Post by Allen Guiliano on Jun 3, 2009 14:27:37 GMT -5
The scene opens on a hot, sunshine laden afternoon in Las Vegas. People are walking about the sidewalks as the camera begins to zoom in and focus on two gentlemen that walk side by side and nearly stride for stride, except for the man on the left has his legs moving nearly twice as fast. On the right stands WCF newcomer Allen Guiliano, dressed in a white tank top, complete with black gym pants that bear a white stripe down the side, and white Mizuno running shoes. His left arm is through the strap of a large red gym bang that hangs at his hip as the two men engage in conversation. The man on the left is a short, older man that appears to be in his late 50s or early 60s and stands nearly a foot shorter than the six foot two inch Guiliano. The elder of the two is dressed in rough looking denim blue jeans that are nearly faded white at the knees, a tight black t-shirt that stretches over his large biceps, and a red sock hat that pulled down just above his eyebrows. As the two continue their way down the sidewalk, the conversation can be heard and the camera zooms in further.
Allen: Gibby, you are walking down a sidewalk in the middle of a desert. Do you really thing the sock hat is necessary? I know you are used to training guys in Chicago and it is part of your look, but I don’t think anyone of any importance to you is going to see you out here.
Gibby: You shut the hell up dammit! You know damn well I don’t go anywhere without my hat. It has been a staple of training success for the last 40 years and I don’t plan on giving it up, just because one of my former wrestlers became a rich yuppie and flew me out to Vegas!
Allen: Hey, I’m just saying it would be more comfortable, that’s all. And who are you calling a rich yuppie? I didn’t hear you complaining when I offered the free flight, the free meals, the free hotel room, the free chips, the free hooker, the free…
Gibby: Alright already! I get it! I’ll lose the damn hat! I guess…I mean, I wish…I suppose I hoped that more of the wrestlers back at the gym in Chicago could end up like you. Out here, living the life, having everything you want, and enjoying wrestling rather than just using it as a paycheck. Even if you do have some screwed up alias that you go by. I mean, Slickie T? Really? What the hell is that?
Gibby sighs and starts to run his hand up the side of his aged face that is full of stubble and grabs the edge of his hat. Before he can pull it down off his head, Allen places his hand on top of the old man’s head and prevents him from removing the hat.
Allen: Did you honestly think I was going to let you take that hat off? C’mon now, I was just giving you a hard time Gibby. You stop making fun of my name and I’ll stop making fun of your silly ass hat. You know I got that name a long time ago when I was a young teenager on the streets of Chicago, the white boy in the black neighborhood and the “homies” trying to make fun of me, giving me that fucked up nickname. But hey, it stuck, I ran with it, used it when you were training me back at the old gym and now it’s a well-known name in the world of professional wrestling. Hell, the name is even more famous than the man. Do you think I anyone would know who the hell you were talking about if you told them that you were the guy who trained Allen Guiliano?
Gibby stops to think, peering up at the taller man to his left and blinks before giving a soft shrug.
Allen: You know damn well they would look at you like the crazy old bastard that you are. I’m famous for my goofy ass name that goes with my wrestling ability, not the other way around. Well, I’m famous for that nice building over there too, but that’s beside the point.
Allen raises his hand and points to the large building, The Camille, the casino that he owns and operates in Sin City.
Gibby: You think you are famous because of that name and not because of your ability? I think you are famous for the way you threw yourself through tables in the GEWF and had no regard for your body even when you became a star. You never forgot where you came from and you still have that reckless abandonment in you that I taught you when you first came to me nearly 10 years ago. THAT’S why you are famous…even though I still think you are a rich yuppie with some stupid ass ring name.
The two men share a laugh as they continue down the sidewalk, nearly to the end of all civilization in the city of Las Vegas as the sidewalk becomes road and off right stands a small white building with a small parking lot. The building seems nearly abandoned but the two men continue toward it as Allen drops his gym bag at the door of the building, unzips it and reveals a key, unlocking the door, and holding it open for Gibby.
As Gibby and the camera make their way through the door, Gibby’s jaw drops to the floor and he slowly removes the sock hat from the top of his head as it slowly drags down the side of his face and into his hand. The camera pans to the center of the room as Allen flips on the lights, revealing a fully equipped wrestling training facility that resembles Gibby’s gym back in Chicago, only modernized. A spotlight hangs from the rafters high above the ring, whose canvas resembles that of the Italian flag. Allen quickly shuts the door behind him, drops his bag, runs and slides underneath the ropes, climbing the turnbuckle nearest Gibby and opens his arms glancing over the facility.
