Post by jake on Jan 26, 2012 20:29:46 GMT -5
Scene One
The scene opens up to a park in suburban Richmond. The sun is shining, and there are birds chirping, oddly enough for the time of year it is. However, the pleasantness of the scene seems rather empty for some reason or another, and one could not simply put their finger on the source. The city, incredibly far off in the background, seems of its usual routine of bustle and precision in time and place, and even the commotion of a car alarm can be heard in the background for a moment, but something just doesn’t feel right. Some part of it all just seems wrong.
The camera pans slowly in a circle; nothing seems out of place. The grass is green, the trees are tall and filled with leaves of various colors, some their vibrant shade of green, while others shift to a more radiant orange or yellow or red. Some even flutter to the ground, brown and crisp like burnt potato chips. People are abundant in the area, too, some scurrying and moving hurriedly about, late for meetings or being called back to the office from their lunch breaks, things of that sort, while others still seem to be relaxed and simply strolling along the pathways or out into the grass down the sloping hill toward the pond, or perhaps relaxing on benches.
The camera stops before a full rotation can be made, the center lens focused on the lake, and more specifically, at one couple circling the lake at a slow, leisured pace. Upon zooming in somewhat, the two are more easily recognized. The man is Jake Eaton, the UWA wrestler, and the girl is none other than Lindsey Ferncliff. The two seem as happy as can be and without a care in the world, what with Jake in his tee shirt and jeans, Lindsey in a flowered dress that sways gently with each step and tosses slightly with each occurrence of a passing breeze.
The slope becomes more pertinent as the two make their way around to the side of the lake closest to the camera, closest to the walkway, and begin up the hill slowly, holding one another’s hands and talking and laughing with one another, everything one would absolutely marvel at in a relationship. About halfway up the hill, the two stop, look at one another smiling, and proceed out, away from the sidewalk path on the hillside, and out into the grass a little ways before Lindsey straightens her dress and takes a seat, and Jake passes in front of her only to sit at her right. The camera approaches as the two share a kiss, and circles around them facing back up the hill as their lips separate, and Jake looks up at the camera.
Jake Eaton
“Another one? I thought I already gave you enough viewing material for this week. God, it’s like you expect us to turn this into a pornographic movie or something! There’s something wrong with you people sometimes, you know that? I mean, honestly, do you not think one clip is enough? Do you expect me to have a lot more to say about my opponents for Rush Hour?
Well good thing I’ve only just broken the surface on the incredible mechanism that is Jake Eaton’s mind. If you think I’ve said all there is to say, you’ve got another thing coming. I’m only just getting started verbally, just like how this is only the beginning physically in my wrestling career. I’ve got more than enough running through my head that I could explain to you fools again and again, but why should I even bother running my mouth about Manabu Fu-whatever-the-fuck-it-is and Samuel ‘The Corn Farmer’ Silos? Oh yeah, it’s because I’m the one of the three of us that actually deserves to have his face shown on television and to be broadcast before any sort of audience. Samuel and Manabu are the sort of talent that doesn’t deserve to be fighting on the trampoline at a redneck family reunion.”
Lindsey Ferncliff
“Hey Jake, can we discuss this later? I really wanted to just enjoy this date for a while. You’re letting your work get in the way of us again. You know how that turned out in... never mind.”
Jake Eaton
“You know what, Lindsey? That sounds like a great idea. You, camera guy, scram. I want to have some time with my girlfriend; if you really want another story, meet me at my apartment at this address at six thirty and we’ll chat then.”
Jake hands the camera guy a piece of paper, and the camera shifts to a shot of them from behind again as the scene fades to black...
Scene Two
But the scene reopens again sometime later; there is a wall made of cinder blocks with an off white paint, and along it are several doors on either side, as well as one with an EXIT sign above it at the far end of the hall. The camera man walks slowly down the hall, glancing at the numbers on the wall beside the doors. One could hear him counting as he goes along.
Camera Guy
“Twenty-Nine... Thirty... Thirty-One... Thirty-Two... Aha! Thirty-Three!”
He stops before the door with the number thirty-three, the one he apparently was looking for by his exclamation, and a knocking sound soon follows. A pause... nothing. He knocks a little louder. Another pause... The door opens, and standing there is Jake Eaton, a rather devilish glare on his face as he looks over at the camera man. He’s wearing a pair of pajama pants and a rather tight-fitting tee shirt which under most circumstances would seem strange, but of course for Jake Eaton, expecting the unexpected seems to be the norm.
