Post by Jack of Blades on Apr 12, 2006 7:50:07 GMT -5
(Ace is situated in a back-water gym. He's alternating bicep curls while examining his physique in a dirtied mirror. His face does not scowl nor does it show any other sign of intensity. But his natural mannerisms purvey it anyway. He does not take his eyes off the mirror and never stops curling. About ten seconds into the vignette, Jack jumps behind Ace who witnesses his appearance in the mirror. Ace does not flinch nor stop his process.)
Jack of Bastard: Whoa! You keep that up and you'll look like a walking advertisement for late-night infomercials.
(Mimicking the atypical voice-over) And here's WCF wrestler, Ace, to explain the benefits of the Grunt-Meister 9000 and why you're penis won't drop of because of it.
Ace: What do you want? Did the centre let you out for a day and you decided to come for a stroll?
Jack of Blades: If by let me out, you mean that I made an ingenious escape from my cell using a paper clip and a shoe which caused the slaughter of 60% of the employed wardens, then you're right.
(He breaks into laughter. Ace groans and continues his work-out. Jack's laughter immediately cuts and he stares at Ace and his lack of humour. He adjusts his posture and grabs Ace by the shoulder.)
Jack of Blades: What, I'm really here to talk to you is about...Sprite. Did you know you could save hundreds on your phone bill?
(Ace looks unimpressed. Jack realises he has to be serious. For once.)
Jack of Blades: Look. I'm here to discuss with you the matter of Sunday Slam's match. Remember, the one that you so vividly warned me about in that illicit medical centre. I swear to God, Jehovah, Allah, Bumblebee Man and Chuck Norris that you better keep Biggs under control. Like you promised. I've already dealt that hand and it turned out he was bluffing.
Ace: Leaving you and Ellis. Fine you can have her. Used merchandise.
Jack of Blades: Precisely. You see, Christian, I've got Ellis now pretended to be some vampiric Santa Claus.
Ace: Don't call me that. My heritage died in that boat accident. You should know that, Nolan.
Jack of Blades: Ah, calling me Nolan is too specific a term. Nolan was the everyman, I am the Ubermensch.
Ace: Whatever.
Jack of Blades: Either way, Ellis said that she had given me a present. Well unfortunately for her, I've kept the receipt and decided to return it for cred--
(Two jocks come into the scene. They're aesthetically stereotypical. Frosted hair, both about 6'4, muscular frame that seems to have come about with no effort. Tank tops. They interrupt Jack's speech.)
Jock Jett: Hey. We done here. Wanna see the effects of my workout.
Jack of Blades: Ah, I'm sorry gentleman. But I'm afraid this interlocution will be extended far beyond your need.
(Emulating Jack's English accent.)
Jock Nash: Well, actually. It seems that we cannot use the mirrah. Yup, Yup.
Jack of Blades: Pardon me. Although your imitation was admirable, it seems that it was a feeble effort to attack my person. Now, I suggest you run off and find someone else to bother. I'm sure you do not need your own reflection to masturbate. Just close your eyes and think about yourself showering.
Jock Nash: Hey Jeeves, who do you think you're talking to?
Jack of Blades: I'm gonna go and say the assistant manager at Taco Bell. I could be wrong though. It could be Burger King.
(At this Jock Jett jumps Jack and punches him in the nose causing it to burst with claret. He punches him again causing Jack to fall over. Jack postures for him to stop. Ace still continues to work-out.
Jack of Blades: Fine... fine. Wendy's?
Jock Jett: Why you funny fuck.
(He punches Jack again. Jack laughs. Jock Jett raises his fist again as if threatening him if he does not apologise.)
Jack of Blades: Look, there's no shame in working at White Castle.
(Jock Jett's bloody fist gets bloodier. Ace is still exercising.)
Jack of Blades: Ok. Ok. There's no shame in working in KFC.
(Another punch. Jack's face has seemingly exploded with blood.)
...Domino's?
(One more punch. More blood.)
.........Dunkin Donuts?
(Another fist. Jack's face is completely covered.)
......................Sonic's?
(A fist follows. Now Jack's hair is matted and saturated with his blood.)
.........................................El Pollo Loco?
(Once again, a fist. Jack is close to passing out.)
....................................................................................Dairy Queen?
(Jock Jett goes for it. He has lost his patience. He furiously strikes the beaten Jack. The blood acts as camoflage. You would not know it was him. Except for the insane laughter which now quietly stops after a few sporadic splutters.)
Jack of Blades: Ok. Ok. You got it. I give.
(The Jocks go to leave. The camera closes in on Ace. He sighs as he predicts what will happen next. Still exercising. We hear an epic explosion of laughter and the camera turns around to see Jack jumping on Jock Jett. He forces him downwards and turns him around so that they are face-to-face, nose-to-nose. Jack then coughs, pours, rubs and spills blood on Jett's face, all the while laughing. It drips into the mouth. Enters through the eyes. Crawls into the ears. Inhaled through the nose. Staining the skin. It is enough to make someone vomit and off-camera it sounds like that is what Jock Nash is doing. Jack continues spraying his victim with more blood. Always laughing causing more blood to spray on Jock Jett's shaking body. The laughing eventually stops. Jack remains crouched on Jett's twitching body. The camera gets behind him unable to see Jack's face. Just blood-red shoulder length hair. What is clear, however, is the fact that Jock Jett is in shock. Suddenly, Jack spins his hair around to face the camera. His skin is tattooed red and the rapidness of the turn has caused a few droplets of blood to be projected from his hair and onto the lens. He smiles creating a haunting contrast between his crimson flesh and bleached-white teeth. He speaks.)