Allen: So Gibby…What do you think? I had it put together exactly like the old gym back in Chi-town, only upgraded the equipment a bit and made sure to put it in a building that no one would ever want to enter by the looks of the outside.
Gibby: Allen, this is a thing of beauty. You know you didn’t have to do this for me to get me out here. If it weren’t for the 110 degree heat I walked through to get here and the equipment not being held together with duct tape and fishing line, I would think I was back in Illinois. How much did it cost you to put this place together?
Allen: Don’t worry about it. One of those things that rich yuppies like me don’t like to discuss and I know that I didn’t have to do this to get you out here, but I wanted to, that way you would feel right at home for this training session. Now, I believe you said you had something planned for me while on the ride from the airport to the hotel, so let’s get started!
Allen backflips off the top turnbuckle into the center of the ring, points to his bag as Gibby tosses it over the top rope and in to him. He unzips the bag and hangs a jump rope over the turnbuckle, leaning back against the turnbuckle, grabbing the ropes and stretching his arms as Gibby climbs the steel steps and slides through the ropes, making his way into the ring, pulling large envelope from Allen’s bag and opens it up, pulling out a large set of cards, each with different pictures and symbols on each side. Allen raises a brow and gives him an odd look as Gibby stands on one end of the ring and smirks, beginning to explain the method to his madness.
Allen: I would ask what the hell you are doing with those things, but something tells me that you are going to tell me…at least I hope you are going to tell me, since you billed this as the “next great thing in wrestling training.”
Gibby: Just shut up and listen, Slick! I suppose I will call you by that silly as name of yours as you are now in the middle of a wrestling ring. Alright, this is what we are going to. I’ve done a little studying on this Jack of Blades character that you are going up against on Sunday and I’ve got to tell you, he’s good. He’s really good and personally it’s going to take a lot more to beat him than those two jobbers you faced last week. He has talent, he has charisma, he has…eh…wrestling IQ? But back to the point, you are going to have to use everything you’ve got to beat this son of a bitch. The way I see it, you are going to have to treat him like everyone else that has had the size advantage on you in the past, which would be everyone that you have ever gotten in the ring with.
Allen: Yeah, yeah, I get it, now get to the point. Jack of Blades is one of the best in the WCF and I have to make a statement this week if I want to work my way up to the upper echelon of the federation. I’m not sure if I have been given the opportunity of a lifetime by being put up against JoB in my second match and making my debut at Aftermath or if I am being set up, but either way, I’ve got to be ready for this guy. I’m still knocking the rust off Gibby.
Gibby: I realize that, so here is what we are going to do. We are going to beat him with speed and reactions. Use that speed that I know you still have and to get you prepared for it, we are going to do a little something with that jump rope and these flash cards. You are going to start jumping that rope, get into a nice rhythm, get a little double time in, and then out of nowhere, I’m going to throw one of these flash cards in front of you and you have to tell me what it is. You can’t tell me what it is or get it wrong and I am going to clothesline your ass when you are least expecting it.
Allen reluctantly grabs the jump rope and starts to find a nice rhythm as the rope monotonously slaps the canvas with each turn of his wrists. He continues to pick up the pace, barely raising his feet from the ground as the rope passes underneath, crossing them a few times, doubling the pace of the turns as he focuses his attention on the old man on the opposite side of the ring.
Allen: You really think that a clothesline from YOU is going to affect me?
Gibby quickly flexes his muscles and struts around the ring in a small circle, preparing to charge the WCF superstar.
Gibby: I’ve been working out you know. I still use that gym back home. Hell, someone has to with only a handful of guys still interested in wrestling.
Allen: Alright, I trust you, let’s get this whole….flash card thing over with.
Gibby: Alright, you keep that rope moving and here we go!
Allen continues the quick pace with the jump rope, watching carefully as Gibby paces the canvas, turns his back and holds one of the cards over his head with a picture of a dalmatian on it.
Allen: Dog?
Gibby: I was going for dalmation, but I suppose dog will work.
Allen shakes his head and continues the pace as beads of sweat now begin to drip down his face. Gibby walks around to Allen’s back and tosses a card in front of him that contains a picture of a pigeon.
Allen: Pigeon!
Gibby: Bird would have been fine for that one smartass! Next one!
Gibby bounces off the ropes on one end of the ring, runs as fast as he can over to the opposing ropes, bounces off of those and tosses another card into the air. This one contains a picture of a familiar playing card to Allen, the ace of spades.
Allen: Playing card?