Jake Eaton
“Already? I said six thirty, not whenever the heck you feel like. I’ve got more important things to do than waste all my time sitting around talking to you like you’re some sort of friend to me. As a matter of fact, I don’t even see why I call you a co-worker. You don’t even have the courage to get into that ring when you know you’re going to get your butt handed to you on a silver platter, which, I suppose is a lot smarter than the hell Manabu and Samuel are walking into when they face me. Anyway, come on, come in, I’m not doing this interview from my doorway.”
The shot cuts to the inside of Jake’s apartment. The walls are all white and of a plastered texture, as opposed to the cinder block texture of the halls. There’s a kitchen and dining area off to one side with a wooden table, a refrigerator, a sink, a stove and oven, and all that sort of stuff, and then on the other side of the room, there is a fuzzy black sofa with a blanket laying across the back of it, and a relatively large television set situated inside a finished wooden shelf. As well, there are multiple doors branching out from this portion of the multiple use room.
On the couch sits Lindsey Ferncliff, the remote in her hands and an anxious smile on her face as she looks over her shoulder, practically calling for Jake to hurry up. She’s wearing a pair of short shorts that reach maybe two inches below her butt and a blue tank top that hugs her figure perfectly. On the television screen is the opening logo of the movie I Am Number Four, and there is a bowl of popcorn sitting on the arm of the couch being balanced by one of Lindsey’s hands.
Jake walks over to the couch and sits down, and then motions toward a spot across the living room from the couch and from them, and the camera man takes his position, focusing the lens on the two. By this point, Jake’s arm is around Lindsey’s shoulders and the blanket that rested on the back of the couch is on their laps. After nonchalantly rolling his eyes, Jake begins to speak again.
Jake Eaton
“Well, well, I suppose you just had to show up some two and a half hours early for this interview, didn’t you? I did have planned to watch a movie with my girlfriend, but I suppose if you’re too stupid to show up at the time I specified, I’ll start now. It’s not like two hours will make that much of a difference to me; it’s just two hours until Manabu and Samuel meet their demise at my hands is all it is. Nothing more, nothing less, it’s just fate in the making; sort of like how fate led Lindsey and myself together, or how an untimely death is nothing more than fate, the fate of the two that headlined iNew Year 2012 is a loss at the hands of Jake Eaton.
If you think I’m lying, try thinking of it this way instead. Samuel Silas’ biggest win in the UWA was against Joel Hall. Joel mother-fucking Hall, the guy who never won a match in the UWA before getting his lazy behind deported back to the Indy feds. And his only other victory to date was against none other than Andy Star. The one guy who’s been here since the beginning lost to Samuel Silas. That being said, who hasn’t Andy Star lost to? I remember physically dismantling him in my debut. I sure do remember that, it was at iNew Year. The same night I went on to rip Samuel Silas limb from limb in the main event I wasn’t even scheduled to fight in.
Does he seriously think that he could defeat me if he were to try? Does he honestly think that I wouldn’t do to him what the New York Giants did to the Green Bay Packers a couple of nights ago if wrestling weren’t more like football? My philosophy here is that, as far as I’m concerned, I’ve done it once, so why shouldn’t I do it all over again?
Oh, that’s right, I forgot, the man he’s been fighting with for some three weeks now, Manabu with the last name I couldn’t care less about pronouncing correctly, is going to be in that ring too! Except, if I had a guess, the guy who fought Manabu for the title last week won’t be getting too much sympathy from the guy who calls himself the ‘Japanese Playboy’. Hell, I probably wouldn’t want any sympathy from the guy myself, considering he named himself after what I’m putting money on is some sort of nudie magazine for the squinty-eyed.
Yeah, I’m pulling a race-card, but if you’ve got a problem with that, deal with it. Here is this guy that does nothing but talk about how he’s the best thing to come out of Japan week after week, so let’s talk about some of Japan’s other exports, like Nintendo. Everyone knows that an Xbox 360, produced by the American corporation Microsoft, is better than that piece of crap known as the Wii. Or how about Toyota? Statistics show that Ford, which began in Detroit, Michigan, outweighs Toyota in most categories such as mileage per gallon of gasoline as well as horsepower and physical endurance of the machines manufactured.
Then there’s one of Asia’s less popular exports, natural disasters. Their country is so full of earthquakes and tsunamis, I don’t even know how Manabu survived to get to America, but that’s beside the point. He probably thought coming to America would escape him from all those eastern world disasters; but he forgot about one when he joined the UWA; he forgot about the ever-present threat to the wrestling world known as ‘The American Monsoon’, Jake Eaton. And I know he doesn’t want me to rain on his parade, but that’s his problem, since he so graciously decided to hold that belt when I arrived on the scene.
