Post by Jack of Blades on Aug 19, 2006 11:04:31 GMT -5
(For this occasion, we open up on the abode of Jack of Blades or to be more specific, his living room. The camera remains stationary through the RP showing an epic plasma television screen and two people situated on a sofa watching it intently. Although the only light present within the shot comes from the gargantuan television, the familiar outlines acknowledge that the audience is made up of the 'Bastard Clown', Jack of Blades and his bodyguard, Jesper Reisert. The only movement that comes from each of them are their hands collecting popcorn from the bowl that divides them on the sofa. The pair never leave their concentration from the television set even in communication with one another. It appears that the pair are watching Torture's most recent promo about what he considers 'insane.' The over gesticulation of the speaker, something common to the WCF Champion, makes this obvious.)
Torture: Insane? Working eighty hours a week in a cubicle would be insane, but do you want to know what's really insane? A Wrestler who has worked his god damn ass off for three great years. Okay? Three years and sixty-five plus singles matches and over twenty tag matches. Numerous Championships, including Tag Team, Hardcore and a World Championship to his name. A tournament win to his name to boot as well. That Wrestler has done nothing but pass every god for saken test his bosses have thrown at him. Every test, every angle, and every way possible of ever breaking this human being has failed. Parents died at an early age but did he bitch? Hell no.. He went on with life knowing that if he took more than one day mourning over his loss of two important supporters in his life, he'd be wasting his time.
So he moves on to something else. The streets could of had him, Jack. The dark, cold, heartless streets could of had him, but he didn't let it. He fought. He trained, he picked up something constructive. Wrestling. He trained, and just wanted something to do living in some run down apartment almost mirroring this shitty one. He ran.. all the time. He woke up. Ran. Lunch? Ran. In his sleep? Was dreaming of running. He ran, he --
(At this point, Jack pulls out the remote control without removing his eyes from the television screen. He proceeds to turn the volume down. The following interlocution between Jack of Blades and Jesper, once again, happens without their focus leaving the screen.)
Jack of Blades: Didn't I say all this, yesterday?
Jesper Reisert: Yeah.
Jack of Blades: Right, ok. Wanna watch 'Deal or No Deal?'
Jesper Reisert: Yeah.
(Jack of Blades obliges, hitting a button on the remote, changing the passionate hyperbole of Torture to the lovely models of Endemol's gameshow. We fade out on the two protagonists still zombified by the disproportionate television and the dry wit of Howie Mandell.)
Torture: Insane? Working eighty hours a week in a cubicle would be insane, but do you want to know what's really insane? A Wrestler who has worked his god damn ass off for three great years. Okay? Three years and sixty-five plus singles matches and over twenty tag matches. Numerous Championships, including Tag Team, Hardcore and a World Championship to his name. A tournament win to his name to boot as well. That Wrestler has done nothing but pass every god for saken test his bosses have thrown at him. Every test, every angle, and every way possible of ever breaking this human being has failed. Parents died at an early age but did he bitch? Hell no.. He went on with life knowing that if he took more than one day mourning over his loss of two important supporters in his life, he'd be wasting his time.
So he moves on to something else. The streets could of had him, Jack. The dark, cold, heartless streets could of had him, but he didn't let it. He fought. He trained, he picked up something constructive. Wrestling. He trained, and just wanted something to do living in some run down apartment almost mirroring this shitty one. He ran.. all the time. He woke up. Ran. Lunch? Ran. In his sleep? Was dreaming of running. He ran, he --
(At this point, Jack pulls out the remote control without removing his eyes from the television screen. He proceeds to turn the volume down. The following interlocution between Jack of Blades and Jesper, once again, happens without their focus leaving the screen.)
Jack of Blades: Didn't I say all this, yesterday?
Jesper Reisert: Yeah.
Jack of Blades: Right, ok. Wanna watch 'Deal or No Deal?'
Jesper Reisert: Yeah.
(Jack of Blades obliges, hitting a button on the remote, changing the passionate hyperbole of Torture to the lovely models of Endemol's gameshow. We fade out on the two protagonists still zombified by the disproportionate television and the dry wit of Howie Mandell.)
