Post by Red Bull Icon on Jul 25, 2009 23:22:39 GMT -5
(Our scene opens to a view of nothing but sterile white small square tiles. The brown rusty looking grout surrounding, securing, the tiles can only be cleaned so much, and despite the strong odor of bleach we’re sure we see small spots of blood. Then a large drop of a blood falls to the floor splattering in the most magnificent pattern. It’s a heart or a vagina. Maybe it’s a crown, a setting sun, or maybe a bullet hole. It’s hard to see with one eye swollen shut. It’s even harder to care, or try to decipher our muddled thoughts.
The moment is broken none the less. We shift the angle of our good eye from the floor, and between us and the blue and black kick pads dangling free over the table is a hand resting between our knees. How’d that get there? We watch as a second, or hundredth who can tell, drop pools at our finger tips before falling to the ground. It is fresh baked cookies straight out of grandma’s kitchen. We hate walnuts.
We follow the steady stream of life running down our arm. We follow it up past the sweaty red and brown wrist tape. We watch as the river overcomes the tight black elbow pad on our right arm. We watch as the fissure in our shoulder bubbles forth the Type AB Negative. What a wonderful waste. What a fantastic fall.)
Mary-Joanna; “You fucking lied to MJ!”
(Truly it was a hell of an impact. He didn’t hear her enter. We didn’t notice as the scene became sketchy, and we don’t care that we’re now standing against the far wall next to the coffee pot and a dish of butter of all things. We look on as BoolZ slowly inhales the best he can with his abdomen in the shape it is, and without moving looks at the Mary-Joanna Roberts from the examination table of Dr. Professor.)
BoolZ; “I lied to who?”
(She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t halt. She doesn’t hold her hand. He doesn’t flinch. She slaps him again.)
Mary-Joanna; “Just cut the shit Randy! You lied to Mary-Jo. You told the TWiSTeD Heiress you were going to go out there and win. Nothing more! MJ had to sit in your locker room and watch as you tried to cripple Travis. You promised Mary-Joanna that you weren’t going to try to hurt anyone. You promised you weren’t going to try to cripple MJ’s husband!”
(It was a hell of an impact. That crowbar was heavy, but it was worth it just to glimpse at the parting skull of The Blessed One. We watch another drop falls from RBI’s hand. We watch as the look that can only be described as afterglow creeps out from behind his eyes.)
BoolZ; “MJ, crippling Travis is winning. If you’ve somehow lost your stomach for what we’re doing than maybe now is a good time for you…”
(It was so calm before she entered. Then boom like a sledge hammer to the face she’s furious then panicked.)
Mary-Joanna; “No, maybe now is a good time for you to just be honest. I don’t lose my stomach.”
BoolZ; “Me? I thought you were enjoying our lie. You know, I play nice and innocent, you play the ‘pure’ victim, we fuck like animals, and in the end for whatever reason we try to punish Travis Roberts.”
(A silence falls over the room. Like the sudden rush or stop you would expect at the end of a huge fall through the entrance ramp. An eerie violent calm soothes the tension. We watch as again without moving BoolZ turns his attention back to the little red and white tiles. We watch as MJ squints and bites her bottom lip. We watch as she runs her slender delicate fingers through her raven hair. Her green eyes swell with glassy turbulence.)
Mary-Joanna; “Maybe it is a good time for MJ to leave after all.”
BoolZ; “Oh, don’t cry. Hey, at least we’ll always have our whorish little lie right?”
(The first tear rolls from her chin and falls to the floor with a spectacular splash. What an incredible image. It’s a thousand year old canyon, a full moon, a baby’s belly button, or maybe one of thousands of open pock marks. Each tear conjures a variety of images as we follow them from the blood stained floor to the door.)
Mary-Joanna; “You know Randy. I’m sure GWAR thought putting Travis in a coma was winning, too. I wonder where he is now that The Headliner has your belt and is once again the biggest name in wrestling.”
(The spray pattern of the Red Bull Icons blood slamming into the wall as he snaps his head up from his gaze flashes with the beauty of a rainbow or the rolling hills of the country side or the disfigured hump of what is left after a body to tossed around under a train. The doorway is empty, and once again as always BoolZ is alone with his failure.)
