their Blackberries, and the stewardesses are assisting those who need assistance. We settle on the view of BoolZ quietly sitting at a window seat, a satisfied smile on his face, and a pair of black cotton panties rubbing between his thumb and knuckle of his index finger.
A loud commotion is heard from the coach section of the plane. Some random shouting about that being my wife. BoolZ turn in to look over the back of his chair hoping for some entertainment, but cannot see from his angle. He does see however a young lady in her early twenties. She’s attractive, or would be if not for miserable look on her face. BoolZ cannot help but watch her. He’s seen that look before. The hurt etched on her face, the love charred in her eyes, and stinging hate that resonates with the anger in her voice. He didn’t notice the toddler sitting next to her at first, but the boys constant fidgetiness, and the mothers reprimand made it all to clear.)
{{In a flash we’re off the plane, and standing in a small well kept living room. It’s quiet, and a little fuzzy, but we see Randy Boolzian. He looked so different as a child. He can’t be more than two, maybe three, standing there in a pair of training pants with a ‘sippy’ cup in his hand. His hair full and dark for a child his age, his eyes full of promise. He looks lost, and then like the unwelcome squelch of this morning alarm clock it all becomes clear.}}
Dad; “Please, don’t be like this. I can’t choose who I love!”
Mom; “You can’t choose? What the fuck is that? You chose me, and after four years you just decide to start sucking dick?!?! Or are you the catcher? Huh, do you like getting fucked in your little faggot ass?”
Dad; “Robin, please.”
Mom; “Please? Please, that’s all you can say? What are you going to tell your son? What about your mom? Jesus Christ you tell me three hours before everyone’s supposed to come over for Randy’s party that you’re leaving me for a man, and he’s coming to the party? Please is all you can say! Just get out, get out, just get the fuck away from me!!”
{{The image goes blurry as BoolZ watches his father walk from the kitchen, and out the front door.}}
Dad; “I love you son, don’t ever forget that.”
{{We turn back to the kitchen a little taller, a little heavier, a few years older and Mom’s a lot drunker. She takes a belt from her bottle, stumbles before catching herself, and then sets back to making Randy his lunch for his first day at school.}}
Randy; “Mom, am I going to like school?”
{{She didn’t know he was there. She had tried so hard to hide him from her habit. She had failed so often before today. She jumps startled, turns to see her son looking on, and explodes.}}
Mom; “God Damnit Randy I told you to stay in your room when Mommy’s like this!”
Randy; “But I’m worried about tommor…”
Mom; “Are you fucking stupid you little bastard? Get the fuck out, go to room, go play in a freeway, or rot in hell just get the fuck away from me!”
{{Her bottle bursts at his feet, his mother on the ground after losing her balance in the throw, tears in his eyes, and we’re greeted by another flash. This time BoolZ still looking like that 6 year old from his mother’s kitchen the day before sits in the cafeteria with his Batman lunch box in front of him. He sits alone, as he’s grown accustomed, and watches as the other kids open their pales. He wonders what his mom made for lunch as he watches bags of chips, sandwiches with the edges cut off, fruit, and smiling faces. He doesn’t notice a class mate taking to the bench beside him. He can’t wait anymore. His stomach is growling. He opens his Batman lunch box knowing his mother loves him, and packed a good lunch that would out class anything these kids could ever dream of. He finds a raw potato, the cap off his mother’s bottle of Jack Daniels, and a pillow top mint from a cheap motel. He shuts his Batman lunch box, leaves it on the table, and stands attempting to leave.}}
Classmate; “Hey I’ll trade you half my sandwich for your potato.”
Randy; “That’s not funny nerd.”
Classmate; “It wasn’t a joke. Hi, I’m Ashton. Would you mind just sitting with me? I don’t want to eat alone.”
{{The sights start to blur again as we take a good close look at Randy’s face. By the time our vision clears up we’re back in the kitchen, Randy’s mother is crying and Ashton’s parents Paul and Bryanah McCourt are kneeling in front of him. Not enough time has gone by to change his appearance much. He’s a little taller, and his mother is a little more broken.}}
Bryanah; “Randy, would you like to stay with Mr. McCourt and I and Ash?”
{{BoolZ looks at his mother. She looks like shit. Her eyes dark and sunken, her skin red and bloated, her hair wild and unkempt. She’s drunk, and killing herself. BoolZ can’t say it, he tries, but the words won’t form. He simply, sheepishly, nods his head and falls into Bree’s waiting arms.}}
Mom; “Fuck you then you ungrateful little shit! After all I’ve done for you now you get to just leave me like your father! You’ll probably end up with some faggot ramming you up the butt just like your fairy father…”
{{The scene goes quiet as his mother continues her verbal assault. Paul, a large man with heavy hands, takes BoolZ by his bruise covered arm and begins to walk him out with Bree in tow.}}
Mom; “Like some kinda fake carnival fake ass professional wrestler mother fuckers are going to love you! Like anyone could ever love you! You know good, I’m glad, just get out, get out, get the fuck away from me!!!”
