Post by Red Bull Icon on Jul 26, 2009 0:14:40 GMT -5
** I wrote this awhile back, but hope it's a good introduction to the characters**
==============================================
[She’s lonely. She’s cold. She’s Olivia. Every day for the last six months she has walked down this same street. It’s much too late for her barely five foot tall and petite frame to be walking alone. The six inch stiletto heels she wears all night leave little for her worn Nikes to comfort, and her feet ache far too much to continue making this same walk home night after night. Atter needs to get a job.]
(Olivia is seen walking into a dilapidated apartment complex two miles from ‘Hunting Ground’ the men’s club she is gainfully employed at. The sun is just beginning to peak through the lobby window, and mixes with the cheap fluorescent lighting to both illuminate and hide the obvious seedy nature of the converted motel building.
She takes off the knit cap used to keep her to short hair warm from the near freezing winters morning air as the floor creeks and pops under her tired feet. Her wool coat kept tight hiding everything that might indicate her femininity save for those tortured green eyes. Green today anyway.
Olivia doesn’t make it but ten feet, maybe eleven, before the gleefully painful sounds of thirty years of smoking and drinking cough their way from her landlord. She doesn’t even need to look. She can feel his pervasive stare penetrating her. She can feel his stink.)
[He rapes her with his eyes. He hopes she doesn’t have rent, again. He’s Leon. Every day for the last six months he has stood in that door way waiting for her return. It’s much too early for his nearly six foot obese frame to be dragged from his bed. She’s worth it though. That sweet tight pussy of hers. He loves this life full of roaches, used condoms, and dull razor blades. Atter’s a fucking retard.]
Leon; You know yo fucking retard brother been screaming nonstop ‘til ‘bout an hour ago.
(He usually doesn’t even bother speaking to her. Rent must be due.)
Leon; I almost called up the cops.
(She starts to unbutton her heavy coat, starting at the bottom to delay and build, as she turns with a rejuvenated expression.)
Olivia; Honey, Atter ain’t ma brother, and he ain’t retarded. ‘Sides why would you be callin’ them police cause he be screamin’? You wouldn’t be liking it if someone called them police if little ol’me started screamin’ from yo room. Though maybe better those police than Atter.
(She plays the game to well. He’s nothing but a customer. If the DJ was playing she could talk him into a bottle of Champaign for her and every other dancer in the club. The look on his face of utter anticipation as Olivia continues slowly undoing her coat betrays his mind. He knows it’s a game. A formality. He knows, but it’s still a rush and the game still has to be played.)
Leon; Yeah, well it’s the 7th too. Rent’s due by the 5th. Now if you need some kinda payment plan, you just let Leon know. Maybe we can work something out.
Olivia; Oh heavens! The 7th already? My where does the time go?
(He can’t wait. His hand can’t wait. Olivia can’t help but watch as he tugs on his genitals through his stained sweat pants. She passes him, closely to his pleasure, as she slides into his apartment dropping her coat at his feet. She knows, as most men would, Leon will pick up the coat and fixate on her rear.)
Olivia; Now I just know I picked up your payment just the other day Mr. Leon. I know I must have it here somewhere. Care to help me look?
(Leon taking his eyes from her ass, stands up straight with her coat in his hand, and slams the door shut.)
*~*~*~*
[They’re worried. They’re bored. They’re Atter. Every day and night for the last six months they’ve sat at that same rickety abandoned grade school desk. They’ve had too much time to think. It’s all starting to make too much sense. Sense, in the most twisted and warped meaning, but that’s the only kind of sense Atter knows. That bitch better make something tasty for dinner tonight. Something with mustard or eggs. Atter’s hungry.]
(Alone the back of Atter’s six foot something athletic frame is seen hunched over a tiny old desk. The only sound in the rundown apartment is the incessant tapping of their bare foot being drowned out by the squeal of a rotary tool sanding down whatever is the focus of Atter’s attention.
With a click, then another, and finally after a third we hear a door squeak open. With a rush Atter stands from this miniature chair he had been squatting on for the last eternity. We catch a glimpse of a female action figure on the desk with her pink bikini sanded down and removed as the sanding tool continues to rotate. Then we see no less than a dozen more now nude female action figures proudly displayed in popsicle stick guillotines and gallows.
Before we know it Olivia is crying into their arms as their greasy hair drips down her shoulder. Something’s wrong.)
