Post by Non Compos Mentis on Apr 22, 2006 10:54:03 GMT -5
[We appear, looking directly down what\appears to be an aisle of a supermarket or store. We stare up at the large refrigerator like contraptions that the foods are stored in then we go and look at the temperature they are set on.
‘4*c’
Barley enough to chill the food. Only just enough to halt the spread of the bacteria into taking back trophy as their own. The tepid condiments sitting, sweating, in the lack of chilling breeze.
We walk up the line of neatly arranged and stacked foodstuffs and just stare at every different delicacy we pass, knowing that they are just wasting away bit by bit.
‘8 Pack of Twinkies’
‘Mr Kipling Bakewell slices’
‘Victoria Sponge’
and so on…
The list of sweet delicacies seems very tempting but we decide to refrain from buying any. We look down at the floor. Lino, polished to within an inch of its life by some cleanliness obsessed shop assistant, trying desperately to show what he can do to management so that he can get a coveted role at the checkout.
As soon as we think this he arrives. Around the corner of the aisle with a mop and bucket cleaning constantly sweeping away and drowning any dust that may have settled in the last 15 minutes when he hasn’t cleaned the spot.
We turn around to look at the man that has just entered the store. He wanders in and grabs a metal basket from the stack by the door. We see that the man is over 6 foot tall and around 260 pounds in weight. He is wearing black denim jeans and a matching jacket. He also has black sneakers and a black t-shirt underneath the jacket. The blackness surrounding him cannot fail to have a result of himself and his psyche.
He has long, dark brown hair and a similarly coloured beard that make him look poor and disreputable.
This man is Non Compos Mentis.
He walks forward into the supermarket and looks towards a rack that is hanging from a shelf. He walks forwards towards the rack and seems to be staring at one item inpaticular. We move around to see what he is looking at and notice that the rack container numerous brands and flavours of chewing gum.
He looks on at one particular brand, ‘Hubba Bubba’ chewing gum, in particularly the apple flavour that is encased in a green paper packaging. He reaches out and grabs a pack of the chewing gum before throwing it into the basket and walking on down the aisle.]
Non Compos Mentis: Ah… The sweet chewy texture of chewing gum…
The chewing of the condiment providing a battle between the teeth and the gum…
The teeth battering the gum down constantly, unrelenting and brutal… The gum sticking and refusing to let go of the attacker time after time after time…
But the gum is soft… and weak… and cannot fight back…
It gets pummelled… continually… and finally gives up…
Benjamin Banks… you are the chewing gum…
You have faced retirement twice… you have been pummelled by the rabid jaws of the wrestling world for years… you have lost the battle and have been chewed up and spit out… twice…
And yet you emerge time after time… sticking to the boot of the wrestling goliath… that annoying piece of gum stuck to the sole of your shoe that you cant get off…
And like that piece of gum… Benjamin Banks… you have become stale… you have become a flavourless… stinking… rancid… ball of useless gunk… You are nothing to anyone anymore…
You were given one more chance… you were given a shot at my title… you were given a chance to justify your return from retirement and prove that you were worth a damn…
The feeling of beating you has become stale as so many people have beaten you before… The prize of your conquering has become degraded… it has become lessened… it has become jaded…
It seems ironic that I was in that position aswell… If I would have lost that match at Hostile Takeover I would not have received another championship shot… I would have shown that I was no good to management…
But I won…
You have no use anymore… you have no reason to be here… you should just be washed away… You should retire for good and leave wrestling forever…
[At this point Mentis has found himself standing at the top of the confectionaries aisle and is staring at the shelf that contains the 1 kilogram bags of sugar from all the various sellers and brands.
He walks over to the shelf and picks off a bag before throwing it into the basket and walking on.]
Non Compos Mentis: Pure sweetness…
The nectar that the who sweet industry works on…
The nectar that every kid goes to the candy store to get…
The sweet taste of the candy that makes the kids go back time after time…
My life has been driven on to achieve a similar thrill…
A thrill that one huge industry advertises to all of its admirers…
A thrill that every single wrestler runs into the business to achieve…
I am in this business for that sweet feeling that everyone looks for…
And I have that now…
The sweet taste of success… The sweet taste of beating Benjamin Banks again…
The sweet taste success that I have gained once more… a taste that I have not acquired for over 2 months…
Through hard work… through competition… through the ignorance of others… I have prevailed…
And after all… I take my place back on the top… back as the North American championship…
And I will use this as a stepping stone to get another shot at the PCW World Championship… My first one was a failure… but soon I shall return to the main event…
Soon I shall acquire an even greater taste of sweetness… soon I will have the World Title…
[Mentis continues to walk along the long aisles until he reaches the meat aisle. He stares down the long rows of meat based products and then walks forward into the lamb section of the aisle.
He continues to walk along the line passing several decent cuts of lamb until he reaches the section entitled ‘discount cuts’. This section is set aside for the cuts of meat that are only fit for flavouring stock or soup or maybe for adding substance to a stew or casserole.
Still, Mentis thought that one of these cuts seemed appropriate for the situation. A barely cooked and gristly piece of shin that would just bend over and be willing to get eaten if you ever tried to even eat it.