{{SPARCX can feel Randy’s knees weaken, his will breaking, and picks up the boy. Bree stops, and walks towards the child’s mother. BoolZ see the whole thing, from the pointing, the spitting, and Bree slapping his mother hard enough to knock her to the ground and convince her to stay there.}}
Randy; “She just hit my mom!”
Paul; “Yeah, Redd don’t take to kindly to disrespect.”
Randy; “But you’re not supposed to hit girls.”
SPARCX; “Girls can hit girls.”
Randy; “What’s a professional wrestler?”
Paul; “We’ll teach you, later.”
(We snap back to reality. This time the sounds of the engines, muffled by the insulated cabin, hum like white noise from late night 80’s television. The plane had reached cruising altitude a few hours ago, and the stewardesses are making another round of drink service. BoolZ sits in his seat his eyes heavy. Finally he can’t fight anymore, and they close. For just a couple of seconds before they rip open, and a wide eyes RBI inhales deeply. The nasally high pitch voice of a defeated Blackberry battler grinds and echoes in BoolZ’s ears. The business man closes his magazine to place his order, and the image of a large Oak tree on the cover pierces BoolZ to his very being.)
Business Man; “Can I get a Jack…”
{{We’re thrown back and forced to watch another moment from Randy’s childhood. Older now, growing into a young man, BoolZ sits on a picnic table under the shade of a large Oak tree. He’s joined, as he’s been so many times before, by Ashton. Both maybe 16 years old, and silent. Ashton has his left eye almost swollen shut, a bruise on his right cheek, and his clothes are torn.
BoolZ his knuckles red and raw sits distant holding the inside of his right elbow.}}
Ashton; “Ran, how do you hurt your elbow throwing a fist?”
{{The break in silence catches BoolZ off guard, and forces him back to moment.}}
Ran; “Huh? What are you talking, Ash?”
Ash; “You’re elbow, you’re holding your elbow, I figured you hurt it in the fight.”
Ran; “Oh, yeah I guess. Whatever. I’m surprised you could see that with your eye how it is.”
Ash; “I mean did you just get reckless? My Pop’s always talking about control, gotta learn control, gotta…”
Ran; “Well maybe your Pops outta teach me some control then. While he’s at it he can teach you how not to get beat the fuck up.”
Ash; “Dude, you’ve been extra bitchy these last few months what the hell is your problem lately…”
{{Ash trails off as a young woman with raven like black hair hidden under a worn low baseball hat walks straight at the friends under the Oak tree. She’s made this walk, they’ve watched her make this walk, a thousand times before. Until now it had always been a happy walk.
Before she can say anything we’re taken to a wrestling ring. Ran and Ash square off, lock up, and Ash instantly reverses into a hammerlock before letting go.}}
Ran; “Listen all I’m saying is next time Cynders gets into your shit, knock a tooth out. It’ll be the last time.”
Ash; “Dude, Cynthia is my sister I can’t hit her. Plus she’s my sister, which means she’s a girl. Guys don’t hit girls. Like my Pops keeps saying women are angels, hit one and go straight to hell.”
Ran; “Yeah well SPARCX also says anything that’s true outside the ring, probably aint true inside the ring. So get her in the ring first.”
Ash; “You don’t hit girls, bottom line.”
{{They lock up again this time it’s BoolZ with a take down. He looks down at his friend, but only sees a middle aged man wearing a mechanics shirt lying on the asphalt bleeding from his ear. It’s a quiet surreal scene as he looks to Ash pulling himself up off the ground, his eye already starting the swell. Ash says something to the man as blood steadily drips from Ran’s hand. Together in slow motion they walk from the parking lot, and head straight for home. Straight for the large Oak tree where they’ve shared so many good times.
The young dark haired girl looks deeply into Ash’s swollen eye before surveying Ran’s condition. He’s still holding arm, but other wise seems ok. Without warning she slaps Ash hard across the cheek with the cast on her right forearm.}}
Ash; “Maddy, what the hell?”
Maddy; “You two assholes can’t fix this! These are the cards I was dealt! He’s my father for fucks sake, you two get to go home away from it, I’ve still got to live under his roof! All you two jackasses did was made it worse! You can’t fix this!”
{{She throws her arms up in frustration before realizing she has nothing further to say. She turns and begins to walk away.}}
Ash; “Maddy, wait let me walk you home. Can I walk you home?”
{{As Ash takes the first few steps towards her she turns facing them both.}}
Maddy; “It’s a free country, just don’t expect me to talk… And thank you both.”
{{Ash and Maddy walk off as they’ve done so many times. They don’t see, no one ever saw, Ran pull out a syringe, a spoon, a lighter, and take off his belt. All the while holding the inside of his right arm.}}
… and coke.”
(That grating voice forces us back to the here and now. The stewardess writes down the order, the business man re-opens his magazine, and BoolZ eyes try to shut again.)
Stewardess; “Would you care for a drink, sir?”
