Post by Deleted on Mar 9, 2014 13:55:08 GMT -5
March 9th, 2014
Price Tower
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Late Afternoon
The scene opens with a shot of Jayson Price standing on the balcony of the top floor of his tower, a drink resting on the railing in front of him as he stares out at the Philadelphia skyline around him. As he lifts his drink to take a sip, we see he's still sporting a black eye from the attack by Sequitus a week ago. As he sips, he winces a bit and his free hand shoots to his ribs. He lowers his drink and gingerly rubs the area as Cameraman Stu walks out onto the balcony behind him.
Cameraman Stu: "Still feeling it after last week?"
Jayson Price: "Get jumped from behind by four punks and tell me how you're feeling a week later."
Cameraman Stu: "That's all right, I'll pass. Is it anything serious?"
Jayson Price: "No, just a black eye and some sore ribs. Luckily for me none of those fuckers actually know how to fight. Do me a favor and go back inside and grab the bottle on the table."
Price again raises his drink and takes a sip as Stu steps back into the tower.
Jayson Price: "To be perfectly honest Night Rider, I wish that I could tell you that the feelings of respect were mutual between you and I. You spend so much time talking about how much you respect what I've done and the kind of wrestler I am and you talk about what kind of champion I've been. And the question I keep asking myself is, what the fuck? I feel like we've had this discussion before where I question what kind of competitor spends so much of his time heading into a match kissing his opponent's ass and singing his praises like a fucking worshiper. Don't get me wrong, I could never honestly say that I don't enjoy a little good publicity, especially when it's free, but am I supposed to have any measure of respect for someone trying so damn hard to get me to like them?
Don't be mistaken, I am capable of respecting some people in this business. Orbit and Fly's names come to mind right off the bat. But I respect those two because they don't walk around with my fucking face plastered on t-shirts trying to spread the good word. Orbit, for example, just went toe to toe with me at Timebomb. PPV Main Event match, World Title on the line. They guy's a close friend but you didn't hear him walking around saying "Man, that Jayson Price is one swell guy, isn't he? Don't you just think he's the bee's fucking knees?". He was a fucking asshole that talked some trash and I respect the fuck out of him for it because at least he was honest. Orbit respected me enough to be an asshole and call me out for my flaws because he knew I'd respect him more than I would if he were to sugarcoat shit like a bitch.
But you? You respect me? Where I come from, having respect for someone means one of two things: One, you're their family or a close friend, or two, you're afraid of them. You don't respect an enemy, you despise them with every bit of your being. And by saying that you respect me, and what I can do, then you're outright telling me that you're walking into Slam fearful of the outcome. And to be honest, you should be fearful. I don't know if you think that kissing my ass is going to make me want to take it easy on you or not, but it's done nothing but make me think even less of you. If that's even possible.
And do you want to know why? Because you and I have faced each other in the past Rider, I'm sure you remember. All the fucking matches that we've had in the past. All the fucking losses that you've suffered at my hands. You and I have done this little song and dance number multiple times over the past few years and never once has the result been different. Why someone thinks that tonight is going to be any different than any of the other times is beyond me, but oh well, what the fuck can you do? Sometimes I guess you just have to accept that people in this world are just fucking stupid. So tonight, I'm going to come down to that ring, just like I have every other time, look you in the eye and tell you that you're not going to win, just like every other time, and then I'm going to pin you, just like every other time. It's fucking science, Rider. Purely fucking academical. A + B = C where A equals Jayson Price, B equals random fucking jobber and C equals a win without breaking a fucking sweat for Jayson Price.
And believe me, I know it sounds like I'm being a fucking asshole but it's called being honest. If you don't like it, I don't know what to tell you except that you're in the wrong fucking business because not everyone is like you, Rider. Not everyone is going to pat you on the back and give you a thumbs up just because you tried. This isn't Elementary school where everyone gets a little fucking trophy so that no one feels left out and sad. This is the real world and this is cutthroat business where you're either a winner or you're one of the little lambs that gets led to the ring for slaughter.
And that's what you're looking at tonight, Rider. A fucking slaughter. And it's nothing that you did, you're just the helpless, random sap put in front of me this week. Out of everyone that could have been put into this match against me, you know like maybe one of the four little cunts that decided to jump me or one of the three little cunts that jumped Orbit, it was you that drew the short straw. So when you're lying in a hospital bed Monday morning wondering what the fuck just happened and questioning why it happened, feel free to blame the people who decide the matches. If they had been smarter, maybe if they had given me someone a bit more deserving of the unmerciful beating that is coming your way, you'd have been safe. But no, tonight you're going to get fucked up. You're going to get your faced kicked in, your teeth sent down your throat and your head driven into the fucking mat. Repeatedly.