*****
(It’s a cold late November Saturday night. Maddy the only woman BoolZ has ever loved for more than a few hours walks arm in arm with her new boyfriend Jeremy. They are the picture of the perfect couple. Their breath freezes in the night air after mixing, joining, becoming a single cloud of living life. Her pale milky cheeks flushed with rouge as Jack Frost nips at her skin. Her flowing skirt dances with the ¾ wool coat of Jeremy’s. Their steps are hurried as they try to escape the chill.)
Jeremy; “You’ll love this place. The guys at work talk about like it’s Heaven.”
Maddy; “I don’t know Jeremy, a night club? You know I’m just as happy curling up with you on the couch watching Adult Swim.”
Jeremy; “No come on this’ll be great. We’ll get a few drinks in ya, dance all night, we’ll go back to my place…”
(He thought it was cold.)
Maddy; “Damnit, are we really going to start the night like this? Is it that hard for you to understand I want to wait?”
Jeremy; “Madds, come on it was a joke. C’mon this is it.”
(A very large very callous hand halts the couple’s movement by resting on Jeremy’s chest. Jeremy seems in shock as he looks up at who could be Big B Browns skinnier more muscular brother. A look that is quickly squashed by the behemoths words.)
Bouncer; “Just where the fuck you think you goin’?”
Jeremy; “We’re going inside. Get our drink on you know?”
Bouncer; “No you’re not.”
Jeremy; “Alright, I’ll play along. Why not?”
Bouncer; “Cause someone done paid a lot of money to rent out the club tonight, and that somebody is payin’ me a lot of money to keep you out. She can come though.”
Jeremy; “Man, you must be really…”
{{Her look is of utter shock mixed with embarrassment.}}
Maddy- Excuse me?
{{It’s Maddy, or it was when she was younger. Her tattoos are gone. Her hair is a more natural dark color. Her skin kissed by the early spring sun. It’s Maddy as a fresh faced teenager. It’s her father’s words that have taken her by surprise.
There he is in his favorite old beat up recliner. The 90 pound skinny man barely seemed natural in the oversized seat. His hair a thin reddish comb over. The teeth he still has are rotting. His eyes with that creepy yellow tinge brought on by too much Steel Reserve. The white stubble on his face fails to hide the hollow lines in his cheeks.}}
Mr. Misajon- I said you had better start sucking cock now, cause with these grades you ain’t ever gonna make nothing of yourself. Stupid little twat. You had better get really damn good at fucking so you can marry some millionaire who’ll support your stupid ass cause fuck knows I ain’t gonna forever.
~~GIVE YOUR KISS TO THE SCORPION!!!~~
(We’re brought back to the present by the club door opening, the music blaring, and a second bouncer joining the conversation.)
Bouncer; “Son, I would suggest you take your little bitch ass and yo bitch home before you get hurt.”
Maddy; “C’mon Jeremy I didn’t want to go dancing anyway.”
(She tugs at his arm hard enough for the stare down to end.)
Jeremy; “You motherfuckers are lucky! I hope you know that!”
(Maddy and Jeremy walk quietly to the end of the block and back to his car.)
Jeremy; “Madds, I’m sorry you had to see that. I don’t know what came over me.”
Maddy; “That was a new side.”
*****
(It’s been two maybe three weeks since Horizons. We watch as families search for those last minute perfect Christmas gifts. Those one of a kind trinkets. Those thoughtless bobbles without any real use that say ‘Always thinking about you.’ Across the street the setting sun blinds us with today’s dying rays. We almost miss the ocean and the beach just under it. We almost miss BoolZ sprinting in the sand with Conni keeping pace beside him.
The sweat pours from his brow and is soaked up the hood on his sweatshirt. He breaks stride just long enough to light another cigarette, then catches up to his dog while setting his lungs at ease. After a few seconds, minutes, hours it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t care he just stops at a small cooler bag, and continues his heavy breathing as BoolZ shouts out for Conni to stop.
