Post by rockyv on Feb 12, 2008 11:15:34 GMT -5
OOC: Time for another friendly neighborhood reading reading guide. Stage hand (Green), Steven (Quotations), He-who-must-not-be-named (Red), Thurwood (Purple).
You’re on in…5….4….3…2….1.....
"Hello friends, I didn’t see you come in there. You’ll have to excuse the mess as I didn’t anticipate any visitors this close to match time."
Camera pans around the locker room, seeing the standard locker room fare of grey steel lockers, two wooden benches bolted to the floor in the middle of the room and a few black folding chairs. Other than these meager pieces of “furniture” the only other thing in the room is Steven himself.
He runs his hand over the gel in his dark brown hair, trying to formulate them into something that resembles a porcupine if a person was to really look at it long enough. Feeling that the look was now adequate, he walked over to the sink just on the other side of the brick walls’ doorway to remove the excess gel from his hands.
"What's this? You have a question for me? Oh. A few of them. Well then, I suppose it’s best if we get started. I hope you don’t mind if I continue my preparations while I answer. "
From a locker across the wooden bench, he grabs a red duffle bag off of the coat hook on the door’s inside and sets it onto the floor in front of him before sitting down. Undoing the bag’s zipper, he begins.
"Hmm. It might help if I give you some background knowledge. I don’t anticipate the viewers at home remembering me from anything too main stream. After all, considering how many networks it was shopped around to before finally folding, it’s understandable enough. "
"I was one of the ones that was lucky enough to have a “mutual parting” with them before it was too late. Sure they thanked me for my contributions to their company, being with them from only a few months after their inception….wait, no they didn’t. Come to think of it, I had all traces of my existence removed from their history. Sure, if you poke around long enough, you’ll find a title reign or so, but that’s about it."
"Fair enough. I mean, it would only make sense to ask “What did I do that was so awful that they’d cover up an entire history?” Better yet, how do you explain it to my students, why their instructor is being let go? "
"You see, one of my students, he made it up to the main show, after receiving a push in my on screen stable. As these things usually go, he fulfilled his usefulness and then we parted ways, and yet, it seemed that he had learned nothing. I did what any instructor would do, and showed him the repercussions for his actions. Look at these arms. "
The camera pans down his forearms, following the trail left by a scar that runs along them both. A slight vibration is seen of the screen as the camera man cringes slightly at the sight of them. Slightly pink in colour, faded with a bit of time, and yet the lights still glisten along them.
"He refused to see the value of his own life, going out on camera and giving the crowd this story about how the world had forsaken him, and that he had little left in his life except the will to fight. Although he seemed to get realize from my message as to what would become of him if he kept on that path, the company regretfully didn’t appreciate that self mutilation was incorporated into their family friendly programming, let alone during one of their biggest pay per views of the year. "
Quickly he grabs a roll of black athletic tape out of the bag and starts taping up from midway up his forearm until he reaches the oddly swollen knuckles at the end of his fists.
"Enough of that now. It always good to remember where you come from, but it’s never a good idea to live in the past. What we need to do instead, is use that knowledge that we’ve obtained, and apply it to the present. Speaking of which, let’s talk about the match at hand tonight; Tristan Twilight and Wez Vs the Revolting Blob and myself. "
The crease above his neatly trimmed goatee parts itself into a bit of a smile, the anticipation can’t even be contained by himself. He knows it’s coming, and yet he never tires of it.
"First, we’ve got Wez, apparently not to be mistaken for cheese whiz, although personally, I see no resemblance between the two. I mean cheese is at least a tanned/yellowish colour, and yet our friend Wezley here, looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in his entire life. I’ve never had a chance to work with or against him before but honestly, I see some potential in him, he reminds me a lot of Kincaid. However, this is both a blessing and a curse. Wez, look me in the eye here brother, you’ve got to get over this whole gothic self obsession thing. You want to make it into the hall of fame, and yet, you aren’t doing anything different than the other ¾’s of the roster that signed up with that same idea in mind, that I’m going to be a bleeding heart, and yet still try and play the cocky heel. Snap out of it man and try being you. "
"Tristan, slightly more likeable, he gets that the past belongs in the past, but so far, I’m not quite sure that he’s practicing what he’s preaching. I’ve seen the footage, and a lot of it is that same monotone out of him, the blank stare off into space, like he’d rather be somewhere else. Sincerely, I hope that’s not the case, as this is a job that requires you to have your heart in it 110%. You know, maybe he should give mixed martial arts a try then. I hear it’s all the rage with wrestlers that are having their midlife crises. "
"The message is the same for both of you, I’ve been down this road before. If, or when you decide that you would like to come back to reality then hey, I’ll be more than willing to pass along the advice and get you back on track…".
He starts ripping away at the tape, clawing desperately at it, until it frees itself from his skin. A slight trickle of blood has started to form from some of the areas where his nails went through the tape and flesh.
"You’re both worthless. If you don’t see the value of your own lives then I shall have to help you out by making you choose tonight whether you’d rather be living every day in the pain and suffering that I will inflict upon you or if you’d rather have me take that life away from you and put you out of your misery once and for all. "
The steel chair flies across the room and collides into the mirror above the sink, shattering the pieces into the basin below. From off side the camera, a black man in a bright red suit and fedora rushes over to Steven’s side to restrain him.