Again, Rider, it's just me being honest with you. I may be a lot of things, a fucking alcoholic with a sketchy past and a propensity for violence most notably, but at least I'm fucking honest with people. You? I don't know. All the sweet talking you've been doing about me, like I said maybe you've got some weird, repressed feelings coming out. Or maybe you're a phony, acting all nice thinking that you're smart enough to be able to lure me into a false sense of security around you. Well, unfortunately, on both of those fronts I've got some bad news for you. You're not smart enough to play mind games with me, Rider. I know all of your little tricks and what you can do, and I know for a fact that you don't have it in you to be able to outsmart me. So whatever it is that you're trying to pull with the nicey, nice "I have so much respect for you, Jayson" bullshit, it's a waste of my time, your time and everyone else's time. But since you spend so much time talking about all of the respect that you have for me, whether it's real or fake, I'm sure you're wondering if I have any respect for you.
Nope.
Toss aside all of the things I've already talked about, what have you done that I should respect? Everything that you've done, I've seen done before by people. Hell, everything that you've done in the few years that you've been here, I did in my very first year in this business. You've done nothing of any real worth and, at most, the only thing you can actually hang your hat on is the fact that you've been a Tag Team Champion twice. Yeah, you were People's Champion, but come on, everyone knows that in this company if you can't rise up to at least beat the Television Champion you're a scrub. And let's not forget that it was me who ended your fucking reign as People's Champion. As for you little team, The Shadows or whatever you're calling yourselves, congratulations, you've actually been able to find people that don't look at you as the massive failure that you are. Unfortunately, you still are a massive failure, you've just been that blind squirrel that managed to find a nut. But that ends tonight, Rider. You're going to taste defeat once again at my hands and be reminded that, even though you're holding one of the Tag Team Titles right now, you're still a fucking scrub in this company and you can't hang with the big boys."
We see Stu step back out onto the balcony behind Price with a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand and a plastic orange pill bottle in the other.
Cameraman Stu: "I didn't know which bottle you wanted so I brought both."
Price turns around and nods his head in approval.
Jayson Price: "Well I'll give you this much, you're a hell of a lot smarter than Bob."
Price takes both bottles from Stu and turns back around.
Cameraman Stu: "So what's the plan for tonight?"
Jayson Price: "Plan? There is no plan, Stu."
Cameraman Stu: "No plan? You get jumped by Sequitus and you're not going to do anything about it?"
Jayson Price: "I said there was no plan. I never said I wasn't going to do anything about it."
Price opens up the bottle of Jack and tops off his drink before taking a couple of white pills out of the smaller bottle. He tosses them in his mouth and washes them down with the Jack as the camera pans out to the skyline before fading out.
Price Tower
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Late Afternoon
The scene opens with a shot of Jayson Price standing on the balcony of the top floor of his tower, a drink resting on the railing in front of him as he stares out at the Philadelphia skyline around him. As he lifts his drink to take a sip, we see he's still sporting a black eye from the attack by Sequitus a week ago. As he sips, he winces a bit and his free hand shoots to his ribs. He lowers his drink and gingerly rubs the area as Cameraman Stu walks out onto the balcony behind him.
Cameraman Stu: "Still feeling it after last week?"
Jayson Price: "Get jumped from behind by four punks and tell me how you're feeling a week later."
Cameraman Stu: "That's all right, I'll pass. Is it anything serious?"
Jayson Price: "No, just a black eye and some sore ribs. Luckily for me none of those fuckers actually know how to fight. Do me a favor and go back inside and grab the bottle on the table."
Price again raises his drink and takes a sip as Stu steps back into the tower.
Jayson Price: "To be perfectly honest Night Rider, I wish that I could tell you that the feelings of respect were mutual between you and I. You spend so much time talking about how much you respect what I've done and the kind of wrestler I am and you talk about what kind of champion I've been. And the question I keep asking myself is, what the fuck? I feel like we've had this discussion before where I question what kind of competitor spends so much of his time heading into a match kissing his opponent's ass and singing his praises like a fucking worshiper. Don't get me wrong, I could never honestly say that I don't enjoy a little good publicity, especially when it's free, but am I supposed to have any measure of respect for someone trying so damn hard to get me to like them?
Don't be mistaken, I am capable of respecting some people in this business. Orbit and Fly's names come to mind right off the bat. But I respect those two because they don't walk around with my fucking face plastered on t-shirts trying to spread the good word. Orbit, for example, just went toe to toe with me at Timebomb. PPV Main Event match, World Title on the line. They guy's a close friend but you didn't hear him walking around saying "Man, that Jayson Price is one swell guy, isn't he? Don't you just think he's the bee's fucking knees?". He was a fucking asshole that talked some trash and I respect the fuck out of him for it because at least he was honest. Orbit respected me enough to be an asshole and call me out for my flaws because he knew I'd respect him more than I would if he were to sugarcoat shit like a bitch.