Conni rejoins RBI in time to hear that crisp sound of a Red Bull cracking open. BoolZ chugs the can, tosses it to the ground, and then slumps to the sand himself before lighting another smoke.)
??; “Damn I thought you’d be enjoying the break.”
(He doesn’t look. He doesn’t have to. The gruff voice sounds like leather that had soaked in bourbon, dried in an airport smokers lounge, and then gnawed on by a dog for 10 to 20 years. It’s SPARCX, or it was in his younger days. He goes by Pall now. It’s the father of his dead best friend. It’s his teacher. It’s more of a dad to him than his own father.)
BoolZ; “What cause the GIW’s on break I gotta get all pudgy and doughy. You know better than most, this ain’t hobby on playing at.”
Pall; “Still, I reckon you deserve some time off.”
BoolZ; “I get it. I should be relaxing on this beach. Maybe sipping piña coladas brought to me by some young nubile island native. Wrestling is how I relax. What’s going on? You here to yell at me again?”
(Lighting his own cigarette Pall lets out a loud painful groan as he leans down to sit next to his ‘son’.)
Pall; “Bree worries. We saw Horizons, and ain’t heard from ya in some time.”
BoolZ; “Hmm.”
Pall; “This is my last olive branch, kid.”
(The silence is too long. BoolZ is enjoying seeing the sun set with both eyes to much. His shoulder is still racked with blinding pain, but none worse that what he feels remembering the best times of his life. SPARCX was a big part of those times.)
BoolZ; “What do you want me to say? Huh? You want me to say I’m ashamed of what I did with Travis’ wife? I’ll say it. I’m ashamed. I’m not ashamed of what I did though. I’m ashamed because it didn’t work. Fuck though, I’m ashamed of a lot of stuff. I’m ashamed of what I said to Yautoki Kiseragi. Shit that worked perfectly. Made Alex hate me, Travis only played right into it, and Kiseragi was gunning for Roberts at Horizons almost as much as I was. It doesn’t matter though. Shamed or not, if given the chance I’d do it all over again.”
Pall; “I figured as much, but Randy you don’t have to say a thing. Listen I might not agree with how you’re going about your business, but kid it’s your business.”
(The long silence is somewhat comforting. The occasional crack of a Red Bull from the cooler or the Budweiser from where ever SPARCX was getting them the only sound for to short of a time. Conni tirelessly digs himself a whole until only the tip of his unclipped tail can be seen. The sun has set, the stars twinkle, and the cold winters wind blows. This is hell.)
BoolZ; “Hey?”
Pall; “Yeah.”
BoolZ; “You know me and Ash, we used to watch you when you were wrestling.”
Pall; “Yeah, I know.”
BoolZ; “More importantly, now, we used to watch you talk shit about your opponent.”
Pall; “Alright.”
BoolZ; “How’d you do it?”
Pall; “Do what?”
BoolZ; “How’d you walk down to the ring, or in front of the camera and talk about your opponent?”
(SPARCX turns his head to look at the former Hardcore Champion with puzzled curiosity and sadistic playfulness.)
Pall; “Simple. I walked down the ring, or in front of the camera and talked shit about my opponent.”
(BoolZ exhales a huge plume of frustrated smoke with a huff.)
BoolZ; “No, I’m asking…”
Pall; “I know what you’re asking. I’m surprised to hear it too. What happened to Mr. I’m a Wrestler not a Spokesmen? What happened to I’ll get by on my talents not my vocabulary? Why the sudden change of heart?”
BoolZ; “You know I don’t think it’s so sudden. Listen I’m like 25 or 30 and 0. I’ve never been pinned. Never submitted. The only blemishes on my record are Komosube pinning the other team in a triple threat tag match, and Roberts laying on top of Kiseragi after his kicked his way through the cell roof. Seriously I’ve been in the GIW almost a year wrestling none stop, and no one’s been able to say they made me lose.
I mean I won the Hardcore title in the gauntlet match, but realistically I was only in the match at a space filler. Same with the Battle Ground match. Prescott figured he didn’t want the Hardcore title defended at Battle Ground, so he dumped me in that match. I only had my shot at the Horizons main event because I won the Battle Ground match. I mean shit after Battle Ground Kiseragi, who I eliminated from Battle Ground, beat someone else I eliminated from Battle Ground. That’s what led to him and Brandon Brown getting a shot at Roberts. Hell I’ve even got a pin fall on Roberts, but somehow he managed to get his shot at Komo before I got mine.
