Post by Torture on Jul 14, 2009 1:10:24 GMT -5
How many corners do I have to turn? How many times do I have to learn.. that all the love I have is in my mind.
- The scene opens up to an indescribable small town. Torture is seen sitting on a bus stop bench on the side of the street. The town's only clock is on the side of some bank and it reads 1:10am. Torture looks back from the clock down toward the street. The same clothes he was wearing after his brutal, and shocking personal attack on Zach Davis. The reasoning is still unclear as is Torture's future, all of it still in bold statements; unanswered questions. The street looks to be popular by day but quiet and alone by night. Might be why Torture is is soaking it in right now. The Tort fixes one of his tennis shoes when he notices a near-homeless looking man walking toward him. At first, Tort does nothing to gain his attention, or even brush him off, but the man sits down on the other end of the bench.
Homeless: Clear night huh?
- Torture has no answer. He does, however, look up at the stars. Gazing. Torture brings his eyes back down and continues staring a hole right through the bank that proudly displays it's digital clock.
Homeless: Not a big talker huh? Hm. Pegged you for one. So why you out here tonight? You don't look like you stay out here on the streets. Don't you have a home?
- Torture turns towards the homeless man and from here you can clearly see that the man may not have been homeless for very long. A dirty polo shirt, some recently ripped jeans and dirty sneakers, the man couldn't have been homeless for more than a few months. Torture doesn't reply again. The homeless man doesn't care though. A spark of conversation is just that.. a conversation. He's intrigued and to be quite honest.. has nothing better to do. Nothing ELSE to do.
Homeless: So, you're not running the streets, and you look presentable, so I really want to know man.. what is up? Lot of tat's too. Pretty muscular, I must say, you're a wicked man to see on the streets this late at night. You're not robbing anything are you? Hah.
- Torture doesn't even crack a smile. Fuck, for all we know, Torture could have just stolen something and this man would never know. Torture could be the most popular sports figure and this guy wouldn't know. Torture could be a former World Champion of the most popular wrestling company in the world and this guy still wouldn't have a damn clue as to who was sitting next to him. But for some reason, that fits Torture. That's comfortable.. and for some reason, replying or not, Torture doesn't mind that this guy is doing all the talking.
Homeless: Well, you're probably asking yourself why I'm out here. Simple. Lost my job, lost my home, which means I lost my family, which means I lose my life. It means the street picks me up and adopts me as it's own and I try my best to get back to where I was. So hard to find anything worth doing now a days. Not that I won't substitute pride for work, I just want to make sure I'm going to be taken care of. I'm okay with the fact that it's just me.
- He continued to talk for a few more minutes, but something made Torture look away from the bank yet again and back to the man. Maybe it was him losing his job, maybe it was because he said he lost his family, or maybe it was because he was losing so much. Just the thought of the word 'lose' makes Torture jump sporadic thoughts like an addicted meth junkie. Torture kept staring into the eyes as the man kept talking about his life. Soaking it all in as if this was the first time Torture ever listened to someone talk. As if, for the first time, someone had a better story than Torture. Which ever the case, Torture sponged it, when the man stopped Torture still didn't reply. He slowly turned back to the bank's digital clock. It was now 1:21 am. A single car turned down the road which caught the attention of both men as it slowly passed through. They both looked down as the car vanished in the distance.
Homeless: Weird isn't it? Looking at someone moving towards a destination. Especially since you have no idea what fate has in store for your destination. You can set up a goal all you want, but sometimes you just never reach it. It's life's ultimate question if you ask me. Will you ever become the person you dream to be? The question that may never be answered.
- Torture looks down at the ground and slips his hands into his dark blue jeans pockets. The homeless man stands up and looks down both sides of the street. Not another soul for miles. Homeless man turns back to Torture as he slowly steps away from the bench into the street.
Homeless: I have to get going. I have to reach the next town twenty miles from here before morning. Day time just gets too hot to walk anywhere. It was nice chatting with ya. Good luck Torture.
- Torture looks up from the ground and notices the homeless man turned away from him and begun walking down the road. The man crosses the street and is heard singing a song out loud as he continues to walk further away from Torture and the bench he sits on.
Homeless: (Hardly heard as he is walking away from Torture) I know just who I am, how many corners do I have turn, how many times do I have to learn? All the love I have is in my mind.. I'm a lucky man... I'm a lucky man
- Torture looks back down at the two feet of sidewalk between both of his shoes. He begins a small chuckle. A small giggle of sorts. He must be thinking that the man knew who he was to begin with. Torture looks back up at the clock and it now reads 1:30 am. Torture pulls out his iPhone and reads a text message from earlier in the night from Tiffany.
Tiffany: What the hell, Torture? Take your anger out on Shannan Lerch, then beat up Zach Davis for trying to stop you? What is wrong? Whatever the case just come home. We can fix this. Please. Let me help you. I want to be here for you. Answer me when you get this. We have a strong friendship, and I think I'm starting to lose you? I'll be waiting up for you to come home. I miss you.
- Torture slides the phone back into his front pocket and stands up off the bench. He looks around the small town, and then heads in the opposite direction of where the homeless man was walking towards. Torture turns the corner and hops into his all black H2. He turns it on, rolls the windows down and drives off away from the scene.
- We now cut to Torture's mansion, same time, different place. Tiffany is laying on the couch with a blanket over her in the living room as informercial's are airing over the television she left on. She's sleeping but she's waiting for Torture to come home. Where Torture is going though, is like the last two weeks, an unanswered question.