Gibby runs by him and picks up the card once again attempting a clothesline before bouncing off of the larger Guiliano and onto his backside.
Gibby: Ok, so the clothesline thing didn’t work out so well. But we are going to try that one again and be more specific, I want the details of the card!
Gibby does the same thing as last time, bouncing off the ropes and tossing the card into the air. Allen stares at it carefully as the rope passes through his vision several times and the card makes its way back to the canvas.
Allen: Ace of Spades!
Gibby: Well done! Alright, I’ve got just a few more. Figured I would drag this out and have you build up your stamina and jumping ability as well.
Gibby flashes a broad smile, showing the gaps in his smile as he is missing three teeth. He then tosses another card into the air containing a falling jack of spades.
Allen: Another playing card…The jack of spades!
Gibby: Well done Slick! Now I’m going to throw two at the same time…They are going to be of the same thing, but with different pictures. You better be paying attention. Actually, I will be quite impressed if you get both of these.
The old man tosses two more cards into the air. Once is of the tattoo on the arm of Jack of Blades, the card that contains the jack with knives, the other a picture of Jack of Blades with a referee raising his arm in victory.
Allen: I’m not too sure what those were…Try it again.
Gibby: Oh c’mon Slick! You have to get these! I thought it was pretty easy myself…That, my friend, was Jack of Blades…How are you going to beat your opponent if you don’t even know what he looks like? You better do your homework and get with it. I can win this match for you! You are going to have to take some kind of initiative here!
Allen stops jumping and takes both ends of the rope into his right hand and glares down at the smaller Gibby and begins to head toward the open gym bag that lies in the middle of the squared circle.
Gibby: Alright, alright! That was a hard one! You keep jumping that rope, I’ve got one last one for you that I think you will get a kick out of.
Allen slowly walks back to the his spot in the ring, nods his head and begins to skip the rope once again, this time with a look of intensity on his face, focusing his eye on the remaining card in the hand of Gibby. Just as he gets up to speed once again, Gibby tosses the card into the air once again. This card features a picture of Jack Nicholson with butcher knives falling all around him. Allen begins to laugh and forgets to jump as the rope clips him on the ankle and he nearly falls forward onto his face, catching himself against the ropes.
Allen: Wait, let me guess…Jack of Blades?!
Gibby: BINGO! I knew that you would get it. I was hoping you would appreciate the humor after that hissy fit you nearly threw. I had one more with a picture of a guy shaving and stroking his…
Allen: Enough! I get it, “jack” of blades. That one is a little too much Gibbs.
Gibby bursts out laughing and places his arm over Allen’s shoulder as both men make their way out of the ring and onto the floor below. The screen fades to black as Allen reaches under the ropes, grabbing the strap of the gym bag and pulling it out to the edge of the ring while Gibby makes his way around the building and collects the cards that have fallen to the floor.
Allen: Gibby, you are walking down a sidewalk in the middle of a desert. Do you really thing the sock hat is necessary? I know you are used to training guys in Chicago and it is part of your look, but I don’t think anyone of any importance to you is going to see you out here.
Gibby: You shut the hell up dammit! You know damn well I don’t go anywhere without my hat. It has been a staple of training success for the last 40 years and I don’t plan on giving it up, just because one of my former wrestlers became a rich yuppie and flew me out to Vegas!
Allen: Hey, I’m just saying it would be more comfortable, that’s all. And who are you calling a rich yuppie? I didn’t hear you complaining when I offered the free flight, the free meals, the free hotel room, the free chips, the free hooker, the free…
Gibby: Alright already! I get it! I’ll lose the damn hat! I guess…I mean, I wish…I suppose I hoped that more of the wrestlers back at the gym in Chicago could end up like you. Out here, living the life, having everything you want, and enjoying wrestling rather than just using it as a paycheck. Even if you do have some screwed up alias that you go by. I mean, Slickie T? Really? What the hell is that?
Gibby sighs and starts to run his hand up the side of his aged face that is full of stubble and grabs the edge of his hat. Before he can pull it down off his head, Allen places his hand on top of the old man’s head and prevents him from removing the hat.
Allen: Did you honestly think I was going to let you take that hat off? C’mon now, I was just giving you a hard time Gibby. You stop making fun of my name and I’ll stop making fun of your silly ass hat. You know I got that name a long time ago when I was a young teenager on the streets of Chicago, the white boy in the black neighborhood and the “homies” trying to make fun of me, giving me that fucked up nickname. But hey, it stuck, I ran with it, used it when you were training me back at the old gym and now it’s a well-known name in the world of professional wrestling. Hell, the name is even more famous than the man. Do you think I anyone would know who the hell you were talking about if you told them that you were the guy who trained Allen Guiliano?