(Short, slender, blond, with a small rack she looks like countless previous conquests. BoolZ tries again.)
BoolZ; “I would kill for a Red Bull.”
Stewardess; “I’m sorry sir, but we still don’t stock energy drinks.”
BoolZ; “Can’t blame me for trying.”
Stewardess; “Oh I know, and believe me. I do a few of these Tran-Atlantic flights a week, and I always hit that wall. I wish I was allowed to carry something that would pick me up.”
BoolZ; “You have no idea. I think I’m alright though.”
Stewardess; “Well if you need anything just let me know.”
(The stewardess walks off down the aisle continuing to take and fill orders from her cart. BoolZ watches her small firm rear sway back and forth down the aisle. Captivating as his eyes begin to again force themselves shut.)
{{We watch as Maddy demands and gets one last picture of the three of them before she heads overseas for school. We watch through shaking eyes as we grab Ashton’s key ring from his finger. We watch as we run on unsure legs to our best friend’s car. We watch as the flash from her camera captures the last time they’d ever be together. They were supposed to get married, BoolZ was supposed to be the best man. We watch as Ash hops into the passenger side seat of his convertible, and engine roars a warning to clear the way.}}
Ash; “To the TWiSTeD Fight Club, mother fucker!”
{{We’re forced to watch as our foot slides in the wet grass while the tires kick up the sod. God that seat belt was tight. We watch the worried faces in the hospital room turn to relief. Gary, his father’s tall older black boyfriend, is there with Dad. Tina, his mother’s Asian AA sponsor of a decade and girlfriend for the last seven years, is there with Mom. Paul and Bryanah McCourt, SPARCX and Redd the parents of our best friend, are there. Maddy, the only woman he ever cared for. His first and most shameful trophy is there and looks more relieved than anyone.}}
BoolZ; “Where’s Ash?”
(His eyes again peel back suddenly revealing the bloodshot whites and dilated pupils. He inhales deeply almost cursing the very breath. He’s unaware, but the stewardess thinks he’s staring. She smiles flirtatiously which almost doesn’t register in his muddled brain.
Almost as if sleepwalking BoolZ is standing behind the stewardess as she restocks her cart. He’s not really sure how he got from his seat.)
BoolZ; “You know, if you really need that ‘pick me up’ I might be able to help.”
(He’s not really sure, but this is probably the airplane restroom, and that is definitely the blonde stewardess. He pulls down her pink satin panties, he’s collected a hundred pairs just like them.)
{{His eyes are playing tricks. The moment, his favorite moment, when he enters the stewardess looks just like a young Maddy.}}
Maddy; “Aw, oh, fuck it hurts.”
{{He finds his rhythm, he finds her spot, just as he’s done thousands of times before, and just as it has a thousand times before the barrage of images find him. He’s flooded with the sights of pitch black hotel rooms being obliterated by the hallway light flooding in over the bed with that nights toy face down and out. The rapid fire still frames each of their faces flash before his eyes. All failing to live up to Maddy.}}
Mary-Joanna; “AW… YEAH… FUCK GIVE IT TO ME!!! FUCK!!”
{{Like a thousand times before he feels them tighten. For a thousandth time he feels them start to shake. One more time he hears them plead, and it brings him back.}}
Stewardess; “aw, oh shit, slower, not so hard, fuck…”
(Our scene fades out as BoolZ pulls up his pants, and walks out with his souvenir in hand, fully alive and hating every second, allowing her to gather herself. When we come back the plane has landed and we watch as BoolZ waits his luggage at baggage claim. Most from the flight can’t help but stare knowing his actions. Only one comments.)
Young man; “Dude, I knew you were BoolZ.”
BoolZ; “Good, tell Prescott so he stops with the ‘not getting the name out there’ bullshit will ya?”
Young man; “Hey I gotta ask. How can you be so mean to Chinatsu? You really think she isn’t worth the time. She isn’t ‘ready’?”
(BoolZ shakes his out of annoyance or fatigue or pity.)
BoolZ; “Do I think she is ready? She might have been. Until she let me in her head, and allowed me to convince her I don’t think she is. Listen those Chen’s are nothing but fighters. For generations that’s all that family’s done. Don’t think I didn’t hear about her supposedly dropping Komosube to his knee. Don’t think I don’t know what she’s capable of, and don’t think I’m underestimating her. Problem is all that Chen pride is nothing but a liability. Watch, at Distant Whispers she’s going to do something stupid to ‘prove’ she’s up for the challenge. Something ridiculous like waiting for me to put down Brown, then laying on him for three seconds, and using that to justify why she’s ready. She never had a chance.”
(From out of view)
Voice; “Mr. Boolzian, Mr. Boolzian, we need to have a few words with you Mr. Boolzian.”
(BoolZ and the young man both turn to see a pair of women wearing some kind of police uniform. The young man slowly backs away, and BoolZ looks them both up and down.)
