Post by Deleted on Feb 1, 2014 13:58:21 GMT -5
(Such a long and lonely horizon. Barren and endless but somehow tinged with pain, regret and memories that can no longer be hidden. A faint breeze seems to turn into a turbulent storm as we get closer into the perspective of our as yet unknown protagonist. Heavy breathing. If you incline your ear, you can almost hear his heart beating out of his chest. We are now fully in his shoes. Black Louis Vuitton high-tops, in fact. They are halfway hanging over a ledge.)
Voice: Please don't do it. Sir!
(Back to the horizon. The respiration quickens. A gasp. Our view reverts to the third person but is, this time, focused on a familiar figure. 'The Shine' Brent Alpine looks ruffled. His hair is unruly and has been left tangled by the wind. His eyes are bulging and laced with the remnants of a tear. His expression is vacant and hopeless.)
Voice: Sir, get down! You're acting selfishly.
Brent Alpine: It's time to let go...
(He peers up to the heavens, holds his breath, recoils with reckless abandon and... jumps!)
One Hour Earlier
(Our antipodean friend is sprawled out on a grey checkered couch in fetal position like a scared child. He draws a labored breath and his pupils roll off up the side in recollection.)
Brent Alpine: If you were to ask me to reduce it all down to one trigger, one moment that everything changed... (he looks directly at someone opposite him)... Would you like me to go there?
(He pauses to wait for a response that isn't forthcoming. He looks away awkwardly.)
Brent Alpine: No, I mean, everyone has stuff, don't they? That's life mate. It's just how you deal with it. Take Serbia, my opponent tomorrow. She can't stop reminding us of all the pain she went through. She might as well engrave it on her forehead - 'Tortured'. You know what, though? Ever noticed that she kinda wears her scars like a badge of honour? I don't understand why she still carries all that so publicly for millions of WCF fans to see. More importantly, for other wrestlers to see. She's essentially saying - 'Here are my buttons, press them!' For me, succeeding in WCF is about keeping your cards close to your chest and playing your aces at the right time. She's exposing her hand.
(Brent hesitates then looks at his off-screen associate; presumably a councilor. We hear a clock ticking.)
Brent Alpine: Why are you looking at me like that? You think I'm being unsympathetic? Look, I wouldn't wish what happened to her on anyone. But suffering is a familiar foe to everyone with a hint of greatness about them. The difference between us and her, though, is that she lets her suffering define her. Everything about her screams her past. The punk rock music and surly look - every punk rocker I have seen is angry about some perceived injustice. All that drinking, smoking and drug taking. She's in self-destruction mode.
(He picks up a glass of orange juice from the floor and sips reflectively.)
Brent Alpine: I know what you're thinking... and I agree. At least she's not denying her wounds and curling up in shame. That's very true. She's using her past to fuel her future. It makes sense because she surely has great reserves of anger and vengeance. Those are powerful stimulants and make her a dangerous opponent at Slam, make no mistake. That being said, these are very limited resources. Someone burning on malice will inevitably turn that malice inward. When she faces The Shine tomorrow night, she'll have so many reasons to self-implode. She'll get frustrated with herself and her blind rage will leave her vulnerable to my cunning and guile. She is living under shadows of her past. Shadows don't light the way for billions of people around the globe. She's not seeing the full picture like 'The Shine' Brent Alpine is. Like a bull enraged by a red flag, she will charge indiscriminately and foolishly. Scary, sure... but the matador always wins! Anyway mate, why are you so quiet today?
(He waits for reply again. Nothing.)
Brent Alpine: Oh, so it's like that, is it? You want me to spill my guts undirected? When they said you were the best therapist in the world, I didn't expect you to be so... uncommunicative. No worries mate. I get it - you're trying to lead me to my own conclusions. That makes a lot of sense because within this grey matter are vast wells of wisdom. I don't actually need you. As I said initially, I'm bonza. There is nothing troubling Brent Alpine. Yes, I have had some terrible trauma in my life... (Choked up) like that time I didn't have enough bus money and had to walk half a mile to school. (He starts to weep slightly) It was so baddddddddd. I felt so violated.
