Post by Red Bull Icon on Jul 25, 2009 23:35:49 GMT -5
MJ~ Why do you do this to yourself, kid? You should be on top of the world. You should be happy.
{{She kneels over RBI in her blood stained referee’s shirt. Tears in her eyes, regret on her face, a slight trickle of blood from her nose. ‘Bummer’ by Monster Magnet continues to play, he thinks, until the fans erupt in cheer, and then Mitchell Dennis closes Infinity ‘09.}}
Dennis~ Ladies and gentlemen… Alex Kiseragi… impromptu… AND NEW GIW UNIFIED GLOBAL CHAMPION, ALEXXX KISEERRRRAAAAGGGGIIII!!!!!
BoolZ~ Nothing ever ends the way it should.
~*~*~
(We open in another room. We open in Maddy’s room. It’s dark out and darker still in their chamber. We here the flick of a light switch before a door against the far wall opens allowing the bathroom nightlight to barely illuminate the tiny room.
The crumbled mess on the bed lays on his back, snoring loudly, with his legs spread as to take up the majority of the queen sized mattress. The Maddy’s silhouette wastes little time before carefully heading to the bedroom door. Praying the floor board doesn’t squeak, again. Of course it does, Jeremy grumbles, turns over to cover the rest of the mattress, and then returns to snoring.
She’s quick now, opens the door, slides through, and shuts the door without a sound.)
Olivia~ Well?
Maddy~ No, I need something with full sleeves. Well, what?
Olivia~ Does he still remind you of ‘Better Times’?
{{Maddy, a young Maddy, runs into her room. The walls littered with meticulously leveled Tri-City Wrestling promotional fliers. Her decidedly ‘tom boy’ clothes scattered across the floor in perfect position. Her bookcase cluttered haphazardly with precious keepsakes. Her father screaming from downstairs with a love of hatred in his voice.
She runs the three steps to her twin sized bed as the sight of an old Camaro pulling up to her curb catches her attention. She stops and watches as a shaggy haired and pale Randy Boolzian steps from the passenger seat only so he can squeeze into the backseat. Her boyfriend Ashton McCourt, smile on his face and a bounce in his step, approaches her driveway.
Before she knows what she’s doing, she’s out of her room, and storming down the stairs. Past her father, running from her torment, leaving this house.}}
Maddy~ More and more everyday.
(Maddy’s downstairs now. Standing in front of the fireplace she adjusts her ponytail in the mirror hanging over the mantle where her fathers paddle is still proudly displayed. She slides into her sandals before picking up her purse and heading for the door.
She reaches for her well worn Betty Page hoodie before pulling her arm back, and looking to the stairs.)
Ran~ Ash here yet? You ready?
Maddy~ I’m not going. And you better leave before my dad gets home.
Ran~ Leave? I just got here, and you been locked in that shitter the whole time. And what do you mean you’re not going? Ash has been looking forward to heading up to that fucking mountain all winter. We always head to Mt. Palomar the first weekend of spring. It’s tradition…
{{The bathroom door flies open to reveal a short haired Maddy. Her eyes dark and puffy. She’s been crying. One eye swollen and bloodshot. She’s been hit. She holds up her bruised covered arms, as Randy stands in puzzlement. It might be the truth he’s seeing now, or another hallucination. He doesn’t try to figure it out during this time of his life.}}
Maddy~ How the fuck am I supposed to go like this!
Ran~ I ain’t lying. If anyone asks I’m spillin’.
Maddy~ Ran, please, I’m trusting you now.
Ran~ Yeah, well how trust worthy is a liar. You should make sure they don’t ask where you are.
Maddy~ I, can’t, go, like, THIS!
{{Randy looks around the living room searching for something, anything. His eyes settle on an old Power Rangers sweat shirt that belongs to Cynthia McCourt. Cynders wouldn’t mind, she must have left it anyway.}}
Ran~ Here wear this. I’m sure Cynders’ won’t care. Probably happy to get rid of it.
Maddy~ Power Rangers?
Ran~ It’ll cover your marks, and it’s kinda retro, or hip fuck I don’t know, but it’ll work.
Maddy~ I’m not going! Everyone will ask about my eye.
Ran~ Tell’em Ash’s cock hit you.
Maddy~…
Ran~ Fine, you started softball in gym right? C’mon, Ash’ll be here in a few minutes.
