Post by Natural ICE Beckman on Mar 7, 2015 22:48:38 GMT -5
(ICE Beckman slams his head against the coffin...over and over...as insanity, frustration, madness, craziness all begin to play second fiddle to hate, to weed to coke to even the booze it all plays the role of runner up to HATE...so you know he must do it...ICE slams against the coffin until he tastes blood and hears the splintering of wood. But ICE keeps slamming his head into the wood, like a fool seeking freedom or a guardian seeking his lost treasure or like a champ who is stuck...and feeling like the darkness is about to win.)
ICE: A cold beer on a summer day.
(ICE again slams his head into the top of the coffin.)
ICE: Chelsea wearing those blue panties.
(ICE slams his head into the wood as oxygen begins to trickle away from him just as fast as the blood is down his face.)
ICE: Autumn in Foam Lake.
(ICE begins to giggle, his fingers searching for a title that isn’t there. He fades off to sleep with the sound of ringing voices talking about their plan with him for the end of the show.
And then we hit black. The kind of black were we lose the title without being pinned...
Oh don’t go whining like a bitch.
I am just saying.
You are just...just....just dreaming.
(Natural ICE Beckman walks up to a dead deer...his teenage eyes looking down at the fresh kill with an almost kind curiosity. Nearby is Father Roman smiling with pride but it quick to speak to his son with a stern calmness.)
Father Roman: How do you feel son?
ICE: Like shooting another one.
Father Roman: Let me explain to you how you need to see hate my son. Hate is power.
ICE: I know that father; you’ve always told me that.
Father Roman: Did you hate this deer?
ICE: No father, I don’t think I did.
Father Roman: But you killed it none the less, which may I say is a very hateful act. So again I ask you son, how do you feel?
ICE: Calm.
Father Roman: Now picture this, a bear coming out here and taking your deer and claiming to be his own even if he didn’t kill it himself...now tell me son, how would that make you feel?
ICE: I would shoot that bitch bear in the face.
Father Roman: Not if his friend little weasel was holding your foot outside the ring, I mean woods.
ICE: Well that would fucking suck....fuck I would hate that.
Father Roman: And that brings us to the way a Vapor King ends things.
ICE: How is that Father?
Father Roman: Time to go hunting and this time son, the world is shaking for this time, the Crazy Drunk, the Wildman of the Ring, the ICE Man will go all out for you have nothing to lose.
(Father Roman puts his hand on his son’s back and leads him back down the path as the dreams fades back to the conscious world.)
ICE: Fucking...Cairo...Fuck.
(ICE passes back out with his head hitting the dark coffin bottom with a thud as the next train on the dream line comes pulling into the head of a sleeping ICE Beckman. This dream begins with ICE Beckman walking through a graveyard that seems to have a hint of cartoon to the scenery. A pillow of white fog drifts by ICE. Beckman turns to watch it float on by when a voice from behind him turns his head.)
Chelsea: I thought you never would show up.
ICE: You know I always show up.
Chelsea: I just want to bring you a little Sorry about losing your title care package.
ICE: Does it come with sex, because I don’t see a bed around here, but there is a pretty big and flat tombstone over there.
Chelsea: No, but it does come with a few gifts...like a bottle of water.
ICE: Water? I hate water.
Chelsea: And this magazine about Women’s feelings.
ICE: But I hate feelings; especially women’s.
Chelsea: This best of video of Bobby Cairo.
ICE: Well that could be funny, but I don’t know babe this gifts kinda suck.
Chelsea: That’s rude.
ICE: I was wondering...now that your Pantheon, what now?
(Again ICE snaps awake but still finds the sea of black from inside Seth’s coffin.)
ICE: What the...what...urgh, fuck this.
(ICE again lets his head drop as his eyes close and he drifts again with the tide of night’s theatrical plays that entertain us all as our body refreshes itself. This time ICE finds him standing outside a Foam Lake bar in the middle of the possible last cold spell of the long northern winter. He reaches for the door when a man steps in front of him. The man is dressed in all white, with slicked black hair and a pencil lined black mustache to match; he smiles at ICE like he is the devil and ICE is a fresh soul.)
Mr. Blankie: Thirsty Mr. Beckman?
ICE: Listen I have had a long few weeks, now I need a fucking drink like Cairo needs to get out of his rematch with me any means necessary.
Mr. Blankie: But this is just a dream, the consumption of alcohol is not why you are hear.
