Post by Gib on Feb 12, 2009 21:17:56 GMT -6
Dream Sequence
(A young boy stands next to a barn; he has a series of army men set up around in a war scenario. The boy has a sheepish grin on his face as he makes noises of the war, having the tan army fall to the might of the green army.)
(The boy, looks around smiling as he removes a can of lighter fluid from a plastic bag, he douses the tan army with the fluid and then pulls a series of matches out, lighting them and throwing them next to the army men who catch on fire, the boy smiles and giggled sheepishly. This isn’t an act of a future murderer or psychopath, this is simply a boy that is having fun, enjoying some youthful exuberance.)
(He makes burning noises as the army men melt into a pile of tan goo. He starts to pick them up and then, a sound takes his voice away)
Where are you at boy? I need another beer?
(The boy stands, nervousness taking over his body. He looks each way, when he stands you see that this child is large, much larger then his face shows. He starts to pick up the melted pieces of plastic and jam then in his pocket, putting the lighter fluid in the bag and pulling a loose brick out of the barn puts the bag inside, reinserting the brick. The area looks clean, minus one small portion, one burned match that sits at his feet)
(The man whose voice we heard previous starts to make his way down a hill towards the barn, the boy instantly starts to shake as the man addresses him)
Man: Where have you been? What have you been doing? I have half a mind to blast you so far and send you so far that when you get back here your underwear will be out of style.
(The man chuckles under his breath, then notices the match on the ground his expression changes from one of glee at verbally humiliating his son to one of anger, the change is so quick and so apparent that it is scary.)
Man: What the hell is that burnt up match doing here boy?
(He picks it up and feels it)
Man: Still warm, you trying to burn my barn down son? I knew you were dumb but I didn’t think you were stupid. You been playing with matches?
Boy: Uhh… no sir I was just…
(His voice is cut off by a sudden and swift backhand that appears to obscure his entire face. The boy drops to the ground suddenly)
Man: Are you going to cry boy? Are you going to start sniffling and whining like the little girl you are? You don’t lie to me you useless piece of ****, you never lie to me.
(The man stomps on the boy who has tears in his eyes, the boy won’t blink, he won’t give his father the satisfaction of seeing him cry)
Man: Are you gonna piss your little pants boy?
(He looks like he is going to stomp the boy’s ribs again, but he doesn’t. His expression instantly changes)
Man: Dust yourself off boy. Get up, grab a beer and bring it to me. You’ll thank me for this one day, believe me, I wish my old man beat up on me once in awhile.
(The man walks away and the boy stands up dusting off his pants a trickle of blood falls from his nose and leads to his mouth, he wipes it with his sleeve and starts to dig a hole. He puts the army men inside as the scene goes cloudy)
Well Rested - Realism
(Scene opens as Homeless Harold is startled awakens. He lies on a couch in a nice home. He is wearing a pair of silk pajamas that are skin tight, the pants go only down to the area just below his knee, and the threads are stretching taut. Harold sits up, stretching. It is obvious that this isn’t the first time he has had such dreams or remembered such things)
That was very hospitable… Nice to have a place to stay, I just hope in all hope that she takes what I said seriously. If these kids are raised in an environment with a volatile father, they may end up like me. That is the last things this world needs, addictive, codependent mongrels like myself. I know what I am, I know what I have become and it strikes a cord everyday. I hate what I am, and you can call me whatever you want, threaten my however you want and I will not disagree. When I awoke in the middle of the night, on this couch, with this KLB embroidered pajamas I went and I took my mask off for the first time in months. When I saw my face, I didn’t hate it as I once did. I am coming to terms with things and that signals a change, that signals that maybe I can take this off, rejoin society become what I once was, a champion, and a role model something of worth. I am starting to feel that someday I won’t feel so bad consuming the oxygen of this planet, I won’t feel like I a freeloading.
I will feel like a human again…
I think the reason I am starting this is because I am feeling better about my talk last night. It felt nice talking to another human, a compassionate human that understands that people may not be normal, that people may not be perfect. Heck, she knows these things look at her husband, a man who cares more about the safety of this…
(He pulls a briefcase that has a signature on it from the floor and holds it up)
Then he does the well being of his own child. Well, this is fixed now so no punishments need to be handed out. You claim normalcy Kristoff, but I think we all know that you are the furthest possible thing. I mean, what kind of ramrod has an IRS signed briefcase? What kind of man treats his family as if he is some sort of executioner, making them walk around on eggshells so that they are scared to take a breath? You are that kind of man, my father was that kind of man. I will do to you the same thing I did to my father on my 16th birthday.
