Post by Simply Beautiful on Feb 5, 2007 16:53:26 GMT -5
Fade in. Simply Beautiful is in the middle of a crowded street somewhere in Vancouver. He’s wearing a t-shirt that says “4-0 VS. These Losers”. The back has pictures of Lloyd Rees on his back, waiting for a New York Nightmare (that never came due to some guy named Dutch Flanagan), as well as three different pictures of Banks; the first, he’s being pinned along with Mr. Slick by yours truly; second, he’s catching the SexyKick right in the mush; and third, being rolled up. SB's shades are on, as well as a Canadian Flag bandanna to replace the Italian Flag one. His goatee is back, making him look quite the rugged stud muffin, if I do say so myself. And I do.
SB walks over to a flower cart run by an old lady.
SB: Excuse me.
The older woman looks up, her face wrinkled and her bones frail, and smiles a nearly toothless smile at SB, who jumps back in surprise.
SB: WOAH. You have some nast- (catches himself) NICE flowers here!
Woman: (very slow, drawn out voice) Why, thank you, young man. Would you like to buy some?
SB: Well, not for today, since Valentine’s Day isn’t for a little while. I was actually hoping I could buy a box of chocolates to arrive on Valentine’s Day.
The woman smiles, much to the chagrin of everyone within eyesight. Damn, that’s nasty.
Woman: Why, sure we can. Roger?
A man wearing a very old, dirty Vancouver Grizzlies hat sitting in a chair looks up from his newspaper long enough to answer.
Roger: Yes, mother?
Woman: This nice man wants to purchase some chocolates for us to ship out for St. Valentine’s Day.
SB: Actually, ma’am, there wasn’t a St. Valentine. It’s been proven that one never existed, so it’s properly called Valentine’s day.
Fade to black, except for around SB. A shooting star, with a rainbow trailing it, goes across the screen, with the caption above it in rainbow letters stating “The More You Know!”
Back to the normal scene.
Roger: Well, okay then. Let me see, where’d I put those shipment order forms. I had ‘em right there.
He gets up and looks around a bit, then finds them. He pulls one out and places it down on the table.
Roger: OK, so, what size you want?
SB: Um, large, I guess. How many chocolates are in a large?
Roger: About thirty.
SB: That’s good enough. (signs his name and address)
Roger: You want anything else, Mister?
SB: (scratches his goatee) Hmm. Yeah, on second thought. Ship one each to a Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd Rees and David Banks. And an extra one to Lloyd Rees’ ego.
Roger: Uhh, his ego?
SB smiles that killer, million-selling smile and rubs his hands together.
SB: Yeah, his ego. It’s big enough to have its own zip code, let alone mailing address.
Roger: You got it, mister.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cut to SB, sitting in his hotel room.
SB: Lloyd Rees. My, my, my. Where do I even begin with you? Perhaps with a match I won? You know, the one that saw the formation of the infamous Winner’s Circle. Well, so far, I’ve had my revenge. Stiff Competition is no more. Mark Millar is the biggest jobber on the roster. That leaves one more target. One more guy who put my ass through a flaming table.
SB: That’s you, Lloyd. You thought I forgot? You thought I’d let something like that slide? (BLEEP) that! You started something Lloyd. And you never had the balls to finish it. Well, now, it’ll get finished. I’ll have my revenge, believe it. I’m gonna kill the abortion that was the Winner’s Circle once and for all, and I’m gonna do it with SMILE on my face, you drunken idiot.
SB stands up and walks over to the mirror, looking into it. We see his reflection in the mirror, but the camera is situated over his right shoulder.
SB: It’s hard not to look into the mirror and note how much I’ve changed since we last met, Lloyd. Aside from just the obvious (touches his goatee, which has grown back since he shaved it for the movie promo) differences, there’s a lot that maybe don’t meet the eyes of others. But I see them. And to be honest, I’m still not sure I’m the better for it. The ordeal with my father, and the struggle to compete with him always on my mind. My war with Casino, and my near two month losing streak that saw me go oh and four. I feel older, man, and when I look into the mirror, I see it. I feel it start to slip away. I’m twenty-nine yeards old. I’ve been wrestling for twelve (BLEEP)ing years already, and I’d be a lyin’ SOB if I said it hasn’t taken its toll on me. Sometimes, I ask myself why I still do this. Why put my body through this, why not just take my money and run? I’m already a millionaire, and I’ve got a college degree. I don’t HAVE to wrestle, at least financially.
SB turns away from the mirror, and looks into the camera. You can see the strain on his face, and hear it in his voice, even if just a little bit.
SB: But there’s something that always brings me back, Lloyd. Well, a few things really. One is the fans. That’s just about the whole of it. I feed off their energy. Sometimes, I feel like they keep me from losing it.
SB: But just as important, Lloyd. I love this sport. I compete because that’s what I’m driven to do. I look at you, the biggest (BLEEP) that ever stepped foot in a wrestling ring, I’m sure of it. And you know what drives me when I look at you? Just having the opportunity to KICK. YOUR. ASS! To shut your stupid, incoherent mouth, even if just for a little while. Because you don’t respect this business. You don’t love it like I do. All you are is another Chris Casino, a punk with no sense of his own arrogance. No wonder the beef between you two. How can TWO of you exist in one place?
