Post by Hank Hodgkins on Jul 24, 2016 15:07:56 GMT -5
[The scene opens on a rather modest convention center. Attached to a rather shoddy looking chain hotel, the convention hall is filled with various wrestling fans of all ages meeting wrestlers there for the weekend. Some are old favorites, some are fresh young faces, there seems to be something and someone for everyone to meet and make a buck. In a lone table, the man known as Hank Hodgkins sits behind his curtained fold up table, a banner proclaiming his name across it draped over it. A stack of gloss photographs on his left, a hand written piece of paper on the side proclaiming the prices. He reaches down, pulling up a water bottle and drinking from it]
"I can't believe the state of this thing...this used to be the top of the line convention center. The food was great, the staff was courteous and there was always a smiling face to greet you."
[The man grumbles once more as he takes a long lasting drink from the bottle before gagging slightly, beating his hand against his chest to catch his breath]
"Wrong pipe! Guuck! The water was better too! Everything is just the worst these days...it all comes back to that in the end doesn't it? Society's down the drain. Nobody's just happy anymore, they're all just looking for the next thing that'll give them a moment of joy in their otherwise miserable life. Hmph, just thinking about it kind of makes me sick. Why don't people just keep their thoughts bottled up to themselves like they used to? It's a heck of a lot easier that way!"
[Hank nods his head, crossing his arms as he leans back slightly in his chair, moving a hand up toward his chin to stroke it thoughtfully. He contemplates for many seconds, a foot tapping the air as he does so.]
"Wrestling is a lot like that too isn't it...it used to be something everyone just enjoyed and had fun doing. They all used to come out and watch and you could see it in their eyes. Just looking and cheering on their favorites! Oh you could hear the joy in their voices just calling out in jubilation! 'Let's go Rogers! Let's go Rogers!' Man, Johnny Rogers was one of the best wasn't he?"
[Hank blinks before shaking his head and frowning, looking around the convention center in front of him.]
"What're you doing talking to yourself like this...But it's hard not to when you look at this place. No one's come over in hours and that means I'm going to have to lug these back home. Yeesh, maybe I can unload a bunch off on some old fanboy. It's not like he's going to mind having a bunch of merch he can pawn off on the internet or something right?"
[Leaning back in his chair, Hank angrily taps his foot and sighs, putting his hands on top of his head and slumping forward onto the table.]
"That's not how these things are supposed to work, darn it. You're better than that Hank, you're the most upstanding guy you know! You give them a reason to get up in the morning and come see you at the show. You're the one who gives them a reason to buy a ticket. You're out there every night putting on the show of your life! You give it all to them in the ring! You're a wrestling genius!"
[The man stands up slowly, pumping himself up with his own rhetoric, standing up and loudly beginning to yell from his booth.]
"That's right! Everything these days is just...wretched! Everyone's out there yelling nothing but curse words and vile garbage! They think just because you can say those words on television now that you should? What a load of hooey! Talking about their body parts, showing off their backsides...this is wrestling not a strip club! Who cares about what's in your pants unless it's a foreign object?!"
[Slamming his hand on the table in front of him, the man grumbles loudly and nearly smacks his bottle of water to the floor.]
"And on top of that everything has to be a spectacle! We used to get by on chin locks and giving a suplex. A suplex. SINGULAR. These kids out there today throwing multiple suplexes and flippity do's. It's enough to make a man sick. Fundamentals people! What's wrong with a double axe handle? A sleeper hold? An atomic drop?! These fans today aren't just spoiled, they're out of their minds! Who would want to ruin themselves trying to show off like that? You think it'll get you noticed? What good is getting noticed when your neck is broke?!"
[The man kicks over his chair, knocking it to the floor behind him as it folds up, hitting the floor with a metallic CLANG sound. Chugging more of his water, he pants and shakes his head about more, water droplets flying from side to side off his face as his ranting continues.]
"I wrestled with a broken leg back in my green days and it's never been the same! It was dumb of me then and it'd dumb of them all now! What good is ruining your body when you can do the same thing wth a headlock? These people love that stuff! It gets them going when they can just feel the rhythm of a match flowing through them. You just gotta connect with the crowd, what're you doing out there? Nobody cares how many dumb flips you can do or how hard you hit a guy. Don't you know what this business is about?"
[Hank chugs the remainder of his water before throwing it to the ground, the bottle bouncing upwards, spiraling through the air before bouncing once more on the ground below and rolling away from him.]
"These people think I'm all washed up...think I can't keep going? Well I'll show them. I'm going to go out there this weekend and show every last one of them the way wrestling is supposed to be! They can curse and swear and pull off every move they like! I'm not about to give up on this fight! Hank Hodgkins doesn't give up when he puts his mind to something he has a passion in! And my greatest passion is this sport! I'll wrangle you and strange you! Just you wait for my abdominal claw boys and there's no way you're going to be coming home from that in one piece!"
