Post by genocide on Feb 15, 2006 23:15:49 GMT -5
5:43 am, Wednesday
Sid: So what the fuck do you do at the gym for 3 hours?
(The scene opens inside of a car, Genocide driving, and Sid in the passenger's seat. The sky is still dark, and the clock on the stereo reads 5:43 am. Sid has a cup of Starbucks in one hand, and rubbing his eyes with the other. He has on a black sweatshirt and blue jeans. Genocide has on a white tank top. He stares straight ahead, until they come to a red light.)
Genocide: I always hit this damn light. I swear, there is never anyone around. I'd go, but I don't enjoy paying fines for retarded shit.
Sid:(Sarcastically) The gym?
(Genocide gives him a cold stare from a moment. He does not change expressions when he talks.)
Genocide: It's a gym. There are weights. I lift them. Lots. Any other stupid questions?
(Sid shakes his head. The light turns green, and they start to move forward. After a moment of silence, Genocide turns the volume up on the radio. Janis Joplin's "Son of a Preacher Man" is on. The scene fades out for a moment.)
(The scene re-appears, with the clock on the radio reading 6:00 am. They are parked, facing a sign that says "World Gym Members Only". Genocide gets out, grabs his duffel bag, and starts to walk towards the entrance. Sid follows like a dog.)
Sid: So, you want me to watch you lift weights?
(Genocide snaps his head around and gets in his face.)
Genocide: Look you puny little fuck, I didn’t ask for this. Black told me it would be best for you to go, so I did it for me. If I would've known you were going to bitch, then I wouldn't have agreed. I don't know what you're going to do, it's your damn article. If you need to, fine. If not, leave. Just don’t get in my way. Deal?
(Sid swallows and nods his head.)
Sid: I'm not much of a morning person.
Genocide: You're not much of a person.
(Genocide turns around and walks through the entrance of the gym. He lets the door shut before Sid can get through.)
6:14 am
(The scene cuts to Genocide putting on weightlifting gloves. He is at the squat rack. Sid is sitting on a bench press parallel to him. He is sipping his coffee and looks alert. Sounds of clanging metal are heard all throughout the scene.)
Sid: Boy, I haven’t been in a gym since 10th grade PE. I forgot how much the sound of clinging metal revives you.
(Genocide gets set on the rack. He sits for a moment, and then starts working.)
Sid: So I see only business men and freaks come to the gym this early. No offense.
(Genocide stops, and rolls his neck.)
Sid: This week, you have a four way dance right?
Genocide: Yea. It's going to be fun.
Sid: Well, you're not the least bit worried?
(Genocide shrugs.)
Genocide: Of what?
Sid: Well, those other 3 men might want a shot at the hardcore title. Maybe the team up on you? I don't know. I write about wrestling. I don’t actually do it.
Genocide: And you should keep it that way. Look, these 3 don’t pose the slightest little threat to me. And if they want a shot at the hardcore title so bad, then they'd better find a way to get through me. I can take all 3 on at once, so they had better come up with something else. They may want the chance for gold. But once they get that chance, are they actually going to seize it? No.
10:03 am
(The scene shows the two of them walking down a hallway. It is for an apartment building. They reach a door on the right with the number 15 on the door. The door is green with chipped paint. Genocide just walks in. Sid is hesitant to follow.)
Sid: Where are we?
Genocide: Black's.
(Sid nods like he understands. He quickly comes in, and shuts the door. Genocide goes to the kitchen, and opens the refrigerator. He pulls out a bottled water, and drinks some. He slams the door.)
Sid: He sure lives in one bad apartment.
Genocide: He just moved to the city.
Sid: Well, a manager should make enough money to afford a decent apartment.
Genocide: No, he wasn’t always a manager. He was some Wall Street guy. A whiz at picking out stocks that were going to be huge. Then he made a bad choice, lost a few dollars, and got himself fired. Now he manages me.
Sid: How long ago did this happen?
Genocide: I don't know, like 3 years or something. I know he managed a few other guys who weren’t dedicated.
(Suddenly, Darryl Black walks out of a room with silky red pajamas on. His eyes are only half open. His hair is all messed up and sticking out from his head.)
DDB: How was the gym?
Sid: Like a repeat of the 10th grade.
Genocide: He's a pussy. He wouldn’t lift anything. Just wanted to sit and watch.
(A chubby white girl wearing a short mini skirt and black tube top walks out of Black's room with her purse in hand.)
DDB: A twenty is on the desk on the way out.
(She nods, and walks towards the door. She takes the money and puts it in her purse.)
Sid: That’s a nice way to treat your ladies.
DDB: I think I tipped too much. My head hurts though.
(Black shakes his head.)