Maddy~ You won’t tell anyone, right?
Ran~ I find making sure they don’t ask is more reliable.
{{She wore that Power Rangers sweat shirt for two years, no one asked, and he never told. She wore that Power Rangers sweat shirt the day she confronted Ash and Ran about allegedly attacking father outside of his mechanics shop. She stopped wearing a hoodie shortly after.}}
(We’re back at her front door. We’re back to staring at that Betty Page hoodie.)
Maddy; “Be an ocean. It’s cold. It’s just cold.”
(She grabs the hoodie, and rushes out of the house and into the pre-dawn morning.)
~*~*~
(We’re in the much more familiar surroundings of another strange hotel room. The light’s are on this time, and we can plainly see the television mounted and bolted to the armoire. The conservative yet uninspired watercolor painting of a sail boat hangs on the accent wall. The bed neatly, professionally, made and even at this the earliest hours of the morning remains untouched.
There is no conquest from the night before. There is no huddled mass passed out from exhaustion covered only in the cheap scratchy blanket and her own mess. There is only Randy in his, in the, stiff uncomfortable chair. There is only Conni lapping up his 3:30am can of breakfast. There are only no less than an empty case of Red Bull scattered throughout the room.
Randy is used to his failure. He’s used to the loneliness. He’s used to the emptiness. He’s used to his tortured reminders of himself and the thoughts they force him to think. He’s to use to them. He sits in that chair with a Red Bull in his hand, a cigarette in his lips, and emptiness in his eyes. As he watches Conni go through another morning of preparation for another day spent in the ‘U-Suk’ mobile it happens. Not only does he know or think or expect, but he accepts. He’s been wrong, so wrong before. He needs to make right. He needs to find peace.)
Randy; “C’mon Conni, we deserve a home.”
~*~*~
{{We’re in a park. We’re at a picnic table. They’re at the picnic table. No more than eight years old sits the oldest by only a couple months, Ashton. Next to him Randy, the youngest. They ramble, talk, and joke as the sun begins to dip.
As the night falls and gives way to the morning those two friends are now ten at the youngest. Surrounded by Ash’s favorite toys, they pretend to conduct match after match with the little plastic action figures. A faint rain starts before giving way to the deluge of a winter’s storm.
When the sky finally submits to the suns summer rays the buddy’s are twelve. Action figures are replaced by Ashton’s Pokemon Red and Ashton’s Pokemon Blue. A link cable connects the boys. Conversation now turns from cartoons and the spectacle of professional wrestling to the inner workings of why and how to take a ‘bump’ while a high school football team runs two-a-days across the scene.
As the final play of their freshmen season comes to a close Ash and Ran are joined by Maddy. No younger than fourteen now, and only joined because they are all at the same table. Ash and Maddy together, Ran to the side seemingly fading in and out of consciousness. Together Ash and Maddy stand to place the Christmas decorations on the pine tree that has provided shade for so long.
By the time they remove the lights and glass ornaments a barrage of images flow into view during their sixteenth year. Ran alone behind a lighter and spoon. Maddy screaming at Ash and Ran, Ran holding his bloody tooth cut hand. Maddy handing a distraught Ran his first ‘trophy’, and the calming sense the puzzlement provided. Ash on one knee in front of his future wife a year later. Ash, in a pair of short wrestling trunks and pads, and Ran engaged in a fist fight while a scratched and powdered compact mirror sits carelessly tossed to the ground. Ash, Maddy, and Ran together joking in their caps and gowns. Ran and Maddy locked in a tearful embrace. He holds onto an English to Japanese dictionary. She holds on to hope. Then Maddy alone at the table.}}
(Maddy sits at the picnic table in her hoodie. Her first cup of coffee sits in front of her and too much history behind her. From down the path approaches Randy with Conni following closely. She doesn’t look up. Instead she gazes shamefully at her drink. She doesn’t see that same hitch in Randy’s step he always gets when reminded of his past or forced to confront his future.
Randy joins Maddy at the table, and neither says a word. Neither knows what to do. Eventually it’s Conni who grows tired of the awkward silence, and breaks the ice with a snuzzle of his nose to Maddy’s hand.)