ICE: Why am I here? Is this one of those life lesson type bullshit dreams?
Mr. Blankie: Possibly.
ICE: Come on...(closes his eyes and whispering to himself)...Come on.
Mr. Blankie: What are you doing?
ICE: Trying to wish myself into a better dream, one where you aren’t there and Chelsea is topless.
Mr. Blankie: But what would you gain from that.
ICE: At least second base.
Mr. Blankie: You are not in need of another sex dream, hell you have plenty of that in real life.
ICE: We are athletes; working out is a part of jobs.
Mr. Blankie: Really? Using a sex swing is a part of your jobs?
ICE: Hey, who the hell are you anyway?
Mr. Blankie: I am the home of your fear. I used to be your favorite companion, your comfort against any storm, your warmth against any trouble.
ICE: So my childhood blanket is now a human man...with a bad sense of fashion.
Mr. Blankie: Excuse me, but this was the only outfit your self-conscious had in pure white besides we are not here to talk about me. Rather you and your fear.
ICE: I fear no man, fighting others for me is a pleasure.
Mr. Blankie: But that is exactly it, the things you fear are the things you can’t fight in the ring.
ICE: Fuck this is one of those feelings dreams, isn’t it?
Mr. Blankie: Yes, and don’t bother trying to wake up, I made a deal with the sandman, he gives me five minutes of your time and I promise to tell his wife that he has been sleeping around.
ICE: The sandman sleeps around.
Mr. Blankie: Yeah and ironically there isn’t much sleeping going on. Now come on we are going in this bar and face your fears.
ICE: Fine, the glasses are pretty dirty and you are always risking getting sick from them, but I figure the booze kills most of the germs.
Mr. Blankie: No, no, like I said, you aren’t here to drink, in fact you aren’t here at all truly, we are just spirits in this world. Just hear to shut up and listen.
ICE: So we are like Kaz Mazy during a Poondock Ain’ts team meeting?
Mr. Blankie: Sure, if that is how you would to think of is, now listen clearly for embracing negative feedback is like a seed for hate.
ICE: Hate...Father Roman says hate is our mission.
Mr. Blankie: I thought that might get your attention; now remember we are only spirits in this world.
(ICE and Mr. Blankie walk into the smoky back water bar. The walls are lined in the green and gold of packer lore. The floor is covered in a mix of melting snow and saw dust. Every hand in the place is wrapped around a bottle of beer or a glass of cheap chardonnay. Sitting at the bar is two recognizable faces, the chunky dumb PJ and the skinny nerd Dee.)
PJ: Too bad about ICE, but I mean in was bound to happen.
DEE: Of course it was, I mean ICE was being pulled in so many directions with Chelsea, and Roman, not to mention his true family, also take in account all his drinking and drug use, hell I am surprised he didn’t crash sooner.
PJ: Wait, he drives a car in the ring? Why didn’t he just run Bobby Cairo over?
DEE: I was just using a metaphor PJ. All I am saying ICE was going down the wrong path, it was only a matter of time till he lost his World Title.
(ICE storms towards DEE but is grabbed by Mr. Blankie.)
Mr. Blankie: Where are you going?
ICE: I have a nerd to pound into soup.
Mr. Blankie: Remember we are just spirits here...now listen and learn.
ICE: The only thing DEE and PJ can teach me is what setting is best when making love to a vacuum cleaner.
Mr. Blankie: I know you love this Foam Lakers, these are the people who raised you, who cheered you, you bragged about you coming from their town and you know what they think of your matters and them thinking bad of you...that is your biggest fear. Come along, I see another group of Foam Lakers talking about you.
(ICE walks up to Buck Fucker who has a group of lumberjacks gathered around his table.)
Buck Fucker: You see if ICE had not be so dumb and allowed me to be his partner he never would have lost that title of his.
Lumberjack Tim: That is a bunch of bull Buck.
Buck Fucker: I am telling you, ICE man biggest failure has always been his ego. He thinks he can do it all when the reality of the situation is; ICE is just a lucky drunk.
Lumberjack Jim: You wouldn’t dare say that if ICE was here.
Buck Fucker: Whatever, that guy is just a second place punk now, I would gladly say it to his face.
Mr. Blankie: Do these words upset you, ICE?
ICE: Fuck yes they fucking upset me.
