Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Feb 26, 2010 20:27:16 GMT -6
Open scene on Emma Danielson at a bar. She's got, unsurprisingly, a Jägerbomb in front of her. Emma grins at the camera as it fades in, waving at it with all the cheeriness of a little girl in a candy store. Her dress is a Misfits T-shirt and faded jeans.
“Hi there, girls! I decided to take Julietta's advice and 'learn' how to unwind with alcohol...oh wait, I drink already! Sorry, maybe you should have done your research. If anyone in this company knows how to relax with a good drink, it'd be me. I saw Julietta's pity-f*** with her lawyer pal and Alexandra's mummification video. Gotta say, classy stuff from both of you. One of you shows up more blitzed than Courtney Love and vomiting more than a bulimic at a buffet, and the other one of you decided to reenact the freeze-drying of Tutankhamen. Charming...that is, charming if you're masochistic or you enjoy torture porn. Still, to each their own.”
She drains her 'Bomb, sighing as it trickles down her throat.
“Ahh, the Jägerbomb. Pleasant for me, not for you three. I love how cocky Alex is about her chances of winning. I can confidently say that you WON'T be eliminating me. As a matter of fact, you're going to be eliminated before me. Naturally you are, because I'm going to win. I'm not sure about the elimination order, but I do know you're going down. And I mean HARD. You're going to need all your servants to pick up the pieces that you'll be smashed into. You talk about all your dreams involving me getting horrifically mutilated and tortured. You're talking about all the pain that I'm going to go through? Well if you eliminate me, you're going to have to deal with the Queen of Extreme unleashed. Without the threat of disqualification I'm not nearly as restricted. If any ONE of you ladies manages to take me out...there will be blood. Buckets of it.”
Emma grins a malicious grin, signaling for a refill.
“Cleo, I've pinned you. You remember that, right? Or did you retreat, light some 'incense', and just try to flush the memories from your mind? Not that emptying your head is HARD. Can't be too much in there, so it should be a piece of cake. Maybe I can borrow that little nutcracker of a mallet your crony-slash-slave-slash-embalmer was using. Wouldn't that be poetic? Getting taken out by a tool of your servant's. Or Julietta. What if I decided to turn your switchblade on you? Might get me arrested, but...damn, you'd LOVE that, wouldn't you? Speaking of love, I keep telling you, I'm not attracted to you. I just know attractive when I see it. And something that ISN'T attractive is puking like it's going out of style. For the record, it was never IN style, but you know what I mean. Anyway, you can take your switchblade and shove it straight up your newly lawyered...wait, what are we rated again?”
She gets a muffled response off-camera. Emma groans.
“Dammit...right. You get where I was going with that. And then Alex comes in with this INTERVIEW. I mean, LORD. Yes. I'm a drunk. Big whoop, you get a gold star for noticing THE MOST PROMINENT PART OF MY PERSONALITY. And your generic 'yes, she won, but now I will win' talk just isn't that intimidating. Seems like it came out of a pre-made promo pack. Just pop them in the oven for thirty-five minutes and you too can sound like everyone else! Buy them now, they're selling like hotcakes! In all seriousness, you're not that intriguing. Apart from the Egypt motif and your gobs of money, you're more vanilla than a batch of soft serve. At least I have a personality. At least I'm not just some 'I am the Queen of Egypt, the Goddess Isis, bow down to me!' Saturday morning villainess who's being set up for failure. No, the people love me. And why wouldn't they? I'm funny, I'm kickass, and I've got a good look. On your side, Alex, I think the Aida people called. They want their props back. Seriously, the coffin and that crap? I was just joking about you and Sephiroth the Angsty getting together.”
Emma slugs down another Jägerbomb, grinning.
