Post by Deleted on Feb 15, 2018 7:38:06 GMT -8
FADE IN:
Two stories up. Jack is seated on the edge of a roof, feet dangling in the air. He slammed back a beverage and knowing his past; if you’d guess whiskey, you’d be correct. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his black hoodie, as he watched a crowd in the distance a few blocks down the boulevard. Gathered for another publicity stunt to promote Global’s upcoming three-day, heritage festival.
JACKOWYNS: Hey TAP! Where you at, I’ve been fuckin’ waiting here patiently old-timer; waiting for that wisdom to drop, to enlighten me on how wrong I am or how you’re going to teach me a valuable lesson. In my day a long-LONG time ago when fuckin’ dinosaurs rolled the universe, type bullshit. But nothing, all I’ve gotten is a damn tumbleweed blowing in the wind and a choir of crickets for my effort.
He rolled backward away from the edge of the building, trying to look as cool as possible. Look all professional with his moves, real Hollywood but, he looked like an idiot. He spilled whiskey everywhere, didn’t even roll properly and when he stood up, he almost stumbled right off the building.
He found his balance — takes a bit but he locates it. He pointed with his bottle hand towards where the fans had gathered, letting it slip from his hands as it falls and smashed on the cement two stories below.
JACKOWYNS: Fuck.
He looked long and hard at the bottle before waving it out of the picture like it didn’t matter — Oh, but it does. He looked back to the gathering of fans.
JACKOWYNS: HEY! Where was my invite, huh? Checked my phone. NOTHING! Checked my mailbox. Oh, look there is something; NOTHING! Well — fuck you!
He dug into the pocket of his hoodie, retrieving a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He struggled to open the package.
JACKOWYNS: Global Wrestling, HA! Let me tell you a little something-something. February.
He paused a long pause.
JACKOWYNS: 18th. You know that guy, your immortal kingdom crown winner, TAP! I’m going to make him my bitch and once I’m done with beating that bastard to a bloody pulp. I’m going to move on, move on to the second day. And then, you know what I’m going to do. I’m going to walk down to the ring, step through the ropes and beat whoever it is Sammy, Tony, Melody, Stacy, Samantha, Kendrick, Bro dude, or the fat one from here to fuckin’ kingdom come! AND THEN! Come next day, the big finals I will throat punch the unlucky bastard, and I WILL claim that championship belt. But you want to know something. Want me to tell you a little fuckin’ secret? I don’t care about that championship. No.
He finally managed to pull a cigarette from his pack. He placed it in his mouth the wrong way and put fire to it.
JACKOWYNS: Shit!
He threw the cigarette away.
JACKOWYNS: You want to know what drives me? Why I’m fuckin’ here, why I compete. The war. That’s right! I love the fuckin’ war! The fact I can enter that ring and hurt people any way I want. I can end a person’s career, and people will say; that is what you fuckin’ signed up for. It’s a part of the biz! And the best part of all I get paid to fuckin’ do it, HA!
Think I care about that championship? Not even a slight. But then why Jack, why even bother, why even show up in the first place? Because I can take something they all want and just fuckin’ piss on it. They all dream of walking down that aisle, belt wrapped around their waist, so they can all think they are a king of something necessary, and then here I come and fuckin’ squash that dream in the mud and destroy that dream. Stomp it into the ground, so it never sees a shed of light.
You all can try to win it but come that final day. You all will fall short of achieving it, because when the dust settles, and you’re covered in your blood, and you can barely even open your fuckin’ eyes, only enough to see a blur of me holding that dream you set out to achieve; that dream you failed to deliver. Then you can watch me as I put that belt down across the canvas; that belt you all fought so hard to win and watch me take a big old shit on it, HA!
In the background, the sound of a door opens.
FEMALEVOICE: Jesus Jack!
JACKOWYNS: What?
FEMALEVOICE: Shut it off!
FADE TO BLACK.
Two stories up. Jack is seated on the edge of a roof, feet dangling in the air. He slammed back a beverage and knowing his past; if you’d guess whiskey, you’d be correct. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his black hoodie, as he watched a crowd in the distance a few blocks down the boulevard. Gathered for another publicity stunt to promote Global’s upcoming three-day, heritage festival.
JACKOWYNS: Hey TAP! Where you at, I’ve been fuckin’ waiting here patiently old-timer; waiting for that wisdom to drop, to enlighten me on how wrong I am or how you’re going to teach me a valuable lesson. In my day a long-LONG time ago when fuckin’ dinosaurs rolled the universe, type bullshit. But nothing, all I’ve gotten is a damn tumbleweed blowing in the wind and a choir of crickets for my effort.
He rolled backward away from the edge of the building, trying to look as cool as possible. Look all professional with his moves, real Hollywood but, he looked like an idiot. He spilled whiskey everywhere, didn’t even roll properly and when he stood up, he almost stumbled right off the building.
He found his balance — takes a bit but he locates it. He pointed with his bottle hand towards where the fans had gathered, letting it slip from his hands as it falls and smashed on the cement two stories below.
JACKOWYNS: Fuck.
He looked long and hard at the bottle before waving it out of the picture like it didn’t matter — Oh, but it does. He looked back to the gathering of fans.
JACKOWYNS: HEY! Where was my invite, huh? Checked my phone. NOTHING! Checked my mailbox. Oh, look there is something; NOTHING! Well — fuck you!
He dug into the pocket of his hoodie, retrieving a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He struggled to open the package.
JACKOWYNS: Global Wrestling, HA! Let me tell you a little something-something. February.
He paused a long pause.
JACKOWYNS: 18th. You know that guy, your immortal kingdom crown winner, TAP! I’m going to make him my bitch and once I’m done with beating that bastard to a bloody pulp. I’m going to move on, move on to the second day. And then, you know what I’m going to do. I’m going to walk down to the ring, step through the ropes and beat whoever it is Sammy, Tony, Melody, Stacy, Samantha, Kendrick, Bro dude, or the fat one from here to fuckin’ kingdom come! AND THEN! Come next day, the big finals I will throat punch the unlucky bastard, and I WILL claim that championship belt. But you want to know something. Want me to tell you a little fuckin’ secret? I don’t care about that championship. No.
He finally managed to pull a cigarette from his pack. He placed it in his mouth the wrong way and put fire to it.
JACKOWYNS: Shit!
He threw the cigarette away.
JACKOWYNS: You want to know what drives me? Why I’m fuckin’ here, why I compete. The war. That’s right! I love the fuckin’ war! The fact I can enter that ring and hurt people any way I want. I can end a person’s career, and people will say; that is what you fuckin’ signed up for. It’s a part of the biz! And the best part of all I get paid to fuckin’ do it, HA!
Think I care about that championship? Not even a slight. But then why Jack, why even bother, why even show up in the first place? Because I can take something they all want and just fuckin’ piss on it. They all dream of walking down that aisle, belt wrapped around their waist, so they can all think they are a king of something necessary, and then here I come and fuckin’ squash that dream in the mud and destroy that dream. Stomp it into the ground, so it never sees a shed of light.
You all can try to win it but come that final day. You all will fall short of achieving it, because when the dust settles, and you’re covered in your blood, and you can barely even open your fuckin’ eyes, only enough to see a blur of me holding that dream you set out to achieve; that dream you failed to deliver. Then you can watch me as I put that belt down across the canvas; that belt you all fought so hard to win and watch me take a big old shit on it, HA!
In the background, the sound of a door opens.
FEMALEVOICE: Jesus Jack!
JACKOWYNS: What?
FEMALEVOICE: Shut it off!
FADE TO BLACK.