{{Memories of the day BoolZ landing at Los Angeles International Airport still fresh in his mind. Memories of Clair McCain the customs agent BoolZ plowed not more than an hour after returning to America flood into his head. She liked to be spanked, and have her hair pulled.}}
BoolZ; “What'd I do?”
Agent; “We’re not sure. We’d just like to have a few words with you about something you might or might not have seen. Will you come with us?”
BoolZ; “Gladly. Hey do either of you know where I can get a Red Bull?”
Agent; “There’s a gift shop on the way. You can stop there.”
BoolZ; “Great, you lead I’ll follow.”
(Our scene ends with BoolZ being led away from baggage claim by one officer and followed by the other.)
Randy Boolzian calmly proceeds through the throngs of people. He stands out agilely avoiding the obnoxious overcrowding. Without hesitation or hazard he weaves through the jam up, and enters the bar. We follow as best we can, but it’s a long hard path. When we catch up BoolZ is standing at the counter of an equally full bar with the bartender. A hauntingly beautiful pair of green eyes briefly catches our attention, but only long enough to see them sizing up the Hardcore champion.)
Bartender; “So a double Red Bull and vodka?”
BoolZ; “No, no vodka. Just two Red Bulls.”
Bartender; “You don’t want the vodka?”
BoolZ; “No, just the Red Bull.”
(The bartender, a young man with spiky faux hawk, a popped collar, and a yellow ‘Live Strong’ rubber bracelet on his wrist looks at RBI as if pondering one of life’s great mysteries.)
Bartender; “Uhm, we can just sell the Red Bull.”
(BoolZ a serious almost tired look on his face stares at the young man, looks past the kid, and gazes hopefully at the mini refrigerator stocked with nothing but Red Bull.)
BoolZ; “What are you talking about? You got it right there.”
Bartender; “Yeah, but my register doesn’t have a ‘Red Bull’ button. I wouldn’t know how much to charge you.”
BoolZ; “Why do you have Red Bull if you can’t sell it?”
Bartender; “Dude, why are you in a bar if you only want Red Bull?”
BoolZ; “You gotta be kidding me. Alright how’s this. Charge me for a Red Bull and vodka, heavy on the Red Bull, hold the vodka.”
Bartender; “Aight, yeah I can probably do that. You want ice?”
(The kid takes out a Red Bull from the fridge, and begins shaking it as he reaches for a glass.)
BoolZ; “No, dude, just no. Listen put that one back, grab me two more, and don’t even open the cans. Just put them on the counter.”
Bartender; “Yeah, I can’t do that. You’re already past screening, and you might take the can on board, and use it as a weapon.”
BoolZ; “I might take that can upside your head, and use it as a weapon. Fine, just you don’t shake Red Bull.”
(Opening two fresh cans of Red Bull the bartenders pours them into a tall tumbler glass, slides the Red Bull Icon his drink, and hits one button on the cash register twice.)
Bartender; “That’ll be $12.50.”
BoolZ; “Fine whatever.”
(BoolZ takes out his wallet, pays the tab, and turns around to take in the scenery. We glance back to the pair of eyes, but they dart down towards the table and her cell phone. It doesn’t take long until RBI is drawn to a heavenly figure sitting in the corner by herself. He hadn’t noticed her sitting there before, but she has the most stunning pair of eyes. Even sitting down she is clearly a tall woman, maybe just under six feet. Her ample chest rises and falls with each breath. Never too big, but never too small. Her hair the color of a midnight angel tainted by only the blackest of souls. BoolZ grabs a napkin, and skillfully sets off to her table. He doesn’t notice through the crowd as she glances repeatedly at him before leaving her gaze at the table as he arrives napkin in hand.)
BoolZ; “Mary-Joanna Roberts. I’ve been a huge fan for as long as I can remember, may I please have an autograph.”
(She looks up with the deepest set of green eyes. The smooth soft skin of her cheek bones come to an end at her full delicate lips as they part in just the slightest bit of a smile. She’s just as breathtaking as ever.)
{{And in a flash we’re out of the bar. The television set displays a young Travis Roberts in a ring adorned by the Fight Club graphics. Behind him confidently stands Mary-Joanna looking out over a sea of cheering fans. The view pulls back revealing poster after poster of the biggest stars in wrestling from a decade ago covering the walls of the small bedroom. The desk cluttered with school books and action figures. The couch is old and broken down. The Red Bull Icon is young and naïve. His best friend Ashton McCourt is faithful and honest.
Randy, his hair parted to the side, looks out the window with innocent yet pain filled eyes. He can’t be more than 14, and he can’t wait for it to be over. Ashton, the same age or close, is mesmerized by the television as he watches in awe.}}
Ashton; “Just look at that, wow. That’s going to be us one day.”
Randy; “Yeah she’s hot. Wait, what? Dude, you wanna be a chic? Who are these two?”
Ashton; “Randy, no, that’s Travis and Mary-Joanna Roberts. They got that whole crowd eating outta there hands. It’s awesome the control he has over them.”
Randy; “So you think if you’re a chic you can get people to cheer for you?”