Maddy; “Hey, uhm listen, there’s something I have to…”
Randy; “Maddy, hold on. Let me start. Listen, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know why, really, I’ve done what I’ve done for so long but I’m sorry. You know I’ve been thinking, and I’ve made some really bad choices in my life. None of them though were worse than getting on that plane after Ash’s funeral. None of them were as bad as leaving. Maddy it’s time I start fixing my mistakes. Listen, I’ve done really well. I’m going to retire, I want us to move to Mexico, leave everything behind, and we can live out our lives in…”
(Her eyes damming back the river. Her voice empty and dry. Her spirit barren.)
Maddy; “Ran, I’m married.”
(He thought he was used to failure. He thought he was used to loneliness. He thought he was used to his emptiness.)
Maddy; “Ran, I’m sorry, but I tried. I tried calling you. I tried begging you to stop me, to take me away, to save me. Randy, I needed to be wanted.”
(Her damn breaks drowning her face, her voice, and her soul.)
Maddy; “Randy, I’m sorry. These were the cards I was dealt.”
(He can’t take it. His knees have no strength. He has to sit as she stands. He has to turn away as she looks back. He has to watch as she leaves.
In an instant the morning sun now stands proud and high in the sky. The last of the only jogger we remember fades into the distance. Another school bell rings out ending today’s session that we hadn’t remembered even started. Conni, now awake, pulls on his leash as Randy finally stands.)
Randy; “C’mon Conni, you deserve a home.”
~*~*~
(It’s night. We’re joined by hundreds of fans outside of GIW Arena. We watch as a teenager in an ‘Alex Kiseragi’ t-shirt pick pockets a middle aged father with his son. We witness as an overgrown belly of a fat man gets in the way of using his camera phone to catch that perfect angle for an up skirt shot of Gabrielle’s panties. We watch as Professor Bling and three of his staff forcefully ‘escort’ an acne ridden Revolution fan from the building.)
The Significant Headliner; “I’m press! I got 400 hits on my YouTube account for my Infinity review!”
(We watch as from the distance Randy Boolzian with Conni approaches the back entrance through the aisle way. We watch as he’s stopped by Moss Edwards and Grace Harding. Behind the eyes of a twisted soul, Randy can’t help but listen to the Auteur.)
M.E.; “BowlS! How fortunate to run into you. I was just saying the other day, I might have the perfect supporting part for you in my next production!”
Grace; “Lead.”
M.E.; “Only behind me. My vision after all. Listen though, and feel free to say no. I understand it might not be your thing. It seems so few these days can appreciate my vision. The stories I need to tell. The money I can make if I can just get the right cast. So picture this. You’re running! Straight into the action, shoot now ask questions never, answer those unanswered queries later. You’re following right! But now what are you running from?
A mobster? A gangster? A gang of mobsters! No, no, not these thing. Maybe a league of lobsters! Mutant lobsters! Complete with huge pinchers, dog sized, maybe a crown on the leader. I don’t know, we can work it out later, I’m just saying. Hey Grace didn’t we see something like…”
Grace; “Corphish a trademark owned by Gamefreak. I’ll set up an appointment.”
(As Moss restarts his train of thought the desperation in Randy’s face fades to mild annoyance.)
M.E.; “Anyway, BootS, It doesn’t matter, because you’re high! Completely out of your head stoned! And that’s the angle. We suck them in thinking it’s an action film, then *BOOM* hit them with the path of self discovery! We turn an eye to the habit often times celebrated in celebrity, and expose it for its desperate nature. We show you at your lowest point, near death in an ally, no one to turn to, running from your past…”
(The faintest, almost amused, smile begins infecting Randy’s mouth.)
M.E.; “We have to figure how you got to this point first. Love. Forsaken love, a friends wife, no daughter, no wife with Sunday dinner, the frilly aprons, it happens in a minivan! You can never see her again, she wants nothing to do with you. You’re an addict, she’s afraid you’ll ruin her life, you’re afraid you’ll ruin her life, and it rips you apart so you go on a binge…”
(Randy leans in to ensure he’s actually hearing what is being said. Then through gleefully wracked eyes the Red Bull Icon responds.)
BoolZ; “Let me stop you right there. See I don’t know, maybe you don’t really know what you’re saying. Or who you’re saying it to. Maybe you don’t care. Maybe you think that after almost a year someone finally figured out the only way to beat me is allow me to beat myself, and now you think the aura or my confidence is gone. I can assure you that’s not the case. But you’re new here, I can appreciate that. So consider yourself lucky, because RBI is gonna let you walk away.