(He sobs. It's hard to know if he's crying seriously or in jest.)
Brent Alpine: Do you think this is why I occasionally wet the bed? Maybe my bus stop humiliation is giving me intimacy issues. Perhaps I need hypnotherapy to take me back to that moment so I can emotionally conquer it? Do you think it has something to do with my relationship with my Mum? I just can't take this anymore.
(His faux tears turn to roaring laughter.)
Brent Alpine: Look how stupid it is! I respect you as a trained medical professional, dingo, but The Shine needs no therapy. I am a man of no past. Like the sun, The Shine continuously renews and burns up all I don't need. I mean, I could look to the past and, for example, dwell on my incredible victory at Payback last week but that's not in my nature. I'm barely even celebrating. It means nothing to me. Although I absolutely knocked the shadows out of Denise D'Evil, kicked the truck out of Mod Deuce and made Jayden Thunder go on strike, I'm not living on past glories. Glow Worm (he gestures his finishing move) - 1, 2, 3! Thousands of live fans basking in my win. Millions watching at home and recognising that I am already a WCF legend. Such a earth shattering statement. A momentous victory in the World Championship Federation's greatest ever match. But yeah... I don't dwell on it. And I am certainly not dwelling on how fantastic the TV Title will feel around my waist tomorrow night. The only thing occupying my thoughts is what minute to beat Serbia in. Do you think, for her self-esteem, I should let her compete for a solid three minutes? Or perhaps I should just crush her quickly so she doesn't get her hopes up? What's the kindest course of action, Mr. Therapist?
(He ceases his soliloquy and looks towards the councilor.)
Brent Alpine: Hello?
(We finally pan round and see a micro pig snaffling around on a large chair. Suddenly it begins to urinate. Alpine rushes up from the couch.)
Brent Alpine: Aw Percy Micro, not again!
(He grabs some wet wipes and attends to the micro pig's mess. We hear an ominous and rather gross squelching sound.)
Brent Alpine: Flaming galah! Couldn't you poo poo outside, mate? You’re trouble.
(He moves into the kitchenette and fumbles around in the drawers. He pulls out bright yellow cleaning gloves.)
Brent Alpine: If the hotel charge me for your muck, you're paying!
(With gloves on, Alpine reaches cautiously towards where 'Percy' relieved himself. Horrified, he pulls out a small black square. He wipes small specks of feces off it and continues to clean the area. He then attaches the black square to Percy's collar with a small wire keeping it in place. On closer inspection, it appears to be a tiny speaker.)
Brent Alpine: Mate, you ATE YOUR VOICE.
(Robotic sounding words emanate from the micro pig. It sounds like Professor Stephen Hawking.)
Percy Micro: My apologies, Mr. Alpine. I could not suppress my biological urge to defecate. In my rebellion and wild hunger, I also appeared to consume my voice-box.
Brent Alpine: I forgive ya. So what's your assessment of Serbia or Shelly or whatever she's called?
Percy Micro: You are quite correct in your assessment of Serbia, sir. She has deep seated trauma which manifests as rage. However, I also detect Penis Envy and a mild split personality disorder.
Brent Alpine: I think I can help her tomorrow night. Wanna go outside mate?
Percy Micro: Affirmative.
(Fade out.)
Half an Hour Later
(Such a long and lonely horizon. Barren and endless but somehow tinged with pain, regret and memories that can no longer be hidden. A faint breeze seems to turn into a turbulent storm as we get closer into the perspective of our as yet unknown protagonist. Heavy breathing. If you incline your ear, you can almost hear his heart beating out of his chest. We are now fully in his shoes. Black Louis Vuitton high-tops, in fact. They are halfway hanging over a ledge.)
Percy Micro: Please don't do it. Sir!