Ashton; “No man.”
Randy; “So if you were Travis Roberts you could get people to cheer for you?”
Ashton; “Damn right, but we’re going to be bigger. See they just got to the Fight Club, and already one of the most over acts they got.”
Randy; “Why, cause of the tits standing behind him?”
Ashton; “No, never mind dude. Just know one day that’s gonna be us.”
Randy; “If you say so champ, but you gotta be the chic.”
{{The frustration grew in Ashton until he couldn’t take anymore.}}
Ashton; “It aint got nothing to do with the chic!”
Randy; “I’m pretty sure it does. Look at her, I’d cheer too if I thought she’d let me skull fuck her till she puked, and then let me jizz in her eye. Oh no dude, I’d stick it up her ass so hard she’d lose control and shit herself!”
Ashton; “The hell? Where do you come up with that shit. I think that might one of the most repulsive things you’ve ever said.”
{{Randy shrugs his shoulders, now completely focused on the woman in the ring.}}
Randy; “Whatever, you dream of being a world champion. I dream about fucking bitches in the ass. What’s more normal?”
Ashton; “Hold on, do you have any idea how much ass you could pull as world champion?”
{{The two boys silent in thought for a second before coming to an agreement.}}
Randy; “Yeah, you’re right. Alright we’ll be bigger than that jackass, or the boner his chic’s given me.”
Ashton; “How is that cool to say, Ran? What the hell! I’m changing the subject. What do you think of that new girl, Maddy.”
Randy; “What new girl? Will she give me a boner?”
Ashton; “Why, why’s it always gotta be about sex?”
Randy; “It keeps people off guard, keeps them from asking any real questions.”
Ashton; “Fair enough. Anyway, she’s in second period with us. Dark hair, blue eyes, decent tits.”
Randy; “It’s not ringing a bell.”
Ashton; “Good, keep it that way ‘cause I saw her first.”
Randy; “What, she could do better than me anyway.”
{{In a flash we’re back in the bar.}}
(Now seated across from Mary-Joanna, BoolZ sits quietly listening a small grin on his face.)
Mary-Joanna; “Oh you’re so cute.”
BoolZ; “Yes I am, thank you. Kinda weird though, no?”
Mary-Joanna; “NO, it’s not. Weird is lying in a bed in a coma for years, only to wake up, and not call your wife that's weird. I did everything I could have done to be a good wife to Travis, and he forgets about me? He’d rather smoke his dope and sleep with his groupies and yell at eD than pick up the phone and ask if I was still alive after two damn years.
But, listen don’t let me ramble on like that. Thanks you really made my day, I didn’t think anyone in this town still remembered me. I’ve got to go meet my attorney in Florida. It was really nice meeting you Randy.”
(She stands up, her long slender perfectly curved legs erupting out from her black mini-skirt, and opens her small leather hand bag.)
BoolZ; “Oh no, thank you. The pleasure was all mine.”
Mary-Joanna; “Not all of it. OH SHIT! I left my money in my suitcase. Do you think they’ll let me run and get it? Oh I hope it’s not already on the plane?”
(BoolZ shakes his head, stands up, and reaches into his pocket producing a small stack of folded bills.)
BoolZ; “No, no, listen this is on me.”
Mary-Joanna; “Oh, are you sure? You so sweet.”
BoolZ; “Yeah, it’s cool. Hell I’m the one that gets to tell everybody else I met Mary-Joanna Roberts.”
Mary-Joanna; “You’re a life saver. Here, take my number. I’ll be back in town next week, give me a call, and I’ll pay you back.”
BoolZ; “It’s alright, don’t worry about.”
Mary-Joanna; “BoolZ I insist.”
(For a second it strikes the Hardcore Champion as odd that she had been calling him Randy for the last hour. Quickly he dismisses the thought as she bends over to pick up a small carry-on sized bag, and leans in for a hug.)
Mary-Joanna; “Now, promise you’ll call me next week when I get back.”
BoolZ; “Yeah, it’s a promise.”
(The scene fades out as BoolZ and Mary-Joanna leave the bar, and head in separate directions towards their respective gates. We follow BoolZ as again he weaves through the crowd looking back occasionally at Mary-Joanna until he can’t see her. We see her look back often until she can tell he can’t see her, and then she leaves the terminal and the airport.
When the scene comes back we are in the first class section of a large British Airways jet. Passengers are still boarding. Businessmen are still battling on their Blackberries, and the stewardesses are assisting those who need assistance. We settle on the view of BoolZ quietly sitting at a window seat, a satisfied smile on his face, and a pair of black cotton panties rubbing between his thumb and knuckle of his index finger.
A loud commotion is heard from the coach section of the plane. Some random shouting about that being my wife. BoolZ turn in to look over the back of his chair hoping for some entertainment, but cannot see from his angle. He does see however a young lady in her early twenties. She’s attractive, or would be if not for miserable look on her face. BoolZ cannot help but watch her. He’s seen that look before. The hurt etched on her face, the love charred in her eyes, and stinging hate that resonates with the anger in her voice. He didn’t notice the toddler sitting next to her at first, but the boys constant fidgetiness, and the mothers reprimand made it all to clear.)
