Post by Red Bull Icon on Jul 25, 2009 23:32:23 GMT -5
(Our scene opens and it is either very late or very early depending on your perception. The slow quiet hum of an industrial heating unit mixed with the smell of overly cleaned then covered up mess demand that we’re in a hotel room. Again. It’s the same hotel room maybe, or a different one all together, but it doesn’t matter. Every night for the last countless number of years has been the same. The same smells, the same sanitized sights, and the same anonymous familiarity we’ve grown so accustomed to. It’s just another night which will lead to just another day which will end in just another night.
The crumbled mess on the bed is clearly seen by the moonlight creeping in through the drapes that are not fully shut. Tonight it’s a blonde. Again she’s on her hands and knees, her screams and joy echo in his muddled brain as they mix and then overwhelm the sounds from the ginger red head woman from last night, and as always it’s Randy Boolzian kneeling behind her. As they grind and gyrate for another night she throws her head back allowing her golden blonde hair to fall on her back. Allowing the pale moonlight to glisten off her well conditioned locks. Again forcing BoolZ face to face with the facts.
The shadows cast on Randy’s face do little to lighten his forlorn look. His eyes more sunken, his stubble more haggard, and his hair seems slightly shaggy despite its short well kept length. Then, again, his expression changes and the darkness overtaking his face highlight the anger. With a smooth well practiced hand he grabs her soft silky hair. Just the slightest tug pulls her head back forcing her sleek spine to arch. We shift our focus to the headboard now slamming into the solid walls.)
Blonde; “oh, what the, FUUCCCKKKK!!!!!”
~*~*~
(We’re in the same hotel room. Possibly. The sun now just starting to crack through the almost opened curtains. The yellow orange glow radiates in the matted blonde hair of the women passed in the bed covered only barely with the over starched comforter and her own filth. With the light we can now see the small blandly decorated room. With the birds singing just out the window we can hear the unmistakable sounds of a young pit bull finishing his can of breakfast. With each sound of every car passing by on the interstate the mournful sounds of labored breathing become increasingly more violent.
We turn to the small uncomfortable chair that is always just off to the right of the television that’s never used. BoolZ sits like usual, BoolZ sleeps finally, and BoolZ is tortured again. The welcoming rays of warmth hitting his face only magnify the scrunched brows, snarled lips, and flared nostrils of the Red Bull Icon. Just as his face seemingly cannot contort anymore his eyes rip open as he forces as much air into his lungs as he can and Randy leaps to his feet looking around in a panic.
He sees the woman. He’s seen all the women. He’s never paid any attention to any of them. He sees the ice bucket overfilled with ice and overstocked with little blue and silver cans of life. He always takes two, he always takes his pack of smokes that are always right by the bucket, and he always heads to the patio.)
BoolZ; “Almost done, Conni? Finish up, we’re leaving.”
(They never stick around.)
~*~*~
(The sun is now completely out as the morning fights to its finish. We watch as a train pulls into its station, and one after the other commuter after commuter deboard. Business men and women seemingly all cut from the cloth, all wearing matching uniforms. Dark pants or a long skirt, neutral shirt or blouse, matching blazer and shoes, or high cut boot. All with some form of briefcase, rolling luggage, handbag, or in the rarest cases plastic grocery bag. It’s a sea of the downtrodden and the looks on their faces reflect the feelings they all feel of starting another day.
In the absolute flood of professional types however it is quite easy to spot and become fixated on BoolZ as he stands on the second level just overhead watching these people with Conni patiently at his side. RBI is leaning over the railing with a cigarette in his mouth and a Red Bull in his hand watching intently as the people march in unison. He stands in his spot watching and when the opportunity arises listening.
He watches carefully mothers reaching their breaking point as they head to work, their sick child at home. He listens closely as husbands explain into their iPhones to wives or mistresses why they can’t be there now. He breaths deep as the over body sprayed young men pass him trying to cover up the smells form the previous nights bars. He feels the apprehensions of too many employees too close to foreclosure too desperate for their presentation to be well received. He can almost taste the tall mocha cappuccinos over light ice with three extra shots of espresso that nearly rival the number of people.)
??; “God, I hate Tuesdays!”