(Back to the horizon. The respiration quickens. A gasp. Our view reverts to the third person but is, this time, focused on a familiar figure. 'The Shine' Brent Alpine looks ruffled. His hair is unruly and has been left tangled by the wind. His eyes are bulging and laced with the remnants of a tear. His expression is vacant and hopeless.)
Percy Micro: Sir, get down! You're acting selfishly.
Brent Alpine: It's time to let go...
(He peers up to the heavens, holds his breath, recoils with reckless abandon and... jumps!)
(SPLASH! The swimming pool ripples at the impact of Alpine's descent from a lofty diving board.)
Percy Micro: Why did one choose deem this an appropriate means of exorcising your biggest phobia? Your expenses are already hard for me to bear without an extra dry cleaning bill.
(Alpine cheers and lets out a few 'WHOO's as he swims around. His suit is drenched.)
Brent Alpine: That's the price of being my manager, Percy. The Shine is a man of extravagance. For so long, I was unconsciously petrified of ruining my best suit. The fear paralysed me. NOW I AM FREE!!! Percy, you don't know what you have done for me.
Percy Micro: Mr. Alpine, I have been your manager for three days now and I have already incurred costs totaling over $10 000. At this rate, I am projecting annual expenses of $1 250 000. You are in danger of living beyond your means, sir. The WCF have not granted me anywhere near that budget.
Brent Alpine: Percy, when will you learn that Brent Alpine doesn't need budgeting? Money flows to excellence like a moth to a flame. For me, things just happen. Call it divine provision, call it the law of the universe, things just work out for me. Easy peasy mate.
Percy Micro: That's not how life works. With respect, sir, I would suggest you have been spoiled and your lifestyle has been sustained by numerous worker bees like yours truly buzzing around in the background.
Brent Alpine: Well, that's your business and I feel sorry for ya. You came to me because you... or your people recognised my brilliance. The Shine has got to be left to shine. Everything truly awesome and historic needs maintenance. Look at the Statue of Liberty, for instance. Lots of insignificant bods run around doing dusting and structural assessments or whatever it is they do. But old Liberty herself just stands there and shouts 'ADORE ME!'
Percy Micro: I concede your point. However, I would kindly request you be more financially prudent in the future. For my sake... mate.
Brent Alpine: Fair dinkum. Don't forget that I will be TV Champion tomorrow night. That's got to bring in the bucks, right?
Percy Micro: It would surely increase our revenue. Though what is to say that Serbia will not triumph?
Brent Alpine (chuckling): She's good but come on! You're a funny bloke. I'm taking that Title and you will be my belt bearer.
Percy Micro: I don't believe I am big enough to hold it, sir.
Brent Alpine: No drama, we'll get you a kart or shopping scooter or something.
Percy Micro: And how do you hypothesize that Serbia will be healed of her various neuroses?
Brent Alpine: I was going to get to that. Don't forget that I'm a merciful humanitarian. Primarily, she will be delivered from her demons by osmosis. Anyone who comes even remotely near my radiance gets a taste of perfection. Simply being in my presence will bring her deep peace and awareness of something superior on this earth. A new hope. I’ll help bring her a sense of closure. It must be intimidating knowing that she has something I want – the Television Championship. I’m going to graciously take it off her and then let her go about her business without any further embarrassment. She doesn’t have to feel any shame in defeat because clearly the fans will understand that excellence prevails. Merely competing with me will be a magnificent achievement for her. I will even extend her the courtesy of getting a punch or two in.
Percy Micro: OK sir, can we go inside now? My body is starting to get restless. I fear what I will do.
Brent Alpine: Come for a swim first, Percy Wercy. You know you want to.
Percy Micro: I will not!
(A soaking wet Brent reaches into his suit jacket pocket. Percy Micro’s snout twitches excitedly.)
Brent Alpine: I have some treats for you!
Percy Micro: NOOOO!!! Must… resist.