Mr. Blankie: If you would like I would gladly let you rub my sleeve and suck on your thumb?
ICE: What the fuck?
Mr. Blankie: Sorry, you can take the man out of being a blanket, but your can’t take being a blanket out of a man. But the point is you are doing it, you are listening, now tell me are you expecting it?
ICE: Sure, sure...whatever.
Mr. Blankie: Wait, where are you going? I told you we are just spirits in this dream.
ICE: This isn’t just a dream...this is my dream...meaning I am in control.
(ICE grabs Buck by the neck.)
Buck Fucker: ICE...man...dude...uh, when did you get here?
ICE: I have been here the whole time. Now time to die Buck!
DEE: Don't hurt him ICE!!
ICE: Shut up DEE! You are NEXT!!!
DEE: AHHHHHH!!!
(Dee goes running from the bar as ICE begins to choke Buck the color of a red delicious apple.)
Mr. Blankie: I don’t get it, we were supposed to be just spirits.
PJ: Wow, your suit looks really soft.
Mr. Blankie: Want to rub my sleeve and suck your thumb?
(ICE again is suddenly awake. Still in the coffin, his head wound seemingly pulsing with pain, his rage trying its best to lighten up the dark box he finds himself trapped.)
ICE: No...no more...someone...must...die.
(ICE drifts away again to a land where fear has communities, where hate bleeds truth, where memories play like the radio, sex runs free, annoyances get a loud speaker, darkness can be light when the night sky smells of rain, where past worlds can become one and reality is a ghost town. The dark of reality begins this darkness of the dream. ICE is sitting in a chair, the chair is in a field, sun shines down on his hands. He looks at his palms, a crease runs along them, a crease from something he was holding tight...something that has become lost.)
Tony “Seth” Danza: You seem to be missing something.
ICE: I had it...just a little bit ago.
Tony “Seth” Danza: Mwuhahaha...want to meet my dog, I named him Bobby.
(A man dressed in a giant dog costume is behind Tony “Seth” Danza. The giant dog has a thick black coat and a leash that leads to the hands of Tony “Seth” Danza.)
Bobby the Dog: Barkness! Barkness!
Tony “Seth” Danza: I told you to shut up, only bark when I say SPEAK!!!
Bobby the Dog: Barkness! Barkness!
ICE: Hey that dog has my bone.
Chelsea: I thought was my toy?
ICE: Chelsea, finally my sex dream is here.
Chelsea: I sure am...wait, what are they doing here?
Tony “Seth” Danza: Can we watch...I will pay.
Bobby the Dog: I won’t even lick myself to after.
ICE: Wait, now the dog guy can talk?
Bobby the Dog: I actually own quite a large piece of property and have an extensive collection of cock rings through-out time.
Chelsea: Alright, this is getting too much for me...call me when you wake up, hun.
ICE: Chelsea no, don’t leave me!
(ICE reaches for her hand and falls off the chair and onto a cold concrete floor.)
ICE: Fuck, Chelsea is gone, but at least so are-
Tony “Seth” Danza: Nope, we are still here.
ICE: Damnit!
Bobby the Dog: Would anyone mind if I sniffed their butt.
Tony “Seth” Danza: Fine, but only if you kiss it first...and no tongue, just lips.
Bobby the Dog: I don’t think I have lips.
Steeltoe Flashy Kaz: Fags be with God in the name of dick and fart jokes.
ICE: This dream is getting to be one of my worse.
Tony “Seth” Danza: Still better than this one...
(The dream flashes to a past clip from another dream. ICE is dancing in the ring with a group of other dancers who are dressed like WCF personalities. He sings and dances in sync with the others.)
ICE: Now buckle you boots, and strap on your voice, we are fighting for me, and you have no choice...For this is...the...ICE DREAM MUSICAL!!!
(The clip ends and ICE is back with the collection of bizarre creations in the stone cold concrete room.)
ICE: Yeah, that dream was worse.
God: I don’t know that dream he had about his foster mom was quite disturbing.
Santa Claus: Yes, especially the part in the shower with his high school football yelling at him.
ICE: Hey, what the hell guys, is nothing a secret anymore.
Bobby the Dog: Wow, Santa Clause, I have always dreamed about sniffing your ass, may I?
Santa Claus: Sure, I guess, however I find that strange, for that is how I punish the elves.
God: You may also sniff my butt as well; I know that is what you dogs love.
Bobby the Dog: No thanks.