{{In a flash we’re off the plane, and standing in a small well kept living room. It’s quiet, and a little fuzzy, but we see Randy Boolzian. He looked so different as a child. He can’t be more than two, maybe three, standing there in a pair of training pants with a ‘sippy’ cup in his hand. His hair full and dark for a child his age, his eyes full of promise. He looks lost, and then like the unwelcome squelch of this morning alarm clock it all becomes clear.}}
Dad; “Please, don’t be like this. I can’t choose who I love!”
Mom; “You can’t choose? What the fuck is that? You chose me, and after four years you just decide to start sucking dick?!?! Or are you the catcher? Huh, do you like getting fucked in your little faggot ass?”
Dad; “Robin, please.”
Mom; “Please? Please, that’s all you can say? What are you going to tell your son? What about your mom? Jesus Christ you tell me three hours before everyone’s supposed to come over for Randy’s party that you’re leaving me for a man, and he’s coming to the party? Please is all you can say! Just get out, get out, just get the fuck away from me!!”
{{The image goes blurry as BoolZ watches his father walk from the kitchen, and out the front door.}}
Dad; “I love you son, don’t ever forget that.”
{{We turn back to the kitchen a little taller, a little heavier, a few years older and Mom’s a lot drunker. She takes a belt from her bottle, stumbles before catching herself, and then sets back to making Randy his lunch for his first day at school.}}
Randy; “Mom, am I going to like school?”
{{She didn’t know he was there. She had tried so hard to hide him from her habit. She had failed so often before today. She jumps startled, turns to see her son looking on, and explodes.}}
Mom; “God Damnit Randy I told you to stay in your room when Mommy’s like this!”
Randy; “But I’m worried about tommor…”
Mom; “Are you fucking stupid you little bastard? Get the fuck out, go to room, go play in a freeway, or rot in hell just get the fuck away from me!”
{{Her bottle bursts at his feet, his mother on the ground after losing her balance in the throw, tears in his eyes, and we’re greeted by another flash. This time BoolZ still looking like that 6 year old from his mother’s kitchen the day before sits in the cafeteria with his Batman lunch box in front of him. He sits alone, as he’s grown accustomed, and watches as the other kids open their pales. He wonders what his mom made for lunch as he watches bags of chips, sandwiches with the edges cut off, fruit, and smiling faces. He doesn’t notice a class mate taking to the bench beside him. He can’t wait anymore. His stomach is growling. He opens his Batman lunch box knowing his mother loves him, and packed a good lunch that would out class anything these kids could ever dream of. He finds a raw potato, the cap off his mother’s bottle of Jack Daniels, and a pillow top mint from a cheap motel. He shuts his Batman lunch box, leaves it on the table, and stands attempting to leave.}}
Classmate; “Hey I’ll trade you half my sandwich for your potato.”
Randy; “That’s not funny nerd.”
Classmate; “It wasn’t a joke. Hi, I’m Ashton. Would you mind just sitting with me? I don’t want to eat alone.”
{{The sights start to blur again as we take a good close look at Randy’s face. By the time our vision clears up we’re back in the kitchen, Randy’s mother is crying and Ashton’s parents Paul and Bryanah McCourt are kneeling in front of him. Not enough time has gone by to change his appearance much. He’s a little taller, and his mother is a little more broken.}}
Bryanah; “Randy, would you like to stay with Mr. McCourt and I and Ash?”
{{BoolZ looks at his mother. She looks like shit. Her eyes dark and sunken, her skin red and bloated, her hair wild and unkempt. She’s drunk, and killing herself. BoolZ can’t say it, he tries, but the words won’t form. He simply, sheepishly, nods his head and falls into Bree’s waiting arms.}}
Mom; “Fuck you then you ungrateful little shit! After all I’ve done for you now you get to just leave me like your father! You’ll probably end up with some faggot ramming you up the butt just like your fairy father…”
{{The scene goes quiet as his mother continues her verbal assault. Paul, a large man with heavy hands, takes BoolZ by his bruise covered arm and begins to walk him out with Bree in tow.}}
Mom; “Like some kinda fake carnival fake ass professional wrestler mother fuckers are going to love you! Like anyone could ever love you! You know good, I’m glad, just get out, get out, get the fuck away from me!!!”
{{SPARCX can feel Randy’s knees weaken, his will breaking, and picks up the boy. Bree stops, and walks towards the child’s mother. BoolZ see the whole thing, from the pointing, the spitting, and Bree slapping his mother hard enough to knock her to the ground and convince her to stay there.}}
Randy; “She just hit my mom!”
Paul; “Yeah, Redd don’t take to kindly to disrespect.”
Randy; “But you’re not supposed to hit girls.”
SPARCX; “Girls can hit girls.”
Randy; “What’s a professional wrestler?”