(Alpine raises his arm above the pool’s surface to reveal a handful of black truffles. Percy Micro runs and leaps into the swimming pool; snorting, grunting and squealing in the process. He swims towards Alpine and feeds out of his hand.)
Brent Alpine: That’ll do pig, that’ll do.
(Fade to black.)
Voice: Please don't do it. Sir!
(Back to the horizon. The respiration quickens. A gasp. Our view reverts to the third person but is, this time, focused on a familiar figure. 'The Shine' Brent Alpine looks ruffled. His hair is unruly and has been left tangled by the wind. His eyes are bulging and laced with the remnants of a tear. His expression is vacant and hopeless.)
Voice: Sir, get down! You're acting selfishly.
Brent Alpine: It's time to let go...
(He peers up to the heavens, holds his breath, recoils with reckless abandon and... jumps!)
One Hour Earlier
(Our antipodean friend is sprawled out on a grey checkered couch in fetal position like a scared child. He draws a labored breath and his pupils roll off up the side in recollection.)
Brent Alpine: If you were to ask me to reduce it all down to one trigger, one moment that everything changed... (he looks directly at someone opposite him)... Would you like me to go there?
(He pauses to wait for a response that isn't forthcoming. He looks away awkwardly.)
Brent Alpine: No, I mean, everyone has stuff, don't they? That's life mate. It's just how you deal with it. Take Serbia, my opponent tomorrow. She can't stop reminding us of all the pain she went through. She might as well engrave it on her forehead - 'Tortured'. You know what, though? Ever noticed that she kinda wears her scars like a badge of honour? I don't understand why she still carries all that so publicly for millions of WCF fans to see. More importantly, for other wrestlers to see. She's essentially saying - 'Here are my buttons, press them!' For me, succeeding in WCF is about keeping your cards close to your chest and playing your aces at the right time. She's exposing her hand.
(Brent hesitates then looks at his off-screen associate; presumably a councilor. We hear a clock ticking.)
Brent Alpine: Why are you looking at me like that? You think I'm being unsympathetic? Look, I wouldn't wish what happened to her on anyone. But suffering is a familiar foe to everyone with a hint of greatness about them. The difference between us and her, though, is that she lets her suffering define her. Everything about her screams her past. The punk rock music and surly look - every punk rocker I have seen is angry about some perceived injustice. All that drinking, smoking and drug taking. She's in self-destruction mode.
(He picks up a glass of orange juice from the floor and sips reflectively.)
Brent Alpine: I know what you're thinking... and I agree. At least she's not denying her wounds and curling up in shame. That's very true. She's using her past to fuel her future. It makes sense because she surely has great reserves of anger and vengeance. Those are powerful stimulants and make her a dangerous opponent at Slam, make no mistake. That being said, these are very limited resources. Someone burning on malice will inevitably turn that malice inward. When she faces The Shine tomorrow night, she'll have so many reasons to self-implode. She'll get frustrated with herself and her blind rage will leave her vulnerable to my cunning and guile. She is living under shadows of her past. Shadows don't light the way for billions of people around the globe. She's not seeing the full picture like 'The Shine' Brent Alpine is. Like a bull enraged by a red flag, she will charge indiscriminately and foolishly. Scary, sure... but the matador always wins! Anyway mate, why are you so quiet today?
(He waits for reply again. Nothing.)
Brent Alpine: Oh, so it's like that, is it? You want me to spill my guts undirected? When they said you were the best therapist in the world, I didn't expect you to be so... uncommunicative. No worries mate. I get it - you're trying to lead me to my own conclusions. That makes a lot of sense because within this grey matter are vast wells of wisdom. I don't actually need you. As I said initially, I'm bonza. There is nothing troubling Brent Alpine. Yes, I have had some terrible trauma in my life... (Choked up) like that time I didn't have enough bus money and had to walk half a mile to school. (He starts to weep slightly) It was so baddddddddd. I felt so violated.
(He sobs. It's hard to know if he's crying seriously or in jest.)