[The man grumbles once more, leaving his booth in a huff, the camera fading out as his rambling words continue until the camera cuts entirely.]
"I can't believe the state of this thing...this used to be the top of the line convention center. The food was great, the staff was courteous and there was always a smiling face to greet you."
[The man grumbles once more as he takes a long lasting drink from the bottle before gagging slightly, beating his hand against his chest to catch his breath]
"Wrong pipe! Guuck! The water was better too! Everything is just the worst these days...it all comes back to that in the end doesn't it? Society's down the drain. Nobody's just happy anymore, they're all just looking for the next thing that'll give them a moment of joy in their otherwise miserable life. Hmph, just thinking about it kind of makes me sick. Why don't people just keep their thoughts bottled up to themselves like they used to? It's a heck of a lot easier that way!"
[Hank nods his head, crossing his arms as he leans back slightly in his chair, moving a hand up toward his chin to stroke it thoughtfully. He contemplates for many seconds, a foot tapping the air as he does so.]
"Wrestling is a lot like that too isn't it...it used to be something everyone just enjoyed and had fun doing. They all used to come out and watch and you could see it in their eyes. Just looking and cheering on their favorites! Oh you could hear the joy in their voices just calling out in jubilation! 'Let's go Rogers! Let's go Rogers!' Man, Johnny Rogers was one of the best wasn't he?"
[Hank blinks before shaking his head and frowning, looking around the convention center in front of him.]
"What're you doing talking to yourself like this...But it's hard not to when you look at this place. No one's come over in hours and that means I'm going to have to lug these back home. Yeesh, maybe I can unload a bunch off on some old fanboy. It's not like he's going to mind having a bunch of merch he can pawn off on the internet or something right?"
[Leaning back in his chair, Hank angrily taps his foot and sighs, putting his hands on top of his head and slumping forward onto the table.]
"That's not how these things are supposed to work, darn it. You're better than that Hank, you're the most upstanding guy you know! You give them a reason to get up in the morning and come see you at the show. You're the one who gives them a reason to buy a ticket. You're out there every night putting on the show of your life! You give it all to them in the ring! You're a wrestling genius!"
[The man stands up slowly, pumping himself up with his own rhetoric, standing up and loudly beginning to yell from his booth.]
"That's right! Everything these days is just...wretched! Everyone's out there yelling nothing but curse words and vile garbage! They think just because you can say those words on television now that you should? What a load of hooey! Talking about their body parts, showing off their backsides...this is wrestling not a strip club! Who cares about what's in your pants unless it's a foreign object?!"
[Slamming his hand on the table in front of him, the man grumbles loudly and nearly smacks his bottle of water to the floor.]
"And on top of that everything has to be a spectacle! We used to get by on chin locks and giving a suplex. A suplex. SINGULAR. These kids out there today throwing multiple suplexes and flippity do's. It's enough to make a man sick. Fundamentals people! What's wrong with a double axe handle? A sleeper hold? An atomic drop?! These fans today aren't just spoiled, they're out of their minds! Who would want to ruin themselves trying to show off like that? You think it'll get you noticed? What good is getting noticed when your neck is broke?!"
[The man kicks over his chair, knocking it to the floor behind him as it folds up, hitting the floor with a metallic CLANG sound. Chugging more of his water, he pants and shakes his head about more, water droplets flying from side to side off his face as his ranting continues.]
"I wrestled with a broken leg back in my green days and it's never been the same! It was dumb of me then and it'd dumb of them all now! What good is ruining your body when you can do the same thing wth a headlock? These people love that stuff! It gets them going when they can just feel the rhythm of a match flowing through them. You just gotta connect with the crowd, what're you doing out there? Nobody cares how many dumb flips you can do or how hard you hit a guy. Don't you know what this business is about?"
[Hank chugs the remainder of his water before throwing it to the ground, the bottle bouncing upwards, spiraling through the air before bouncing once more on the ground below and rolling away from him.]
"These people think I'm all washed up...think I can't keep going? Well I'll show them. I'm going to go out there this weekend and show every last one of them the way wrestling is supposed to be! They can curse and swear and pull off every move they like! I'm not about to give up on this fight! Hank Hodgkins doesn't give up when he puts his mind to something he has a passion in! And my greatest passion is this sport! I'll wrangle you and strange you! Just you wait for my abdominal claw boys and there's no way you're going to be coming home from that in one piece!"
[The man grumbles once more, leaving his booth in a huff, the camera fading out as his rambling words continue until the camera cuts entirely.]