“...I almost forgot about you, Roxi. See, I wish I had more to say. The truth is, you've been silent and that irritates me. Come on, give me something to work with. I'm not magic, just very close. Eh...from what I've seen, you're pretty nice. Not a psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est like Julietta or a deluded egomaniac like Alexandra. Just a woman with a nice husband, a beautiful house, and a string of rather unfortunate incidents following her around. Of all the people in this match, you're the only one I'm going to regret eliminating. Not because I want you to win, but because I don't hate you. Hey, maybe we can get together and have a drink after the match? Sound good to you? Hey, you bring Ricky and I'll bring Andrew. The four of us can relax, unwind...just have fun.”
Emma smiles, nodding to the bartender, who reluctantly serves her up another Jägerbomb.
“Really, I don't get most of the people in this company. They all sound the same. 'Blah blah, I will beat you. Blah blah, you have no chance. Blah blah, something vaguely related to my gimmick. Blah blah, catchphrase.' I get it already! Shut up! You're just aggravating my headache. At least Julietta's something semi-different: 'Blah blah, Masochistic Man's Dream Date. Blah blah, Stain That Never Comes Off. Blah blah, vomit into planter. Blah blah, switchblade making people ugly. Blah blah, angst about relationship issues. Blah blah, vomit down stairwell.' See, THAT'S entertainment because you never know what she's going to puke on next. Or who.”
Emma knocks back the third drink of the night.
“Ay...maybe I should switch up the taste. Too much of a good thing...bartender! Get me a Grasshopper, willya? Thanks, you're a sweetheart.”
She smiles as the bartender gets to making her drink.
“The namesake drink for another one of my moves...the Grasshopper Driver. I haven't actually spiked any of you ladies with that yet. I think I'll take this Sunday as an opportunity to debut it to the public. Which one of you ladies will feel its kick? Will it be Julietta, Lady Pain herself? Will it be Alexandra 'Queen of the Desert' Kane? Or will it be the Rockette, Roxi Johnson? Who knows? The only things I know for sure about Sunday are that it'll be painful, it'll be chaotic, and I'll be the last one standing. So get ready, ladies. The bombs are going to start falling, and they're gonna fall on you.”
Emma receives her grasshopper, taking a sip of it. She smacks her lips, grinning.
“Mmm, minty. So, see you all on Sunday. And remember: get smashed before the match. Alcohol dulls pain, after all.”
Fade out on Emma enjoying her drink.
“Hi there, girls! I decided to take Julietta's advice and 'learn' how to unwind with alcohol...oh wait, I drink already! Sorry, maybe you should have done your research. If anyone in this company knows how to relax with a good drink, it'd be me. I saw Julietta's pity-f*** with her lawyer pal and Alexandra's mummification video. Gotta say, classy stuff from both of you. One of you shows up more blitzed than Courtney Love and vomiting more than a bulimic at a buffet, and the other one of you decided to reenact the freeze-drying of Tutankhamen. Charming...that is, charming if you're masochistic or you enjoy torture porn. Still, to each their own.”
She drains her 'Bomb, sighing as it trickles down her throat.
“Ahh, the Jägerbomb. Pleasant for me, not for you three. I love how cocky Alex is about her chances of winning. I can confidently say that you WON'T be eliminating me. As a matter of fact, you're going to be eliminated before me. Naturally you are, because I'm going to win. I'm not sure about the elimination order, but I do know you're going down. And I mean HARD. You're going to need all your servants to pick up the pieces that you'll be smashed into. You talk about all your dreams involving me getting horrifically mutilated and tortured. You're talking about all the pain that I'm going to go through? Well if you eliminate me, you're going to have to deal with the Queen of Extreme unleashed. Without the threat of disqualification I'm not nearly as restricted. If any ONE of you ladies manages to take me out...there will be blood. Buckets of it.”
Emma grins a malicious grin, signaling for a refill.