Brent Alpine: Do you think this is why I occasionally wet the bed? Maybe my bus stop humiliation is giving me intimacy issues. Perhaps I need hypnotherapy to take me back to that moment so I can emotionally conquer it? Do you think it has something to do with my relationship with my Mum? I just can't take this anymore.
(His faux tears turn to roaring laughter.)
Brent Alpine: Look how stupid it is! I respect you as a trained medical professional, dingo, but The Shine needs no therapy. I am a man of no past. Like the sun, The Shine continuously renews and burns up all I don't need. I mean, I could look to the past and, for example, dwell on my incredible victory at Payback last week but that's not in my nature. I'm barely even celebrating. It means nothing to me. Although I absolutely knocked the shadows out of Denise D'Evil, kicked the truck out of Mod Deuce and made Jayden Thunder go on strike, I'm not living on past glories. Glow Worm (he gestures his finishing move) - 1, 2, 3! Thousands of live fans basking in my win. Millions watching at home and recognising that I am already a WCF legend. Such a earth shattering statement. A momentous victory in the World Championship Federation's greatest ever match. But yeah... I don't dwell on it. And I am certainly not dwelling on how fantastic the TV Title will feel around my waist tomorrow night. The only thing occupying my thoughts is what minute to beat Serbia in. Do you think, for her self-esteem, I should let her compete for a solid three minutes? Or perhaps I should just crush her quickly so she doesn't get her hopes up? What's the kindest course of action, Mr. Therapist?
(He ceases his soliloquy and looks towards the councilor.)
Brent Alpine: Hello?
(We finally pan round and see a micro pig snaffling around on a large chair. Suddenly it begins to urinate. Alpine rushes up from the couch.)
Brent Alpine: Aw Percy Micro, not again!
(He grabs some wet wipes and attends to the micro pig's mess. We hear an ominous and rather gross squelching sound.)
Brent Alpine: Flaming galah! Couldn't you poo poo outside, mate? You’re trouble.
(He moves into the kitchenette and fumbles around in the drawers. He pulls out bright yellow cleaning gloves.)
Brent Alpine: If the hotel charge me for your muck, you're paying!
(With gloves on, Alpine reaches cautiously towards where 'Percy' relieved himself. Horrified, he pulls out a small black square. He wipes small specks of feces off it and continues to clean the area. He then attaches the black square to Percy's collar with a small wire keeping it in place. On closer inspection, it appears to be a tiny speaker.)
Brent Alpine: Mate, you ATE YOUR VOICE.
(Robotic sounding words emanate from the micro pig. It sounds like Professor Stephen Hawking.)
Percy Micro: My apologies, Mr. Alpine. I could not suppress my biological urge to defecate. In my rebellion and wild hunger, I also appeared to consume my voice-box.
Brent Alpine: I forgive ya. So what's your assessment of Serbia or Shelly or whatever she's called?
Percy Micro: You are quite correct in your assessment of Serbia, sir. She has deep seated trauma which manifests as rage. However, I also detect Penis Envy and a mild split personality disorder.
Brent Alpine: I think I can help her tomorrow night. Wanna go outside mate?
Percy Micro: Affirmative.
(Fade out.)
Half an Hour Later
(Such a long and lonely horizon. Barren and endless but somehow tinged with pain, regret and memories that can no longer be hidden. A faint breeze seems to turn into a turbulent storm as we get closer into the perspective of our as yet unknown protagonist. Heavy breathing. If you incline your ear, you can almost hear his heart beating out of his chest. We are now fully in his shoes. Black Louis Vuitton high-tops, in fact. They are halfway hanging over a ledge.)
Percy Micro: Please don't do it. Sir!
(Back to the horizon. The respiration quickens. A gasp. Our view reverts to the third person but is, this time, focused on a familiar figure. 'The Shine' Brent Alpine looks ruffled. His hair is unruly and has been left tangled by the wind. His eyes are bulging and laced with the remnants of a tear. His expression is vacant and hopeless.)