DDB: So what are you up to now?
Sid: Well, probably hang out, or-
Genocide: We're going to stay here for a while. Then I'm going to lunch. Then he can leave.
12:30
(The scene appears on the patio of a restraunt. Circular tables and umbrellas for shade dominate the area. The sky is bright. Genocide has on a suit, wearing sunglasses. He has a plate of onion rings and a glass of lemonade. Sid has a burger and soda. He pays more attention to Genocide eating than he does his own plate.)
Genocide: (With mouth full) Wat da fugck ez yo pwoblem?
Sid: I don’t think I could eat that much all day.
(Genocide shakes his head. His cheeks jiggle with full onion rings. After a few moments in silence Sid speaks.)
Sid: Where did you start wrestling?
Genocide: Wichita. It was after my days as a personal trainer were done. I also tried World's Strongest Man, but could never make it past the South Central Region. So, some local wrestling guy thought he could market me. "Last 3 minutes with the monster and earn a prize!" After a while, nobody wants to try anymore. Then I moved on, doing stints all throughout the Midwest. All of a sudden, Darryl found me, and says I've got it. We reached a deal, and now he's my manager. If you want more crap, ask him.
Sid: What is it like being the new guy in the WCF? It's a federation with lots of history and established wrestlers.
Genocide: I don’t give a flying fuck who anyone is. Just let it be known that if they get in my way, I'll tear them apart. Case closed. Now, do you have any other obnoxious, goody-good questions? Or can I pay this and leave?
Sid: Well, this is kind of obvious. What do you hope to accomplish in the WCF?
Genocide:(Visibly pissed) I hope to break everyone's face in my path and make my mark as the greatest wrestler ever. I'm here to break bones, records and careers. Last week I did the careers, this week it's bones, and at the pay-per-view, it's going to be records. As in the record for the longest reign as WCF Hardcore champion. Once I get my hands on that belt, nobody, and I mean nobody, will ever get that title around their waist.
(Sid bows his head down. He stays quiet for a while, before looking back up.)
Sid: What do you do in the afternoon?
Genocide: What?
Sid: Well, you said that I could leave after lunch. What do you do?
Genocide: I sleep for a few hours. When I wake up, I eat, and then watch TV. By then it's around 9 or 10, so I go out for a run, then go to sleep by 11.
Sid: A fast start with a slow end.
(The scene fades with Sid taking a bite of his half eaten burger.)
Sid: So what the fuck do you do at the gym for 3 hours?
(The scene opens inside of a car, Genocide driving, and Sid in the passenger's seat. The sky is still dark, and the clock on the stereo reads 5:43 am. Sid has a cup of Starbucks in one hand, and rubbing his eyes with the other. He has on a black sweatshirt and blue jeans. Genocide has on a white tank top. He stares straight ahead, until they come to a red light.)
Genocide: I always hit this damn light. I swear, there is never anyone around. I'd go, but I don't enjoy paying fines for retarded shit.
Sid:(Sarcastically) The gym?
(Genocide gives him a cold stare from a moment. He does not change expressions when he talks.)
Genocide: It's a gym. There are weights. I lift them. Lots. Any other stupid questions?
(Sid shakes his head. The light turns green, and they start to move forward. After a moment of silence, Genocide turns the volume up on the radio. Janis Joplin's "Son of a Preacher Man" is on. The scene fades out for a moment.)
(The scene re-appears, with the clock on the radio reading 6:00 am. They are parked, facing a sign that says "World Gym Members Only". Genocide gets out, grabs his duffel bag, and starts to walk towards the entrance. Sid follows like a dog.)
Sid: So, you want me to watch you lift weights?
(Genocide snaps his head around and gets in his face.)
Genocide: Look you puny little fuck, I didn’t ask for this. Black told me it would be best for you to go, so I did it for me. If I would've known you were going to bitch, then I wouldn't have agreed. I don't know what you're going to do, it's your damn article. If you need to, fine. If not, leave. Just don’t get in my way. Deal?
(Sid swallows and nods his head.)
Sid: I'm not much of a morning person.
Genocide: You're not much of a person.
(Genocide turns around and walks through the entrance of the gym. He lets the door shut before Sid can get through.)
6:14 am
(The scene cuts to Genocide putting on weightlifting gloves. He is at the squat rack. Sid is sitting on a bench press parallel to him. He is sipping his coffee and looks alert. Sounds of clanging metal are heard all throughout the scene.)
Sid: Boy, I haven’t been in a gym since 10th grade PE. I forgot how much the sound of clinging metal revives you.
(Genocide gets set on the rack. He sits for a moment, and then starts working.)
Sid: So I see only business men and freaks come to the gym this early. No offense.
