Post by Bruce "The Beast" Richards on Jan 21, 2006 22:59:48 GMT -5
(Lights up in the apartment STYLIN’ KYLE ROBERTS shares with his girlfriend AMY. The lights are very dim, but one can still make out the figure of BRUCE “THE BEAST” RICHARDS sitting alone on the couch, his arms folded, a single empty beer bottle on the table in front of him. The digital clock on the microwave in the background shows that it is 9:37. The main door opens, letting a shaft of light from the hallway into the living room, and AMY enters, hanging her coat on the hook and turning on the lights. She is dressed in the clothes she had on at work, and still has a brown nametag engraved with her name on her blue blouse. BRUCE RICHARDS turns to look at her, and she lets out a quiet shriek.)
AMY: Jesus, Bruce, how the hell did you get in here? Did you climb up the damn balcony? (She goes to inspect the patio doors which.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: (Holds up the keys, jingling.) Kyle gave me his keys. We were supposed to meet here for dinner, review some tapes, set up a workout with Coach Jago in the morning. (Tosses the keys at AMY, who puts them on the dinner table.) He never showed up.
AMY: How long have you been here?
BRUCE RICHARDS: Three and a half hours. I called his cel, he turned it off.
AMY: (under her breath) Dammit. (Leans up against the wall with her head in her hands.)
(BRUCE RICHARDS grabs the empty bottle and rises from the couch; as he approaches AMY he quickly takes the bottle from behind his back and puts it on the kitchen counter.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: I’m don’t know what to say, Amy. We talked about things today, he said he was going to put the whole Tiffany thing behind him.
AMY: “Tiffany thing”? (Looks up.) Jesus, Bruce, you’re making it sound like it’s a sitcom or something!
BRUCE RICHARDS: Look, Amy, you don’t need to freak out about it.
AMY: Why the hell not, Bruce? Let’s see, my boyfriend hasn’t been home two nights in a row, doesn’t tell me where he’s been, meanwhile he’s following some bitch from work behind my back, stalking her, and doing a piss-poor job trying to cover it up. This is a serious problem, and the fact that the only person I can talk to about it is you makes me physically sick. You’re the whole reason for this mess anyhow.
BRUCE RICHARDS: ME? What the hell did I do?
AMY: When Kyle started out with this wrestling thing, he was good at it, really good, and he loved it – but he never started obsessing about it until you came along and told him about all the great things that were in the future for you two. When you two won those belts a year ago he started getting possessive about them; he still won’t let me touch the damn things.
BRUCE RICHARDS: What?
AMY: (yelling) Didn’t know that, did you? The guy works his ass off every day because of something you told him a year ago, and you treat him like crap. So when something like this happens, who else am I supposed to blame? Why the hell do you think I hate you so much? (Exhausted from shouting, she puts her face in her hands and starts crying. BRUCE RICHARDS stands there looking uncomfortable.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: I’m…sorry.
(The two of them stand there, not moving, and then BRUCE RICHARDS puts his hand out to touch AMY’s shoulder. The door opens again, and STYLIN’ KYLE ROBERTS enters the apartment. When he sees the two of them, he freezes, but quickly breaks out in a friendly smile.)
KYLE ROBERTS: What’s going on? (Slams the door.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: Little late, Kyle. And I don’t see a pizza anywhere.
KYLE ROBERTS: Bruce. This is between Amy and me, so why don’t I talk to you tomorrow?
AMY: He stays.
KYLE ROBERTS and BRUCE RICHARDS: What?
AMY: He stays. Because I’ve had enough of this childishness.
KYLE ROBERTS: Baby, don’t be like that.
AMY: I’m serious, dammit! Seeing as how you two play clowns all the time, you may have forgotten what ‘serious’ means. Now you are going to sit down on the couch and listen to what I have to say. (KYLE ROBERTS slowly makes his way towards the couch, never taking his eyes off AMY.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: (making his way towards the door) Uh, I think Kyle’s right, I should be going —
AMY: (sternly) You sit too. (BRUCE RICHARDS quickly sits.) You two have your match on Monday, and I know it’s important. So this is what we’re going to do. Tomorrow I’m getting up at six and driving Kyle to the gym.
KYLE ROBERTS: Come on, Amy, 6:00 on a Saturday morning? (AMY shoots him a look that shuts him up.)
AMY: I am going to drive you to the gym, and you two are going to work through your problems by hitting things, like you always do. (Looks at Bruce.) And then I am going to drive him to your place, and I am going to leave him there.
BRUCE RICHARDS: What? Amy, please, I…(sighs) go ahead.
AMY: I am going to leave him there, and you two are going to watch video, talk strategy, whatever it is you two do to prepare for these things. I am going to go out with my friends and try to put you two out of my mind for a few hours. Then on Sunday morning, I’m going to drive the both of you to the gym again so Coach can whip you into shape.
KYLE ROBERTS: And then you’re going to drive us to a restaurant and get us a nutritious meal?
AMY: (firmly) No. I’m going to drive you to NAIT and then I’m going to watch your match.
KYLE ROBERTS: You’re coming to the match? You’re actually coming to the match?
AMY: If that’s what it takes to convince myself that you’re actually doing what you say you are for once, then yes. I’m coming. Front row.
KYLE ROBERTS: Well, y’see, Amy, the front row might be all sold out.
AMY: Then I’ll sit on one of those folding chairs they always seem to have laying about all over the place. Either of you have a problem with that? (Silence.) Good. Now Bruce, not to be rude, but you can leave now.
BRUCE RICHARDS: (Standing up.) Amy, look, I—
AMY: Just. Go. (BRUCE RICHARDS walks to the door and leaves in silence.)
