Post by oldprydeaccountdoesnotwork on Mar 19, 2014 14:50:04 GMT -5
"Nothing's ever changed, you still turn away
You've washed your hands, you've made that all too clear
You just keep on living this lie
You refuse to see, you're denying me
the cross I bear but you don't seem to care
Even Judas knew he had lied
I keep wondering why I'm still calling your name through my tears"
They say you don’t choose your family. They are God’s gift to you, as you are to them. If you have been paying attention the last month, you know how I feel about God. As for His “gift”, I feel like it came from Jokey Smurf, not God. But I definitely didn’t fucking choose it.
My father, a ‘well-respected’ doctor who couldn’t keep his pants zipped up. Who knows who many illegitimate brothers and sisters I might have out there. My mother, a woman who could get depressed at the drop of a dime and insanely furious once the dime bounces. She might have had a good heart at one time; a few of my dim memories bear that out. But all I have are my faded memories, since she walked out the door and never returned.
Just imagine, if you will, the person you trusted most in this world, the one you spent the most time with, just up and leaving one day. She didn’t even have the decency to give her son a hug before storming away. You have those taillights of the car seared into your thoughts the rest of your life, wondering “What did I do wrong? How can I fix this? It must have been my fault.”
I know now of course that there was nothing I did. It was her selfishness about wanting a different life. I’ve thought before about tracking her down, but then I remember what the bitch did. I can’t ever forgive it. I can’t ever forget it. She’s dead to me.
So I can hear Mario out there, laughing about this. I don’t know what kind of upbringing he had to make him the way he is, but I bet it was better than mine. He’s probably going to say that this shows why I am the way I am, a guy who wears a mask to hide his identity. Maybe that was the starting point. Maybe that’s where all my troubles began.
But that isn’t even close to the end of it.
Family. “It’s not an important thing, it’s everything”. Fuck.
Time – The Past
~Open on a shot of a school hallway. The lockers along the sides and the banners hanging from above are a dead giveaway. We see a man appear, walking down the hall and casting a shadow out in front of him. It is the man we now know as the father from a previous viewing. He looks less clean-cut now, with longer, unkempt hair and stubble on his face. He’s wearing his doctor’s scrubs, and appears to be agitated. He turns and goes into the principal’s office, stopping at the front desk~
Father: Hello. I am here for my son. I was told to come to the office?
Secretary: Yes sir. If you will take a seat, the principal will call you in a minute.
~The father flashes one of his seductive smiles at the secretary, looking her up and down for a second. But she barely notices, or pretends not to, as there’s no interest there. He rolls his eyes and goes to sit down, almost tripping on the way there. Just after he sits down, the principal’s door opens, and he’s called in, forcing him to stand back up again. He shakes the principal’s hand and sits down~
Principal: Thank you for coming in. I’m sure you’re very busy.
Father: So what happened? All they said was that he was in a fight.
Principal: Frankly we don’t know what happened. There was a brawl involving several students, but no one has confessed to what started it. Your son has been very tight-lipped about it. He took a lot of hits but our nurse thinks he will be okay. He just needs a day or two of rest.
Father: And I had to come pick him up? Why couldn’t he walk?
~The principal looks surprised at this but he rallies quickly~
Principal: It’s not easy to walk a long distance with bruised ribs, but he wanted to. We thought it would be best to call you to pick him up instead.
Father: Sorry that came out wrong. I’m just very busy at work, and have a lot on my mind.
Principal: I can tell. Have you been getting enough sleep? You look, tired.
~The principal was going to say something else, but changed his mind at the last minute. He sniffs the air for a second without saying anything, but the father gets the implication~
Father: Don’t worry about me. Where’s my son? I’ll get him out of your hair.
Principal: Just down the hall. I can have my secretary show you where to go.
~The father gets up and leaves. The principal watches him go, and then makes a note in the boy’s folder. There could be other problems that haven’t come to light yet, and he wants to be sure it’s documented. A visit to the counselor might be good for the boy, too. We go outside the school again where we see the young man, his face still hard to see due to some special effects, getting into the family car. He’s wearing a letter jacket that now has blood across it, making a unique color scheme. The father gets in the other side and they start to drive off for home~
Father: How are you feeling?
Young Man: I will be okay. I am just sore.
Father: So what happened?
Young Man: There were some gang guys attacking this other nerdy brother, just because of how he looks. Assholes.
Father: Language, son.
Young Man: Sorry. But I stand by it. They were assholes. So I stepped into help.
Father: How many were there?
Young Man: Three, maybe four.
~The father looks over at his son, surprised that he would dive into a situation like that with so much against him~
Father: That doesn’t sound smart. You know fighting doesn't solve anything. You could have called a teacher or a security guard.
