Post by djblue on May 1, 2006 13:44:12 GMT -5
DARKNESS. In the background, Pearl Jam's "Dead Man" plays.
Sailing on my every step, inching off of the earth...
It’s magnified by the things I've done, the thing that I've become.
FADE IN.
INT: UNDERGROUND PARKING LOT - EVENING
The night before Trauma. Anthony Douglas walks alone in a parking lot towards a door, wearing his normal gear, a duffel bag over his shoulder.
ANTHONY
The lonliest part of being a fighter is showing up at an event the day before, especially for me. Down here, I am truly alone. I listen to the sound of my own footsteps and my own breathing. Everything echos. Everything reverberates. I leave the comfort of my home in Tucson, or my mountain home in Flagstaff to come here and fight pieces of crap in front of people who cheer for more blood. And I give them that. And they still aren't entertained. I beat the hell out of people, and they want more! It's like a cheap juke box. . .three plays for a quarter and people still want more. More music, more blood, more fighting. . .more bloodshed, more violence. More hatred and more carnage.
Anthony opens a door and walks into the backstage area.
ANTHONY
And tomorrow, I fight a Human glass jaw and a terribly contrived plot hole from a Warcraft game. Lantlas, I'm tired of this "I'm an elf" sh*t! You're not, you never were, you never will be. Elves are make believe, like your ability to fight. Elves are fiction, like my caring about what you think or say about me. Run your tedious little television spots of me saying things, then play Jon Stewart and rip them apart. Yes, Lantlas, I am cryptic. I do repeat myself. I am restrained into eerie calm. I look inside myself. I am introspective. I am full of hate and full of self-loathing. I do hate what I am and what I've become. Deep down, I wish I was dead. . .I know I already am. Sometimes, it's the cold serenity that makes going through the day seem easier, until I realize that I still have the problem I refuse to deal with. I still breathe in and out! I still walk! I am still alive. I can't pull that trigger. And then, Lantlas, I realize that the only thing that keeps me semi-lucent in you! Because, deep down, I know, as well as you do, that you won't be in the rank and file of the standing much longer. Just being a fraud is the least of your problems, because Anthony Douglas will be interfering with your ability to chew, swallow, walk, reproduce and stand at tomorrow. You want to say I am nothing. Hell, son. . .I already know that! When I die, my body will become worm sh*t! As will yours. When I go to the bathroom, my sh*t stinks. . .as does yours. And when I bleed, it's red and human. . .just like yours and just like you! Lantlas, the sick thing is, you fail to understand that, so you insult, belittle, bemoan and cry like a bitch! "I'm a champion." "I'm 12 - 1" or whatever the hell you are. Son, I don't give a sh*t what you are, were or think you are. You can hold the record for longest fart after a night of gay sex with your tag team partner now or the one from the past, Seth Sinn. . .I'll take the record, break it into 1 thousand pieces and shove each and every one of them so far up your ass you'll hear showtunes with every bowel movement. People tell me you can't keep talent down. . .it always rises to the top. Whatever. Titles, gold, prizes, prestige. . .what a bunch of crap! Don't preach your dreams to me! Anthony Douglas doesn't have room for pride. You want gratification. . .enter the Ms. America paegent.
Anthony walks into a dressing room, drops his green duffel bag and looks at the mirror.
ANTHONY
On the other side of that is a man I don't know, but I used to be. I know he's there. My compassionate side, my empathetic side. I know, somewhere buried is the Anthony Douglas that I used to be. But, now, all that's here is me. And I'm called a rip off and a creation. I've been likened to Chris Benoit because I chose the name "Wolverine." I have been compared to Steve Austin because I use the word "son" alot when I speak, as do alot of cowboys from Arizona. I've been likened by Lantlas to the Undertaker because I say I am completely dead! Well, Chris Beniot I am not! He is a perfectly nice, sympathetic guy outside the ring. He cried when his buddy Eddie Guerrero died. Me, if I were there, I would have spit in Eddie's casket and pissed on the grave! But, sometimes I hear that the nightmare will end. Long ago, I was told by a preist that if I accept Jesus, I will end my nightmare. Some collar wearing pansy will told me to pray for forgiveness and beg for mercy from Jesus and G-d. I told him to kiss my ass. But I do have a prayer. "Dear G-d, please forgive me to making Lantlas' last breath on Earth be the one where he cursed the day he was given life. Please forgive me for rearranging American Nightmare's face to make it resemble his ass. Please forgive me for beating these two into the ground until I was pulled off by police. And please forgive Anthony Douglas for not caring whether or not you forgive me. F*ck you, G-d, and I'm glad I did it!" Sometimes, poking and prodding a caged wild animal isn't smart, Nightmare. Remember, boy. . .domestic animals have Masters. Wild Animals only have victims. I've been called one for many years. I guess it must be true.