God: But I am the Lord and Creator.
Tony “Seth” Danza: I can kiss your ass, sniff it, lick it, whatever you want God...and maybe in return you could get help me make my wrestling federation bigger than the NFL.
God: Get away from me you little bastard, you reek of baby oil.
Tony “Seth” Danza: Hey, my mom says that it isn’t just for babies!
Steeltoe Flashy Kaz: Well all we know, is we hate ICE!!! BOOOO ICE!!!
Bobby the Dog: Yeah, me toooooOOOOoooo!!
God: Well that is the first thing you have gotten right my people.
Santa Claus: Yes, ICE is truly on my naughty list this year...the guy is plaid out.
Tony “Seth” Danza: Yeah, that is what I do, I use them up and kick them out, just like I do the ladies.
Bobby the Dog: If you score all the time, then why did you try to get me to lick peanut butter off your penis last night?
(Everyone looks at Tony “Seth” Danza whose is trying not to make eye contact back.)
ICE: Haha, what a fucking jerk you are.
God: No, ICE, my Son...you are the fucking jerk. For the ICE AGE is no more and finally the world can truly be entertained again.
(ICE rolls back and forth, in the darkness of the coffin, his voice is dry, his mouth is free of even mindless rumblings as his thoughts selfishly drink the entire milkshake for itself.)
ICE:.....
(ICE again falls to the dark, like a baby who gives in after a night of yelling, he finally calms into a tension free sleep. ICE awakes to find himself in an arena filled to the brim with WCF fans. But they are not cheering, in fact they are screaming like mad wolves, hunger for feeding on pain, ready to feast on the cracks of a beaten man. ICE listens to the calls from the crowd, the cries of anger towards the ICE AGE, the taunts of fans happy to see an L next to his name, the giggles of fans who once thought he was something special. ICE brings the microphone to his bleached white, his dry lips open and his words stream from his mouth without the usual flair for the fun of life.)
ICE: I get it...you have hated me...each and every one of you...during each step I took, each brick I placed, each victory, each triumph. You hated what I earned and loved watching it crumble. You are sick people, too weak to build a tower higher, but more than ready cheer the ruins of others. And here is a secret; I fucking hate all you right back. I hate what has happened to me, I hate that you have forced me to live in the past, I hate that you stole my life blood and replaced with flimsy nothing to lose life savers. I hate that Seth has open the flood gate to a sea of jobber comments, of wrestlers not worth to look across the ring and see me have no found the courage to stand taller, speaker louder and think again of the WCF as a place where if a man like Bobby Cairo can be the best, then so can anyone washed up has been or fresh faced jobber. I hate this whole fucking thing...but lucky for me...LUCKY FOR FUCKING ME!!! I drink hate, I breath hate, I own it, I pack hate for lunch, I sleep with hate, I fuck HATE IN IT’S TIGHT LITTLE ASSHOLE!!! And now Hate and I are ready to take the next step and burn this whole fucking place to the canyons of hell. I am ready WCF....now are you?
(The fans continued scream boos as the place begins to be engulfed with flames. They don’t stop cursing at the former World Champion even as the flesh burns off their bodies. ICE just stands there, a half smile living on his face as his dream burns away to bright light.)
(Seth opens the coffin lid. ICE is blinded at first, and feels around, the blood is gone, his head has no wound. ”What is going on?” ICE thinks, “Seth, I want to Kill SETH!? No, what is he saying? He wants me to stop Pantheon...Pantheon....with Chelsea.” ICE looks at Seth. “He wants me on his side...the man whole stole my title wants my help....mother fucking asshole-“!!! Seth exits the room with ICE coming back to the bitterness of reality. ICE is quick to follow Seth, but as soon as he exits the room standing in his way is his older brother and agent, John Beckman. John puts his hand on ICE’s shoulder.)
John: Natural, my brother, my client, you look like you want to kill someone.
ICE: Seth is going to die tonight.
John: I like the idea, but wrong victim. For you need to be thinking about Bobby Cairo.
ICE: Trust me he is next.
John: And Jay Omega.
ICE: And Omega, what the fuck does he have to do with any of this?
John: It is XIII season Natural, and you got a golden ticket. Now come on we got work to do.
ICE: I fucking hate work.
John: I mean kicking the shit out of people.
ICE: Oh fuck, I like that.
John: I know you do, now come along; this is going to be a hell of a week.