Paul; “We’ll teach you, later.”
(We snap back to reality. This time the sounds of the engines, muffled by the insulated cabin, hum like white noise from late night 80’s television. The plane had reached cruising altitude a few hours ago, and the stewardesses are making another round of drink service. BoolZ sits in his seat his eyes heavy. Finally he can’t fight anymore, and they close. For just a couple of seconds before they rip open, and a wide eyes RBI inhales deeply. The nasally high pitch voice of a defeated Blackberry battler grinds and echoes in BoolZ’s ears. The business man closes his magazine to place his order, and the image of a large Oak tree on the cover pierces BoolZ to his very being.)
Business Man; “Can I get a Jack…”
{{We’re thrown back and forced to watch another moment from Randy’s childhood. Older now, growing into a young man, BoolZ sits on a picnic table under the shade of a large Oak tree. He’s joined, as he’s been so many times before, by Ashton. Both maybe 16 years old, and silent. Ashton has his left eye almost swollen shut, a bruise on his right cheek, and his clothes are torn.
BoolZ his knuckles red and raw sits distant holding the inside of his right elbow.}}
Ashton; “Ran, how do you hurt your elbow throwing a fist?”
{{The break in silence catches BoolZ off guard, and forces him back to moment.}}
Ran; “Huh? What are you talking, Ash?”
Ash; “You’re elbow, you’re holding your elbow, I figured you hurt it in the fight.”
Ran; “Oh, yeah I guess. Whatever. I’m surprised you could see that with your eye how it is.”
Ash; “I mean did you just get reckless? My Pop’s always talking about control, gotta learn control, gotta…”
Ran; “Well maybe your Pops outta teach me some control then. While he’s at it he can teach you how not to get beat the fuck up.”
Ash; “Dude, you’ve been extra bitchy these last few months what the hell is your problem lately…”
{{Ash trails off as a young woman with raven like black hair hidden under a worn low baseball hat walks straight at the friends under the Oak tree. She’s made this walk, they’ve watched her make this walk, a thousand times before. Until now it had always been a happy walk.
Before she can say anything we’re taken to a wrestling ring. Ran and Ash square off, lock up, and Ash instantly reverses into a hammerlock before letting go.}}
Ran; “Listen all I’m saying is next time Cynders gets into your shit, knock a tooth out. It’ll be the last time.”
Ash; “Dude, Cynthia is my sister I can’t hit her. Plus she’s my sister, which means she’s a girl. Guys don’t hit girls. Like my Pops keeps saying women are angels, hit one and go straight to hell.”
Ran; “Yeah well SPARCX also says anything that’s true outside the ring, probably aint true inside the ring. So get her in the ring first.”
Ash; “You don’t hit girls, bottom line.”
{{They lock up again this time it’s BoolZ with a take down. He looks down at his friend, but only sees a middle aged man wearing a mechanics shirt lying on the asphalt bleeding from his ear. It’s a quiet surreal scene as he looks to Ash pulling himself up off the ground, his eye already starting the swell. Ash says something to the man as blood steadily drips from Ran’s hand. Together in slow motion they walk from the parking lot, and head straight for home. Straight for the large Oak tree where they’ve shared so many good times.
The young dark haired girl looks deeply into Ash’s swollen eye before surveying Ran’s condition. He’s still holding arm, but other wise seems ok. Without warning she slaps Ash hard across the cheek with the cast on her right forearm.}}
Ash; “Maddy, what the hell?”
Maddy; “You two assholes can’t fix this! These are the cards I was dealt! He’s my father for fucks sake, you two get to go home away from it, I’ve still got to live under his roof! All you two jackasses did was made it worse! You can’t fix this!”
{{She throws her arms up in frustration before realizing she has nothing further to say. She turns and begins to walk away.}}
Ash; “Maddy, wait let me walk you home. Can I walk you home?”
{{As Ash takes the first few steps towards her she turns facing them both.}}
Maddy; “It’s a free country, just don’t expect me to talk… And thank you both.”
{{Ash and Maddy walk off as they’ve done so many times. They don’t see, no one ever saw, Ran pull out a syringe, a spoon, a lighter, and take off his belt. All the while holding the inside of his right arm.}}
… and coke.”
(That grating voice forces us back to the here and now. The stewardess writes down the order, the business man re-opens his magazine, and BoolZ eyes try to shut again.)
Stewardess; “Would you care for a drink, sir?”
(Short, slender, blond, with a small rack she looks like countless previous conquests. BoolZ tries again.)
BoolZ; “I would kill for a Red Bull.”
Stewardess; “I’m sorry sir, but we still don’t stock energy drinks.”
BoolZ; “Can’t blame me for trying.”
Stewardess; “Oh I know, and believe me. I do a few of these Tran-Atlantic flights a week, and I always hit that wall. I wish I was allowed to carry something that would pick me up.”
BoolZ; “You have no idea. I think I’m alright though.”
Stewardess; “Well if you need anything just let me know.”