Jack of Blades: Thanks for the gift, Ellis. I think I'll keep it.
Jack of Bastard: Whoa! You keep that up and you'll look like a walking advertisement for late-night infomercials.
(Mimicking the atypical voice-over) And here's WCF wrestler, Ace, to explain the benefits of the Grunt-Meister 9000 and why you're penis won't drop of because of it.
Ace: What do you want? Did the centre let you out for a day and you decided to come for a stroll?
Jack of Blades: If by let me out, you mean that I made an ingenious escape from my cell using a paper clip and a shoe which caused the slaughter of 60% of the employed wardens, then you're right.
(He breaks into laughter. Ace groans and continues his work-out. Jack's laughter immediately cuts and he stares at Ace and his lack of humour. He adjusts his posture and grabs Ace by the shoulder.)
Jack of Blades: What, I'm really here to talk to you is about...Sprite. Did you know you could save hundreds on your phone bill?
(Ace looks unimpressed. Jack realises he has to be serious. For once.)
Jack of Blades: Look. I'm here to discuss with you the matter of Sunday Slam's match. Remember, the one that you so vividly warned me about in that illicit medical centre. I swear to God, Jehovah, Allah, Bumblebee Man and Chuck Norris that you better keep Biggs under control. Like you promised. I've already dealt that hand and it turned out he was bluffing.
Ace: Leaving you and Ellis. Fine you can have her. Used merchandise.
Jack of Blades: Precisely. You see, Christian, I've got Ellis now pretended to be some vampiric Santa Claus.
Ace: Don't call me that. My heritage died in that boat accident. You should know that, Nolan.
Jack of Blades: Ah, calling me Nolan is too specific a term. Nolan was the everyman, I am the Ubermensch.
Ace: Whatever.
Jack of Blades: Either way, Ellis said that she had given me a present. Well unfortunately for her, I've kept the receipt and decided to return it for cred--
(Two jocks come into the scene. They're aesthetically stereotypical. Frosted hair, both about 6'4, muscular frame that seems to have come about with no effort. Tank tops. They interrupt Jack's speech.)
Jock Jett: Hey. We done here. Wanna see the effects of my workout.
Jack of Blades: Ah, I'm sorry gentleman. But I'm afraid this interlocution will be extended far beyond your need.
(Emulating Jack's English accent.)
Jock Nash: Well, actually. It seems that we cannot use the mirrah. Yup, Yup.
Jack of Blades: Pardon me. Although your imitation was admirable, it seems that it was a feeble effort to attack my person. Now, I suggest you run off and find someone else to bother. I'm sure you do not need your own reflection to masturbate. Just close your eyes and think about yourself showering.
Jock Nash: Hey Jeeves, who do you think you're talking to?
Jack of Blades: I'm gonna go and say the assistant manager at Taco Bell. I could be wrong though. It could be Burger King.
(At this Jock Jett jumps Jack and punches him in the nose causing it to burst with claret. He punches him again causing Jack to fall over. Jack postures for him to stop. Ace still continues to work-out.
Jack of Blades: Fine... fine. Wendy's?
Jock Jett: Why you funny fuck.
(He punches Jack again. Jack laughs. Jock Jett raises his fist again as if threatening him if he does not apologise.)
Jack of Blades: Look, there's no shame in working at White Castle.
(Jock Jett's bloody fist gets bloodier. Ace is still exercising.)
Jack of Blades: Ok. Ok. There's no shame in working in KFC.
(Another punch. Jack's face has seemingly exploded with blood.)
...Domino's?
(One more punch. More blood.)
.........Dunkin Donuts?
(Another fist. Jack's face is completely covered.)
......................Sonic's?
(A fist follows. Now Jack's hair is matted and saturated with his blood.)
.........................................El Pollo Loco?
(Once again, a fist. Jack is close to passing out.)
....................................................................................Dairy Queen?
(Jock Jett goes for it. He has lost his patience. He furiously strikes the beaten Jack. The blood acts as camoflage. You would not know it was him. Except for the insane laughter which now quietly stops after a few sporadic splutters.)
Jack of Blades: Ok. Ok. You got it. I give.
(The Jocks go to leave. The camera closes in on Ace. He sighs as he predicts what will happen next. Still exercising. We hear an epic explosion of laughter and the camera turns around to see Jack jumping on Jock Jett. He forces him downwards and turns him around so that they are face-to-face, nose-to-nose. Jack then coughs, pours, rubs and spills blood on Jett's face, all the while laughing. It drips into the mouth. Enters through the eyes. Crawls into the ears. Inhaled through the nose. Staining the skin. It is enough to make someone vomit and off-camera it sounds like that is what Jock Nash is doing. Jack continues spraying his victim with more blood. Always laughing causing more blood to spray on Jock Jett's shaking body. The laughing eventually stops. Jack remains crouched on Jett's twitching body. The camera gets behind him unable to see Jack's face. Just blood-red shoulder length hair. What is clear, however, is the fact that Jock Jett is in shock. Suddenly, Jack spins his hair around to face the camera. His skin is tattooed red and the rapidness of the turn has caused a few droplets of blood to be projected from his hair and onto the lens. He smiles creating a haunting contrast between his crimson flesh and bleached-white teeth. He speaks.)
Jack of Blades: Thanks for the gift, Ellis. I think I'll keep it.