(John helps lead ICE back down the hall the opposite way of Seth keeping ICE focused on the new game plan for this week...the week of XIII. But right before the promo ends you hear ICE say one last thing.)
ICE: Okay, but this one is actually going to air, right?
Coffin Dreams
ICE: A cold beer on a summer day.
(ICE again slams his head into the top of the coffin.)
ICE: Chelsea wearing those blue panties.
(ICE slams his head into the wood as oxygen begins to trickle away from him just as fast as the blood is down his face.)
ICE: Autumn in Foam Lake.
(ICE begins to giggle, his fingers searching for a title that isn’t there. He fades off to sleep with the sound of ringing voices talking about their plan with him for the end of the show.
And then we hit black. The kind of black were we lose the title without being pinned...
Oh don’t go whining like a bitch.
I am just saying.
You are just...just....just dreaming.
(Natural ICE Beckman walks up to a dead deer...his teenage eyes looking down at the fresh kill with an almost kind curiosity. Nearby is Father Roman smiling with pride but it quick to speak to his son with a stern calmness.)
Father Roman: How do you feel son?
ICE: Like shooting another one.
Father Roman: Let me explain to you how you need to see hate my son. Hate is power.
ICE: I know that father; you’ve always told me that.
Father Roman: Did you hate this deer?
ICE: No father, I don’t think I did.
Father Roman: But you killed it none the less, which may I say is a very hateful act. So again I ask you son, how do you feel?
ICE: Calm.
Father Roman: Now picture this, a bear coming out here and taking your deer and claiming to be his own even if he didn’t kill it himself...now tell me son, how would that make you feel?
ICE: I would shoot that bitch bear in the face.
Father Roman: Not if his friend little weasel was holding your foot outside the ring, I mean woods.
ICE: Well that would fucking suck....fuck I would hate that.
Father Roman: And that brings us to the way a Vapor King ends things.
ICE: How is that Father?
Father Roman: Time to go hunting and this time son, the world is shaking for this time, the Crazy Drunk, the Wildman of the Ring, the ICE Man will go all out for you have nothing to lose.
(Father Roman puts his hand on his son’s back and leads him back down the path as the dreams fades back to the conscious world.)
ICE: Fucking...Cairo...Fuck.
(ICE passes back out with his head hitting the dark coffin bottom with a thud as the next train on the dream line comes pulling into the head of a sleeping ICE Beckman. This dream begins with ICE Beckman walking through a graveyard that seems to have a hint of cartoon to the scenery. A pillow of white fog drifts by ICE. Beckman turns to watch it float on by when a voice from behind him turns his head.)
Chelsea: I thought you never would show up.
ICE: You know I always show up.
Chelsea: I just want to bring you a little Sorry about losing your title care package.
ICE: Does it come with sex, because I don’t see a bed around here, but there is a pretty big and flat tombstone over there.
Chelsea: No, but it does come with a few gifts...like a bottle of water.
ICE: Water? I hate water.
Chelsea: And this magazine about Women’s feelings.
ICE: But I hate feelings; especially women’s.
Chelsea: This best of video of Bobby Cairo.
ICE: Well that could be funny, but I don’t know babe this gifts kinda suck.
Chelsea: That’s rude.
ICE: I was wondering...now that your Pantheon, what now?
(Again ICE snaps awake but still finds the sea of black from inside Seth’s coffin.)
ICE: What the...what...urgh, fuck this.
(ICE again lets his head drop as his eyes close and he drifts again with the tide of night’s theatrical plays that entertain us all as our body refreshes itself. This time ICE finds him standing outside a Foam Lake bar in the middle of the possible last cold spell of the long northern winter. He reaches for the door when a man steps in front of him. The man is dressed in all white, with slicked black hair and a pencil lined black mustache to match; he smiles at ICE like he is the devil and ICE is a fresh soul.)
Mr. Blankie: Thirsty Mr. Beckman?
ICE: Listen I have had a long few weeks, now I need a fucking drink like Cairo needs to get out of his rematch with me any means necessary.
Mr. Blankie: But this is just a dream, the consumption of alcohol is not why you are hear.
ICE: Why am I here? Is this one of those life lesson type bullshit dreams?
Mr. Blankie: Possibly.
ICE: Come on...(closes his eyes and whispering to himself)...Come on.
Mr. Blankie: What are you doing?