Percy Micro: Sir, get down! You're acting selfishly.
Brent Alpine: It's time to let go...
(He peers up to the heavens, holds his breath, recoils with reckless abandon and... jumps!)
(SPLASH! The swimming pool ripples at the impact of Alpine's descent from a lofty diving board.)
Percy Micro: Why did one choose deem this an appropriate means of exorcising your biggest phobia? Your expenses are already hard for me to bear without an extra dry cleaning bill.
(Alpine cheers and lets out a few 'WHOO's as he swims around. His suit is drenched.)
Brent Alpine: That's the price of being my manager, Percy. The Shine is a man of extravagance. For so long, I was unconsciously petrified of ruining my best suit. The fear paralysed me. NOW I AM FREE!!! Percy, you don't know what you have done for me.
Percy Micro: Mr. Alpine, I have been your manager for three days now and I have already incurred costs totaling over $10 000. At this rate, I am projecting annual expenses of $1 250 000. You are in danger of living beyond your means, sir. The WCF have not granted me anywhere near that budget.
Brent Alpine: Percy, when will you learn that Brent Alpine doesn't need budgeting? Money flows to excellence like a moth to a flame. For me, things just happen. Call it divine provision, call it the law of the universe, things just work out for me. Easy peasy mate.
Percy Micro: That's not how life works. With respect, sir, I would suggest you have been spoiled and your lifestyle has been sustained by numerous worker bees like yours truly buzzing around in the background.
Brent Alpine: Well, that's your business and I feel sorry for ya. You came to me because you... or your people recognised my brilliance. The Shine has got to be left to shine. Everything truly awesome and historic needs maintenance. Look at the Statue of Liberty, for instance. Lots of insignificant bods run around doing dusting and structural assessments or whatever it is they do. But old Liberty herself just stands there and shouts 'ADORE ME!'
Percy Micro: I concede your point. However, I would kindly request you be more financially prudent in the future. For my sake... mate.
Brent Alpine: Fair dinkum. Don't forget that I will be TV Champion tomorrow night. That's got to bring in the bucks, right?
Percy Micro: It would surely increase our revenue. Though what is to say that Serbia will not triumph?
Brent Alpine (chuckling): She's good but come on! You're a funny bloke. I'm taking that Title and you will be my belt bearer.
Percy Micro: I don't believe I am big enough to hold it, sir.
Brent Alpine: No drama, we'll get you a kart or shopping scooter or something.
Percy Micro: And how do you hypothesize that Serbia will be healed of her various neuroses?
Brent Alpine: I was going to get to that. Don't forget that I'm a merciful humanitarian. Primarily, she will be delivered from her demons by osmosis. Anyone who comes even remotely near my radiance gets a taste of perfection. Simply being in my presence will bring her deep peace and awareness of something superior on this earth. A new hope. I’ll help bring her a sense of closure. It must be intimidating knowing that she has something I want – the Television Championship. I’m going to graciously take it off her and then let her go about her business without any further embarrassment. She doesn’t have to feel any shame in defeat because clearly the fans will understand that excellence prevails. Merely competing with me will be a magnificent achievement for her. I will even extend her the courtesy of getting a punch or two in.
Percy Micro: OK sir, can we go inside now? My body is starting to get restless. I fear what I will do.
Brent Alpine: Come for a swim first, Percy Wercy. You know you want to.
Percy Micro: I will not!
(A soaking wet Brent reaches into his suit jacket pocket. Percy Micro’s snout twitches excitedly.)
Brent Alpine: I have some treats for you!
Percy Micro: NOOOO!!! Must… resist.
(Alpine raises his arm above the pool’s surface to reveal a handful of black truffles. Percy Micro runs and leaps into the swimming pool; snorting, grunting and squealing in the process. He swims towards Alpine and feeds out of his hand.)
Brent Alpine: That’ll do pig, that’ll do.
(Fade to black.)