SB: I know you’re a dumb bastard, but I know you aren’t stupid when it comes to wrestling. You really think I haven’t been training my ass off? I had my fun the other day. But like I told your partner last week, playtime is OVER, Lloyd. I’m ready for everything you’re gonna throw at me. And I welcome the challenge, because when I beat you again, everything gets bigger and better for the Icon.
SB, with slow, deliberate steps, walks over to the window and looks outside.
SB: I failed when I tried to “defend” NAPW from Casino. It’s something that I’ll regret for the rest of my life if I never get another crack at him – but something tells me I will. You Lloyd? I’ve already beaten you, but not the way I wanted to. A win by DQ SUCKS. I had you beat, Lloyd. NO ONE kicks out of the Nightmare, and that’s exactly what you had coming to you. Next week, I guarantee I’ll hit the Nightmare on you, and I’ll PIN you this time! You’re the one that I want, Rees. I’ve already proven everything I had to prove to Banks. I told him that last week was the battle for supremacy, and I pinned him one, two, three, like I said I would. As far as I’m concerned, that chapter is closed. But I doubt Banks is ready to just quit and walk away, so I’ve got something in store for him, believe me.
SB: But when the time comes, and it’s me and you, Banks, your ass BETTER tag out to Rees and give me that son of a bitch one on one, or I’ll beat you to death and tag him in with your lifeless hand! You hear that, Lloyd? I WANT YOU, NEWFIE! I WANT YOU, I WANNA MAKE YOU BEG FOR GOD DAMN MERCY, AND I’LL GIVE YOU NONE! NONE! AND I’LL DO IT NOT JUST FOR ME, BUT FOR THE FANS WHO HATE YOUR (BLEEP)IN’ GUTS! I GOT SOMETHING TO PROVE LLOYD, I GOT SOMETHING BURNING UP INSIDE ME! AND IT’S ALL COMING OUT ON YOU, YOU STUPID BASTARD!
SB finally calms down, and takes a seat again. That outburst seemed to take a lot out of him. He slumps down in his chair, and then … laughs?
SB: How fitting you bring out an old championship belt. (pause, and some more laughter) I can’t wait for next week, Lloyd. I can’t wait to get you in the ring again, where you can’t escape me. (cold, hard stare into the camera, as if the camera itself was Rees and Sb was saying this to his face) I’m gonna grind you down Rees. And then, when you can finally take no more, I’ll finish you. That’s the end of your shit, Lloyd. That’s my revenge, and my redemption.
I will not lose.
SB pops up, invigorated once more. He grits his teeth, and spits out his catchphrase like never before, filled with determination.
AND THAT’S NOT JUST THE COOLEST, THAT’S NOT JUST THE BEST, THAT’S SIMPLY BEATIFUL.
Fade out.
SB walks over to a flower cart run by an old lady.
SB: Excuse me.
The older woman looks up, her face wrinkled and her bones frail, and smiles a nearly toothless smile at SB, who jumps back in surprise.
SB: WOAH. You have some nast- (catches himself) NICE flowers here!
Woman: (very slow, drawn out voice) Why, thank you, young man. Would you like to buy some?
SB: Well, not for today, since Valentine’s Day isn’t for a little while. I was actually hoping I could buy a box of chocolates to arrive on Valentine’s Day.
The woman smiles, much to the chagrin of everyone within eyesight. Damn, that’s nasty.
Woman: Why, sure we can. Roger?
A man wearing a very old, dirty Vancouver Grizzlies hat sitting in a chair looks up from his newspaper long enough to answer.
Roger: Yes, mother?
Woman: This nice man wants to purchase some chocolates for us to ship out for St. Valentine’s Day.
SB: Actually, ma’am, there wasn’t a St. Valentine. It’s been proven that one never existed, so it’s properly called Valentine’s day.
Fade to black, except for around SB. A shooting star, with a rainbow trailing it, goes across the screen, with the caption above it in rainbow letters stating “The More You Know!”
Back to the normal scene.
Roger: Well, okay then. Let me see, where’d I put those shipment order forms. I had ‘em right there.
He gets up and looks around a bit, then finds them. He pulls one out and places it down on the table.
Roger: OK, so, what size you want?
SB: Um, large, I guess. How many chocolates are in a large?
Roger: About thirty.
SB: That’s good enough. (signs his name and address)
Roger: You want anything else, Mister?
SB: (scratches his goatee) Hmm. Yeah, on second thought. Ship one each to a Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd Rees and David Banks. And an extra one to Lloyd Rees’ ego.
Roger: Uhh, his ego?
SB smiles that killer, million-selling smile and rubs his hands together.
SB: Yeah, his ego. It’s big enough to have its own zip code, let alone mailing address.
Roger: You got it, mister.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cut to SB, sitting in his hotel room.
SB: Lloyd Rees. My, my, my. Where do I even begin with you? Perhaps with a match I won? You know, the one that saw the formation of the infamous Winner’s Circle. Well, so far, I’ve had my revenge. Stiff Competition is no more. Mark Millar is the biggest jobber on the roster. That leaves one more target. One more guy who put my ass through a flaming table.