By hook or crook, no matter how you look at it I have victories over everyone who’s ever held the top prize in the GIW, and I had to force my shot. Now either champions are afraid to face me, or I’m being held out of the main event. Either way, I think talking in front of the crowd is the missing piece. Selling the story.”
Pall; “Hmm, I don’t believe you. There’s something else.”
BoolZ; “Yeah, probably…”
Pall; “Listen, there ain’t no trick. You literally just walk out there, and talk. Think about what you want to say, a rough idea, then go out and say it.”
BoolZ; “You never got nervous?”
Pall; “Used to. Practice makes perfect though. Shit I remember when I was younger than you, and scared to death of the crowd. Fuck I used to practice speaking at Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.”
BoolZ; “What?”
Pall; “No, seriously. Listen I was on the road all the damn time, it was the 80s, and those damn things were every night in every city. They were perfect. I used to stand up there in front of everyone and lie my heart out. Complete strangers so who cares right? I used to screw around and practice screwed up accents, outlandish stories, just bold faced bullshit. It worked though.”
BoolZ; “Wait you drink like a man about to dive into that Marlo things ass.”
Pall; “Fuck I even went sauced a few times. I remember one time in Charlotte, North Carolina, about a year before I met Bree. It was after one of my drunken AA meetings and this big’ol country boy…”
*****
(It’s a bright and sunny January morning in Southern California. The 5 freeway is bumper to bumper as it always is at this time in the morning. As far as we can see it’s nothing but semi-trucks, SUVs, luxury sedans, sports cars, and a single ‘U-Haul’ truck. It’s obviously by the spray paint repainting, the custom Red Bull tail lights, and spinner rims that this is the ‘U-Suk’ mobile and it just took the off ramp.
In an instant we’re inside with BoolZ and Conni. Conni now chews on a new leather tool belt in the passenger seat. BoolZ with a Red Bull in his hand and a cigarette in his lips now, as so many time before, drives with reckless abandon. The burnt picture of Maddy, Ash, and BoolZ from the last night they were together is back taped to the dash.)
BoolZ; “Mikey Show, Conni. Hell what am I gonna say? What if that beating Sky starts with her bullshit? What if Ashley can’t keep her stoner pants on? Fuck Conni, I grew up listening to 105.3, now I’m gonna be on the Mikey Show!”
(BoolZ is silent as he brings his truck to a stop at a traffic light behind a Mercedes. He finishes his cigarette, flicks the butt out the window, and downs the last of his Red Bull before tossing the empty can to the passenger side floor.
As the light turns green we see two men, RBI doesn’t care enough to pay attention to their appearance, run to either side of the Mercedes, and force the driver out of his car. One of the men throws the young model looking women to the asphalt before they both enter, and speed away.
As soon as they do BoolZ takes his foot off the break, and drives on past the pleading women, and then takes the next right.)
BoolZ; “Conni, what am I going to say? I mean, I guess I can tell the story of how I got Ed Mundell’s guitar neck. That could eat some time. I could go over how Roberts was only in the match because I decided I would allow him into the match after his hairy manager begged for it. I could talk about fruity Kiseragi. I heard his metro agent dumped his ass, and then he got fat. I mean Sentinel is this Saturday, finally. I should probably talk that up pretty big. Make sure someone tunes in make sure they haven’t forgot about the GIW. Hell not like anyone else is gonna bother promoting the show.
No, who am I kidding. I’m gonna talk about breaking into Travis’ house. I’m gonna talk about smashing up his kitchen. I’m gonna talk about leaving a massive crap in his toilet, and not flushing. I’m gonna bring up making MJ loose control when I ‘chilidogged’ her. Made her beg for mercy. I’m gonna talk about how I did that on her husbands couch in their home. Then I’m gonna mention that the TwiSTeD Shell of His Former Self took the easy way out after I went through the steel entrance ramp, and he pinned Alex Kiseragi.”