(The stewardess walks off down the aisle continuing to take and fill orders from her cart. BoolZ watches her small firm rear sway back and forth down the aisle. Captivating as his eyes begin to again force themselves shut.)
{{We watch as Maddy demands and gets one last picture of the three of them before she heads overseas for school. We watch through shaking eyes as we grab Ashton’s key ring from his finger. We watch as we run on unsure legs to our best friend’s car. We watch as the flash from her camera captures the last time they’d ever be together. They were supposed to get married, BoolZ was supposed to be the best man. We watch as Ash hops into the passenger side seat of his convertible, and engine roars a warning to clear the way.}}
Ash; “To the TWiSTeD Fight Club, mother fucker!”
{{We’re forced to watch as our foot slides in the wet grass while the tires kick up the sod. God that seat belt was tight. We watch the worried faces in the hospital room turn to relief. Gary, his father’s tall older black boyfriend, is there with Dad. Tina, his mother’s Asian AA sponsor of a decade and girlfriend for the last seven years, is there with Mom. Paul and Bryanah McCourt, SPARCX and Redd the parents of our best friend, are there. Maddy, the only woman he ever cared for. His first and most shameful trophy is there and looks more relieved than anyone.}}
BoolZ; “Where’s Ash?”
(His eyes again peel back suddenly revealing the bloodshot whites and dilated pupils. He inhales deeply almost cursing the very breath. He’s unaware, but the stewardess thinks he’s staring. She smiles flirtatiously which almost doesn’t register in his muddled brain.
Almost as if sleepwalking BoolZ is standing behind the stewardess as she restocks her cart. He’s not really sure how he got from his seat.)
BoolZ; “You know, if you really need that ‘pick me up’ I might be able to help.”
(He’s not really sure, but this is probably the airplane restroom, and that is definitely the blonde stewardess. He pulls down her pink satin panties, he’s collected a hundred pairs just like them.)
{{His eyes are playing tricks. The moment, his favorite moment, when he enters the stewardess looks just like a young Maddy.}}
Maddy; “Aw, oh, fuck it hurts.”
{{He finds his rhythm, he finds her spot, just as he’s done thousands of times before, and just as it has a thousand times before the barrage of images find him. He’s flooded with the sights of pitch black hotel rooms being obliterated by the hallway light flooding in over the bed with that nights toy face down and out. The rapid fire still frames each of their faces flash before his eyes. All failing to live up to Maddy.}}
Mary-Joanna; “AW… YEAH… FUCK GIVE IT TO ME!!! FUCK!!”
{{Like a thousand times before he feels them tighten. For a thousandth time he feels them start to shake. One more time he hears them plead, and it brings him back.}}
Stewardess; “aw, oh shit, slower, not so hard, fuck…”
(Our scene fades out as BoolZ pulls up his pants, and walks out with his souvenir in hand, fully alive and hating every second, allowing her to gather herself. When we come back the plane has landed and we watch as BoolZ waits his luggage at baggage claim. Most from the flight can’t help but stare knowing his actions. Only one comments.)
Young man; “Dude, I knew you were BoolZ.”
BoolZ; “Good, tell Prescott so he stops with the ‘not getting the name out there’ bullshit will ya?”
Young man; “Hey I gotta ask. How can you be so mean to Chinatsu? You really think she isn’t worth the time. She isn’t ‘ready’?”
(BoolZ shakes his out of annoyance or fatigue or pity.)
BoolZ; “Do I think she is ready? She might have been. Until she let me in her head, and allowed me to convince her I don’t think she is. Listen those Chen’s are nothing but fighters. For generations that’s all that family’s done. Don’t think I didn’t hear about her supposedly dropping Komosube to his knee. Don’t think I don’t know what she’s capable of, and don’t think I’m underestimating her. Problem is all that Chen pride is nothing but a liability. Watch, at Distant Whispers she’s going to do something stupid to ‘prove’ she’s up for the challenge. Something ridiculous like waiting for me to put down Brown, then laying on him for three seconds, and using that to justify why she’s ready. She never had a chance.”
(From out of view)
Voice; “Mr. Boolzian, Mr. Boolzian, we need to have a few words with you Mr. Boolzian.”
(BoolZ and the young man both turn to see a pair of women wearing some kind of police uniform. The young man slowly backs away, and BoolZ looks them both up and down.)
{{Memories of the day BoolZ landing at Los Angeles International Airport still fresh in his mind. Memories of Clair McCain the customs agent BoolZ plowed not more than an hour after returning to America flood into his head. She liked to be spanked, and have her hair pulled.}}
BoolZ; “What'd I do?”
Agent; “We’re not sure. We’d just like to have a few words with you about something you might or might not have seen. Will you come with us?”
BoolZ; “Gladly. Hey do either of you know where I can get a Red Bull?”
Agent; “There’s a gift shop on the way. You can stop there.”
BoolZ; “Great, you lead I’ll follow.”
(Our scene ends with BoolZ being led away from baggage claim by one officer and followed by the other.)