KYLE ROBERTS: (Gets up from the couch.) Amy, this is all just a misunderstanding.
AMY: (sighs) Don’t get up, Kyle. You need to get used to that couch. (She walks to the bedroom and locks the door behind her. KYLE ROBERTS punches the pillow and lays down on the couch. Fade out.)
STYLIN’ KYLE ROBERTS and AMY used with permission.
AMY: Jesus, Bruce, how the hell did you get in here? Did you climb up the damn balcony? (She goes to inspect the patio doors which.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: (Holds up the keys, jingling.) Kyle gave me his keys. We were supposed to meet here for dinner, review some tapes, set up a workout with Coach Jago in the morning. (Tosses the keys at AMY, who puts them on the dinner table.) He never showed up.
AMY: How long have you been here?
BRUCE RICHARDS: Three and a half hours. I called his cel, he turned it off.
AMY: (under her breath) Dammit. (Leans up against the wall with her head in her hands.)
(BRUCE RICHARDS grabs the empty bottle and rises from the couch; as he approaches AMY he quickly takes the bottle from behind his back and puts it on the kitchen counter.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: I’m don’t know what to say, Amy. We talked about things today, he said he was going to put the whole Tiffany thing behind him.
AMY: “Tiffany thing”? (Looks up.) Jesus, Bruce, you’re making it sound like it’s a sitcom or something!
BRUCE RICHARDS: Look, Amy, you don’t need to freak out about it.
AMY: Why the hell not, Bruce? Let’s see, my boyfriend hasn’t been home two nights in a row, doesn’t tell me where he’s been, meanwhile he’s following some bitch from work behind my back, stalking her, and doing a piss-poor job trying to cover it up. This is a serious problem, and the fact that the only person I can talk to about it is you makes me physically sick. You’re the whole reason for this mess anyhow.
BRUCE RICHARDS: ME? What the hell did I do?
AMY: When Kyle started out with this wrestling thing, he was good at it, really good, and he loved it – but he never started obsessing about it until you came along and told him about all the great things that were in the future for you two. When you two won those belts a year ago he started getting possessive about them; he still won’t let me touch the damn things.
BRUCE RICHARDS: What?
AMY: (yelling) Didn’t know that, did you? The guy works his ass off every day because of something you told him a year ago, and you treat him like crap. So when something like this happens, who else am I supposed to blame? Why the hell do you think I hate you so much? (Exhausted from shouting, she puts her face in her hands and starts crying. BRUCE RICHARDS stands there looking uncomfortable.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: I’m…sorry.
(The two of them stand there, not moving, and then BRUCE RICHARDS puts his hand out to touch AMY’s shoulder. The door opens again, and STYLIN’ KYLE ROBERTS enters the apartment. When he sees the two of them, he freezes, but quickly breaks out in a friendly smile.)
KYLE ROBERTS: What’s going on? (Slams the door.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: Little late, Kyle. And I don’t see a pizza anywhere.
KYLE ROBERTS: Bruce. This is between Amy and me, so why don’t I talk to you tomorrow?
AMY: He stays.
KYLE ROBERTS and BRUCE RICHARDS: What?
AMY: He stays. Because I’ve had enough of this childishness.
KYLE ROBERTS: Baby, don’t be like that.
AMY: I’m serious, dammit! Seeing as how you two play clowns all the time, you may have forgotten what ‘serious’ means. Now you are going to sit down on the couch and listen to what I have to say. (KYLE ROBERTS slowly makes his way towards the couch, never taking his eyes off AMY.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: (making his way towards the door) Uh, I think Kyle’s right, I should be going —
AMY: (sternly) You sit too. (BRUCE RICHARDS quickly sits.) You two have your match on Monday, and I know it’s important. So this is what we’re going to do. Tomorrow I’m getting up at six and driving Kyle to the gym.
KYLE ROBERTS: Come on, Amy, 6:00 on a Saturday morning? (AMY shoots him a look that shuts him up.)
AMY: I am going to drive you to the gym, and you two are going to work through your problems by hitting things, like you always do. (Looks at Bruce.) And then I am going to drive him to your place, and I am going to leave him there.
BRUCE RICHARDS: What? Amy, please, I…(sighs) go ahead.
AMY: I am going to leave him there, and you two are going to watch video, talk strategy, whatever it is you two do to prepare for these things. I am going to go out with my friends and try to put you two out of my mind for a few hours. Then on Sunday morning, I’m going to drive the both of you to the gym again so Coach can whip you into shape.
KYLE ROBERTS: And then you’re going to drive us to a restaurant and get us a nutritious meal?
AMY: (firmly) No. I’m going to drive you to NAIT and then I’m going to watch your match.
KYLE ROBERTS: You’re coming to the match? You’re actually coming to the match?
AMY: If that’s what it takes to convince myself that you’re actually doing what you say you are for once, then yes. I’m coming. Front row.
KYLE ROBERTS: Well, y’see, Amy, the front row might be all sold out.
AMY: Then I’ll sit on one of those folding chairs they always seem to have laying about all over the place. Either of you have a problem with that? (Silence.) Good. Now Bruce, not to be rude, but you can leave now.
BRUCE RICHARDS: (Standing up.) Amy, look, I—
AMY: Just. Go. (BRUCE RICHARDS walks to the door and leaves in silence.)
KYLE ROBERTS: (Gets up from the couch.) Amy, this is all just a misunderstanding.
AMY: (sighs) Don’t get up, Kyle. You need to get used to that couch. (She walks to the bedroom and locks the door behind her. KYLE ROBERTS punches the pillow and lays down on the couch. Fade out.)
STYLIN’ KYLE ROBERTS and AMY used with permission.