ICE: Trying to wish myself into a better dream, one where you aren’t there and Chelsea is topless.
Mr. Blankie: But what would you gain from that.
ICE: At least second base.
Mr. Blankie: You are not in need of another sex dream, hell you have plenty of that in real life.
ICE: We are athletes; working out is a part of jobs.
Mr. Blankie: Really? Using a sex swing is a part of your jobs?
ICE: Hey, who the hell are you anyway?
Mr. Blankie: I am the home of your fear. I used to be your favorite companion, your comfort against any storm, your warmth against any trouble.
ICE: So my childhood blanket is now a human man...with a bad sense of fashion.
Mr. Blankie: Excuse me, but this was the only outfit your self-conscious had in pure white besides we are not here to talk about me. Rather you and your fear.
ICE: I fear no man, fighting others for me is a pleasure.
Mr. Blankie: But that is exactly it, the things you fear are the things you can’t fight in the ring.
ICE: Fuck this is one of those feelings dreams, isn’t it?
Mr. Blankie: Yes, and don’t bother trying to wake up, I made a deal with the sandman, he gives me five minutes of your time and I promise to tell his wife that he has been sleeping around.
ICE: The sandman sleeps around.
Mr. Blankie: Yeah and ironically there isn’t much sleeping going on. Now come on we are going in this bar and face your fears.
ICE: Fine, the glasses are pretty dirty and you are always risking getting sick from them, but I figure the booze kills most of the germs.
Mr. Blankie: No, no, like I said, you aren’t here to drink, in fact you aren’t here at all truly, we are just spirits in this world. Just hear to shut up and listen.
ICE: So we are like Kaz Mazy during a Poondock Ain’ts team meeting?
Mr. Blankie: Sure, if that is how you would to think of is, now listen clearly for embracing negative feedback is like a seed for hate.
ICE: Hate...Father Roman says hate is our mission.
Mr. Blankie: I thought that might get your attention; now remember we are only spirits in this world.
(ICE and Mr. Blankie walk into the smoky back water bar. The walls are lined in the green and gold of packer lore. The floor is covered in a mix of melting snow and saw dust. Every hand in the place is wrapped around a bottle of beer or a glass of cheap chardonnay. Sitting at the bar is two recognizable faces, the chunky dumb PJ and the skinny nerd Dee.)
PJ: Too bad about ICE, but I mean in was bound to happen.
DEE: Of course it was, I mean ICE was being pulled in so many directions with Chelsea, and Roman, not to mention his true family, also take in account all his drinking and drug use, hell I am surprised he didn’t crash sooner.
PJ: Wait, he drives a car in the ring? Why didn’t he just run Bobby Cairo over?
DEE: I was just using a metaphor PJ. All I am saying ICE was going down the wrong path, it was only a matter of time till he lost his World Title.
(ICE storms towards DEE but is grabbed by Mr. Blankie.)
Mr. Blankie: Where are you going?
ICE: I have a nerd to pound into soup.
Mr. Blankie: Remember we are just spirits here...now listen and learn.
ICE: The only thing DEE and PJ can teach me is what setting is best when making love to a vacuum cleaner.
Mr. Blankie: I know you love this Foam Lakers, these are the people who raised you, who cheered you, you bragged about you coming from their town and you know what they think of your matters and them thinking bad of you...that is your biggest fear. Come along, I see another group of Foam Lakers talking about you.
(ICE walks up to Buck Fucker who has a group of lumberjacks gathered around his table.)
Buck Fucker: You see if ICE had not be so dumb and allowed me to be his partner he never would have lost that title of his.
Lumberjack Tim: That is a bunch of bull Buck.
Buck Fucker: I am telling you, ICE man biggest failure has always been his ego. He thinks he can do it all when the reality of the situation is; ICE is just a lucky drunk.
Lumberjack Jim: You wouldn’t dare say that if ICE was here.
Buck Fucker: Whatever, that guy is just a second place punk now, I would gladly say it to his face.
Mr. Blankie: Do these words upset you, ICE?
ICE: Fuck yes they fucking upset me.
Mr. Blankie: If you would like I would gladly let you rub my sleeve and suck on your thumb?
ICE: What the fuck?
Mr. Blankie: Sorry, you can take the man out of being a blanket, but your can’t take being a blanket out of a man. But the point is you are doing it, you are listening, now tell me are you expecting it?