(He lowers his head)
I walk downstairs and my dad is on the phone, he is talking about how he missed this person and can’t wait to hold her in his arms again. This was weird to me because my mother was upstairs taking a nap. He looked at me; his jaw hit the floor as he told the person that he can’t talk to her anymore and that he would call her back. He said to me, and I remember the words exactly, “Boy, you will not say anything or I will take a piece out of you so big you won’t know which end is the front anymore.” It felt good; it was truly a good feeling not caring what he thought anymore. I grabbed that spineless piece of **** by the throat and watched him crumble to his knees I watched his face turn red and when I raised my fist in the air to smash him in the face and saw the fear in his eyes I knew that I had control over my life.
(He opens and closes his hand)
When my fist connected with his skull I felt the bone crack, I saw all sense of understanding leave his face, leaving his eyes was consciousness. Blood exploded from his face onto my white t-shirt, and I smiled. I knew, I knew at that point the only thing I would ever be good at was hurting people. Because I liked it, at that point, I liked it. I am going to like facing you. I don’t want your children to be like me and I don’t see you changing because, quite frankly, you are the type of arrogant prick that will never see his own fault.
Kristoff this weekend I take out my frustration on you, I take you apart. You are right, the real story is between us but that doesn’t mean that I will forget about Robert or Honcho but you are a carbon copy of the father that created me, the mess that I have become is because of people like you. You will soon see exactly what comes along with years of the torment that you are laying down upon your children.
And I promise you won’t like it….
(Scene fades)
The family tree doesn’t split
(Harold sits on a dumpster in a random alley. Behind him a flag flies, waving gently in the air. On the flag is a maple leaf, making you come to the conclusion that Harold has finally made his way to Canada, after his stay in a house he looks cleaner then normal, his hair is combed down and his clothes, despite their snugness, are quite clean and new looking making you wonder if he was given some clothes when he stayed in the home.)
(In front of him is a shopping cart filled with cinder blocks, he hops off the dumpster and grabs it by both sides. He lifts with veritable ease the cart and throws it against the dumpster where it clangs loudly. He then picks the cart up and starts to lift the cinder blocks throwing them in a high arc back into the cart. After a few moments he lifts the cart up higher, and throws it on top of the dumpster. This primitive form of exercise may not be the best or nicest looking but it seems effective.)
(Harold stops, breathing heavily he places his hands on his thighs and bends down catching his breath. He begins to speak)
Robert Diamond, it is better if you don’t look in that dumpster. There are some used razor blades in there and if you see them I am scared you will just be overtly excited and won’t be able to refrain from gashing your arms with them. I know it is hard for you, with that difficult life you have had, with the rough patches you have faced to get out of bed everyday without cutting yourself or crying about how tough life is, but you can do it. You can, I mean look at me. I have been more positive then ever this week and I honestly and truly feel that the winds of change have finally started to blow for the homeless one.
(He gives the camera a signature thumbs up)
Robert, I expected more from you, I mean, for your entire ranting retrospective all you did was say that I smell, that I stink, that I am ugly and bald. But, look, I do have hair. I am very careful about maintaining it; I follow a strict regiment of combing debris from it using some old rib bones I took out of a fish corpse I found in a dumpster. Your hair though, for all the talk about how dirty and stinky your hair looks like you rubbed ketchup in it, or perhaps the blood from your fresh self inflicted cutting wounds. I think the only thing that stinks around here is your attitude mister, and I want to help you feel better about yourself. So please, try doing something original. Everyone here that I have kicked the **** out of has called me stinky. It just makes me want to hurt them, and as you have witnessed over the past few months, there are very few things that I am good at but hurting people is one of them…
(He hops back up on the dumpster)
The thing that confuses me is your relationship with your nephew Diamond Dallas Honcho, this alone is proof that your family tree doesn’t actually split, which also explains why you can’t think of any original insults and why Mike Honcho drools almost constantly when envisioning his loins covered in meatloaf. Rob, I don’t want you to have hurt feelings and to think I consider you to be a “Diamond in the rough.”
(for the first time Harold is making jokes and he takes a moment to laugh)
I know you are more then capable to defeat me, just as most people here are. The only difference is that when you are fighting for something more, like personal dignity or pride then you are likely to fight a little harder and work a bit more to make sure you are victorious. I don’t think you are fighting for anything beyond the thought of being a winner, which is something that has certainly escaped you for your entire life. Fighting only for that reason you will never defeat someone that is fighting for redemption, you will never defeat someone who needs to win, and Robert, I feel that if you are only wrestling to prove that you aren’t the dark horse and that you should be taken seriously. Well, I hate to tell you this but as long as you have your hand up some puppets ass you are never going to be taken seriously. I couldn’t figure out why people wouldn’t take me seriously, and then I realized, “Hey idiot, look in the mirror, you are a bum, you dress like a scumbag and wrestle in a hockey mask.” I have come to terms with the fact that I am not going to be taken seriously until I start to stick up for myself. Hopefully you and your mildly retarded cousin Michael can learn from my mistakes and not delve any further into obscurity then I have.
Because I wouldn't even wish my life on my worst enemy.
See you both Sunday.
(Scene fades)