Calm down, breathe deep, it’s okay, you can do this. Get that camera, out of here, get it out. Have you no respect?!
"Wha…what happened? "
You’re on in…5….4….3…2….1.....
"Hello friends, I didn’t see you come in there. You’ll have to excuse the mess as I didn’t anticipate any visitors this close to match time."
Camera pans around the locker room, seeing the standard locker room fare of grey steel lockers, two wooden benches bolted to the floor in the middle of the room and a few black folding chairs. Other than these meager pieces of “furniture” the only other thing in the room is Steven himself.
He runs his hand over the gel in his dark brown hair, trying to formulate them into something that resembles a porcupine if a person was to really look at it long enough. Feeling that the look was now adequate, he walked over to the sink just on the other side of the brick walls’ doorway to remove the excess gel from his hands.
"What's this? You have a question for me? Oh. A few of them. Well then, I suppose it’s best if we get started. I hope you don’t mind if I continue my preparations while I answer. "
From a locker across the wooden bench, he grabs a red duffle bag off of the coat hook on the door’s inside and sets it onto the floor in front of him before sitting down. Undoing the bag’s zipper, he begins.
"Hmm. It might help if I give you some background knowledge. I don’t anticipate the viewers at home remembering me from anything too main stream. After all, considering how many networks it was shopped around to before finally folding, it’s understandable enough. "
"I was one of the ones that was lucky enough to have a “mutual parting” with them before it was too late. Sure they thanked me for my contributions to their company, being with them from only a few months after their inception….wait, no they didn’t. Come to think of it, I had all traces of my existence removed from their history. Sure, if you poke around long enough, you’ll find a title reign or so, but that’s about it."
"Fair enough. I mean, it would only make sense to ask “What did I do that was so awful that they’d cover up an entire history?” Better yet, how do you explain it to my students, why their instructor is being let go? "
"You see, one of my students, he made it up to the main show, after receiving a push in my on screen stable. As these things usually go, he fulfilled his usefulness and then we parted ways, and yet, it seemed that he had learned nothing. I did what any instructor would do, and showed him the repercussions for his actions. Look at these arms. "
The camera pans down his forearms, following the trail left by a scar that runs along them both. A slight vibration is seen of the screen as the camera man cringes slightly at the sight of them. Slightly pink in colour, faded with a bit of time, and yet the lights still glisten along them.
"He refused to see the value of his own life, going out on camera and giving the crowd this story about how the world had forsaken him, and that he had little left in his life except the will to fight. Although he seemed to get realize from my message as to what would become of him if he kept on that path, the company regretfully didn’t appreciate that self mutilation was incorporated into their family friendly programming, let alone during one of their biggest pay per views of the year. "
Quickly he grabs a roll of black athletic tape out of the bag and starts taping up from midway up his forearm until he reaches the oddly swollen knuckles at the end of his fists.
"Enough of that now. It always good to remember where you come from, but it’s never a good idea to live in the past. What we need to do instead, is use that knowledge that we’ve obtained, and apply it to the present. Speaking of which, let’s talk about the match at hand tonight; Tristan Twilight and Wez Vs the Revolting Blob and myself. "
The crease above his neatly trimmed goatee parts itself into a bit of a smile, the anticipation can’t even be contained by himself. He knows it’s coming, and yet he never tires of it.
"First, we’ve got Wez, apparently not to be mistaken for cheese whiz, although personally, I see no resemblance between the two. I mean cheese is at least a tanned/yellowish colour, and yet our friend Wezley here, looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in his entire life. I’ve never had a chance to work with or against him before but honestly, I see some potential in him, he reminds me a lot of Kincaid. However, this is both a blessing and a curse. Wez, look me in the eye here brother, you’ve got to get over this whole gothic self obsession thing. You want to make it into the hall of fame, and yet, you aren’t doing anything different than the other ¾’s of the roster that signed up with that same idea in mind, that I’m going to be a bleeding heart, and yet still try and play the cocky heel. Snap out of it man and try being you. "
"Tristan, slightly more likeable, he gets that the past belongs in the past, but so far, I’m not quite sure that he’s practicing what he’s preaching. I’ve seen the footage, and a lot of it is that same monotone out of him, the blank stare off into space, like he’d rather be somewhere else. Sincerely, I hope that’s not the case, as this is a job that requires you to have your heart in it 110%. You know, maybe he should give mixed martial arts a try then. I hear it’s all the rage with wrestlers that are having their midlife crises. "
"The message is the same for both of you, I’ve been down this road before. If, or when you decide that you would like to come back to reality then hey, I’ll be more than willing to pass along the advice and get you back on track…".
He starts ripping away at the tape, clawing desperately at it, until it frees itself from his skin. A slight trickle of blood has started to form from some of the areas where his nails went through the tape and flesh.
"You’re both worthless. If you don’t see the value of your own lives then I shall have to help you out by making you choose tonight whether you’d rather be living every day in the pain and suffering that I will inflict upon you or if you’d rather have me take that life away from you and put you out of your misery once and for all. "
The steel chair flies across the room and collides into the mirror above the sink, shattering the pieces into the basin below. From off side the camera, a black man in a bright red suit and fedora rushes over to Steven’s side to restrain him.
Calm down, breathe deep, it’s okay, you can do this. Get that camera, out of here, get it out. Have you no respect?!
"Wha…what happened? "
