Post by Damian Payne on Mar 20, 2014 19:42:39 GMT -5
"He that committeth sin is of the devil; for the devil sinneth from the beginning." 1 John 3:8
"Thanks a Million"
Wal-Mart store somewhere in Orlando
Thursday, March 120
Sometime in the afternoon
[The gentle sounds of elevator music playing would almost drown out the caustic fluorescent lighting raining down on our heads, if we knew how bad fluorescent can be for our complexions. Even more so, the sounds of shopping carts rumbling by in front of us would drown out the elevator music, if we cared enough to hum along to the tune of "All Shook Up" by Elvis Presley. We start at eye level - where it can be seen that a layer of dust that hasn't been swept away. Foot prints of all sizes are imprinted, if only temporarily, on the tiles. It is soon obvious which section of the store we are in: The greeting card aisle. Around the corner of the aisle, striding confidently is Damian Payne. He's in a pair of loose black jogging pants and a black "OCW" t-shirt. His hair is pulled back and braided behind his head so as not to draw too much attention to himself. He sneaks past a young mother and her child, politely excusing himself as he does so. He points his finger, scanning the racks and racks of greeting cards, everything ranging from "Friends are Forever" to "My Dearest Condolences on the Death of Your Pet." After only a few seconds of searching he finds what he is looking for.]
Payne: Perfect.
[Damian starts grabbing at the cards in the racks, counting how many he takes and being sure to take an equal number of envelopes. We turn about 90 degrees to see what sort of cards he might be throwing into his hand basket. But if you've been paying any sort of attention to what's been transpiring lately in OCW, you probably already know what to expect. The little tabs jutting above each of the holders reads "Get Well Soon" in white letters over a pastel blue background. Now that Damian has thrown all the cards off the racks into his cart, he's left a giant gaping hole where all the cards ought to be. He looks over to the other half of the aisle, and spots another card that would be perfect for the other person he needs to communicate to, and grabs it along with an envelope and sets it in the basket portion of his cart. Fade to black. Fade back in to the same Wal-Mart, but now we've caught back up to Damian as he is waiting to be rung up by whatever associate awaits him at the checkout. He tips the contents of his hand basket out onto the conveyer belt which begins moving the load towards the scanner inset into the counter top. A teenage girl, maybe 18 or 19, mousey blonde, brown eyes, whose name badge states that her name is "Tammy" starts passing the cards over the infrared beams, and the familiar electronic "bleep!" fills the air, each one adding an exclamation to the tune of "Everyday People". The girl turns her head to see what exactly she's scanning and is visibly taken aback by the stacks of cards being purchased. To make lemonade out of lemons, she also takes notice of who is purchasing items.]
Tammy: Oh, my - it's you - I've seen you before somewhere. You're that Payne guy, aren't you?
Payne: Uh, yeah. That's me. Do you mind if we keep the attention down to the minimum? I'm on a time schedule.
Tammy: Um. Sure. But one of the guys who works here is a big fan of yours. Mind if I have him meet you? I promise we'll keep it quiet.
Payne: Guess it can't hurt to meet another one of my fans. Go bring him over here.
[Before Damian even notices what the girl does, she takes the phone mounted into the post on her till and flips the switch on it from red to green and presses a small button on the handle of the phone. Her voice cuts out the music and carries over the entire establishment.]
"JAKE IN HOUSEWARES, COME TO TILL 7, PLEASE!!!"
Payne:(disappointed) Gyah...
[She continues scanning the cards through, trying to group some together to make things faster, giving a cheerful glance to Damian every once in a while until "Jake in Housewares" arrives. He replies with a wry, carefully uncomfortable smile. Three or four minutes pass before our mystery guest arrives at the checkout. Another teenager, male, clean cut, dark hair, growing a soul patch to look more alternative than his classmates, staring Damian up and down to make sure he's the real thing. The plastic nametag on his shirt reads "Jake".]
Jake: Are you really Damian-
Payne: Yes. Yes, I am. Can we keep it on the down-low, please? I don't want to be drawing attention to myself today.