(She must have waited for him to finish his Red Bull as this new blonde, college age, fresh faced, and fully curved caught BoolZ completely off guard. He’s not used to anyone stopping to pester him this early in the day. She couldn’t tell. He tosses his now empty can of Red Bull into the trashcan, and as hit bounces off the other empty cans of Red Bull he turns to her.)
BoolZ; “I don’t know. They’re only a little worse than yesterday, but never as bad as tomorrow.”
(The stranger gives the often seen quizzical expression as she extends her delicate hand.)
??; “Hi, I’m Claire.”
(It always starts this easy.)
BoolZ; “Randy, pleasure to meet you.”
(The P.A. system alerts waiting passengers of a train approaching. Before too long a second train heading in the opposite direction than the first pulls into the station. Again like an army of unnamed numbers pour from the steel coffins, and head to their inevitable destination. BoolZ turns his attention back from Claire to the passengers.)
Claire; “Well, Randy, you know I've seen you here like everyday. Figured I had to say hi, and its like Mondays suck that’s a fact. Another week, more classes, the weekends over, and half the time I’m all hung over and shit. Then Wednesdays get a little better because you’re half way to the weekend, right? Before you know it it’s Thursday and you’re finalizing your plans, and it’s only one more day! Fridays are great ‘cause you can get out for an early start to the partying, let off some steam, unwind, and if you meet someone special you have a whole three days to bang like Spartans. But Tuesdays? Tuesdays are almost worse than Mondays. It’s like nothing ever happens on Tuesdays. No notoriety, you know? Nothing to help it stand out…”
(Fixated, Randy can’t hear her words, he can’t see her lips beginning to darken, and he can’t notice her pupils dilating. He can’t be bothered with such mundane details. She continues to talk as BoolZ can’t, wont, pull himself away. Conni sees it. Conni sees her. Conni sees Maddy leaving the train, her old faded army backpack slung over her shoulder, her new well worn Betty Page hoodie up over her darker than the darkest night hair, her baggy Dickies pants beginning to unravel at the heel. We see her until she finally reaches an awaiting bus, and pulls away.)
Claire; “Hello?”
(She’s gone again.)
BoolZ; “Well, maybe you should make something special happen on a Tuesday.”
Claire; “Yeah, like what?”
BoolZ; “Well, maybe we should get out of here and try to figure out what we can do on this Tuesday to make it memorable.”
Claire; “Oh, yeah, let’s go.”
~*~*~
(The sun now hangs in the sky signaling the early afternoon hour. We’re on a fairly quiet street someone in some Los Angeles suburb. It’s a decent area, considering L.A.’s reputation. Far from a good area. The air is stale and dirty, the street and sidewalks much the same, and the lawns are slowly dying a horrific death. Almost fittingly the roar of the ‘U-Suk’ Mobile storms down the road, and passes us stopping at a house down the street.
First the passenger side door opens allowing Claire to exit the vehicle. Then the driver’s side door swings open cueing the recorded thousands of fans to chant BoolZ’s name. He steps out with a Red Bull in his hand, and Conni hops out immediately after. Claire had waited by the vehicle, her face beaming with excitement, fulfillment, and exhilaration. BoolZ and Conni make their way to the young college girl, but BoolZ can’t help but stare at the dwelling.)
Claire; “Thank you SOOO much. I’ll definitely be changing my view on Tuesdays from now on.”
BoolZ; “Oh yeah?”
Claire; “Ohh yeeaaahh. In a train station bathroom? I’ve heard of stuff like that, but never thought… It was so dirty, and naughty. We could have been caught, and that just made it so hot! Especially when you said you were keeping my panties! Like, who does that?”
BoolZ; “Yeah, it was one for the record books huh? You live here?”
Claire; “Well yeah, just for now though. As soon as a dorm opens up I’m moving on campus. McZygmunt doesn’t charge a lot, and I have my own room, but the two new roommates are kinda weird. Anyway, I’ll just be a second. It just feels so weird running around in a cheerleader uniform without any underwear. You wanna come in?”
BoolZ; “Yeah, sure. Why not? This McZygmunt guy, he got a last name?”
(BoolZ finishes his Red Bull, tosses the can into the open passenger side window, and the two make their way through the almost forest like lawn with Conni in tow. Before they reach the door, almost as an alarm system, the door flies open allowing the old beast to jump from the frame.)
The Crazy Cat Lady; “ROARF! BRUGH! GRAK! FRUMP!”