See my life is not some base material for a B grade movie hack who probably failed out of film school shortly after he lost his hair to exploit for the voyeuristic entertainment of the masses. My pain is my own. My torment is my own. My demons are all mine, and if you’re not careful I might introduce you to us.
I don’t do this because I have some undying need to entertain. I don’t do this because I crave the attention or adulation. I don’t go out there and put my body on the line in that ring because I want to inspire. I do it because it’s all I got left. I do it because I deserve the pain. I’m horrible at being a son, I’m worse at relationships, and I am an absolutely shit friend. There’s only one thing in my life that has ever always made sense, and that’s what I do in the ring. Don’t find out. In fact pity The Crimson Ghost, because tonight he finds out.
You know I almost feel bad for him. I like The Crimson Ghost. He amuses me. Hell I’d almost call him a friend. But I called Chris Austin a friend too, then I took his title, I beat him up, and he hasn’t been the same since. The Crimson Ghost doesn’t have a title, so I gotta hurt him twice as bad. I gotta find a way to make him hurt as much as I hurt. Pray I don’t have to find a way to make you hurt. Now get outta my way, baldy-locks.”
(He is an ocean. Calm and peaceful on the surface. Dark, cold, and inhospitable at his deepest parts. BoolZ pushes past Moss Edwards who simply takes in the outburst. He brings his hand to his mouth and begins tapping his index finger on his top lip. BoolZ turns from the doorway.)
BoolZ; “And the name is BoolZ, fucktard! Capital B-o-o-l-Capital Z!”
(Once RBI is inside the building Moss turns to Grace who had been slowly inching away during the Red Bull Icon’s tirade.)
M.E.; “Such raw emotion, rage, uh, uh,”
Grace; “Passion.”
M.E.; “He’ll need a straight man. Someone to counter his energy and bring the film down. Keep it on an even keel. What’s Tommy Lee Jones, doing?”
Grace; “I’ll make a call, sir.”
‘SQUUUEEEEH’
M.E.; “Grace?”
Grace; “Number five, sir. I can’t help myself.”
(The scene ends Moss pointing at an approaching Marlo. Grace looks over a clipboard, and then shakes her head. Marlo enters the building without interruption as we fade to black.)
{{She kneels over RBI in her blood stained referee’s shirt. Tears in her eyes, regret on her face, a slight trickle of blood from her nose. ‘Bummer’ by Monster Magnet continues to play, he thinks, until the fans erupt in cheer, and then Mitchell Dennis closes Infinity ‘09.}}
Dennis~ Ladies and gentlemen… Alex Kiseragi… impromptu… AND NEW GIW UNIFIED GLOBAL CHAMPION, ALEXXX KISEERRRRAAAAGGGGIIII!!!!!
BoolZ~ Nothing ever ends the way it should.
~*~*~
(We open in another room. We open in Maddy’s room. It’s dark out and darker still in their chamber. We here the flick of a light switch before a door against the far wall opens allowing the bathroom nightlight to barely illuminate the tiny room.
The crumbled mess on the bed lays on his back, snoring loudly, with his legs spread as to take up the majority of the queen sized mattress. The Maddy’s silhouette wastes little time before carefully heading to the bedroom door. Praying the floor board doesn’t squeak, again. Of course it does, Jeremy grumbles, turns over to cover the rest of the mattress, and then returns to snoring.
She’s quick now, opens the door, slides through, and shuts the door without a sound.)
Olivia~ Well?
Maddy~ No, I need something with full sleeves. Well, what?
Olivia~ Does he still remind you of ‘Better Times’?
{{Maddy, a young Maddy, runs into her room. The walls littered with meticulously leveled Tri-City Wrestling promotional fliers. Her decidedly ‘tom boy’ clothes scattered across the floor in perfect position. Her bookcase cluttered haphazardly with precious keepsakes. Her father screaming from downstairs with a love of hatred in his voice.
She runs the three steps to her twin sized bed as the sight of an old Camaro pulling up to her curb catches her attention. She stops and watches as a shaggy haired and pale Randy Boolzian steps from the passenger seat only so he can squeeze into the backseat. Her boyfriend Ashton McCourt, smile on his face and a bounce in his step, approaches her driveway.
Before she knows what she’s doing, she’s out of her room, and storming down the stairs. Past her father, running from her torment, leaving this house.}}
Maddy~ More and more everyday.