(Genocide stops, and rolls his neck.)
Sid: This week, you have a four way dance right?
Genocide: Yea. It's going to be fun.
Sid: Well, you're not the least bit worried?
(Genocide shrugs.)
Genocide: Of what?
Sid: Well, those other 3 men might want a shot at the hardcore title. Maybe the team up on you? I don't know. I write about wrestling. I don’t actually do it.
Genocide: And you should keep it that way. Look, these 3 don’t pose the slightest little threat to me. And if they want a shot at the hardcore title so bad, then they'd better find a way to get through me. I can take all 3 on at once, so they had better come up with something else. They may want the chance for gold. But once they get that chance, are they actually going to seize it? No.
10:03 am
(The scene shows the two of them walking down a hallway. It is for an apartment building. They reach a door on the right with the number 15 on the door. The door is green with chipped paint. Genocide just walks in. Sid is hesitant to follow.)
Sid: Where are we?
Genocide: Black's.
(Sid nods like he understands. He quickly comes in, and shuts the door. Genocide goes to the kitchen, and opens the refrigerator. He pulls out a bottled water, and drinks some. He slams the door.)
Sid: He sure lives in one bad apartment.
Genocide: He just moved to the city.
Sid: Well, a manager should make enough money to afford a decent apartment.
Genocide: No, he wasn’t always a manager. He was some Wall Street guy. A whiz at picking out stocks that were going to be huge. Then he made a bad choice, lost a few dollars, and got himself fired. Now he manages me.
Sid: How long ago did this happen?
Genocide: I don't know, like 3 years or something. I know he managed a few other guys who weren’t dedicated.
(Suddenly, Darryl Black walks out of a room with silky red pajamas on. His eyes are only half open. His hair is all messed up and sticking out from his head.)
DDB: How was the gym?
Sid: Like a repeat of the 10th grade.
Genocide: He's a pussy. He wouldn’t lift anything. Just wanted to sit and watch.
(A chubby white girl wearing a short mini skirt and black tube top walks out of Black's room with her purse in hand.)
DDB: A twenty is on the desk on the way out.
(She nods, and walks towards the door. She takes the money and puts it in her purse.)
Sid: That’s a nice way to treat your ladies.
DDB: I think I tipped too much. My head hurts though.
(Black shakes his head.)
DDB: So what are you up to now?
Sid: Well, probably hang out, or-
Genocide: We're going to stay here for a while. Then I'm going to lunch. Then he can leave.
12:30
(The scene appears on the patio of a restraunt. Circular tables and umbrellas for shade dominate the area. The sky is bright. Genocide has on a suit, wearing sunglasses. He has a plate of onion rings and a glass of lemonade. Sid has a burger and soda. He pays more attention to Genocide eating than he does his own plate.)
Genocide: (With mouth full) Wat da fugck ez yo pwoblem?
Sid: I don’t think I could eat that much all day.
(Genocide shakes his head. His cheeks jiggle with full onion rings. After a few moments in silence Sid speaks.)
Sid: Where did you start wrestling?
Genocide: Wichita. It was after my days as a personal trainer were done. I also tried World's Strongest Man, but could never make it past the South Central Region. So, some local wrestling guy thought he could market me. "Last 3 minutes with the monster and earn a prize!" After a while, nobody wants to try anymore. Then I moved on, doing stints all throughout the Midwest. All of a sudden, Darryl found me, and says I've got it. We reached a deal, and now he's my manager. If you want more crap, ask him.
Sid: What is it like being the new guy in the WCF? It's a federation with lots of history and established wrestlers.
Genocide: I don’t give a flying fuck who anyone is. Just let it be known that if they get in my way, I'll tear them apart. Case closed. Now, do you have any other obnoxious, goody-good questions? Or can I pay this and leave?
Sid: Well, this is kind of obvious. What do you hope to accomplish in the WCF?
Genocide:(Visibly pissed) I hope to break everyone's face in my path and make my mark as the greatest wrestler ever. I'm here to break bones, records and careers. Last week I did the careers, this week it's bones, and at the pay-per-view, it's going to be records. As in the record for the longest reign as WCF Hardcore champion. Once I get my hands on that belt, nobody, and I mean nobody, will ever get that title around their waist.
(Sid bows his head down. He stays quiet for a while, before looking back up.)
Sid: What do you do in the afternoon?
Genocide: What?
Sid: Well, you said that I could leave after lunch. What do you do?
Genocide: I sleep for a few hours. When I wake up, I eat, and then watch TV. By then it's around 9 or 10, so I go out for a run, then go to sleep by 11.
Sid: A fast start with a slow end.
(The scene fades with Sid taking a bite of his half eaten burger.)