ICE: Sure, sure...whatever.
Mr. Blankie: Wait, where are you going? I told you we are just spirits in this dream.
ICE: This isn’t just a dream...this is my dream...meaning I am in control.
(ICE grabs Buck by the neck.)
Buck Fucker: ICE...man...dude...uh, when did you get here?
ICE: I have been here the whole time. Now time to die Buck!
DEE: Don't hurt him ICE!!
ICE: Shut up DEE! You are NEXT!!!
DEE: AHHHHHH!!!
(Dee goes running from the bar as ICE begins to choke Buck the color of a red delicious apple.)
Mr. Blankie: I don’t get it, we were supposed to be just spirits.
PJ: Wow, your suit looks really soft.
Mr. Blankie: Want to rub my sleeve and suck your thumb?
(ICE again is suddenly awake. Still in the coffin, his head wound seemingly pulsing with pain, his rage trying its best to lighten up the dark box he finds himself trapped.)
ICE: No...no more...someone...must...die.
(ICE drifts away again to a land where fear has communities, where hate bleeds truth, where memories play like the radio, sex runs free, annoyances get a loud speaker, darkness can be light when the night sky smells of rain, where past worlds can become one and reality is a ghost town. The dark of reality begins this darkness of the dream. ICE is sitting in a chair, the chair is in a field, sun shines down on his hands. He looks at his palms, a crease runs along them, a crease from something he was holding tight...something that has become lost.)
Tony “Seth” Danza: You seem to be missing something.
ICE: I had it...just a little bit ago.
Tony “Seth” Danza: Mwuhahaha...want to meet my dog, I named him Bobby.
(A man dressed in a giant dog costume is behind Tony “Seth” Danza. The giant dog has a thick black coat and a leash that leads to the hands of Tony “Seth” Danza.)
Bobby the Dog: Barkness! Barkness!
Tony “Seth” Danza: I told you to shut up, only bark when I say SPEAK!!!
Bobby the Dog: Barkness! Barkness!
ICE: Hey that dog has my bone.
Chelsea: I thought was my toy?
ICE: Chelsea, finally my sex dream is here.
Chelsea: I sure am...wait, what are they doing here?
Tony “Seth” Danza: Can we watch...I will pay.
Bobby the Dog: I won’t even lick myself to after.
ICE: Wait, now the dog guy can talk?
Bobby the Dog: I actually own quite a large piece of property and have an extensive collection of cock rings through-out time.
Chelsea: Alright, this is getting too much for me...call me when you wake up, hun.
ICE: Chelsea no, don’t leave me!
(ICE reaches for her hand and falls off the chair and onto a cold concrete floor.)
ICE: Fuck, Chelsea is gone, but at least so are-
Tony “Seth” Danza: Nope, we are still here.
ICE: Damnit!
Bobby the Dog: Would anyone mind if I sniffed their butt.
Tony “Seth” Danza: Fine, but only if you kiss it first...and no tongue, just lips.
Bobby the Dog: I don’t think I have lips.
Steeltoe Flashy Kaz: Fags be with God in the name of dick and fart jokes.
ICE: This dream is getting to be one of my worse.
Tony “Seth” Danza: Still better than this one...
(The dream flashes to a past clip from another dream. ICE is dancing in the ring with a group of other dancers who are dressed like WCF personalities. He sings and dances in sync with the others.)
ICE: Now buckle you boots, and strap on your voice, we are fighting for me, and you have no choice...For this is...the...ICE DREAM MUSICAL!!!
(The clip ends and ICE is back with the collection of bizarre creations in the stone cold concrete room.)
ICE: Yeah, that dream was worse.
God: I don’t know that dream he had about his foster mom was quite disturbing.
Santa Claus: Yes, especially the part in the shower with his high school football yelling at him.
ICE: Hey, what the hell guys, is nothing a secret anymore.
Bobby the Dog: Wow, Santa Clause, I have always dreamed about sniffing your ass, may I?
Santa Claus: Sure, I guess, however I find that strange, for that is how I punish the elves.
God: You may also sniff my butt as well; I know that is what you dogs love.
Bobby the Dog: No thanks.
God: But I am the Lord and Creator.
Tony “Seth” Danza: I can kiss your ass, sniff it, lick it, whatever you want God...and maybe in return you could get help me make my wrestling federation bigger than the NFL.
God: Get away from me you little bastard, you reek of baby oil.