(Maddy’s downstairs now. Standing in front of the fireplace she adjusts her ponytail in the mirror hanging over the mantle where her fathers paddle is still proudly displayed. She slides into her sandals before picking up her purse and heading for the door.
She reaches for her well worn Betty Page hoodie before pulling her arm back, and looking to the stairs.)
Ran~ Ash here yet? You ready?
Maddy~ I’m not going. And you better leave before my dad gets home.
Ran~ Leave? I just got here, and you been locked in that shitter the whole time. And what do you mean you’re not going? Ash has been looking forward to heading up to that fucking mountain all winter. We always head to Mt. Palomar the first weekend of spring. It’s tradition…
{{The bathroom door flies open to reveal a short haired Maddy. Her eyes dark and puffy. She’s been crying. One eye swollen and bloodshot. She’s been hit. She holds up her bruised covered arms, as Randy stands in puzzlement. It might be the truth he’s seeing now, or another hallucination. He doesn’t try to figure it out during this time of his life.}}
Maddy~ How the fuck am I supposed to go like this!
Ran~ I ain’t lying. If anyone asks I’m spillin’.
Maddy~ Ran, please, I’m trusting you now.
Ran~ Yeah, well how trust worthy is a liar. You should make sure they don’t ask where you are.
Maddy~ I, can’t, go, like, THIS!
{{Randy looks around the living room searching for something, anything. His eyes settle on an old Power Rangers sweat shirt that belongs to Cynthia McCourt. Cynders wouldn’t mind, she must have left it anyway.}}
Ran~ Here wear this. I’m sure Cynders’ won’t care. Probably happy to get rid of it.
Maddy~ Power Rangers?
Ran~ It’ll cover your marks, and it’s kinda retro, or hip fuck I don’t know, but it’ll work.
Maddy~ I’m not going! Everyone will ask about my eye.
Ran~ Tell’em Ash’s cock hit you.
Maddy~…
Ran~ Fine, you started softball in gym right? C’mon, Ash’ll be here in a few minutes.
Maddy~ You won’t tell anyone, right?
Ran~ I find making sure they don’t ask is more reliable.
{{She wore that Power Rangers sweat shirt for two years, no one asked, and he never told. She wore that Power Rangers sweat shirt the day she confronted Ash and Ran about allegedly attacking father outside of his mechanics shop. She stopped wearing a hoodie shortly after.}}
(We’re back at her front door. We’re back to staring at that Betty Page hoodie.)
Maddy; “Be an ocean. It’s cold. It’s just cold.”
(She grabs the hoodie, and rushes out of the house and into the pre-dawn morning.)
~*~*~
(We’re in the much more familiar surroundings of another strange hotel room. The light’s are on this time, and we can plainly see the television mounted and bolted to the armoire. The conservative yet uninspired watercolor painting of a sail boat hangs on the accent wall. The bed neatly, professionally, made and even at this the earliest hours of the morning remains untouched.
There is no conquest from the night before. There is no huddled mass passed out from exhaustion covered only in the cheap scratchy blanket and her own mess. There is only Randy in his, in the, stiff uncomfortable chair. There is only Conni lapping up his 3:30am can of breakfast. There are only no less than an empty case of Red Bull scattered throughout the room.
Randy is used to his failure. He’s used to the loneliness. He’s used to the emptiness. He’s used to his tortured reminders of himself and the thoughts they force him to think. He’s to use to them. He sits in that chair with a Red Bull in his hand, a cigarette in his lips, and emptiness in his eyes. As he watches Conni go through another morning of preparation for another day spent in the ‘U-Suk’ mobile it happens. Not only does he know or think or expect, but he accepts. He’s been wrong, so wrong before. He needs to make right. He needs to find peace.)
Randy; “C’mon Conni, we deserve a home.”
~*~*~
{{We’re in a park. We’re at a picnic table. They’re at the picnic table. No more than eight years old sits the oldest by only a couple months, Ashton. Next to him Randy, the youngest. They ramble, talk, and joke as the sun begins to dip.
As the night falls and gives way to the morning those two friends are now ten at the youngest. Surrounded by Ash’s favorite toys, they pretend to conduct match after match with the little plastic action figures. A faint rain starts before giving way to the deluge of a winter’s storm.