A piece of meat that is weak in every sense of the word. In flavour, in texture and in weight.
A piece of meat that was not ready to be eaten. A piece of meat that was not ready to pose a challenge to any human’s digestive system. A piece of meat that was unable to be distinguished for any of its qualities, be it flavour, intensity, texture or substance.
These cuts that made up the quota of the supermarkets meat stocks. The quality cuts like T-Bone, sirloin, fillet and leg making up the large proportion of the aisles whilst the discount cuts fill up the roster.
Mentis pick up a Lamb shin and throws in into the basket.]
Non Compos Mentis: Weak… Common… False…
Supermarkets sell these off as major cuts when they are false pretenders to the throne of the true quality cuts…
These weak challengers making their way up the sales list because the store decides they need a push…
Only because of this they become a success and manage to put up a fight with the quality cuts…
Much like the list of challengers fighting for my North American title…
Pegasus… Never really looked strong… he just fluked his way to the top because the management wanted him to challenge…
Showtime… He has impressed against weaker… less experienced… less intelligent opponents… Grimm beat you… he proved that you are not ready to go further… You might impress this week however… being as though you are my partner and you will have all of my help…
Banks… again… you refuse to go away… stuck in your ways… even though you have wasted your new chance…
All of you people… like the lamb… are sheep… all you are doing is following the flock… following the motions of the industry that tell you to fight whoever has the title and whoever is easiest to beat and make success come faster…
I assure you all of this… I will not be an easy victory… I will not allow you to surpass your place in this business and I will hold you back until I gain my World Title…
[Mentis walks on down the aisle and finds the Beef section that stands proud as the figurehead of the Stores meat section.]
Non Compos Mentis: I have always been a beef man myself…
Well done…
Grilled… nearly burned…
Charred by the heat that burns all of the weak meat around it like the lamb and others…
But still it stands proud and wholesome…
Ready for its proud place at the figurehead of the table…
Stood like a grizzled veteran… proud that in his final act of existence it shall be sacrificing itself but showcasing its abilities selfishly… not in the need to help the consumer… but to please itself…
The thing that has been burned by the flames of the fire so many time…
Its life being a long one of suffering as first lives a life as a battery farmed bovine before facing certain slaughter and an uncertain future as several cuts of meat that will be distributed bit by bit…
This one is lucky… it’s a T-Bone… it will be proudly served up in a restaurant as a prominent dish…
It will stand tall and fight on…
It will become a champion of sorts in the culinary world…
Just as I have become a champion in my world…
That will do…
[Mentis grabs a T-Bone steak off the shelf and walks off into the distance.
The scene then slowly fades to black.]
‘4*c’
Barley enough to chill the food. Only just enough to halt the spread of the bacteria into taking back trophy as their own. The tepid condiments sitting, sweating, in the lack of chilling breeze.
We walk up the line of neatly arranged and stacked foodstuffs and just stare at every different delicacy we pass, knowing that they are just wasting away bit by bit.
‘8 Pack of Twinkies’
‘Mr Kipling Bakewell slices’
‘Victoria Sponge’
and so on…
The list of sweet delicacies seems very tempting but we decide to refrain from buying any. We look down at the floor. Lino, polished to within an inch of its life by some cleanliness obsessed shop assistant, trying desperately to show what he can do to management so that he can get a coveted role at the checkout.
As soon as we think this he arrives. Around the corner of the aisle with a mop and bucket cleaning constantly sweeping away and drowning any dust that may have settled in the last 15 minutes when he hasn’t cleaned the spot.
We turn around to look at the man that has just entered the store. He wanders in and grabs a metal basket from the stack by the door. We see that the man is over 6 foot tall and around 260 pounds in weight. He is wearing black denim jeans and a matching jacket. He also has black sneakers and a black t-shirt underneath the jacket. The blackness surrounding him cannot fail to have a result of himself and his psyche.
He has long, dark brown hair and a similarly coloured beard that make him look poor and disreputable.
This man is Non Compos Mentis.
He walks forward into the supermarket and looks towards a rack that is hanging from a shelf. He walks forwards towards the rack and seems to be staring at one item inpaticular. We move around to see what he is looking at and notice that the rack container numerous brands and flavours of chewing gum.
He looks on at one particular brand, ‘Hubba Bubba’ chewing gum, in particularly the apple flavour that is encased in a green paper packaging. He reaches out and grabs a pack of the chewing gum before throwing it into the basket and walking on down the aisle.]