(BoolZ doesn’t flinch, Claire jumps, and Conni goes ballistic at the sight of so many cats. BoolZ holds him back by the collar as Claire recomposes herself.)
The Crazy Cat Lady; “RUH! KRIMOTDAY! OOOORGH!!!! BROOP ARGK FRUGH!!! ZIGGY MO-“
BoolZ; “CONNI, behave! You know Aragato! Be nice!”
Claire; “Oh damnit, she gets me every time. Randy, I’m so sorry. This is one my roommates. Don’t worry she’s harmless, just crazier than shit.”
BoolZ; “She? ‘Gato, you a she?”
(The constant barking from the American Red Nose Pit Bull is enough to send The Crazy Cat Lady scurrying away to a far corner before she can attempt an answer.)
Claire; “Uhm, maybe you should follow me. I think you’re puppy is scaring her.”
BoolZ; “Damn, I thought I knew him. Yeah, you’re probably right. I don’t think Conni would like getting spit on.”
(Claire, BoolZ, and Conni all head down a small headway as The Crazy Cat Lady cautiously watches from the distance.)
BoolZ; “So I never got my answer. This McZygmunt guy have a last name?”
Claire; “I’m not entirely sure. He’s got a really strong, like, Polish accent and is always working out so he’s kinda hard to understand. Why?”
BoolZ; “No reason, just a weird name. McZygmunt.”
(Upon reaching a closed door across the hall from another closed door Claire stops to turn to RBI.)
Claire; “Uhm, you wanna wait here? I’ll be just a second.”
BoolZ; “What, now you get modest?”
Claire; “Something’s gotta be left for the second date.”
(Claire opens the door just enough to squeeze through, and then shuts the door quickly. BoolZ alone with Conni is the dilapidated ‘home’ scans the barren walls before leaning the sturdiest looking one, and cracking open a Red Bull from his jacket pocket.
A doorway a feet further down the hall opens causing BoolZ to look at what is surely to be one of Claire’s other insane roommates. To his surprise only a befuddled Declan Prescott is seen. The two make eye contact, share an awkward silent moment, and then are overwhelmed by the sheer stroke of luck that finds them both away from the GIW Arena.)
BoolZ; “Hey, Not My Boss!”
“I’m here on my own volition, walking herpy!” barked Prescott.
BoolZ; “Oh, I’m sure you are. I mean that’s a hell of a tumble from the apartment I broke into last year to this place. I doubt something like that just happens. I mean it’s not like an everyday occurrence like losing your life’s work to a penguin.”
“You never cease to truly let me down you know that?” Responded the Significant Player behind snarled lips and squinted eyes, “Even a window licker like yourself, someone who undoubtedly was bred from the sole reason of seeing how far human intelligence can fall, should be able to recognize the Revolution always has a plan. This is just a piece to the puzzle.”
BoolZ; “Yeah I’m sure it is. Help me out though, ‘cause I gotta know, how does shacking up with Boss P’s riding pole fit into the plan. Wait why is Boss P letting you shack up with McZygmunt? Oh, is Travis here?”
(BoolZ had been sipping on his Red Bull calmly. As soon as he uttered the name Travis a clear sense of hate flashes behind his steely gazed eyes.)
“Never mind about Travis or ‘Munt,” hissed Declan, “I’m sure Travis has more important things to worry about than you, and that flightless fish bird cannot even begin to imagine he is capable of keeping tabs on me. In fact, why am I wasting my time talking to you?”
(Declan pauses to spray a can of Fabreeze in the bathroom he had just stepped from before approaching his room. BoolZ straightens from the wall to stop Prescott.)
BoolZ; “No, no, don’t go. Not yet. Seriously I, listen maybe we started off on the wrong foot. I mean, really, I’m starting to think maybe I owe you a hearty thank you.”
(A look of confusion washes over Prescott’s face as he stops to listen.)
BoolZ; “It’s like all that time I thought you had me spinning my wheels in gauntlets, and Battle Grounds, and beating up DJS for like a month solid I’m starting to see now was really just you expressing your gratitude. I was wrong about you Declan, I can see that now. You were simply protecting me from the depths of where you had obviously had to resort to hiring from.