When the sky finally submits to the suns summer rays the buddy’s are twelve. Action figures are replaced by Ashton’s Pokemon Red and Ashton’s Pokemon Blue. A link cable connects the boys. Conversation now turns from cartoons and the spectacle of professional wrestling to the inner workings of why and how to take a ‘bump’ while a high school football team runs two-a-days across the scene.
As the final play of their freshmen season comes to a close Ash and Ran are joined by Maddy. No younger than fourteen now, and only joined because they are all at the same table. Ash and Maddy together, Ran to the side seemingly fading in and out of consciousness. Together Ash and Maddy stand to place the Christmas decorations on the pine tree that has provided shade for so long.
By the time they remove the lights and glass ornaments a barrage of images flow into view during their sixteenth year. Ran alone behind a lighter and spoon. Maddy screaming at Ash and Ran, Ran holding his bloody tooth cut hand. Maddy handing a distraught Ran his first ‘trophy’, and the calming sense the puzzlement provided. Ash on one knee in front of his future wife a year later. Ash, in a pair of short wrestling trunks and pads, and Ran engaged in a fist fight while a scratched and powdered compact mirror sits carelessly tossed to the ground. Ash, Maddy, and Ran together joking in their caps and gowns. Ran and Maddy locked in a tearful embrace. He holds onto an English to Japanese dictionary. She holds on to hope. Then Maddy alone at the table.}}
(Maddy sits at the picnic table in her hoodie. Her first cup of coffee sits in front of her and too much history behind her. From down the path approaches Randy with Conni following closely. She doesn’t look up. Instead she gazes shamefully at her drink. She doesn’t see that same hitch in Randy’s step he always gets when reminded of his past or forced to confront his future.
Randy joins Maddy at the table, and neither says a word. Neither knows what to do. Eventually it’s Conni who grows tired of the awkward silence, and breaks the ice with a snuzzle of his nose to Maddy’s hand.)
Maddy; “Hey, uhm listen, there’s something I have to…”
Randy; “Maddy, hold on. Let me start. Listen, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know why, really, I’ve done what I’ve done for so long but I’m sorry. You know I’ve been thinking, and I’ve made some really bad choices in my life. None of them though were worse than getting on that plane after Ash’s funeral. None of them were as bad as leaving. Maddy it’s time I start fixing my mistakes. Listen, I’ve done really well. I’m going to retire, I want us to move to Mexico, leave everything behind, and we can live out our lives in…”
(Her eyes damming back the river. Her voice empty and dry. Her spirit barren.)
Maddy; “Ran, I’m married.”
(He thought he was used to failure. He thought he was used to loneliness. He thought he was used to his emptiness.)
Maddy; “Ran, I’m sorry, but I tried. I tried calling you. I tried begging you to stop me, to take me away, to save me. Randy, I needed to be wanted.”
(Her damn breaks drowning her face, her voice, and her soul.)
Maddy; “Randy, I’m sorry. These were the cards I was dealt.”
(He can’t take it. His knees have no strength. He has to sit as she stands. He has to turn away as she looks back. He has to watch as she leaves.
In an instant the morning sun now stands proud and high in the sky. The last of the only jogger we remember fades into the distance. Another school bell rings out ending today’s session that we hadn’t remembered even started. Conni, now awake, pulls on his leash as Randy finally stands.)
Randy; “C’mon Conni, you deserve a home.”
~*~*~
(It’s night. We’re joined by hundreds of fans outside of GIW Arena. We watch as a teenager in an ‘Alex Kiseragi’ t-shirt pick pockets a middle aged father with his son. We witness as an overgrown belly of a fat man gets in the way of using his camera phone to catch that perfect angle for an up skirt shot of Gabrielle’s panties. We watch as Professor Bling and three of his staff forcefully ‘escort’ an acne ridden Revolution fan from the building.)
The Significant Headliner; “I’m press! I got 400 hits on my YouTube account for my Infinity review!”
(We watch as from the distance Randy Boolzian with Conni approaches the back entrance through the aisle way. We watch as he’s stopped by Moss Edwards and Grace Harding. Behind the eyes of a twisted soul, Randy can’t help but listen to the Auteur.)
M.E.; “BowlS! How fortunate to run into you. I was just saying the other day, I might have the perfect supporting part for you in my next production!”
Grace; “Lead.”