But I suppose overall, Japan has more positive exports than negative, even if Manabu falls into the latter category of the two. I’ll give his country credit, it does make its fair share of good products; even so, American made products outclass Japanese products in every way possible. So it can be safe to say that the American-made Jake Eaton will outdo anything and everything from the Japanese jobber known as Manabu Fujiwara.
I said it, and I meant it. Manabu is a jobber. That’s all he’ll ever be good for once this company actually finds more talent than just yours truly to actually take it places. Looking at where you’re at now, Manny, you’re perhaps in the most devastating and noticeable position in the company that a wrestler can reach, but with that power comes great responsibility. I don’t think you can handle the responsibility that comes with holding that gold; I’d be glad to take it off your hands for you, but I think you deserve a merciless beating first to knock you off your high horse.
Oh wait, you can’t understand me, can you Manny? Here, let me put it in words you’ll actually understand. 私は、あなた哀れな小さなろくでなしをあなたのお尻をキックするつもりです。 (Pronounced “Watashi wa, anata awarena chīsana rokudenashi o anata no o shiri o kikku suru tsumoridesu.”) Oh, right, but then other people can’t understand me. I said, ‘I’m going to kick your ass you pathetic little bastard!’ And if you don’t like it, I’ve got two words for you.
...
Tough luck. This match is mine to win and that’s what I’m going to do. Not the Asian boy, and not the corn farmer. I’m Jake Eaton, dammit, and this is my time to shine bright. The youth of the UWA is making his stand right before your eyes, and I’m not backing down from this ‘challenge’ if you want to call it that. I’m going to walk right out there to that ring and I’m going to mow down both Manabu and Samuel faster than a premium mower can mow my back yard. But that won’t happen until Thursday, however; I’ve got better things on my mind, like watching a movie with my girlfriend. I’ll allow those two to survive until then, but be warned, the time is drawing near, and soon, The Next Big Thing will be Bigger and Better than anyone could ever see coming. Man up while you can, boys, because you’re about to see what the true big dogs can do when you step into their pound. You are in danger. This, my friends, is your Storm Warning.”
Lindsey places her arm across Jake’s waist and pulls herself closer to him, and he hugs her closer as she presses play on the remote, and the movie starts flashing across the screen as the scene fades to black .
The scene opens up to a park in suburban Richmond. The sun is shining, and there are birds chirping, oddly enough for the time of year it is. However, the pleasantness of the scene seems rather empty for some reason or another, and one could not simply put their finger on the source. The city, incredibly far off in the background, seems of its usual routine of bustle and precision in time and place, and even the commotion of a car alarm can be heard in the background for a moment, but something just doesn’t feel right. Some part of it all just seems wrong.
The camera pans slowly in a circle; nothing seems out of place. The grass is green, the trees are tall and filled with leaves of various colors, some their vibrant shade of green, while others shift to a more radiant orange or yellow or red. Some even flutter to the ground, brown and crisp like burnt potato chips. People are abundant in the area, too, some scurrying and moving hurriedly about, late for meetings or being called back to the office from their lunch breaks, things of that sort, while others still seem to be relaxed and simply strolling along the pathways or out into the grass down the sloping hill toward the pond, or perhaps relaxing on benches.
The camera stops before a full rotation can be made, the center lens focused on the lake, and more specifically, at one couple circling the lake at a slow, leisured pace. Upon zooming in somewhat, the two are more easily recognized. The man is Jake Eaton, the UWA wrestler, and the girl is none other than Lindsey Ferncliff. The two seem as happy as can be and without a care in the world, what with Jake in his tee shirt and jeans, Lindsey in a flowered dress that sways gently with each step and tosses slightly with each occurrence of a passing breeze.
The slope becomes more pertinent as the two make their way around to the side of the lake closest to the camera, closest to the walkway, and begin up the hill slowly, holding one another’s hands and talking and laughing with one another, everything one would absolutely marvel at in a relationship. About halfway up the hill, the two stop, look at one another smiling, and proceed out, away from the sidewalk path on the hillside, and out into the grass a little ways before Lindsey straightens her dress and takes a seat, and Jake passes in front of her only to sit at her right. The camera approaches as the two share a kiss, and circles around them facing back up the hill as their lips separate, and Jake looks up at the camera.
Jake Eaton
“Another one? I thought I already gave you enough viewing material for this week. God, it’s like you expect us to turn this into a pornographic movie or something! There’s something wrong with you people sometimes, you know that? I mean, honestly, do you not think one clip is enough? Do you expect me to have a lot more to say about my opponents for Rush Hour?