Young Man: There was no time. I had to get involved.
Father: Did you at least win the fight? Knock out someone else’s teeth? Something?
~The young man looks out the window, not answering such a self-serving question. The father lets it slide~
Father: Well I hope it was worth it to you. You’ve now got a mark on your permanent folder for fighting. I’m going to have to reschedule several meetings I had this morning because of this. Work is hard enough without you adding to it.
Young Man: Were you really working this morning?
Father: What is that supposed to mean?
~The young man says nothing. But his foot does nudge the bottle laying on the passenger side floor. The empty bottle. The father chooses not to see it~
Father: A doctor is always working you know that. I could be called in to consult at any time. Once we get home, head in and put some ice on your side. Take some aspirin. I will be home late.
Young Man: Whatever you say.
~The car drives on, with the two having nothing else to say to each other. The father reaches down uncomfortably and turns on the radio. The song starts to play. Fade out~
Time – The Present
~We are back in the car that was loaned to Pryde and Grant for their travelling to various shows. The same song is playing on the radio, probably on a classics station. Pryde is looking at it, as if remembering. Grant is looking out the window, trying to spot any sign of Trix, who ran away after her own parents appeared at the treatment center~
Grant: I don’t see her anywhere. How did she get away so fast?
Pryde: We'll keep searching.
Grant: Okay, but we are going to go to Universal Studios at some point, aren’t we?
Pryde: Yes, once we find her, we can go there to train.
Grant: Train? I was talking about the free passes we have to ride the rides! I want to go see the Harry Potter area!
~Pryde looks at Grant, seeing him in a different light~
Grant: What’s that look for? They are supposed to have great rides there! Three-D shit! It’s not like I want to get a wand given to me or anything.
Pryde: You don’t?
Grant: Well if the line is short and we have time, maybe.
Pryde: We can’t worry about that now. We need to find Trix. Do you think she got in a cab?
Grant: With what money? She had nothing on her. She had to have walked somewhere.
~The light turns green, so Pryde pulls forward. They have been going in an expanding circle trying to find Trix. Who knows what she’ll get herself into next, after the problems she has had in recent years. Pryde is worried. How much of this is his fault for confronting the parents the way he did?~
Pryde: She must have said something to you, some sort of clue.
Grant: I don’t think so. She didn’t even seem interested in going to Universal Studios. All she said was that she would love a better view of Orlando whatever that means.
Pryde: A better view? Where is the closest, tallest building you can see from here?
Grant: Tallest building? You think she’s going to be sight-seeing now?
Pryde: I see one over there. It would have been in walking distance. Let’s go that way.
~Pryde quickly goes over two lanes of traffic and turns left ignoring the horns. Behind him he sees another car to the same thing. He doesn’t say anything to Grant yet~
Grant: I hope she’s there. We need to get this over with. We’ve still got to prep for what’s to come this weekend.
Pryde: I know. You think I should have some sort of detailed plan to deal with the Family.
Grant: Not detailed but at least a plan. You know they’ve already got one: superior numbers.
Pryde: I have never been one to let the odds decide my fights.
Grant: I know but when you have a chance to even the odds, maybe you should think about it. What about those guys who stood with you in the ring at Massacre?
Pryde: I can’t count on any of them. They all have their own agendas.
Grant: Maybe but you could talk to them and see if your agendas intersect.
Pryde: I’ve got options, I’m sure I’ll weigh them all and do what needs to be done for the match.
~They make another turn. The building is getting closer. So is the car behind them~
Grant: Just Maurako alone won’t be easy. He’s got 5 inches on you and who knows how many pounds.
Pryde: He has the size advantage, the experience advantage, and the numbers behind him. But I’ve got my own advantages. I’m faster, which is key in a ladder match. I’m more willing to take risks, also key to a ladder match. I’m younger which allows me to bounce back easier. And I’m still an unknown to him. He may have teamed with me, but he doesn’t know me.
Grant: I think your best advantage is that he’s going to come into the match thinking it’s an easy win for him. He seems the type that would overlook you.
Pryde: I don’t know about that. His men attacked me at Massacre for a reason. But he could underestimate me, since I have no history other than OCW. I’m sure he also has his own problems to deal with this week like we do.
Grant: I just want to see him fall off a ladder and take himself out. That would be fucking sweet!
Pryde: It might happen to me too. As I said before, luck plays a factor in this match too.
~Pryde moves to the right lane and pulls up in front of the SunTrust Center, the tallest building in Orlando. The skyscraper climbs high into the blue sky, with clouds near the top. People can be seen coming and going at the restaurant on the ground floor. Behind their car, the other car pulls up. Pryde gets out, turning to see the driver, Trix’s father, getting out~
Pryde: Did you have a good tail? I could have lost you but I didn’t see the point.
