Post by Crash Rodriguez on Aug 9, 2019 21:58:47 GMT -5
We open in front of a Build-a-Bear workshop when the door swings open violently. Out steps the “OCW Newcomer of July” with an angry sneer filling his face. He makes a beeline straight towards his 03 Chevy Impala. Closely behind him is his Margarita Mix partner, Lilith. As the young man reaches his car and opens the driver side door he turns towards her.
Crash: “Get fucking serious. I’m trying to win, not play your juvenile games. So tell me what the fuck could be so important that I should drive across fucking town to a damn Build-a-Bear? Was jumping over obstacles while you threw rotting fruit at me not enough for one week? Huh!? FUCKING TELL ME!”
Lilith looks at Crash and then looks down at the floor missing her wife now more than ever.
Lilith: “Sarah would have driven this far to come here for me.”
Crash: “I’m not your hocus pocus, wife. I won’t have you regurgitate nonsense and act like this is a fucking game. This is my fucking life. I have nearly died in many rings like the one we’re about to be in together. This isn’t a game for me. THIS IS MY SHIT FOR LUCK LIFE YOU’RE FUCKING WITH!”
The Rookie sits in the front seat, turning the key. It stutters a bit so he gives it another agitated go. The car kicks to life, the engine harsh, as the Crooked Man stomps on the gas leaving the scene. Crash looks out his rearview mirror for a second, eyeing Lilith on the sidewalk behind him, screaming her head off. The rookie presses play on the car radio and he’s greeted with the opening of “She’s Kerosene” by The Interrupters. He listens to it on his drive, linking the song to his current situation. He asks himself why did he have to be saddled with this crazy bitch? Time passes and the car pulls into a parking space.
Crash: “I deserve a little relaxation. Look at who we have had to deal with.”
The rising star steps out of his car and walks into the building. As soon as he steps through, some barely audible music is heard and a pair of men sit at a bar. Crash eyes around the small dive bar before deciding to take a seat at the bar, from his wallet he removes his ID and leaving it on the table. The woman tending the bar walks over to him, leans over the bar, exposing her cleavage a bit before speaking.
Bartender: “Hey there, Sugah. What can I get for you?”
Her lips smack as she speaks while chewing some gum. Crash realizes he has been staring at her chest for a while too long. He makes eye contact with her, as she smiles at him.
Crash: “Biggest bottle of tequila you got, please. ”
The woman turns and grabs him a bottle and a glass, the man sitting closest to him turns and says something to the young man, as the barkeep lays the bottle in front of Crash.
Man: “Tequila huh? I hate tequila, hate it, hate it, hate it. My drink of choice is whiskey. I can drink whiskey straight.”
Crash: “Yeah? Good to hear man”
Man: “Now women. Women love vodka. They love rum too. Remember Malibu rum, kid? I forgot about it, I’m a bit older than you, and back in the day, Malibu rum was the shit. Oh that reminds me of college.”
Crash: “uh-huh”
Man: “I’m a pretty smart guy. I mean wasn’t no good at geometry-”
With that Crash grabs his tequila and makes his way towards the doors. We hear the man start making banter with the guy sitting next to him as Crash Rodriguez leaves the bar. Crash looks up in the sky, seeing the night finally begin to breakthrough. He nods to himself before entering his car and driving away.
Crash: “Back to what works. Being alone. God damn it, why her? Of all the damn people in OCW, I get partnered with Lilith. We have a fucking match coming up. Everything is riding on this fucking match. What doesn’t she understand, I mean Duce already took her fucking belt, so why not put a little fucking effort into winning this damn thing.”
Crash pulls to a stop. He sighs while trying to relax, before finally grasping the top of his skull. He smacks his head forward into the steering wheel while emitting winces of pain. He reaches over and opens his door. He steps out, holding clumps of his hair walking down a winding path of gravel with his bottle in hand. As he reaches the familiar shed, he drops to a knee before regrouping and standing back up tall. He pops the top of his tequila and begins to take a long swig from the bottle, it goes on and on until half the bottle is already gone.
Crash: “I keep coming back here. It’s the only place that makes sense to me anymore. I feel in control. Just because that dark-haired floozy won’t take shit serious doesn’t mean I won’t. She may be ok with losing this fucking Mix, but I got too much riding on it.”
The young rookie opens the shed door, stepping in and quickly pulling the light string, illuminating the small room. We see words etched into the wooden walls. “Apex Society”, “The Modern Era” and “Age of Tomorrow”. Crash runs his hands over the carvings before standing at his workbench.
Crash: “Duce Jones. He’s a challenge. He beat Lilith and Sarah for the belts, regardless if they are in his hands or not, he’s a fucking champion right now. He walked out of Redacted with gold, something I wasn’t able to do. It’ll be fun to see how we stack up against each other.”