It’s no secret a couple weeks back I was thrilled to finally not be pinning Kiseragi again. There I was, happily I thought, getting ready to hurt Roberts again, step in the ring with Dragon for the very first time, and face off against Pax whom I also never faced before. Now, I understand I’m partially to blame for the outcome. I know, my emotions got a hold of me, and I just couldn’t pass up the chance to try to break you little buddy’s arm. I mean, I guess I figured Dragon after all that crap he did to Xavier would be able to handle Pax. I screwed up, and missed the whole match. Not that that’s a bad thing. After all it saved me the disappointment of watching Dragon fall on his face again after Marek kicked his head in. What a waste.
Then last week to my surprise I get another chance at finally facing some of that new blood when I pull Ezekiel Pax one on one. Again I started to feel what some might call hope. Finally I get to test my skills against some fresh competition. Yeah, it didn’t end well. I actually started to get a little bored, and had to take a break for a Red Bull on the outside. I would have had a smoke too, but ‘The Shoulder Liner’ wasn’t done hurting yet I guess, so I had to keep up the punishment. It was alright though, because that’s how I come to this week I guess.
That being Raenius… rainesis… rainyass… reanus, what ever. You know after he wanted Pax to lose so bad he interfered in my match I almost started to think it was some scheme cooked up between him and Xavier to get at me. Almost Revolution like in the make things harder than they have to be kind of way. I mean if he wanted Pax to lose so bad he should have just left the damn lights on another four seconds, I would have dropped him on his head, and beat him. Cleanly. And that’s really the part that convinced me he just doesn’t really understand. Hell even the Revolution knows when a man is beat and how to avoid a fight.
And I think that’s really the part that irks me the most. Here this masked man is, hiding what I’m sure are scars from being burned by acid or something like that, and not only does he have to face me this week but it’s in a hardcore match. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you I’m the guy people used as an example pointing out that the Hardcore Champion is the man to beat in the GIW. I mean I’m pretty sure I set a record as the longest reigning title holder with that belt. Maybe Gabby has that now. Either way, I’m the only one to ever beat a hardcore champion. I’m the man that only, only, because Kis-Kis couldn’t figure out how not to lose is no longer the Hardcore Champion.
So here he is, the masked man, the uncommitted clown, facing down the Red Bull Icon in a hardcore match. And not only is a hardcore match, not only is it just his dumb luck in drawing my name this week, not only is it a chance to truly test myself, but now it’s a reason to punish. Now it’s a reason to drive that tricked out moving truck full of plunder I call the ‘U-Suk’ Mobile down to the ring and have some fun with the goodies in the back. Now it’s a chance to set an example. I don’t care who you are be it promoter, boss, security, multi-time highly decorated champion, or some fresh faced punk rookie you stay the hell out of RBI’s matches.
I mean Jesus, Prescott, these last few weeks almost make me miss burying worthy opponents like Aragato or Savana again. For that, for all those months I thought you had me wasting time, for all those months I didn’t have to face the horrid shape of your new hires, I say thank you.”
(BoolZ extends a hand to Prescott who merely stares with a cold and malicious glare back at the former Hardcore Champion. His lips thin and tight begin to peel back ready to unload a torrent of frustration.)
??; “You guys wanna see ma nail?”
(The shrilly voice at the end of the hall breaks the mounting tension as BoolZ and Declan turn to see that little deformed Joka hobbling in their direction. His pants in one hand and what might be a finishing nail in the other.)
“Another time white trash?” Declan squeaks out as he opens his door to escape.
Joka; “It’s a pretty nail.”
BoolZ; “Yeah, and tell Travis I say hi, and that I’ll be hurting soon. I gotta go make Claire some memories anyway.”
(BoolZ hurriedly pushes Claires door…)
Claire; “Randy!”
(Then reaches out to the hall to snatch Conni by the collar, and drag his companion to safety.)
~*~*~
(It’s dark again. From the evil warding night light in the corner we can make out the rushed cleaning of a messy small room. Claire on her back and passed out lays naked on the bed only covered in her thin blanket and filth. It’s hard to tell how much time has passed, but the no less than a dozen and a half empty Red Bull cans insist it’s been awhile. It’s either very late or very early depending on your perception.