(Our scene ends with the ‘U-Suk’ mobile pulling into the ROCK 105.3 radio studio parking lot. BoolZ parks the truck over three stalls as usual, and with Conni at his side, and a four pack of Red Bull in his hand enters the building.)
The moment is broken none the less. We shift the angle of our good eye from the floor, and between us and the blue and black kick pads dangling free over the table is a hand resting between our knees. How’d that get there? We watch as a second, or hundredth who can tell, drop pools at our finger tips before falling to the ground. It is fresh baked cookies straight out of grandma’s kitchen. We hate walnuts.
We follow the steady stream of life running down our arm. We follow it up past the sweaty red and brown wrist tape. We watch as the river overcomes the tight black elbow pad on our right arm. We watch as the fissure in our shoulder bubbles forth the Type AB Negative. What a wonderful waste. What a fantastic fall.)
Mary-Joanna; “You fucking lied to MJ!”
(Truly it was a hell of an impact. He didn’t hear her enter. We didn’t notice as the scene became sketchy, and we don’t care that we’re now standing against the far wall next to the coffee pot and a dish of butter of all things. We look on as BoolZ slowly inhales the best he can with his abdomen in the shape it is, and without moving looks at the Mary-Joanna Roberts from the examination table of Dr. Professor.)
BoolZ; “I lied to who?”
(She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t halt. She doesn’t hold her hand. He doesn’t flinch. She slaps him again.)
Mary-Joanna; “Just cut the shit Randy! You lied to Mary-Jo. You told the TWiSTeD Heiress you were going to go out there and win. Nothing more! MJ had to sit in your locker room and watch as you tried to cripple Travis. You promised Mary-Joanna that you weren’t going to try to hurt anyone. You promised you weren’t going to try to cripple MJ’s husband!”
(It was a hell of an impact. That crowbar was heavy, but it was worth it just to glimpse at the parting skull of The Blessed One. We watch another drop falls from RBI’s hand. We watch as the look that can only be described as afterglow creeps out from behind his eyes.)
BoolZ; “MJ, crippling Travis is winning. If you’ve somehow lost your stomach for what we’re doing than maybe now is a good time for you…”
(It was so calm before she entered. Then boom like a sledge hammer to the face she’s furious then panicked.)
Mary-Joanna; “No, maybe now is a good time for you to just be honest. I don’t lose my stomach.”
BoolZ; “Me? I thought you were enjoying our lie. You know, I play nice and innocent, you play the ‘pure’ victim, we fuck like animals, and in the end for whatever reason we try to punish Travis Roberts.”
(A silence falls over the room. Like the sudden rush or stop you would expect at the end of a huge fall through the entrance ramp. An eerie violent calm soothes the tension. We watch as again without moving BoolZ turns his attention back to the little red and white tiles. We watch as MJ squints and bites her bottom lip. We watch as she runs her slender delicate fingers through her raven hair. Her green eyes swell with glassy turbulence.)
Mary-Joanna; “Maybe it is a good time for MJ to leave after all.”
BoolZ; “Oh, don’t cry. Hey, at least we’ll always have our whorish little lie right?”
(The first tear rolls from her chin and falls to the floor with a spectacular splash. What an incredible image. It’s a thousand year old canyon, a full moon, a baby’s belly button, or maybe one of thousands of open pock marks. Each tear conjures a variety of images as we follow them from the blood stained floor to the door.)
Mary-Joanna; “You know Randy. I’m sure GWAR thought putting Travis in a coma was winning, too. I wonder where he is now that The Headliner has your belt and is once again the biggest name in wrestling.”
(The spray pattern of the Red Bull Icons blood slamming into the wall as he snaps his head up from his gaze flashes with the beauty of a rainbow or the rolling hills of the country side or the disfigured hump of what is left after a body to tossed around under a train. The doorway is empty, and once again as always BoolZ is alone with his failure.)