Tony “Seth” Danza: Hey, my mom says that it isn’t just for babies!
Steeltoe Flashy Kaz: Well all we know, is we hate ICE!!! BOOOO ICE!!!
Bobby the Dog: Yeah, me toooooOOOOoooo!!
God: Well that is the first thing you have gotten right my people.
Santa Claus: Yes, ICE is truly on my naughty list this year...the guy is plaid out.
Tony “Seth” Danza: Yeah, that is what I do, I use them up and kick them out, just like I do the ladies.
Bobby the Dog: If you score all the time, then why did you try to get me to lick peanut butter off your penis last night?
(Everyone looks at Tony “Seth” Danza whose is trying not to make eye contact back.)
ICE: Haha, what a fucking jerk you are.
God: No, ICE, my Son...you are the fucking jerk. For the ICE AGE is no more and finally the world can truly be entertained again.
(ICE rolls back and forth, in the darkness of the coffin, his voice is dry, his mouth is free of even mindless rumblings as his thoughts selfishly drink the entire milkshake for itself.)
ICE:.....
(ICE again falls to the dark, like a baby who gives in after a night of yelling, he finally calms into a tension free sleep. ICE awakes to find himself in an arena filled to the brim with WCF fans. But they are not cheering, in fact they are screaming like mad wolves, hunger for feeding on pain, ready to feast on the cracks of a beaten man. ICE listens to the calls from the crowd, the cries of anger towards the ICE AGE, the taunts of fans happy to see an L next to his name, the giggles of fans who once thought he was something special. ICE brings the microphone to his bleached white, his dry lips open and his words stream from his mouth without the usual flair for the fun of life.)
ICE: I get it...you have hated me...each and every one of you...during each step I took, each brick I placed, each victory, each triumph. You hated what I earned and loved watching it crumble. You are sick people, too weak to build a tower higher, but more than ready cheer the ruins of others. And here is a secret; I fucking hate all you right back. I hate what has happened to me, I hate that you have forced me to live in the past, I hate that you stole my life blood and replaced with flimsy nothing to lose life savers. I hate that Seth has open the flood gate to a sea of jobber comments, of wrestlers not worth to look across the ring and see me have no found the courage to stand taller, speaker louder and think again of the WCF as a place where if a man like Bobby Cairo can be the best, then so can anyone washed up has been or fresh faced jobber. I hate this whole fucking thing...but lucky for me...LUCKY FOR FUCKING ME!!! I drink hate, I breath hate, I own it, I pack hate for lunch, I sleep with hate, I fuck HATE IN IT’S TIGHT LITTLE ASSHOLE!!! And now Hate and I are ready to take the next step and burn this whole fucking place to the canyons of hell. I am ready WCF....now are you?
(The fans continued scream boos as the place begins to be engulfed with flames. They don’t stop cursing at the former World Champion even as the flesh burns off their bodies. ICE just stands there, a half smile living on his face as his dream burns away to bright light.)
(Seth opens the coffin lid. ICE is blinded at first, and feels around, the blood is gone, his head has no wound. ”What is going on?” ICE thinks, “Seth, I want to Kill SETH!? No, what is he saying? He wants me to stop Pantheon...Pantheon....with Chelsea.” ICE looks at Seth. “He wants me on his side...the man whole stole my title wants my help....mother fucking asshole-“!!! Seth exits the room with ICE coming back to the bitterness of reality. ICE is quick to follow Seth, but as soon as he exits the room standing in his way is his older brother and agent, John Beckman. John puts his hand on ICE’s shoulder.)
John: Natural, my brother, my client, you look like you want to kill someone.
ICE: Seth is going to die tonight.
John: I like the idea, but wrong victim. For you need to be thinking about Bobby Cairo.
ICE: Trust me he is next.
John: And Jay Omega.
ICE: And Omega, what the fuck does he have to do with any of this?
John: It is XIII season Natural, and you got a golden ticket. Now come on we got work to do.
ICE: I fucking hate work.
John: I mean kicking the shit out of people.
ICE: Oh fuck, I like that.
John: I know you do, now come along; this is going to be a hell of a week.
(John helps lead ICE back down the hall the opposite way of Seth keeping ICE focused on the new game plan for this week...the week of XIII. But right before the promo ends you hear ICE say one last thing.)
ICE: Okay, but this one is actually going to air, right?
Coffin Dreams