Sitting on the dresser BoolZ with a solemn face looks down at Conni who has taken to chewing up one of Claire’s pompoms. He cracks open another Red Bull, hops off his perch, and gives one last glance to the woman. He’s done with her, and he never pays them any attention once he’s done. Randy grabs the remaining three cans of Red Bull and his smokes, and opens the door.)
BoolZ; “It’s just another day. Conni, lets go.”
(They never stick around.)
The crumbled mess on the bed is clearly seen by the moonlight creeping in through the drapes that are not fully shut. Tonight it’s a blonde. Again she’s on her hands and knees, her screams and joy echo in his muddled brain as they mix and then overwhelm the sounds from the ginger red head woman from last night, and as always it’s Randy Boolzian kneeling behind her. As they grind and gyrate for another night she throws her head back allowing her golden blonde hair to fall on her back. Allowing the pale moonlight to glisten off her well conditioned locks. Again forcing BoolZ face to face with the facts.
The shadows cast on Randy’s face do little to lighten his forlorn look. His eyes more sunken, his stubble more haggard, and his hair seems slightly shaggy despite its short well kept length. Then, again, his expression changes and the darkness overtaking his face highlight the anger. With a smooth well practiced hand he grabs her soft silky hair. Just the slightest tug pulls her head back forcing her sleek spine to arch. We shift our focus to the headboard now slamming into the solid walls.)
Blonde; “oh, what the, FUUCCCKKKK!!!!!”
~*~*~
(We’re in the same hotel room. Possibly. The sun now just starting to crack through the almost opened curtains. The yellow orange glow radiates in the matted blonde hair of the women passed in the bed covered only barely with the over starched comforter and her own filth. With the light we can now see the small blandly decorated room. With the birds singing just out the window we can hear the unmistakable sounds of a young pit bull finishing his can of breakfast. With each sound of every car passing by on the interstate the mournful sounds of labored breathing become increasingly more violent.
We turn to the small uncomfortable chair that is always just off to the right of the television that’s never used. BoolZ sits like usual, BoolZ sleeps finally, and BoolZ is tortured again. The welcoming rays of warmth hitting his face only magnify the scrunched brows, snarled lips, and flared nostrils of the Red Bull Icon. Just as his face seemingly cannot contort anymore his eyes rip open as he forces as much air into his lungs as he can and Randy leaps to his feet looking around in a panic.
He sees the woman. He’s seen all the women. He’s never paid any attention to any of them. He sees the ice bucket overfilled with ice and overstocked with little blue and silver cans of life. He always takes two, he always takes his pack of smokes that are always right by the bucket, and he always heads to the patio.)
BoolZ; “Almost done, Conni? Finish up, we’re leaving.”
(They never stick around.)
~*~*~
(The sun is now completely out as the morning fights to its finish. We watch as a train pulls into its station, and one after the other commuter after commuter deboard. Business men and women seemingly all cut from the cloth, all wearing matching uniforms. Dark pants or a long skirt, neutral shirt or blouse, matching blazer and shoes, or high cut boot. All with some form of briefcase, rolling luggage, handbag, or in the rarest cases plastic grocery bag. It’s a sea of the downtrodden and the looks on their faces reflect the feelings they all feel of starting another day.
In the absolute flood of professional types however it is quite easy to spot and become fixated on BoolZ as he stands on the second level just overhead watching these people with Conni patiently at his side. RBI is leaning over the railing with a cigarette in his mouth and a Red Bull in his hand watching intently as the people march in unison. He stands in his spot watching and when the opportunity arises listening.
He watches carefully mothers reaching their breaking point as they head to work, their sick child at home. He listens closely as husbands explain into their iPhones to wives or mistresses why they can’t be there now. He breaths deep as the over body sprayed young men pass him trying to cover up the smells form the previous nights bars. He feels the apprehensions of too many employees too close to foreclosure too desperate for their presentation to be well received. He can almost taste the tall mocha cappuccinos over light ice with three extra shots of espresso that nearly rival the number of people.)
??; “God, I hate Tuesdays!”
(She must have waited for him to finish his Red Bull as this new blonde, college age, fresh faced, and fully curved caught BoolZ completely off guard. He’s not used to anyone stopping to pester him this early in the day. She couldn’t tell. He tosses his now empty can of Red Bull into the trashcan, and as hit bounces off the other empty cans of Red Bull he turns to her.)
BoolZ; “I don’t know. They’re only a little worse than yesterday, but never as bad as tomorrow.”