*****
(It’s a cold late November Saturday night. Maddy the only woman BoolZ has ever loved for more than a few hours walks arm in arm with her new boyfriend Jeremy. They are the picture of the perfect couple. Their breath freezes in the night air after mixing, joining, becoming a single cloud of living life. Her pale milky cheeks flushed with rouge as Jack Frost nips at her skin. Her flowing skirt dances with the ¾ wool coat of Jeremy’s. Their steps are hurried as they try to escape the chill.)
Jeremy; “You’ll love this place. The guys at work talk about like it’s Heaven.”
Maddy; “I don’t know Jeremy, a night club? You know I’m just as happy curling up with you on the couch watching Adult Swim.”
Jeremy; “No come on this’ll be great. We’ll get a few drinks in ya, dance all night, we’ll go back to my place…”
(He thought it was cold.)
Maddy; “Damnit, are we really going to start the night like this? Is it that hard for you to understand I want to wait?”
Jeremy; “Madds, come on it was a joke. C’mon this is it.”
(A very large very callous hand halts the couple’s movement by resting on Jeremy’s chest. Jeremy seems in shock as he looks up at who could be Big B Browns skinnier more muscular brother. A look that is quickly squashed by the behemoths words.)
Bouncer; “Just where the fuck you think you goin’?”
Jeremy; “We’re going inside. Get our drink on you know?”
Bouncer; “No you’re not.”
Jeremy; “Alright, I’ll play along. Why not?”
Bouncer; “Cause someone done paid a lot of money to rent out the club tonight, and that somebody is payin’ me a lot of money to keep you out. She can come though.”
Jeremy; “Man, you must be really…”
{{Her look is of utter shock mixed with embarrassment.}}
Maddy- Excuse me?
{{It’s Maddy, or it was when she was younger. Her tattoos are gone. Her hair is a more natural dark color. Her skin kissed by the early spring sun. It’s Maddy as a fresh faced teenager. It’s her father’s words that have taken her by surprise.
There he is in his favorite old beat up recliner. The 90 pound skinny man barely seemed natural in the oversized seat. His hair a thin reddish comb over. The teeth he still has are rotting. His eyes with that creepy yellow tinge brought on by too much Steel Reserve. The white stubble on his face fails to hide the hollow lines in his cheeks.}}
Mr. Misajon- I said you had better start sucking cock now, cause with these grades you ain’t ever gonna make nothing of yourself. Stupid little twat. You had better get really damn good at fucking so you can marry some millionaire who’ll support your stupid ass cause fuck knows I ain’t gonna forever.
~~GIVE YOUR KISS TO THE SCORPION!!!~~
(We’re brought back to the present by the club door opening, the music blaring, and a second bouncer joining the conversation.)
Bouncer; “Son, I would suggest you take your little bitch ass and yo bitch home before you get hurt.”
Maddy; “C’mon Jeremy I didn’t want to go dancing anyway.”
(She tugs at his arm hard enough for the stare down to end.)
Jeremy; “You motherfuckers are lucky! I hope you know that!”
(Maddy and Jeremy walk quietly to the end of the block and back to his car.)
Jeremy; “Madds, I’m sorry you had to see that. I don’t know what came over me.”
Maddy; “That was a new side.”
*****
(It’s been two maybe three weeks since Horizons. We watch as families search for those last minute perfect Christmas gifts. Those one of a kind trinkets. Those thoughtless bobbles without any real use that say ‘Always thinking about you.’ Across the street the setting sun blinds us with today’s dying rays. We almost miss the ocean and the beach just under it. We almost miss BoolZ sprinting in the sand with Conni keeping pace beside him.
The sweat pours from his brow and is soaked up the hood on his sweatshirt. He breaks stride just long enough to light another cigarette, then catches up to his dog while setting his lungs at ease. After a few seconds, minutes, hours it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t care he just stops at a small cooler bag, and continues his heavy breathing as BoolZ shouts out for Conni to stop.
Conni rejoins RBI in time to hear that crisp sound of a Red Bull cracking open. BoolZ chugs the can, tosses it to the ground, and then slumps to the sand himself before lighting another smoke.)
??; “Damn I thought you’d be enjoying the break.”