Gibby stops to think, peering up at the taller man to his left and blinks before giving a soft shrug.
Allen: You know damn well they would look at you like the crazy old bastard that you are. I’m famous for my goofy ass name that goes with my wrestling ability, not the other way around. Well, I’m famous for that nice building over there too, but that’s beside the point.
Allen raises his hand and points to the large building, The Camille, the casino that he owns and operates in Sin City.
Gibby: You think you are famous because of that name and not because of your ability? I think you are famous for the way you threw yourself through tables in the GEWF and had no regard for your body even when you became a star. You never forgot where you came from and you still have that reckless abandonment in you that I taught you when you first came to me nearly 10 years ago. THAT’S why you are famous…even though I still think you are a rich yuppie with some stupid ass ring name.
The two men share a laugh as they continue down the sidewalk, nearly to the end of all civilization in the city of Las Vegas as the sidewalk becomes road and off right stands a small white building with a small parking lot. The building seems nearly abandoned but the two men continue toward it as Allen drops his gym bag at the door of the building, unzips it and reveals a key, unlocking the door, and holding it open for Gibby.
As Gibby and the camera make their way through the door, Gibby’s jaw drops to the floor and he slowly removes the sock hat from the top of his head as it slowly drags down the side of his face and into his hand. The camera pans to the center of the room as Allen flips on the lights, revealing a fully equipped wrestling training facility that resembles Gibby’s gym back in Chicago, only modernized. A spotlight hangs from the rafters high above the ring, whose canvas resembles that of the Italian flag. Allen quickly shuts the door behind him, drops his bag, runs and slides underneath the ropes, climbing the turnbuckle nearest Gibby and opens his arms glancing over the facility.
Allen: So Gibby…What do you think? I had it put together exactly like the old gym back in Chi-town, only upgraded the equipment a bit and made sure to put it in a building that no one would ever want to enter by the looks of the outside.
Gibby: Allen, this is a thing of beauty. You know you didn’t have to do this for me to get me out here. If it weren’t for the 110 degree heat I walked through to get here and the equipment not being held together with duct tape and fishing line, I would think I was back in Illinois. How much did it cost you to put this place together?
Allen: Don’t worry about it. One of those things that rich yuppies like me don’t like to discuss and I know that I didn’t have to do this to get you out here, but I wanted to, that way you would feel right at home for this training session. Now, I believe you said you had something planned for me while on the ride from the airport to the hotel, so let’s get started!
Allen backflips off the top turnbuckle into the center of the ring, points to his bag as Gibby tosses it over the top rope and in to him. He unzips the bag and hangs a jump rope over the turnbuckle, leaning back against the turnbuckle, grabbing the ropes and stretching his arms as Gibby climbs the steel steps and slides through the ropes, making his way into the ring, pulling large envelope from Allen’s bag and opens it up, pulling out a large set of cards, each with different pictures and symbols on each side. Allen raises a brow and gives him an odd look as Gibby stands on one end of the ring and smirks, beginning to explain the method to his madness.
Allen: I would ask what the hell you are doing with those things, but something tells me that you are going to tell me…at least I hope you are going to tell me, since you billed this as the “next great thing in wrestling training.”
Gibby: Just shut up and listen, Slick! I suppose I will call you by that silly as name of yours as you are now in the middle of a wrestling ring. Alright, this is what we are going to. I’ve done a little studying on this Jack of Blades character that you are going up against on Sunday and I’ve got to tell you, he’s good. He’s really good and personally it’s going to take a lot more to beat him than those two jobbers you faced last week. He has talent, he has charisma, he has…eh…wrestling IQ? But back to the point, you are going to have to use everything you’ve got to beat this son of a bitch. The way I see it, you are going to have to treat him like everyone else that has had the size advantage on you in the past, which would be everyone that you have ever gotten in the ring with.
Allen: Yeah, yeah, I get it, now get to the point. Jack of Blades is one of the best in the WCF and I have to make a statement this week if I want to work my way up to the upper echelon of the federation. I’m not sure if I have been given the opportunity of a lifetime by being put up against JoB in my second match and making my debut at Aftermath or if I am being set up, but either way, I’ve got to be ready for this guy. I’m still knocking the rust off Gibby.