(The stranger gives the often seen quizzical expression as she extends her delicate hand.)
??; “Hi, I’m Claire.”
(It always starts this easy.)
BoolZ; “Randy, pleasure to meet you.”
(The P.A. system alerts waiting passengers of a train approaching. Before too long a second train heading in the opposite direction than the first pulls into the station. Again like an army of unnamed numbers pour from the steel coffins, and head to their inevitable destination. BoolZ turns his attention back from Claire to the passengers.)
Claire; “Well, Randy, you know I've seen you here like everyday. Figured I had to say hi, and its like Mondays suck that’s a fact. Another week, more classes, the weekends over, and half the time I’m all hung over and shit. Then Wednesdays get a little better because you’re half way to the weekend, right? Before you know it it’s Thursday and you’re finalizing your plans, and it’s only one more day! Fridays are great ‘cause you can get out for an early start to the partying, let off some steam, unwind, and if you meet someone special you have a whole three days to bang like Spartans. But Tuesdays? Tuesdays are almost worse than Mondays. It’s like nothing ever happens on Tuesdays. No notoriety, you know? Nothing to help it stand out…”
(Fixated, Randy can’t hear her words, he can’t see her lips beginning to darken, and he can’t notice her pupils dilating. He can’t be bothered with such mundane details. She continues to talk as BoolZ can’t, wont, pull himself away. Conni sees it. Conni sees her. Conni sees Maddy leaving the train, her old faded army backpack slung over her shoulder, her new well worn Betty Page hoodie up over her darker than the darkest night hair, her baggy Dickies pants beginning to unravel at the heel. We see her until she finally reaches an awaiting bus, and pulls away.)
Claire; “Hello?”
(She’s gone again.)
BoolZ; “Well, maybe you should make something special happen on a Tuesday.”
Claire; “Yeah, like what?”
BoolZ; “Well, maybe we should get out of here and try to figure out what we can do on this Tuesday to make it memorable.”
Claire; “Oh, yeah, let’s go.”
~*~*~
(The sun now hangs in the sky signaling the early afternoon hour. We’re on a fairly quiet street someone in some Los Angeles suburb. It’s a decent area, considering L.A.’s reputation. Far from a good area. The air is stale and dirty, the street and sidewalks much the same, and the lawns are slowly dying a horrific death. Almost fittingly the roar of the ‘U-Suk’ Mobile storms down the road, and passes us stopping at a house down the street.
First the passenger side door opens allowing Claire to exit the vehicle. Then the driver’s side door swings open cueing the recorded thousands of fans to chant BoolZ’s name. He steps out with a Red Bull in his hand, and Conni hops out immediately after. Claire had waited by the vehicle, her face beaming with excitement, fulfillment, and exhilaration. BoolZ and Conni make their way to the young college girl, but BoolZ can’t help but stare at the dwelling.)
Claire; “Thank you SOOO much. I’ll definitely be changing my view on Tuesdays from now on.”
BoolZ; “Oh yeah?”
Claire; “Ohh yeeaaahh. In a train station bathroom? I’ve heard of stuff like that, but never thought… It was so dirty, and naughty. We could have been caught, and that just made it so hot! Especially when you said you were keeping my panties! Like, who does that?”
BoolZ; “Yeah, it was one for the record books huh? You live here?”
Claire; “Well yeah, just for now though. As soon as a dorm opens up I’m moving on campus. McZygmunt doesn’t charge a lot, and I have my own room, but the two new roommates are kinda weird. Anyway, I’ll just be a second. It just feels so weird running around in a cheerleader uniform without any underwear. You wanna come in?”
BoolZ; “Yeah, sure. Why not? This McZygmunt guy, he got a last name?”
(BoolZ finishes his Red Bull, tosses the can into the open passenger side window, and the two make their way through the almost forest like lawn with Conni in tow. Before they reach the door, almost as an alarm system, the door flies open allowing the old beast to jump from the frame.)
The Crazy Cat Lady; “ROARF! BRUGH! GRAK! FRUMP!”
(BoolZ doesn’t flinch, Claire jumps, and Conni goes ballistic at the sight of so many cats. BoolZ holds him back by the collar as Claire recomposes herself.)