Trix’s Father: Is she here? Did she call you?
Grant: No, but something she mentioned brought us here.
Trix’s Father: You mean I followed you because of a hunch? Shit! I should have stayed with my wife, she thought she knew where Trix would go.
Pryde: Your mistake, not mine. You can leave whenever you like.
~Trix’s father gets up into Pryde’s face. Grant rolls his eyes at another confrontation. He walks away to the doorman, to ask him about Trix, while the other two face off~
Trix’s Father: You’re the one who can leave. We don’t need you here!
Pryde: No, she was the one who needed you, years ago. Fathers are supposed to be there for their children.
Trix’s Father: And I was there for her then, no matter what she says! My wife and I are handling our responsibility, and we will take care of this how we see fit!
Pryde: You mean like when you tried to have her committed when she was younger?
~The father winces at the mention of what they had done~
Trix’s Father: We said we made mistakes. We thought it would be in her best interest to get professional help. Maybe we shouldn’t have given up on her like that, but look at her now! Clearly she needed something we couldn’t give!
Pryde: But you didn’t even try to give it. You just wanted to pawn her off on someone else!
Trix’s Father: Isn’t that what you were trying to do this afternoon? Put her in a home?
Pryde: But not forget her. We were going to be with her every step of the way.
Trix’s Father: So would we! All we want is to be back in her life!
~Trix’s father tears up, shaking his head as he thinks about all the time he’s lost. It hits a chord with Pryde, who takes a few deep breaths to calm down~
Pryde: Maybe you are here to help. Maybe not. Either way, we need to see if she’s here, and you need to stay in the back, because she isn’t ready to see you.
Trix’s Father: I just want her to be safe.
~Behind them, Grant is having a heated discussion with the doorman, who is talking on his radio. He turns and hurries over to them~
Grant: Guys, let’s break it up and get upstairs.
Pryde: What is it, Grant?
Grant: I described Trix, and the doorman said she had gone in a few minutes before. Now they’re reporting that a girl fitting her description has gotten onto the roof. They’re calling in emergency services. They are afraid that she might jump.
Trix’s Father: No!
~Ashen-faced, Trix’s Father pushes past them and runs for the door. Pryde and Grant are right behind them. They disappear from sight, heading for the elevators to the top floor. Fade out~
Time – The Past
~The young man gets off his bicycle and jogs a couple of steps to slow it down, as he reached his home. It’s the only one he’s ever known. The window on the second floor still leads to his room, where he grew up, and where he watched as his mother disappeared into the darkness. There has been a lot of depressing moments there, but the young man is hoping this will be a happy occasion. He holds in his hand his report card, showing all A’s. One even shows an A+. The young man goes to put his bike in the garage, set to get something to eat and celebrate by himself. But this time, he is not alone. The car is in the garage, parked badly enough that it hit the set of golf clubs on the side. The young man hurries in, wondering what is going on. He finds his father sitting in the living room, a large bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand~
Young Man: Dad? What are you doing home so early?
Father: What, you think I don’t desrve t’ be here?
~The father is very drunk, more than the son has ever seen. Some of the liquor spills out as the father takes another drink~
Young Man: What’s going on?
Father: You know those bas-tards? Those sons of bitches who call themselves a com-mit-tee? They can go fuck themselves.
~The father has a piece of paper himself, sitting next to him. The son can read the top line, referring to the father’s dismissal from the hospital. His drinking has finally caught up to him~
Father: I was perfe, perfectly fine. Nobody ever complained. I saved that woman’s life, and this, that’s the thanks I get from her? Fuck her for saying she was scarred, she was alive, damnit!
Young Man: Dad, I’m sorry.
Father: You think I want your sympathy? They’ll be the ones who are sorry, when I put their asses out of bizness! I’ll open my own fucking practice, I’ll show them who has a problem! Fuckers!
~The son takes a knee besides his father, not sure what to do. The alcohol smell is very strong. More than half the bottle is empty, and it may not have been the first. The son carefully gets the bottle and puts it on the floor, out of reach~
Young Man: Don’t worry, dad. We’ll get through this, I’m sure of it. Once you sober up, we’ll talk over what can happen. Maybe I can find a side job or something else to help you.
~The father thinks about what his son has just said. He then swings his right arm, catching the surprised young man across the face with a serious punch. The son falls, as the drunken dad stands up and starts to kick him~
Father: You? Help me? You caused all of this! This is all your fault! Fuck you! Fuck you, you piece of shit! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
~The kicks and blows keep coming, whaling down on the son, who is covering up, trying to protect himself. The father is screaming now, letting out everything, as the view zooms out slowly, showing every hit. Fade out~