Jake: Is it because of what happened the other week on Massacre? Don't be ashamed of that, dude. Everybody knows that you and Stevenson weren't on the same page.
Payne: You speak truths, Jake. All truths. I don't even think we were reading the same book.
Jake: Yeah, tell me about it. Good thing I don't work with many other wrestling fans, or this place would be a friggin' madhouse.
Payne: I have that effect on people. Don't let it bum you out, kid. You know I always pull through in a pinch.
Jake: I know ya do. If you don't mind, um, what's with all the "get well soon" cards, man?
[Damian stops and thinks of a tactful, if not whimsical answer.]
Payne: These are for the other participants in the battle royal on Sunday. Because team by team they are going to be taken out of action and out of the running for the OCW Tag Team Championships. I personally don't care if they have been in the promotion for a while or whether they just showed up. Heck they can throw Spider Girl and Doinkette in there as a team for all I care. It makes no odds to my partner and myself. Everyone that's not standing by my side in that match is not going to see the end of the match. And there ain't a damn thing they can do about it. Not even in their dreams.
Oh and Jason X - do some research man, that chick is his wife!
Jake: Who's the "thank you" card for? The guy that beat you last Monday?
Payne: Yeah - Drew Stevenson! I've been a grumpy old bastard just recently, thinking that I should get preferential treatment. That's certainly not the case at all. Everything I've ever had - I've earned. I went into Monday's show assuming I was going to win and Drew made the most of my attitude and promptly defeated me. He made me tap out like the spoilt little disrespectful bitch I was being. He humbled me, and so I thought I would send a very special "Thank You" to him. Admittedly I lashed out at him after the match and that was wrong of me, but it was just my primal instinct.
[Payne glances at the camera.]
Payne: Sorry, Drew!
[Jake smiles - obviously forgetting that Payne's birthday is in June and not March. Payne turns to Tammy.]
Payne: How much do I owe you?
Tammy: Your total is $15.74
Payne: Credit card? Can I get an extra receipt with that, too, please?
[We close-up to Damian's hand swiping his American Express card downward through the reader. The stroke makes a loud boom around us, drowning out even the vilest screeching of children and elevator music. We cut straight to black.]
"Thanks a Million"
Wal-Mart store somewhere in Orlando
Thursday, March 120
Sometime in the afternoon
[The gentle sounds of elevator music playing would almost drown out the caustic fluorescent lighting raining down on our heads, if we knew how bad fluorescent can be for our complexions. Even more so, the sounds of shopping carts rumbling by in front of us would drown out the elevator music, if we cared enough to hum along to the tune of "All Shook Up" by Elvis Presley. We start at eye level - where it can be seen that a layer of dust that hasn't been swept away. Foot prints of all sizes are imprinted, if only temporarily, on the tiles. It is soon obvious which section of the store we are in: The greeting card aisle. Around the corner of the aisle, striding confidently is Damian Payne. He's in a pair of loose black jogging pants and a black "OCW" t-shirt. His hair is pulled back and braided behind his head so as not to draw too much attention to himself. He sneaks past a young mother and her child, politely excusing himself as he does so. He points his finger, scanning the racks and racks of greeting cards, everything ranging from "Friends are Forever" to "My Dearest Condolences on the Death of Your Pet." After only a few seconds of searching he finds what he is looking for.]
Payne: Perfect.
[Damian starts grabbing at the cards in the racks, counting how many he takes and being sure to take an equal number of envelopes. We turn about 90 degrees to see what sort of cards he might be throwing into his hand basket. But if you've been paying any sort of attention to what's been transpiring lately in OCW, you probably already know what to expect. The little tabs jutting above each of the holders reads "Get Well Soon" in white letters over a pastel blue background. Now that Damian has thrown all the cards off the racks into his cart, he's left a giant gaping hole where all the cards ought to be. He looks over to the other half of the aisle, and spots another card that would be perfect for the other person he needs to communicate to, and grabs it along with an envelope and sets it in the basket portion of his cart. Fade to black. Fade back in to the same Wal-Mart, but now we've caught back up to Damian as he is waiting to be rung up by whatever associate awaits him at the checkout. He tips the contents of his hand basket out onto the conveyer belt which begins moving the load towards the scanner inset into the counter top. A teenage girl, maybe 18 or 19, mousey blonde, brown eyes, whose name badge states that her name is "Tammy" starts passing the cards over the infrared beams, and the familiar electronic "bleep!" fills the air, each one adding an exclamation to the tune of "Everyday People". The girl turns her head to see what exactly she's scanning and is visibly taken aback by the stacks of cards being purchased. To make lemonade out of lemons, she also takes notice of who is purchasing items.]