The Crazy Cat Lady; “RUH! KRIMOTDAY! OOOORGH!!!! BROOP ARGK FRUGH!!! ZIGGY MO-“
BoolZ; “CONNI, behave! You know Aragato! Be nice!”
Claire; “Oh damnit, she gets me every time. Randy, I’m so sorry. This is one my roommates. Don’t worry she’s harmless, just crazier than shit.”
BoolZ; “She? ‘Gato, you a she?”
(The constant barking from the American Red Nose Pit Bull is enough to send The Crazy Cat Lady scurrying away to a far corner before she can attempt an answer.)
Claire; “Uhm, maybe you should follow me. I think you’re puppy is scaring her.”
BoolZ; “Damn, I thought I knew him. Yeah, you’re probably right. I don’t think Conni would like getting spit on.”
(Claire, BoolZ, and Conni all head down a small headway as The Crazy Cat Lady cautiously watches from the distance.)
BoolZ; “So I never got my answer. This McZygmunt guy have a last name?”
Claire; “I’m not entirely sure. He’s got a really strong, like, Polish accent and is always working out so he’s kinda hard to understand. Why?”
BoolZ; “No reason, just a weird name. McZygmunt.”
(Upon reaching a closed door across the hall from another closed door Claire stops to turn to RBI.)
Claire; “Uhm, you wanna wait here? I’ll be just a second.”
BoolZ; “What, now you get modest?”
Claire; “Something’s gotta be left for the second date.”
(Claire opens the door just enough to squeeze through, and then shuts the door quickly. BoolZ alone with Conni is the dilapidated ‘home’ scans the barren walls before leaning the sturdiest looking one, and cracking open a Red Bull from his jacket pocket.
A doorway a feet further down the hall opens causing BoolZ to look at what is surely to be one of Claire’s other insane roommates. To his surprise only a befuddled Declan Prescott is seen. The two make eye contact, share an awkward silent moment, and then are overwhelmed by the sheer stroke of luck that finds them both away from the GIW Arena.)
BoolZ; “Hey, Not My Boss!”
“I’m here on my own volition, walking herpy!” barked Prescott.
BoolZ; “Oh, I’m sure you are. I mean that’s a hell of a tumble from the apartment I broke into last year to this place. I doubt something like that just happens. I mean it’s not like an everyday occurrence like losing your life’s work to a penguin.”
“You never cease to truly let me down you know that?” Responded the Significant Player behind snarled lips and squinted eyes, “Even a window licker like yourself, someone who undoubtedly was bred from the sole reason of seeing how far human intelligence can fall, should be able to recognize the Revolution always has a plan. This is just a piece to the puzzle.”
BoolZ; “Yeah I’m sure it is. Help me out though, ‘cause I gotta know, how does shacking up with Boss P’s riding pole fit into the plan. Wait why is Boss P letting you shack up with McZygmunt? Oh, is Travis here?”
(BoolZ had been sipping on his Red Bull calmly. As soon as he uttered the name Travis a clear sense of hate flashes behind his steely gazed eyes.)
“Never mind about Travis or ‘Munt,” hissed Declan, “I’m sure Travis has more important things to worry about than you, and that flightless fish bird cannot even begin to imagine he is capable of keeping tabs on me. In fact, why am I wasting my time talking to you?”
(Declan pauses to spray a can of Fabreeze in the bathroom he had just stepped from before approaching his room. BoolZ straightens from the wall to stop Prescott.)
BoolZ; “No, no, don’t go. Not yet. Seriously I, listen maybe we started off on the wrong foot. I mean, really, I’m starting to think maybe I owe you a hearty thank you.”
(A look of confusion washes over Prescott’s face as he stops to listen.)
BoolZ; “It’s like all that time I thought you had me spinning my wheels in gauntlets, and Battle Grounds, and beating up DJS for like a month solid I’m starting to see now was really just you expressing your gratitude. I was wrong about you Declan, I can see that now. You were simply protecting me from the depths of where you had obviously had to resort to hiring from.
It’s no secret a couple weeks back I was thrilled to finally not be pinning Kiseragi again. There I was, happily I thought, getting ready to hurt Roberts again, step in the ring with Dragon for the very first time, and face off against Pax whom I also never faced before. Now, I understand I’m partially to blame for the outcome. I know, my emotions got a hold of me, and I just couldn’t pass up the chance to try to break you little buddy’s arm. I mean, I guess I figured Dragon after all that crap he did to Xavier would be able to handle Pax. I screwed up, and missed the whole match. Not that that’s a bad thing. After all it saved me the disappointment of watching Dragon fall on his face again after Marek kicked his head in. What a waste.