Well good thing I’ve only just broken the surface on the incredible mechanism that is Jake Eaton’s mind. If you think I’ve said all there is to say, you’ve got another thing coming. I’m only just getting started verbally, just like how this is only the beginning physically in my wrestling career. I’ve got more than enough running through my head that I could explain to you fools again and again, but why should I even bother running my mouth about Manabu Fu-whatever-the-fuck-it-is and Samuel ‘The Corn Farmer’ Silos? Oh yeah, it’s because I’m the one of the three of us that actually deserves to have his face shown on television and to be broadcast before any sort of audience. Samuel and Manabu are the sort of talent that doesn’t deserve to be fighting on the trampoline at a redneck family reunion.”
Lindsey Ferncliff
“Hey Jake, can we discuss this later? I really wanted to just enjoy this date for a while. You’re letting your work get in the way of us again. You know how that turned out in... never mind.”
Jake Eaton
“You know what, Lindsey? That sounds like a great idea. You, camera guy, scram. I want to have some time with my girlfriend; if you really want another story, meet me at my apartment at this address at six thirty and we’ll chat then.”
Jake hands the camera guy a piece of paper, and the camera shifts to a shot of them from behind again as the scene fades to black...
Scene Two
But the scene reopens again sometime later; there is a wall made of cinder blocks with an off white paint, and along it are several doors on either side, as well as one with an EXIT sign above it at the far end of the hall. The camera man walks slowly down the hall, glancing at the numbers on the wall beside the doors. One could hear him counting as he goes along.
Camera Guy
“Twenty-Nine... Thirty... Thirty-One... Thirty-Two... Aha! Thirty-Three!”
He stops before the door with the number thirty-three, the one he apparently was looking for by his exclamation, and a knocking sound soon follows. A pause... nothing. He knocks a little louder. Another pause... The door opens, and standing there is Jake Eaton, a rather devilish glare on his face as he looks over at the camera man. He’s wearing a pair of pajama pants and a rather tight-fitting tee shirt which under most circumstances would seem strange, but of course for Jake Eaton, expecting the unexpected seems to be the norm.
Jake Eaton
“Already? I said six thirty, not whenever the heck you feel like. I’ve got more important things to do than waste all my time sitting around talking to you like you’re some sort of friend to me. As a matter of fact, I don’t even see why I call you a co-worker. You don’t even have the courage to get into that ring when you know you’re going to get your butt handed to you on a silver platter, which, I suppose is a lot smarter than the hell Manabu and Samuel are walking into when they face me. Anyway, come on, come in, I’m not doing this interview from my doorway.”
The shot cuts to the inside of Jake’s apartment. The walls are all white and of a plastered texture, as opposed to the cinder block texture of the halls. There’s a kitchen and dining area off to one side with a wooden table, a refrigerator, a sink, a stove and oven, and all that sort of stuff, and then on the other side of the room, there is a fuzzy black sofa with a blanket laying across the back of it, and a relatively large television set situated inside a finished wooden shelf. As well, there are multiple doors branching out from this portion of the multiple use room.
On the couch sits Lindsey Ferncliff, the remote in her hands and an anxious smile on her face as she looks over her shoulder, practically calling for Jake to hurry up. She’s wearing a pair of short shorts that reach maybe two inches below her butt and a blue tank top that hugs her figure perfectly. On the television screen is the opening logo of the movie I Am Number Four, and there is a bowl of popcorn sitting on the arm of the couch being balanced by one of Lindsey’s hands.
Jake walks over to the couch and sits down, and then motions toward a spot across the living room from the couch and from them, and the camera man takes his position, focusing the lens on the two. By this point, Jake’s arm is around Lindsey’s shoulders and the blanket that rested on the back of the couch is on their laps. After nonchalantly rolling his eyes, Jake begins to speak again.
Jake Eaton
“Well, well, I suppose you just had to show up some two and a half hours early for this interview, didn’t you? I did have planned to watch a movie with my girlfriend, but I suppose if you’re too stupid to show up at the time I specified, I’ll start now. It’s not like two hours will make that much of a difference to me; it’s just two hours until Manabu and Samuel meet their demise at my hands is all it is. Nothing more, nothing less, it’s just fate in the making; sort of like how fate led Lindsey and myself together, or how an untimely death is nothing more than fate, the fate of the two that headlined iNew Year 2012 is a loss at the hands of Jake Eaton.