But you? You respect me? Where I come from, having respect for someone means one of two things: One, you're their family or a close friend, or two, you're afraid of them. You don't respect an enemy, you despise them with every bit of your being. And by saying that you respect me, and what I can do, then you're outright telling me that you're walking into Slam fearful of the outcome. And to be honest, you should be fearful. I don't know if you think that kissing my ass is going to make me want to take it easy on you or not, but it's done nothing but make me think even less of you. If that's even possible.
And do you want to know why? Because you and I have faced each other in the past Rider, I'm sure you remember. All the fucking matches that we've had in the past. All the fucking losses that you've suffered at my hands. You and I have done this little song and dance number multiple times over the past few years and never once has the result been different. Why someone thinks that tonight is going to be any different than any of the other times is beyond me, but oh well, what the fuck can you do? Sometimes I guess you just have to accept that people in this world are just fucking stupid. So tonight, I'm going to come down to that ring, just like I have every other time, look you in the eye and tell you that you're not going to win, just like every other time, and then I'm going to pin you, just like every other time. It's fucking science, Rider. Purely fucking academical. A + B = C where A equals Jayson Price, B equals random fucking jobber and C equals a win without breaking a fucking sweat for Jayson Price.
And believe me, I know it sounds like I'm being a fucking asshole but it's called being honest. If you don't like it, I don't know what to tell you except that you're in the wrong fucking business because not everyone is like you, Rider. Not everyone is going to pat you on the back and give you a thumbs up just because you tried. This isn't Elementary school where everyone gets a little fucking trophy so that no one feels left out and sad. This is the real world and this is cutthroat business where you're either a winner or you're one of the little lambs that gets led to the ring for slaughter.
And that's what you're looking at tonight, Rider. A fucking slaughter. And it's nothing that you did, you're just the helpless, random sap put in front of me this week. Out of everyone that could have been put into this match against me, you know like maybe one of the four little cunts that decided to jump me or one of the three little cunts that jumped Orbit, it was you that drew the short straw. So when you're lying in a hospital bed Monday morning wondering what the fuck just happened and questioning why it happened, feel free to blame the people who decide the matches. If they had been smarter, maybe if they had given me someone a bit more deserving of the unmerciful beating that is coming your way, you'd have been safe. But no, tonight you're going to get fucked up. You're going to get your faced kicked in, your teeth sent down your throat and your head driven into the fucking mat. Repeatedly.
Again, Rider, it's just me being honest with you. I may be a lot of things, a fucking alcoholic with a sketchy past and a propensity for violence most notably, but at least I'm fucking honest with people. You? I don't know. All the sweet talking you've been doing about me, like I said maybe you've got some weird, repressed feelings coming out. Or maybe you're a phony, acting all nice thinking that you're smart enough to be able to lure me into a false sense of security around you. Well, unfortunately, on both of those fronts I've got some bad news for you. You're not smart enough to play mind games with me, Rider. I know all of your little tricks and what you can do, and I know for a fact that you don't have it in you to be able to outsmart me. So whatever it is that you're trying to pull with the nicey, nice "I have so much respect for you, Jayson" bullshit, it's a waste of my time, your time and everyone else's time. But since you spend so much time talking about all of the respect that you have for me, whether it's real or fake, I'm sure you're wondering if I have any respect for you.
Nope.
Toss aside all of the things I've already talked about, what have you done that I should respect? Everything that you've done, I've seen done before by people. Hell, everything that you've done in the few years that you've been here, I did in my very first year in this business. You've done nothing of any real worth and, at most, the only thing you can actually hang your hat on is the fact that you've been a Tag Team Champion twice. Yeah, you were People's Champion, but come on, everyone knows that in this company if you can't rise up to at least beat the Television Champion you're a scrub. And let's not forget that it was me who ended your fucking reign as People's Champion. As for you little team, The Shadows or whatever you're calling yourselves, congratulations, you've actually been able to find people that don't look at you as the massive failure that you are. Unfortunately, you still are a massive failure, you've just been that blind squirrel that managed to find a nut. But that ends tonight, Rider. You're going to taste defeat once again at my hands and be reminded that, even though you're holding one of the Tag Team Titles right now, you're still a fucking scrub in this company and you can't hang with the big boys."
We see Stu step back out onto the balcony behind Price with a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand and a plastic orange pill bottle in the other.
Cameraman Stu: "I didn't know which bottle you wanted so I brought both."
Price turns around and nods his head in approval.
Jayson Price: "Well I'll give you this much, you're a hell of a lot smarter than Bob."
Price takes both bottles from Stu and turns back around.
Cameraman Stu: "So what's the plan for tonight?"
Jayson Price: "Plan? There is no plan, Stu."
Cameraman Stu: "No plan? You get jumped by Sequitus and you're not going to do anything about it?"
Jayson Price: "I said there was no plan. I never said I wasn't going to do anything about it."
Price opens up the bottle of Jack and tops off his drink before taking a couple of white pills out of the smaller bottle. He tosses them in his mouth and washes them down with the Jack as the camera pans out to the skyline before fading out.