Tammy: Oh, my - it's you - I've seen you before somewhere. You're that Payne guy, aren't you?
Payne: Uh, yeah. That's me. Do you mind if we keep the attention down to the minimum? I'm on a time schedule.
Tammy: Um. Sure. But one of the guys who works here is a big fan of yours. Mind if I have him meet you? I promise we'll keep it quiet.
Payne: Guess it can't hurt to meet another one of my fans. Go bring him over here.
[Before Damian even notices what the girl does, she takes the phone mounted into the post on her till and flips the switch on it from red to green and presses a small button on the handle of the phone. Her voice cuts out the music and carries over the entire establishment.]
"JAKE IN HOUSEWARES, COME TO TILL 7, PLEASE!!!"
Payne:(disappointed) Gyah...
[She continues scanning the cards through, trying to group some together to make things faster, giving a cheerful glance to Damian every once in a while until "Jake in Housewares" arrives. He replies with a wry, carefully uncomfortable smile. Three or four minutes pass before our mystery guest arrives at the checkout. Another teenager, male, clean cut, dark hair, growing a soul patch to look more alternative than his classmates, staring Damian up and down to make sure he's the real thing. The plastic nametag on his shirt reads "Jake".]
Jake: Are you really Damian-
Payne: Yes. Yes, I am. Can we keep it on the down-low, please? I don't want to be drawing attention to myself today.
Jake: Is it because of what happened the other week on Massacre? Don't be ashamed of that, dude. Everybody knows that you and Stevenson weren't on the same page.
Payne: You speak truths, Jake. All truths. I don't even think we were reading the same book.
Jake: Yeah, tell me about it. Good thing I don't work with many other wrestling fans, or this place would be a friggin' madhouse.
Payne: I have that effect on people. Don't let it bum you out, kid. You know I always pull through in a pinch.
Jake: I know ya do. If you don't mind, um, what's with all the "get well soon" cards, man?
[Damian stops and thinks of a tactful, if not whimsical answer.]
Payne: These are for the other participants in the battle royal on Sunday. Because team by team they are going to be taken out of action and out of the running for the OCW Tag Team Championships. I personally don't care if they have been in the promotion for a while or whether they just showed up. Heck they can throw Spider Girl and Doinkette in there as a team for all I care. It makes no odds to my partner and myself. Everyone that's not standing by my side in that match is not going to see the end of the match. And there ain't a damn thing they can do about it. Not even in their dreams.
Oh and Jason X - do some research man, that chick is his wife!
Jake: Who's the "thank you" card for? The guy that beat you last Monday?
Payne: Yeah - Drew Stevenson! I've been a grumpy old bastard just recently, thinking that I should get preferential treatment. That's certainly not the case at all. Everything I've ever had - I've earned. I went into Monday's show assuming I was going to win and Drew made the most of my attitude and promptly defeated me. He made me tap out like the spoilt little disrespectful bitch I was being. He humbled me, and so I thought I would send a very special "Thank You" to him. Admittedly I lashed out at him after the match and that was wrong of me, but it was just my primal instinct.
[Payne glances at the camera.]
Payne: Sorry, Drew!
[Jake smiles - obviously forgetting that Payne's birthday is in June and not March. Payne turns to Tammy.]
Payne: How much do I owe you?
Tammy: Your total is $15.74
Payne: Credit card? Can I get an extra receipt with that, too, please?
[We close-up to Damian's hand swiping his American Express card downward through the reader. The stroke makes a loud boom around us, drowning out even the vilest screeching of children and elevator music. We cut straight to black.]