Non Compos Mentis: Ah… The sweet chewy texture of chewing gum…
The chewing of the condiment providing a battle between the teeth and the gum…
The teeth battering the gum down constantly, unrelenting and brutal… The gum sticking and refusing to let go of the attacker time after time after time…
But the gum is soft… and weak… and cannot fight back…
It gets pummelled… continually… and finally gives up…
Benjamin Banks… you are the chewing gum…
You have faced retirement twice… you have been pummelled by the rabid jaws of the wrestling world for years… you have lost the battle and have been chewed up and spit out… twice…
And yet you emerge time after time… sticking to the boot of the wrestling goliath… that annoying piece of gum stuck to the sole of your shoe that you cant get off…
And like that piece of gum… Benjamin Banks… you have become stale… you have become a flavourless… stinking… rancid… ball of useless gunk… You are nothing to anyone anymore…
You were given one more chance… you were given a shot at my title… you were given a chance to justify your return from retirement and prove that you were worth a damn…
The feeling of beating you has become stale as so many people have beaten you before… The prize of your conquering has become degraded… it has become lessened… it has become jaded…
It seems ironic that I was in that position aswell… If I would have lost that match at Hostile Takeover I would not have received another championship shot… I would have shown that I was no good to management…
But I won…
You have no use anymore… you have no reason to be here… you should just be washed away… You should retire for good and leave wrestling forever…
[At this point Mentis has found himself standing at the top of the confectionaries aisle and is staring at the shelf that contains the 1 kilogram bags of sugar from all the various sellers and brands.
He walks over to the shelf and picks off a bag before throwing it into the basket and walking on.]
Non Compos Mentis: Pure sweetness…
The nectar that the who sweet industry works on…
The nectar that every kid goes to the candy store to get…
The sweet taste of the candy that makes the kids go back time after time…
My life has been driven on to achieve a similar thrill…
A thrill that one huge industry advertises to all of its admirers…
A thrill that every single wrestler runs into the business to achieve…
I am in this business for that sweet feeling that everyone looks for…
And I have that now…
The sweet taste of success… The sweet taste of beating Benjamin Banks again…
The sweet taste success that I have gained once more… a taste that I have not acquired for over 2 months…
Through hard work… through competition… through the ignorance of others… I have prevailed…
And after all… I take my place back on the top… back as the North American championship…
And I will use this as a stepping stone to get another shot at the PCW World Championship… My first one was a failure… but soon I shall return to the main event…
Soon I shall acquire an even greater taste of sweetness… soon I will have the World Title…
[Mentis continues to walk along the long aisles until he reaches the meat aisle. He stares down the long rows of meat based products and then walks forward into the lamb section of the aisle.
He continues to walk along the line passing several decent cuts of lamb until he reaches the section entitled ‘discount cuts’. This section is set aside for the cuts of meat that are only fit for flavouring stock or soup or maybe for adding substance to a stew or casserole.
Still, Mentis thought that one of these cuts seemed appropriate for the situation. A barely cooked and gristly piece of shin that would just bend over and be willing to get eaten if you ever tried to even eat it.
A piece of meat that is weak in every sense of the word. In flavour, in texture and in weight.
A piece of meat that was not ready to be eaten. A piece of meat that was not ready to pose a challenge to any human’s digestive system. A piece of meat that was unable to be distinguished for any of its qualities, be it flavour, intensity, texture or substance.
These cuts that made up the quota of the supermarkets meat stocks. The quality cuts like T-Bone, sirloin, fillet and leg making up the large proportion of the aisles whilst the discount cuts fill up the roster.
Mentis pick up a Lamb shin and throws in into the basket.]
Non Compos Mentis: Weak… Common… False…
Supermarkets sell these off as major cuts when they are false pretenders to the throne of the true quality cuts…
These weak challengers making their way up the sales list because the store decides they need a push…
Only because of this they become a success and manage to put up a fight with the quality cuts…
Much like the list of challengers fighting for my North American title…
Pegasus… Never really looked strong… he just fluked his way to the top because the management wanted him to challenge…
Showtime… He has impressed against weaker… less experienced… less intelligent opponents… Grimm beat you… he proved that you are not ready to go further… You might impress this week however… being as though you are my partner and you will have all of my help…
Banks… again… you refuse to go away… stuck in your ways… even though you have wasted your new chance…
All of you people… like the lamb… are sheep… all you are doing is following the flock… following the motions of the industry that tell you to fight whoever has the title and whoever is easiest to beat and make success come faster…
I assure you all of this… I will not be an easy victory… I will not allow you to surpass your place in this business and I will hold you back until I gain my World Title…
[Mentis walks on down the aisle and finds the Beef section that stands proud as the figurehead of the Stores meat section.]
Non Compos Mentis: I have always been a beef man myself…
Well done…
Grilled… nearly burned…
Charred by the heat that burns all of the weak meat around it like the lamb and others…
But still it stands proud and wholesome…
Ready for its proud place at the figurehead of the table…
Stood like a grizzled veteran… proud that in his final act of existence it shall be sacrificing itself but showcasing its abilities selfishly… not in the need to help the consumer… but to please itself…
The thing that has been burned by the flames of the fire so many time…
Its life being a long one of suffering as first lives a life as a battery farmed bovine before facing certain slaughter and an uncertain future as several cuts of meat that will be distributed bit by bit…
This one is lucky… it’s a T-Bone… it will be proudly served up in a restaurant as a prominent dish…
It will stand tall and fight on…
It will become a champion of sorts in the culinary world…
Just as I have become a champion in my world…
That will do…
[Mentis grabs a T-Bone steak off the shelf and walks off into the distance.
The scene then slowly fades to black.]