Anthony opens a locker and begins to put his gear in it.
ANTHONY
You want respect, Nightmare? You think, because I aligned myself with your phony little over-rated group you deserve it? Fine! I'm going to beat your ass so bad you'll look like a Harlem Cub Scout, sir! I'm going to make you cry out for Jason Willard to wash away the pain, sir! Afterwards, you're going to have nightmares of Anthony Douglas pounding and beating the hell out of you until you awake in the hospital in a cold sweat, wondering when I am going to continue the beating, sir! There is no mercy! Don't show it to me, because I am not going to show you any! You want respect. . .you're not going to find it. You may have Jason Willard licking your ass as much as he is licking Destiny's ass, but deep down, respect is something Anthony Douglas doesn't have. All I have is a hatred so deep it would take years to comprehend! You want respect. . .look at your dog! To be honest, I know you are scared, boy! I know in my heart that somewhere below the bravado, you are sh*tting your pants! Why? Because you know you don't have what it takes to put me down! No one has yet. I've lost battles and fights. . .but I've always beaten the pieces of garbage I've wanted to. The problem is, where is the therapy? I want someone to take me out! I want someone to put me away! Hell, I want someone to make me regret being born. I am a pervert! I am a sado-maschoist in a non-sexual way! Beat me, because I enjoy it when I beat someone else! You need to take your own advice, Nightmare and just walk away! You decided to think I cared about you? You thought I was there to carry Willard's water and do what he told me to do? Nightmare, you and Lantlas, especially Lantlas, are here to serve as a sounding board for the "Anthony Douglas House of Wholistic Ass Kicking Therapy." And, now that Lantlas grew a pair of testicles, I'll give him the beating he needed as a child! I try to limit what I say. You know how I feel, Nightmare. I'm cold, calculated, focused and very, very sadistic. This won't be for the faint of heart! Deep down, you know I'm right. Deep down, the fact of the matter is, son, is that if you replace American with "Complete" and Nightmare with "Bullsh*t," that's exactly what I think of you! The PCW will soon want me to challenge for those little leather straps with tin on them. I have no use for them. If Greed is what makes the PCW go down, I want nothing of it. I'm another deadly sin! I'm Wrath, son!
Anthony puts the duffel bag in the locker and grabs a book, the "Misanthrope."
ANTHONY
Sadly, right now, there is something I do give a damn about. She's back in Flagstaff and will be watching me on Television with her sisters tomorrow. I read this play and I realize this play is me. I am the misanthrope. And it's disheartening. Two weeks ago, all I wanted was Lantlas' head on a platter. Lantlas, I don't care if you're use this as weakness, boy. The Wolverine cares about something. What the f*ck ever! Nothing changes! So run whatever lame Sixty minutes bullsh*t you want. . .hype yourself up, make yourself look like you're all powerful, son. You know I'll be in the arena. I'll take your ass out before hand, after the match, during. . .whenever, son! Because I know somewhere in that flippant little arrogant body of yours, you need to win! I don't have to win! I don't care! Beating people is what I do to try to exorcize my demons! Add the American Nightmare to the equation as well and listen to him say "I will make your life a living hell" or some sh*t like that. Honestly, when his mouth clicks on, my ears click off. You want to make my existance a living hell? I'm already there. There is nothing you can do to hurt me or punish me more than I have already punished myself. You seem to think I care. (ANTHONY SHAKES HIS HEAD) I don't. You have two bitches to care about. . .a poser with no real life and a man who can't figure . I have no one. They were stolen from me! I lost the ability to care, show pain, show empathy, show compassion or show emotion. I am living a living hell every second I live! You want to make it a living hell. . .you're 10 years too late!
Anthony sits in a corner and opens the book.
ANTHONY
Two weeks ago, I wanted Lantlas' head on a platter. Now, I actually have someone watching me, who actually gives a sh*t about me. I don't know how to process this. All I know is tomorrow night, I get what I've wanted for six months, and I'm not even sure I want it anymore. I don't understand this. Tomorrow night, I get Lantlas in a fight. And all I want to do is erase the American Nightmare from existance, then go back home and talk to Melissa. I don't even. . .I just don't know anymore. Now, leave me. I have reading to catch up on.
Anthony begins reading his book.
FADE TO BLACK
The song "Dead Man" by Pearl Jam comes up again. As it gets to the end, it fade out.
Every lift of my hand,
Coffee cup up and back,
Is magnified
by the things I've done
The things I've seen, the things I've caused,
I'm a dead man walking.
The hammer that I once brought down now hovers over me.
Casts a shadow, a cross/across onto me.
The hallways are all mocking me.
What I've become they're all mocking me.
I'm a dead man walking. A dead man walking. A dead man walking.
I'm a dead man walking. Dead man walking. Dead man walking.