M.E.; “Only behind me. My vision after all. Listen though, and feel free to say no. I understand it might not be your thing. It seems so few these days can appreciate my vision. The stories I need to tell. The money I can make if I can just get the right cast. So picture this. You’re running! Straight into the action, shoot now ask questions never, answer those unanswered queries later. You’re following right! But now what are you running from?
A mobster? A gangster? A gang of mobsters! No, no, not these thing. Maybe a league of lobsters! Mutant lobsters! Complete with huge pinchers, dog sized, maybe a crown on the leader. I don’t know, we can work it out later, I’m just saying. Hey Grace didn’t we see something like…”
Grace; “Corphish a trademark owned by Gamefreak. I’ll set up an appointment.”
(As Moss restarts his train of thought the desperation in Randy’s face fades to mild annoyance.)
M.E.; “Anyway, BootS, It doesn’t matter, because you’re high! Completely out of your head stoned! And that’s the angle. We suck them in thinking it’s an action film, then *BOOM* hit them with the path of self discovery! We turn an eye to the habit often times celebrated in celebrity, and expose it for its desperate nature. We show you at your lowest point, near death in an ally, no one to turn to, running from your past…”
(The faintest, almost amused, smile begins infecting Randy’s mouth.)
M.E.; “We have to figure how you got to this point first. Love. Forsaken love, a friends wife, no daughter, no wife with Sunday dinner, the frilly aprons, it happens in a minivan! You can never see her again, she wants nothing to do with you. You’re an addict, she’s afraid you’ll ruin her life, you’re afraid you’ll ruin her life, and it rips you apart so you go on a binge…”
(Randy leans in to ensure he’s actually hearing what is being said. Then through gleefully wracked eyes the Red Bull Icon responds.)
BoolZ; “Let me stop you right there. See I don’t know, maybe you don’t really know what you’re saying. Or who you’re saying it to. Maybe you don’t care. Maybe you think that after almost a year someone finally figured out the only way to beat me is allow me to beat myself, and now you think the aura or my confidence is gone. I can assure you that’s not the case. But you’re new here, I can appreciate that. So consider yourself lucky, because RBI is gonna let you walk away.
See my life is not some base material for a B grade movie hack who probably failed out of film school shortly after he lost his hair to exploit for the voyeuristic entertainment of the masses. My pain is my own. My torment is my own. My demons are all mine, and if you’re not careful I might introduce you to us.
I don’t do this because I have some undying need to entertain. I don’t do this because I crave the attention or adulation. I don’t go out there and put my body on the line in that ring because I want to inspire. I do it because it’s all I got left. I do it because I deserve the pain. I’m horrible at being a son, I’m worse at relationships, and I am an absolutely shit friend. There’s only one thing in my life that has ever always made sense, and that’s what I do in the ring. Don’t find out. In fact pity The Crimson Ghost, because tonight he finds out.
You know I almost feel bad for him. I like The Crimson Ghost. He amuses me. Hell I’d almost call him a friend. But I called Chris Austin a friend too, then I took his title, I beat him up, and he hasn’t been the same since. The Crimson Ghost doesn’t have a title, so I gotta hurt him twice as bad. I gotta find a way to make him hurt as much as I hurt. Pray I don’t have to find a way to make you hurt. Now get outta my way, baldy-locks.”
(He is an ocean. Calm and peaceful on the surface. Dark, cold, and inhospitable at his deepest parts. BoolZ pushes past Moss Edwards who simply takes in the outburst. He brings his hand to his mouth and begins tapping his index finger on his top lip. BoolZ turns from the doorway.)
BoolZ; “And the name is BoolZ, fucktard! Capital B-o-o-l-Capital Z!”
(Once RBI is inside the building Moss turns to Grace who had been slowly inching away during the Red Bull Icon’s tirade.)
M.E.; “Such raw emotion, rage, uh, uh,”
Grace; “Passion.”
M.E.; “He’ll need a straight man. Someone to counter his energy and bring the film down. Keep it on an even keel. What’s Tommy Lee Jones, doing?”
Grace; “I’ll make a call, sir.”
‘SQUUUEEEEH’
M.E.; “Grace?”
Grace; “Number five, sir. I can’t help myself.”
(The scene ends Moss pointing at an approaching Marlo. Grace looks over a clipboard, and then shakes her head. Marlo enters the building without interruption as we fade to black.)