(He doesn’t look. He doesn’t have to. The gruff voice sounds like leather that had soaked in bourbon, dried in an airport smokers lounge, and then gnawed on by a dog for 10 to 20 years. It’s SPARCX, or it was in his younger days. He goes by Pall now. It’s the father of his dead best friend. It’s his teacher. It’s more of a dad to him than his own father.)
BoolZ; “What cause the GIW’s on break I gotta get all pudgy and doughy. You know better than most, this ain’t hobby on playing at.”
Pall; “Still, I reckon you deserve some time off.”
BoolZ; “I get it. I should be relaxing on this beach. Maybe sipping piña coladas brought to me by some young nubile island native. Wrestling is how I relax. What’s going on? You here to yell at me again?”
(Lighting his own cigarette Pall lets out a loud painful groan as he leans down to sit next to his ‘son’.)
Pall; “Bree worries. We saw Horizons, and ain’t heard from ya in some time.”
BoolZ; “Hmm.”
Pall; “This is my last olive branch, kid.”
(The silence is too long. BoolZ is enjoying seeing the sun set with both eyes to much. His shoulder is still racked with blinding pain, but none worse that what he feels remembering the best times of his life. SPARCX was a big part of those times.)
BoolZ; “What do you want me to say? Huh? You want me to say I’m ashamed of what I did with Travis’ wife? I’ll say it. I’m ashamed. I’m not ashamed of what I did though. I’m ashamed because it didn’t work. Fuck though, I’m ashamed of a lot of stuff. I’m ashamed of what I said to Yautoki Kiseragi. Shit that worked perfectly. Made Alex hate me, Travis only played right into it, and Kiseragi was gunning for Roberts at Horizons almost as much as I was. It doesn’t matter though. Shamed or not, if given the chance I’d do it all over again.”
Pall; “I figured as much, but Randy you don’t have to say a thing. Listen I might not agree with how you’re going about your business, but kid it’s your business.”
(The long silence is somewhat comforting. The occasional crack of a Red Bull from the cooler or the Budweiser from where ever SPARCX was getting them the only sound for to short of a time. Conni tirelessly digs himself a whole until only the tip of his unclipped tail can be seen. The sun has set, the stars twinkle, and the cold winters wind blows. This is hell.)
BoolZ; “Hey?”
Pall; “Yeah.”
BoolZ; “You know me and Ash, we used to watch you when you were wrestling.”
Pall; “Yeah, I know.”
BoolZ; “More importantly, now, we used to watch you talk shit about your opponent.”
Pall; “Alright.”
BoolZ; “How’d you do it?”
Pall; “Do what?”
BoolZ; “How’d you walk down to the ring, or in front of the camera and talk about your opponent?”
(SPARCX turns his head to look at the former Hardcore Champion with puzzled curiosity and sadistic playfulness.)
Pall; “Simple. I walked down the ring, or in front of the camera and talked shit about my opponent.”
(BoolZ exhales a huge plume of frustrated smoke with a huff.)
BoolZ; “No, I’m asking…”
Pall; “I know what you’re asking. I’m surprised to hear it too. What happened to Mr. I’m a Wrestler not a Spokesmen? What happened to I’ll get by on my talents not my vocabulary? Why the sudden change of heart?”
BoolZ; “You know I don’t think it’s so sudden. Listen I’m like 25 or 30 and 0. I’ve never been pinned. Never submitted. The only blemishes on my record are Komosube pinning the other team in a triple threat tag match, and Roberts laying on top of Kiseragi after his kicked his way through the cell roof. Seriously I’ve been in the GIW almost a year wrestling none stop, and no one’s been able to say they made me lose.
I mean I won the Hardcore title in the gauntlet match, but realistically I was only in the match at a space filler. Same with the Battle Ground match. Prescott figured he didn’t want the Hardcore title defended at Battle Ground, so he dumped me in that match. I only had my shot at the Horizons main event because I won the Battle Ground match. I mean shit after Battle Ground Kiseragi, who I eliminated from Battle Ground, beat someone else I eliminated from Battle Ground. That’s what led to him and Brandon Brown getting a shot at Roberts. Hell I’ve even got a pin fall on Roberts, but somehow he managed to get his shot at Komo before I got mine.