Atter; Yellow princess pie, headless teddy bears?
(She pulls away from them drying her eyes on her palm and walking to the back of the apartment.)
Olivia; I hate you Atter.
Atter; Rotten pineapple puppies? Wheels on the bus go ‘round and ‘round.
Olivia; I need a shower. You can have one of my Hot Pockets for dinner.
(They’re silent as she slowly shuts the bedroom door behind her. They’re still as the running water of the shower vibrates the condemned pipes of the building. They’re puzzled she didn’t take a shower at work like she does every night to wash away the stench and touch of her clients.)
Atter; Stuck pigs wilting rose honey mustard!
*~*~*~*
(It’s still cold. It’s still early. It’s a very nice car Leon has. The sun now out in full frozen force, and Leon running to escape it. He reaches the car, an ’88 Oldsmobile. Two tone with matching interior. It barely runs, but it runs.
Leon digs in his pocket searching for his keys with the satisfied look of afterglow one can only achieve by demeaning another man’s world. His breath, still heavy from collecting the last of this month’s rent, hangs in the air, waiting. It doesn’t have to wait long.
Instinctually Leon knows he shouldn’t turn around, but the cloud of his breath is growing too fast. The chatter behind him is too loud. The hum of a rotary tool is too obvious.)
** Olivia; Honey, Atter ain’t ma brother, and he ain’t retarded… Though maybe better those police than Atter.**
*~*~*~*
(It’s not as early. It’s not as cold. Olivia looks so small in the passenger seat of the ’88 Oldsmobile. Two tone with matching interior, and little drops of blood dripping from the keys in the ignition.)
Olivia; This is just great. Really, just where are we supposed to go now? What are we going to do for money?
(The car speeds past a sign reading “LAS VEGAS – 270 MILES’’ as They hand her a bloody envelope full of 585 dollars per apartment minus one and a newspaper ad for open try outs being held for Global Impact Wrestling.)
Atter; On the road again, seeing places I already been. On the road again seeing Red Bull Icons I already seen…
(Olivia hangs head as she begins crying. She folds the cash from the envelope into her purse, tosses the checks out of the window, and turns on the radio. Tom Waits “Goin’ Out West” is on.)
*~END~*
==============================================
[She’s lonely. She’s cold. She’s Olivia. Every day for the last six months she has walked down this same street. It’s much too late for her barely five foot tall and petite frame to be walking alone. The six inch stiletto heels she wears all night leave little for her worn Nikes to comfort, and her feet ache far too much to continue making this same walk home night after night. Atter needs to get a job.]
(Olivia is seen walking into a dilapidated apartment complex two miles from ‘Hunting Ground’ the men’s club she is gainfully employed at. The sun is just beginning to peak through the lobby window, and mixes with the cheap fluorescent lighting to both illuminate and hide the obvious seedy nature of the converted motel building.
She takes off the knit cap used to keep her to short hair warm from the near freezing winters morning air as the floor creeks and pops under her tired feet. Her wool coat kept tight hiding everything that might indicate her femininity save for those tortured green eyes. Green today anyway.
Olivia doesn’t make it but ten feet, maybe eleven, before the gleefully painful sounds of thirty years of smoking and drinking cough their way from her landlord. She doesn’t even need to look. She can feel his pervasive stare penetrating her. She can feel his stink.)
[He rapes her with his eyes. He hopes she doesn’t have rent, again. He’s Leon. Every day for the last six months he has stood in that door way waiting for her return. It’s much too early for his nearly six foot obese frame to be dragged from his bed. She’s worth it though. That sweet tight pussy of hers. He loves this life full of roaches, used condoms, and dull razor blades. Atter’s a fucking retard.]
Leon; You know yo fucking retard brother been screaming nonstop ‘til ‘bout an hour ago.
(He usually doesn’t even bother speaking to her. Rent must be due.)
Leon; I almost called up the cops.
(She starts to unbutton her heavy coat, starting at the bottom to delay and build, as she turns with a rejuvenated expression.)
Olivia; Honey, Atter ain’t ma brother, and he ain’t retarded. ‘Sides why would you be callin’ them police cause he be screamin’? You wouldn’t be liking it if someone called them police if little ol’me started screamin’ from yo room. Though maybe better those police than Atter.