Gibby: I realize that, so here is what we are going to do. We are going to beat him with speed and reactions. Use that speed that I know you still have and to get you prepared for it, we are going to do a little something with that jump rope and these flash cards. You are going to start jumping that rope, get into a nice rhythm, get a little double time in, and then out of nowhere, I’m going to throw one of these flash cards in front of you and you have to tell me what it is. You can’t tell me what it is or get it wrong and I am going to clothesline your ass when you are least expecting it.
Allen reluctantly grabs the jump rope and starts to find a nice rhythm as the rope monotonously slaps the canvas with each turn of his wrists. He continues to pick up the pace, barely raising his feet from the ground as the rope passes underneath, crossing them a few times, doubling the pace of the turns as he focuses his attention on the old man on the opposite side of the ring.
Allen: You really think that a clothesline from YOU is going to affect me?
Gibby quickly flexes his muscles and struts around the ring in a small circle, preparing to charge the WCF superstar.
Gibby: I’ve been working out you know. I still use that gym back home. Hell, someone has to with only a handful of guys still interested in wrestling.
Allen: Alright, I trust you, let’s get this whole….flash card thing over with.
Gibby: Alright, you keep that rope moving and here we go!
Allen continues the quick pace with the jump rope, watching carefully as Gibby paces the canvas, turns his back and holds one of the cards over his head with a picture of a dalmatian on it.
Allen: Dog?
Gibby: I was going for dalmation, but I suppose dog will work.
Allen shakes his head and continues the pace as beads of sweat now begin to drip down his face. Gibby walks around to Allen’s back and tosses a card in front of him that contains a picture of a pigeon.
Allen: Pigeon!
Gibby: Bird would have been fine for that one smartass! Next one!
Gibby bounces off the ropes on one end of the ring, runs as fast as he can over to the opposing ropes, bounces off of those and tosses another card into the air. This one contains a picture of a familiar playing card to Allen, the ace of spades.
Allen: Playing card?
Gibby runs by him and picks up the card once again attempting a clothesline before bouncing off of the larger Guiliano and onto his backside.
Gibby: Ok, so the clothesline thing didn’t work out so well. But we are going to try that one again and be more specific, I want the details of the card!
Gibby does the same thing as last time, bouncing off the ropes and tossing the card into the air. Allen stares at it carefully as the rope passes through his vision several times and the card makes its way back to the canvas.
Allen: Ace of Spades!
Gibby: Well done! Alright, I’ve got just a few more. Figured I would drag this out and have you build up your stamina and jumping ability as well.
Gibby flashes a broad smile, showing the gaps in his smile as he is missing three teeth. He then tosses another card into the air containing a falling jack of spades.
Allen: Another playing card…The jack of spades!
Gibby: Well done Slick! Now I’m going to throw two at the same time…They are going to be of the same thing, but with different pictures. You better be paying attention. Actually, I will be quite impressed if you get both of these.
The old man tosses two more cards into the air. Once is of the tattoo on the arm of Jack of Blades, the card that contains the jack with knives, the other a picture of Jack of Blades with a referee raising his arm in victory.
Allen: I’m not too sure what those were…Try it again.
Gibby: Oh c’mon Slick! You have to get these! I thought it was pretty easy myself…That, my friend, was Jack of Blades…How are you going to beat your opponent if you don’t even know what he looks like? You better do your homework and get with it. I can win this match for you! You are going to have to take some kind of initiative here!
Allen stops jumping and takes both ends of the rope into his right hand and glares down at the smaller Gibby and begins to head toward the open gym bag that lies in the middle of the squared circle.
Gibby: Alright, alright! That was a hard one! You keep jumping that rope, I’ve got one last one for you that I think you will get a kick out of.
Allen slowly walks back to the his spot in the ring, nods his head and begins to skip the rope once again, this time with a look of intensity on his face, focusing his eye on the remaining card in the hand of Gibby. Just as he gets up to speed once again, Gibby tosses the card into the air once again. This card features a picture of Jack Nicholson with butcher knives falling all around him. Allen begins to laugh and forgets to jump as the rope clips him on the ankle and he nearly falls forward onto his face, catching himself against the ropes.
Allen: Wait, let me guess…Jack of Blades?!
Gibby: BINGO! I knew that you would get it. I was hoping you would appreciate the humor after that hissy fit you nearly threw. I had one more with a picture of a guy shaving and stroking his…
Allen: Enough! I get it, “jack” of blades. That one is a little too much Gibbs.
Gibby bursts out laughing and places his arm over Allen’s shoulder as both men make their way out of the ring and onto the floor below. The screen fades to black as Allen reaches under the ropes, grabbing the strap of the gym bag and pulling it out to the edge of the ring while Gibby makes his way around the building and collects the cards that have fallen to the floor.