The 21-year-old, who’s been blowing up the OCW landscape, slaps open his toolbox. From inside he pulls out a manilla folder. He peaks through it, reading a few lines from each page.
Crash: “Scott Stevens. What can I say, he’s been around the block. Tough competitor. Texan boy. He may have a weird fetish for hair, and he did lose to Great Scott, but the way I see it, Lurrr screwed him. This man will surely bring everything he has. The question is, will he bring enough? I don’t know how well Lilith and I will work together but the same goes for those two.”
Crash turns his head, popping his neck. His shoulders relax as he brings the alcohol to his lips. He sits studying some of the pages.
Crash: “These two. They’re a threat, I’ll admit that. Duce has been on a tear, while Stevens seems to be losing some steam here. I have to admit, it’s a fucking mess. I haven’t stood in the ring with those two, and the last time I saw Lilith in one… HER AND THE BITCH WIFE BLINDSIDED ME! I got caught off guard. I’m able to sideline that anger for now, but I swear if she fucks us over.”
He stops himself, realizing he needs to focus on the match at hand. He finishes his bottle of tequila, tossing the glass remains across the shed, watching it shatter into a million little pieces on the floor. His voice picks up again, it weaves between cracking like a pubescent boy, and revving up like a man in war.
Crash: “I guess that’s my only real plan of attack. I can’t rely on Lilith, so I’ll do what I know I can. I WILL SHATTER THEM! LEAVE THEM BROKEN, SCATTERED, MUTILATED! I’ll give them the fucking fight of their lives. They can look at Lilith and say what they fucking want, but they better understand I’m not her. I’m not here to conversate with teddy bears, talk cutesy, and run my mouth as if I’ve done anything noteworthy. I’m fucking here to prove myself. I’m going to go out and win this whole fucking thing. I AM GOING TO DECIMATE EVERY SLACK JAWED FUCK WHO STANDS IN MY WAY! I’m going to make it to the finals, beat the fucking stupid out of my partner, before finally taking that top prize. I’m taking over this fucking place, one step at a time. I AM CRASHING THE FUCKING MIX!”
Crash composes himself before wobbling towards the exit, the alcohol finally has taken its effect on the young man as his eyes go dim, and face becomes devoid of emotion. He stands unmoving in the doorway before speaking clearly and confidently.
Crash: “There once was a Crooked Man, who stood upon a crooked stile. Up walked a little girl, naive to his crooked guile. She yelled and cried, whined and whined about his Crooked Mile. He opened his hands, and stood high, flashing his crooked smile”
Life fills his eyes once again, his face flashes back to life. He shakes away the sudden grogginess before sitting down his back against the wall. He looks up to the sky as the scene fades to black.
Crash: “Get fucking serious. I’m trying to win, not play your juvenile games. So tell me what the fuck could be so important that I should drive across fucking town to a damn Build-a-Bear? Was jumping over obstacles while you threw rotting fruit at me not enough for one week? Huh!? FUCKING TELL ME!”
Lilith looks at Crash and then looks down at the floor missing her wife now more than ever.
Lilith: “Sarah would have driven this far to come here for me.”
Crash: “I’m not your hocus pocus, wife. I won’t have you regurgitate nonsense and act like this is a fucking game. This is my fucking life. I have nearly died in many rings like the one we’re about to be in together. This isn’t a game for me. THIS IS MY SHIT FOR LUCK LIFE YOU’RE FUCKING WITH!”
The Rookie sits in the front seat, turning the key. It stutters a bit so he gives it another agitated go. The car kicks to life, the engine harsh, as the Crooked Man stomps on the gas leaving the scene. Crash looks out his rearview mirror for a second, eyeing Lilith on the sidewalk behind him, screaming her head off. The rookie presses play on the car radio and he’s greeted with the opening of “She’s Kerosene” by The Interrupters. He listens to it on his drive, linking the song to his current situation. He asks himself why did he have to be saddled with this crazy bitch? Time passes and the car pulls into a parking space.
Crash: “I deserve a little relaxation. Look at who we have had to deal with.”
The rising star steps out of his car and walks into the building. As soon as he steps through, some barely audible music is heard and a pair of men sit at a bar. Crash eyes around the small dive bar before deciding to take a seat at the bar, from his wallet he removes his ID and leaving it on the table. The woman tending the bar walks over to him, leans over the bar, exposing her cleavage a bit before speaking.
Bartender: “Hey there, Sugah. What can I get for you?”
Her lips smack as she speaks while chewing some gum. Crash realizes he has been staring at her chest for a while too long. He makes eye contact with her, as she smiles at him.
Crash: “Biggest bottle of tequila you got, please. ”
The woman turns and grabs him a bottle and a glass, the man sitting closest to him turns and says something to the young man, as the barkeep lays the bottle in front of Crash.
Man: “Tequila huh? I hate tequila, hate it, hate it, hate it. My drink of choice is whiskey. I can drink whiskey straight.”