SB: That’s you, Lloyd. You thought I forgot? You thought I’d let something like that slide? (BLEEP) that! You started something Lloyd. And you never had the balls to finish it. Well, now, it’ll get finished. I’ll have my revenge, believe it. I’m gonna kill the abortion that was the Winner’s Circle once and for all, and I’m gonna do it with SMILE on my face, you drunken idiot.
SB stands up and walks over to the mirror, looking into it. We see his reflection in the mirror, but the camera is situated over his right shoulder.
SB: It’s hard not to look into the mirror and note how much I’ve changed since we last met, Lloyd. Aside from just the obvious (touches his goatee, which has grown back since he shaved it for the movie promo) differences, there’s a lot that maybe don’t meet the eyes of others. But I see them. And to be honest, I’m still not sure I’m the better for it. The ordeal with my father, and the struggle to compete with him always on my mind. My war with Casino, and my near two month losing streak that saw me go oh and four. I feel older, man, and when I look into the mirror, I see it. I feel it start to slip away. I’m twenty-nine yeards old. I’ve been wrestling for twelve (BLEEP)ing years already, and I’d be a lyin’ SOB if I said it hasn’t taken its toll on me. Sometimes, I ask myself why I still do this. Why put my body through this, why not just take my money and run? I’m already a millionaire, and I’ve got a college degree. I don’t HAVE to wrestle, at least financially.
SB turns away from the mirror, and looks into the camera. You can see the strain on his face, and hear it in his voice, even if just a little bit.
SB: But there’s something that always brings me back, Lloyd. Well, a few things really. One is the fans. That’s just about the whole of it. I feed off their energy. Sometimes, I feel like they keep me from losing it.
SB: But just as important, Lloyd. I love this sport. I compete because that’s what I’m driven to do. I look at you, the biggest (BLEEP) that ever stepped foot in a wrestling ring, I’m sure of it. And you know what drives me when I look at you? Just having the opportunity to KICK. YOUR. ASS! To shut your stupid, incoherent mouth, even if just for a little while. Because you don’t respect this business. You don’t love it like I do. All you are is another Chris Casino, a punk with no sense of his own arrogance. No wonder the beef between you two. How can TWO of you exist in one place?
SB: I know you’re a dumb bastard, but I know you aren’t stupid when it comes to wrestling. You really think I haven’t been training my ass off? I had my fun the other day. But like I told your partner last week, playtime is OVER, Lloyd. I’m ready for everything you’re gonna throw at me. And I welcome the challenge, because when I beat you again, everything gets bigger and better for the Icon.
SB, with slow, deliberate steps, walks over to the window and looks outside.
SB: I failed when I tried to “defend” NAPW from Casino. It’s something that I’ll regret for the rest of my life if I never get another crack at him – but something tells me I will. You Lloyd? I’ve already beaten you, but not the way I wanted to. A win by DQ SUCKS. I had you beat, Lloyd. NO ONE kicks out of the Nightmare, and that’s exactly what you had coming to you. Next week, I guarantee I’ll hit the Nightmare on you, and I’ll PIN you this time! You’re the one that I want, Rees. I’ve already proven everything I had to prove to Banks. I told him that last week was the battle for supremacy, and I pinned him one, two, three, like I said I would. As far as I’m concerned, that chapter is closed. But I doubt Banks is ready to just quit and walk away, so I’ve got something in store for him, believe me.
SB: But when the time comes, and it’s me and you, Banks, your ass BETTER tag out to Rees and give me that son of a bitch one on one, or I’ll beat you to death and tag him in with your lifeless hand! You hear that, Lloyd? I WANT YOU, NEWFIE! I WANT YOU, I WANNA MAKE YOU BEG FOR GOD DAMN MERCY, AND I’LL GIVE YOU NONE! NONE! AND I’LL DO IT NOT JUST FOR ME, BUT FOR THE FANS WHO HATE YOUR (BLEEP)IN’ GUTS! I GOT SOMETHING TO PROVE LLOYD, I GOT SOMETHING BURNING UP INSIDE ME! AND IT’S ALL COMING OUT ON YOU, YOU STUPID BASTARD!
SB finally calms down, and takes a seat again. That outburst seemed to take a lot out of him. He slumps down in his chair, and then … laughs?
SB: How fitting you bring out an old championship belt. (pause, and some more laughter) I can’t wait for next week, Lloyd. I can’t wait to get you in the ring again, where you can’t escape me. (cold, hard stare into the camera, as if the camera itself was Rees and Sb was saying this to his face) I’m gonna grind you down Rees. And then, when you can finally take no more, I’ll finish you. That’s the end of your shit, Lloyd. That’s my revenge, and my redemption.
I will not lose.
SB pops up, invigorated once more. He grits his teeth, and spits out his catchphrase like never before, filled with determination.
AND THAT’S NOT JUST THE COOLEST, THAT’S NOT JUST THE BEST, THAT’S SIMPLY BEATIFUL.
Fade out.