If you think I’m lying, try thinking of it this way instead. Samuel Silas’ biggest win in the UWA was against Joel Hall. Joel mother-fucking Hall, the guy who never won a match in the UWA before getting his lazy behind deported back to the Indy feds. And his only other victory to date was against none other than Andy Star. The one guy who’s been here since the beginning lost to Samuel Silas. That being said, who hasn’t Andy Star lost to? I remember physically dismantling him in my debut. I sure do remember that, it was at iNew Year. The same night I went on to rip Samuel Silas limb from limb in the main event I wasn’t even scheduled to fight in.
Does he seriously think that he could defeat me if he were to try? Does he honestly think that I wouldn’t do to him what the New York Giants did to the Green Bay Packers a couple of nights ago if wrestling weren’t more like football? My philosophy here is that, as far as I’m concerned, I’ve done it once, so why shouldn’t I do it all over again?
Oh, that’s right, I forgot, the man he’s been fighting with for some three weeks now, Manabu with the last name I couldn’t care less about pronouncing correctly, is going to be in that ring too! Except, if I had a guess, the guy who fought Manabu for the title last week won’t be getting too much sympathy from the guy who calls himself the ‘Japanese Playboy’. Hell, I probably wouldn’t want any sympathy from the guy myself, considering he named himself after what I’m putting money on is some sort of nudie magazine for the squinty-eyed.
Yeah, I’m pulling a race-card, but if you’ve got a problem with that, deal with it. Here is this guy that does nothing but talk about how he’s the best thing to come out of Japan week after week, so let’s talk about some of Japan’s other exports, like Nintendo. Everyone knows that an Xbox 360, produced by the American corporation Microsoft, is better than that piece of crap known as the Wii. Or how about Toyota? Statistics show that Ford, which began in Detroit, Michigan, outweighs Toyota in most categories such as mileage per gallon of gasoline as well as horsepower and physical endurance of the machines manufactured.
Then there’s one of Asia’s less popular exports, natural disasters. Their country is so full of earthquakes and tsunamis, I don’t even know how Manabu survived to get to America, but that’s beside the point. He probably thought coming to America would escape him from all those eastern world disasters; but he forgot about one when he joined the UWA; he forgot about the ever-present threat to the wrestling world known as ‘The American Monsoon’, Jake Eaton. And I know he doesn’t want me to rain on his parade, but that’s his problem, since he so graciously decided to hold that belt when I arrived on the scene.
But I suppose overall, Japan has more positive exports than negative, even if Manabu falls into the latter category of the two. I’ll give his country credit, it does make its fair share of good products; even so, American made products outclass Japanese products in every way possible. So it can be safe to say that the American-made Jake Eaton will outdo anything and everything from the Japanese jobber known as Manabu Fujiwara.
I said it, and I meant it. Manabu is a jobber. That’s all he’ll ever be good for once this company actually finds more talent than just yours truly to actually take it places. Looking at where you’re at now, Manny, you’re perhaps in the most devastating and noticeable position in the company that a wrestler can reach, but with that power comes great responsibility. I don’t think you can handle the responsibility that comes with holding that gold; I’d be glad to take it off your hands for you, but I think you deserve a merciless beating first to knock you off your high horse.
Oh wait, you can’t understand me, can you Manny? Here, let me put it in words you’ll actually understand. 私は、あなた哀れな小さなろくでなしをあなたのお尻をキックするつもりです。 (Pronounced “Watashi wa, anata awarena chīsana rokudenashi o anata no o shiri o kikku suru tsumoridesu.”) Oh, right, but then other people can’t understand me. I said, ‘I’m going to kick your ass you pathetic little bastard!’ And if you don’t like it, I’ve got two words for you.
...
Tough luck. This match is mine to win and that’s what I’m going to do. Not the Asian boy, and not the corn farmer. I’m Jake Eaton, dammit, and this is my time to shine bright. The youth of the UWA is making his stand right before your eyes, and I’m not backing down from this ‘challenge’ if you want to call it that. I’m going to walk right out there to that ring and I’m going to mow down both Manabu and Samuel faster than a premium mower can mow my back yard. But that won’t happen until Thursday, however; I’ve got better things on my mind, like watching a movie with my girlfriend. I’ll allow those two to survive until then, but be warned, the time is drawing near, and soon, The Next Big Thing will be Bigger and Better than anyone could ever see coming. Man up while you can, boys, because you’re about to see what the true big dogs can do when you step into their pound. You are in danger. This, my friends, is your Storm Warning.”
Lindsey places her arm across Jake’s waist and pulls herself closer to him, and he hugs her closer as she presses play on the remote, and the movie starts flashing across the screen as the scene fades to black .