By hook or crook, no matter how you look at it I have victories over everyone who’s ever held the top prize in the GIW, and I had to force my shot. Now either champions are afraid to face me, or I’m being held out of the main event. Either way, I think talking in front of the crowd is the missing piece. Selling the story.”
Pall; “Hmm, I don’t believe you. There’s something else.”
BoolZ; “Yeah, probably…”
Pall; “Listen, there ain’t no trick. You literally just walk out there, and talk. Think about what you want to say, a rough idea, then go out and say it.”
BoolZ; “You never got nervous?”
Pall; “Used to. Practice makes perfect though. Shit I remember when I was younger than you, and scared to death of the crowd. Fuck I used to practice speaking at Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.”
BoolZ; “What?”
Pall; “No, seriously. Listen I was on the road all the damn time, it was the 80s, and those damn things were every night in every city. They were perfect. I used to stand up there in front of everyone and lie my heart out. Complete strangers so who cares right? I used to screw around and practice screwed up accents, outlandish stories, just bold faced bullshit. It worked though.”
BoolZ; “Wait you drink like a man about to dive into that Marlo things ass.”
Pall; “Fuck I even went sauced a few times. I remember one time in Charlotte, North Carolina, about a year before I met Bree. It was after one of my drunken AA meetings and this big’ol country boy…”
*****
(It’s a bright and sunny January morning in Southern California. The 5 freeway is bumper to bumper as it always is at this time in the morning. As far as we can see it’s nothing but semi-trucks, SUVs, luxury sedans, sports cars, and a single ‘U-Haul’ truck. It’s obviously by the spray paint repainting, the custom Red Bull tail lights, and spinner rims that this is the ‘U-Suk’ mobile and it just took the off ramp.
In an instant we’re inside with BoolZ and Conni. Conni now chews on a new leather tool belt in the passenger seat. BoolZ with a Red Bull in his hand and a cigarette in his lips now, as so many time before, drives with reckless abandon. The burnt picture of Maddy, Ash, and BoolZ from the last night they were together is back taped to the dash.)
BoolZ; “Mikey Show, Conni. Hell what am I gonna say? What if that beating Sky starts with her bullshit? What if Ashley can’t keep her stoner pants on? Fuck Conni, I grew up listening to 105.3, now I’m gonna be on the Mikey Show!”
(BoolZ is silent as he brings his truck to a stop at a traffic light behind a Mercedes. He finishes his cigarette, flicks the butt out the window, and downs the last of his Red Bull before tossing the empty can to the passenger side floor.
As the light turns green we see two men, RBI doesn’t care enough to pay attention to their appearance, run to either side of the Mercedes, and force the driver out of his car. One of the men throws the young model looking women to the asphalt before they both enter, and speed away.
As soon as they do BoolZ takes his foot off the break, and drives on past the pleading women, and then takes the next right.)
BoolZ; “Conni, what am I going to say? I mean, I guess I can tell the story of how I got Ed Mundell’s guitar neck. That could eat some time. I could go over how Roberts was only in the match because I decided I would allow him into the match after his hairy manager begged for it. I could talk about fruity Kiseragi. I heard his metro agent dumped his ass, and then he got fat. I mean Sentinel is this Saturday, finally. I should probably talk that up pretty big. Make sure someone tunes in make sure they haven’t forgot about the GIW. Hell not like anyone else is gonna bother promoting the show.
No, who am I kidding. I’m gonna talk about breaking into Travis’ house. I’m gonna talk about smashing up his kitchen. I’m gonna talk about leaving a massive crap in his toilet, and not flushing. I’m gonna bring up making MJ loose control when I ‘chilidogged’ her. Made her beg for mercy. I’m gonna talk about how I did that on her husbands couch in their home. Then I’m gonna mention that the TwiSTeD Shell of His Former Self took the easy way out after I went through the steel entrance ramp, and he pinned Alex Kiseragi.”
(Our scene ends with the ‘U-Suk’ mobile pulling into the ROCK 105.3 radio studio parking lot. BoolZ parks the truck over three stalls as usual, and with Conni at his side, and a four pack of Red Bull in his hand enters the building.)