“Cleo, I've pinned you. You remember that, right? Or did you retreat, light some 'incense', and just try to flush the memories from your mind? Not that emptying your head is HARD. Can't be too much in there, so it should be a piece of cake. Maybe I can borrow that little nutcracker of a mallet your crony-slash-slave-slash-embalmer was using. Wouldn't that be poetic? Getting taken out by a tool of your servant's. Or Julietta. What if I decided to turn your switchblade on you? Might get me arrested, but...damn, you'd LOVE that, wouldn't you? Speaking of love, I keep telling you, I'm not attracted to you. I just know attractive when I see it. And something that ISN'T attractive is puking like it's going out of style. For the record, it was never IN style, but you know what I mean. Anyway, you can take your switchblade and shove it straight up your newly lawyered...wait, what are we rated again?”
She gets a muffled response off-camera. Emma groans.
“Dammit...right. You get where I was going with that. And then Alex comes in with this INTERVIEW. I mean, LORD. Yes. I'm a drunk. Big whoop, you get a gold star for noticing THE MOST PROMINENT PART OF MY PERSONALITY. And your generic 'yes, she won, but now I will win' talk just isn't that intimidating. Seems like it came out of a pre-made promo pack. Just pop them in the oven for thirty-five minutes and you too can sound like everyone else! Buy them now, they're selling like hotcakes! In all seriousness, you're not that intriguing. Apart from the Egypt motif and your gobs of money, you're more vanilla than a batch of soft serve. At least I have a personality. At least I'm not just some 'I am the Queen of Egypt, the Goddess Isis, bow down to me!' Saturday morning villainess who's being set up for failure. No, the people love me. And why wouldn't they? I'm funny, I'm kickass, and I've got a good look. On your side, Alex, I think the Aida people called. They want their props back. Seriously, the coffin and that crap? I was just joking about you and Sephiroth the Angsty getting together.”
Emma slugs down another Jägerbomb, grinning.
“...I almost forgot about you, Roxi. See, I wish I had more to say. The truth is, you've been silent and that irritates me. Come on, give me something to work with. I'm not magic, just very close. Eh...from what I've seen, you're pretty nice. Not a psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est like Julietta or a deluded egomaniac like Alexandra. Just a woman with a nice husband, a beautiful house, and a string of rather unfortunate incidents following her around. Of all the people in this match, you're the only one I'm going to regret eliminating. Not because I want you to win, but because I don't hate you. Hey, maybe we can get together and have a drink after the match? Sound good to you? Hey, you bring Ricky and I'll bring Andrew. The four of us can relax, unwind...just have fun.”
Emma smiles, nodding to the bartender, who reluctantly serves her up another Jägerbomb.
“Really, I don't get most of the people in this company. They all sound the same. 'Blah blah, I will beat you. Blah blah, you have no chance. Blah blah, something vaguely related to my gimmick. Blah blah, catchphrase.' I get it already! Shut up! You're just aggravating my headache. At least Julietta's something semi-different: 'Blah blah, Masochistic Man's Dream Date. Blah blah, Stain That Never Comes Off. Blah blah, vomit into planter. Blah blah, switchblade making people ugly. Blah blah, angst about relationship issues. Blah blah, vomit down stairwell.' See, THAT'S entertainment because you never know what she's going to puke on next. Or who.”
Emma knocks back the third drink of the night.
“Ay...maybe I should switch up the taste. Too much of a good thing...bartender! Get me a Grasshopper, willya? Thanks, you're a sweetheart.”
She smiles as the bartender gets to making her drink.
“The namesake drink for another one of my moves...the Grasshopper Driver. I haven't actually spiked any of you ladies with that yet. I think I'll take this Sunday as an opportunity to debut it to the public. Which one of you ladies will feel its kick? Will it be Julietta, Lady Pain herself? Will it be Alexandra 'Queen of the Desert' Kane? Or will it be the Rockette, Roxi Johnson? Who knows? The only things I know for sure about Sunday are that it'll be painful, it'll be chaotic, and I'll be the last one standing. So get ready, ladies. The bombs are going to start falling, and they're gonna fall on you.”
Emma receives her grasshopper, taking a sip of it. She smacks her lips, grinning.
“Mmm, minty. So, see you all on Sunday. And remember: get smashed before the match. Alcohol dulls pain, after all.”
Fade out on Emma enjoying her drink.