(She plays the game to well. He’s nothing but a customer. If the DJ was playing she could talk him into a bottle of Champaign for her and every other dancer in the club. The look on his face of utter anticipation as Olivia continues slowly undoing her coat betrays his mind. He knows it’s a game. A formality. He knows, but it’s still a rush and the game still has to be played.)
Leon; Yeah, well it’s the 7th too. Rent’s due by the 5th. Now if you need some kinda payment plan, you just let Leon know. Maybe we can work something out.
Olivia; Oh heavens! The 7th already? My where does the time go?
(He can’t wait. His hand can’t wait. Olivia can’t help but watch as he tugs on his genitals through his stained sweat pants. She passes him, closely to his pleasure, as she slides into his apartment dropping her coat at his feet. She knows, as most men would, Leon will pick up the coat and fixate on her rear.)
Olivia; Now I just know I picked up your payment just the other day Mr. Leon. I know I must have it here somewhere. Care to help me look?
(Leon taking his eyes from her ass, stands up straight with her coat in his hand, and slams the door shut.)
*~*~*~*
[They’re worried. They’re bored. They’re Atter. Every day and night for the last six months they’ve sat at that same rickety abandoned grade school desk. They’ve had too much time to think. It’s all starting to make too much sense. Sense, in the most twisted and warped meaning, but that’s the only kind of sense Atter knows. That bitch better make something tasty for dinner tonight. Something with mustard or eggs. Atter’s hungry.]
(Alone the back of Atter’s six foot something athletic frame is seen hunched over a tiny old desk. The only sound in the rundown apartment is the incessant tapping of their bare foot being drowned out by the squeal of a rotary tool sanding down whatever is the focus of Atter’s attention.
With a click, then another, and finally after a third we hear a door squeak open. With a rush Atter stands from this miniature chair he had been squatting on for the last eternity. We catch a glimpse of a female action figure on the desk with her pink bikini sanded down and removed as the sanding tool continues to rotate. Then we see no less than a dozen more now nude female action figures proudly displayed in popsicle stick guillotines and gallows.
Before we know it Olivia is crying into their arms as their greasy hair drips down her shoulder. Something’s wrong.)
Atter; Yellow princess pie, headless teddy bears?
(She pulls away from them drying her eyes on her palm and walking to the back of the apartment.)
Olivia; I hate you Atter.
Atter; Rotten pineapple puppies? Wheels on the bus go ‘round and ‘round.
Olivia; I need a shower. You can have one of my Hot Pockets for dinner.
(They’re silent as she slowly shuts the bedroom door behind her. They’re still as the running water of the shower vibrates the condemned pipes of the building. They’re puzzled she didn’t take a shower at work like she does every night to wash away the stench and touch of her clients.)
Atter; Stuck pigs wilting rose honey mustard!
*~*~*~*
(It’s still cold. It’s still early. It’s a very nice car Leon has. The sun now out in full frozen force, and Leon running to escape it. He reaches the car, an ’88 Oldsmobile. Two tone with matching interior. It barely runs, but it runs.
Leon digs in his pocket searching for his keys with the satisfied look of afterglow one can only achieve by demeaning another man’s world. His breath, still heavy from collecting the last of this month’s rent, hangs in the air, waiting. It doesn’t have to wait long.
Instinctually Leon knows he shouldn’t turn around, but the cloud of his breath is growing too fast. The chatter behind him is too loud. The hum of a rotary tool is too obvious.)
** Olivia; Honey, Atter ain’t ma brother, and he ain’t retarded… Though maybe better those police than Atter.**
*~*~*~*
(It’s not as early. It’s not as cold. Olivia looks so small in the passenger seat of the ’88 Oldsmobile. Two tone with matching interior, and little drops of blood dripping from the keys in the ignition.)
Olivia; This is just great. Really, just where are we supposed to go now? What are we going to do for money?
(The car speeds past a sign reading “LAS VEGAS – 270 MILES’’ as They hand her a bloody envelope full of 585 dollars per apartment minus one and a newspaper ad for open try outs being held for Global Impact Wrestling.)
Atter; On the road again, seeing places I already been. On the road again seeing Red Bull Icons I already seen…
(Olivia hangs head as she begins crying. She folds the cash from the envelope into her purse, tosses the checks out of the window, and turns on the radio. Tom Waits “Goin’ Out West” is on.)
*~END~*