Then last week to my surprise I get another chance at finally facing some of that new blood when I pull Ezekiel Pax one on one. Again I started to feel what some might call hope. Finally I get to test my skills against some fresh competition. Yeah, it didn’t end well. I actually started to get a little bored, and had to take a break for a Red Bull on the outside. I would have had a smoke too, but ‘The Shoulder Liner’ wasn’t done hurting yet I guess, so I had to keep up the punishment. It was alright though, because that’s how I come to this week I guess.
That being Raenius… rainesis… rainyass… reanus, what ever. You know after he wanted Pax to lose so bad he interfered in my match I almost started to think it was some scheme cooked up between him and Xavier to get at me. Almost Revolution like in the make things harder than they have to be kind of way. I mean if he wanted Pax to lose so bad he should have just left the damn lights on another four seconds, I would have dropped him on his head, and beat him. Cleanly. And that’s really the part that convinced me he just doesn’t really understand. Hell even the Revolution knows when a man is beat and how to avoid a fight.
And I think that’s really the part that irks me the most. Here this masked man is, hiding what I’m sure are scars from being burned by acid or something like that, and not only does he have to face me this week but it’s in a hardcore match. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you I’m the guy people used as an example pointing out that the Hardcore Champion is the man to beat in the GIW. I mean I’m pretty sure I set a record as the longest reigning title holder with that belt. Maybe Gabby has that now. Either way, I’m the only one to ever beat a hardcore champion. I’m the man that only, only, because Kis-Kis couldn’t figure out how not to lose is no longer the Hardcore Champion.
So here he is, the masked man, the uncommitted clown, facing down the Red Bull Icon in a hardcore match. And not only is a hardcore match, not only is it just his dumb luck in drawing my name this week, not only is it a chance to truly test myself, but now it’s a reason to punish. Now it’s a reason to drive that tricked out moving truck full of plunder I call the ‘U-Suk’ Mobile down to the ring and have some fun with the goodies in the back. Now it’s a chance to set an example. I don’t care who you are be it promoter, boss, security, multi-time highly decorated champion, or some fresh faced punk rookie you stay the hell out of RBI’s matches.
I mean Jesus, Prescott, these last few weeks almost make me miss burying worthy opponents like Aragato or Savana again. For that, for all those months I thought you had me wasting time, for all those months I didn’t have to face the horrid shape of your new hires, I say thank you.”
(BoolZ extends a hand to Prescott who merely stares with a cold and malicious glare back at the former Hardcore Champion. His lips thin and tight begin to peel back ready to unload a torrent of frustration.)
??; “You guys wanna see ma nail?”
(The shrilly voice at the end of the hall breaks the mounting tension as BoolZ and Declan turn to see that little deformed Joka hobbling in their direction. His pants in one hand and what might be a finishing nail in the other.)
“Another time white trash?” Declan squeaks out as he opens his door to escape.
Joka; “It’s a pretty nail.”
BoolZ; “Yeah, and tell Travis I say hi, and that I’ll be hurting soon. I gotta go make Claire some memories anyway.”
(BoolZ hurriedly pushes Claires door…)
Claire; “Randy!”
(Then reaches out to the hall to snatch Conni by the collar, and drag his companion to safety.)
~*~*~
(It’s dark again. From the evil warding night light in the corner we can make out the rushed cleaning of a messy small room. Claire on her back and passed out lays naked on the bed only covered in her thin blanket and filth. It’s hard to tell how much time has passed, but the no less than a dozen and a half empty Red Bull cans insist it’s been awhile. It’s either very late or very early depending on your perception.
Sitting on the dresser BoolZ with a solemn face looks down at Conni who has taken to chewing up one of Claire’s pompoms. He cracks open another Red Bull, hops off his perch, and gives one last glance to the woman. He’s done with her, and he never pays them any attention once he’s done. Randy grabs the remaining three cans of Red Bull and his smokes, and opens the door.)
BoolZ; “It’s just another day. Conni, lets go.”
(They never stick around.)