- The scene opens up to an indescribable small town. Torture is seen sitting on a bus stop bench on the side of the street. The town's only clock is on the side of some bank and it reads 1:10am. Torture looks back from the clock down toward the street. The same clothes he was wearing after his brutal, and shocking personal attack on Zach Davis. The reasoning is still unclear as is Torture's future, all of it still in bold statements; unanswered questions. The street looks to be popular by day but quiet and alone by night. Might be why Torture is is soaking it in right now. The Tort fixes one of his tennis shoes when he notices a near-homeless looking man walking toward him. At first, Tort does nothing to gain his attention, or even brush him off, but the man sits down on the other end of the bench.
Homeless: Clear night huh?
- Torture has no answer. He does, however, look up at the stars. Gazing. Torture brings his eyes back down and continues staring a hole right through the bank that proudly displays it's digital clock.
Homeless: Not a big talker huh? Hm. Pegged you for one. So why you out here tonight? You don't look like you stay out here on the streets. Don't you have a home?
- Torture turns towards the homeless man and from here you can clearly see that the man may not have been homeless for very long. A dirty polo shirt, some recently ripped jeans and dirty sneakers, the man couldn't have been homeless for more than a few months. Torture doesn't reply again. The homeless man doesn't care though. A spark of conversation is just that.. a conversation. He's intrigued and to be quite honest.. has nothing better to do. Nothing ELSE to do.
Homeless: So, you're not running the streets, and you look presentable, so I really want to know man.. what is up? Lot of tat's too. Pretty muscular, I must say, you're a wicked man to see on the streets this late at night. You're not robbing anything are you? Hah.
- Torture doesn't even crack a smile. Fuck, for all we know, Torture could have just stolen something and this man would never know. Torture could be the most popular sports figure and this guy wouldn't know. Torture could be a former World Champion of the most popular wrestling company in the world and this guy still wouldn't have a damn clue as to who was sitting next to him. But for some reason, that fits Torture. That's comfortable.. and for some reason, replying or not, Torture doesn't mind that this guy is doing all the talking.
Homeless: Well, you're probably asking yourself why I'm out here. Simple. Lost my job, lost my home, which means I lost my family, which means I lose my life. It means the street picks me up and adopts me as it's own and I try my best to get back to where I was. So hard to find anything worth doing now a days. Not that I won't substitute pride for work, I just want to make sure I'm going to be taken care of. I'm okay with the fact that it's just me.
- He continued to talk for a few more minutes, but something made Torture look away from the bank yet again and back to the man. Maybe it was him losing his job, maybe it was because he said he lost his family, or maybe it was because he was losing so much. Just the thought of the word 'lose' makes Torture jump sporadic thoughts like an addicted meth junkie. Torture kept staring into the eyes as the man kept talking about his life. Soaking it all in as if this was the first time Torture ever listened to someone talk. As if, for the first time, someone had a better story than Torture. Which ever the case, Torture sponged it, when the man stopped Torture still didn't reply. He slowly turned back to the bank's digital clock. It was now 1:21 am. A single car turned down the road which caught the attention of both men as it slowly passed through. They both looked down as the car vanished in the distance.
Homeless: Weird isn't it? Looking at someone moving towards a destination. Especially since you have no idea what fate has in store for your destination. You can set up a goal all you want, but sometimes you just never reach it. It's life's ultimate question if you ask me. Will you ever become the person you dream to be? The question that may never be answered.
- Torture looks down at the ground and slips his hands into his dark blue jeans pockets. The homeless man stands up and looks down both sides of the street. Not another soul for miles. Homeless man turns back to Torture as he slowly steps away from the bench into the street.
Homeless: I have to get going. I have to reach the next town twenty miles from here before morning. Day time just gets too hot to walk anywhere. It was nice chatting with ya. Good luck Torture.
- Torture looks up from the ground and notices the homeless man turned away from him and begun walking down the road. The man crosses the street and is heard singing a song out loud as he continues to walk further away from Torture and the bench he sits on.
Homeless: (Hardly heard as he is walking away from Torture) I know just who I am, how many corners do I have turn, how many times do I have to learn? All the love I have is in my mind.. I'm a lucky man... I'm a lucky man
- Torture looks back down at the two feet of sidewalk between both of his shoes. He begins a small chuckle. A small giggle of sorts. He must be thinking that the man knew who he was to begin with. Torture looks back up at the clock and it now reads 1:30 am. Torture pulls out his iPhone and reads a text message from earlier in the night from Tiffany.
Tiffany: What the hell, Torture? Take your anger out on Shannan Lerch, then beat up Zach Davis for trying to stop you? What is wrong? Whatever the case just come home. We can fix this. Please. Let me help you. I want to be here for you. Answer me when you get this. We have a strong friendship, and I think I'm starting to lose you? I'll be waiting up for you to come home. I miss you.
- Torture slides the phone back into his front pocket and stands up off the bench. He looks around the small town, and then heads in the opposite direction of where the homeless man was walking towards. Torture turns the corner and hops into his all black H2. He turns it on, rolls the windows down and drives off away from the scene.
- We now cut to Torture's mansion, same time, different place. Tiffany is laying on the couch with a blanket over her in the living room as informercial's are airing over the television she left on. She's sleeping but she's waiting for Torture to come home. Where Torture is going though, is like the last two weeks, an unanswered question.