Crash: “Yeah? Good to hear man”
Man: “Now women. Women love vodka. They love rum too. Remember Malibu rum, kid? I forgot about it, I’m a bit older than you, and back in the day, Malibu rum was the shit. Oh that reminds me of college.”
Crash: “uh-huh”
Man: “I’m a pretty smart guy. I mean wasn’t no good at geometry-”
With that Crash grabs his tequila and makes his way towards the doors. We hear the man start making banter with the guy sitting next to him as Crash Rodriguez leaves the bar. Crash looks up in the sky, seeing the night finally begin to breakthrough. He nods to himself before entering his car and driving away.
Crash: “Back to what works. Being alone. God damn it, why her? Of all the damn people in OCW, I get partnered with Lilith. We have a fucking match coming up. Everything is riding on this fucking match. What doesn’t she understand, I mean Duce already took her fucking belt, so why not put a little fucking effort into winning this damn thing.”
Crash pulls to a stop. He sighs while trying to relax, before finally grasping the top of his skull. He smacks his head forward into the steering wheel while emitting winces of pain. He reaches over and opens his door. He steps out, holding clumps of his hair walking down a winding path of gravel with his bottle in hand. As he reaches the familiar shed, he drops to a knee before regrouping and standing back up tall. He pops the top of his tequila and begins to take a long swig from the bottle, it goes on and on until half the bottle is already gone.
Crash: “I keep coming back here. It’s the only place that makes sense to me anymore. I feel in control. Just because that dark-haired floozy won’t take shit serious doesn’t mean I won’t. She may be ok with losing this fucking Mix, but I got too much riding on it.”
The young rookie opens the shed door, stepping in and quickly pulling the light string, illuminating the small room. We see words etched into the wooden walls. “Apex Society”, “The Modern Era” and “Age of Tomorrow”. Crash runs his hands over the carvings before standing at his workbench.
Crash: “Duce Jones. He’s a challenge. He beat Lilith and Sarah for the belts, regardless if they are in his hands or not, he’s a fucking champion right now. He walked out of Redacted with gold, something I wasn’t able to do. It’ll be fun to see how we stack up against each other.”
The 21-year-old, who’s been blowing up the OCW landscape, slaps open his toolbox. From inside he pulls out a manilla folder. He peaks through it, reading a few lines from each page.
Crash: “Scott Stevens. What can I say, he’s been around the block. Tough competitor. Texan boy. He may have a weird fetish for hair, and he did lose to Great Scott, but the way I see it, Lurrr screwed him. This man will surely bring everything he has. The question is, will he bring enough? I don’t know how well Lilith and I will work together but the same goes for those two.”
Crash turns his head, popping his neck. His shoulders relax as he brings the alcohol to his lips. He sits studying some of the pages.
Crash: “These two. They’re a threat, I’ll admit that. Duce has been on a tear, while Stevens seems to be losing some steam here. I have to admit, it’s a fucking mess. I haven’t stood in the ring with those two, and the last time I saw Lilith in one… HER AND THE BITCH WIFE BLINDSIDED ME! I got caught off guard. I’m able to sideline that anger for now, but I swear if she fucks us over.”
He stops himself, realizing he needs to focus on the match at hand. He finishes his bottle of tequila, tossing the glass remains across the shed, watching it shatter into a million little pieces on the floor. His voice picks up again, it weaves between cracking like a pubescent boy, and revving up like a man in war.
Crash: “I guess that’s my only real plan of attack. I can’t rely on Lilith, so I’ll do what I know I can. I WILL SHATTER THEM! LEAVE THEM BROKEN, SCATTERED, MUTILATED! I’ll give them the fucking fight of their lives. They can look at Lilith and say what they fucking want, but they better understand I’m not her. I’m not here to conversate with teddy bears, talk cutesy, and run my mouth as if I’ve done anything noteworthy. I’m fucking here to prove myself. I’m going to go out and win this whole fucking thing. I AM GOING TO DECIMATE EVERY SLACK JAWED FUCK WHO STANDS IN MY WAY! I’m going to make it to the finals, beat the fucking stupid out of my partner, before finally taking that top prize. I’m taking over this fucking place, one step at a time. I AM CRASHING THE FUCKING MIX!”
Crash composes himself before wobbling towards the exit, the alcohol finally has taken its effect on the young man as his eyes go dim, and face becomes devoid of emotion. He stands unmoving in the doorway before speaking clearly and confidently.
Crash: “There once was a Crooked Man, who stood upon a crooked stile. Up walked a little girl, naive to his crooked guile. She yelled and cried, whined and whined about his Crooked Mile. He opened his hands, and stood high, flashing his crooked smile”
Life fills his eyes once again, his face flashes back to life. He shakes away the sudden grogginess before sitting down his back against the wall. He looks up to the sky as the scene fades to black.