Post by hall on Jun 25, 2006 19:02:45 GMT -5
The camera begins fixed upon the night sky. The twinkling of sparse stars indicate that it’s early in the night. The camera pans downward to show Easton Hall, sitting on a chair atop the roof. A Coca-Cola bottle sits on the arm of the chair and Easton holds it tightly. He is dressed in blue jeans and a black “The Original” t-shirt, hunched over in his chair. His face is blank with deep thought as he looks out towards the street. He takes a sip of the Coke, enjoying the taste of the fizzing drink as it hits his tongue. He tilts his head to the side, cracking his neck, as he continues thinking.
A man climbs up a ladder onto the roof. He’s wearing a blue shirt and blue jeans and a white hat is mashed over his dusty blonde hair, looking like he’s in his mid-20’s. Surprisingly, the man’s goatee is very well trimmed and taken care of. The man strokes his beard for a second, rocking on the balls of his feet and looking around. Easton glances up at the man, but his eyes don’t linger. He’s pretty much consumed with the match Monday, his chance to get back at Hell's Army and take the TV Title someday, starting with beating Deamon Cohln. The man grins at Easton, but the Original isn’t taking notice. He walks towards Hall, wringing his hands in anxiety.
Man: “Hey... I’ve seen you on TV somewhere. You a pro wrestler?”
Easton Hall: “Mmhmm. They call me ‘the Original’ Easton Hall, and coincidentally, I call myself that, too.”
Man: “I’m Marty, Mr. Hall, it’s nice to see someone I’ve watched on TV in person. It’s a shame how that Masters guy turned on ya. I was looking forward to seeing you as TV champion sometime along the road.”
Easton Hall: “I plan to get back at him for that.”
Marty: “So, you planning anything? There’s some good bars here in 'Nooga. I could show you around, y’know, maybe pick up some chicks...”
Easton Hall: “I’ve got a girlfriend, Marty. ”
Marty: “Yeah, I know, but she’s not around, is she?”
Easton Hall: “I have to assume she’s watching this. And anyway, I’ve got a match to prepare for. I can’t be wasting my time in bars, not now. Not when the match is tomorrow.”
Marty: “Suit yourself, man. I’m gonna go out and get myself some, and I doubt you’ve done that in a long time.”
Easton Hall: “Fuck off.”
Marty: “I don’t know what your temper is, but I hope Masters pummels you into the ground. Y’stupid fuck.”
Marty spits, although not at Easton, and he sneers at E-Rex before he climbs down the ladder. Easton’s left fist trembles with anger, but he doesn’t do anything. He should have whipsmacked that kid, but he didn’t. Why? He wishes he could blame it on the fact that he’s saving it for tomorrow, but he knows that isn’t true. No, he’s simply holding back, and if he doesn’t quit it, he’ll be holding back tomorrow. He rises from his seat and drinks down the rest of his Coke. Easy E looks over the edge of the building and, finding that the ladder is still propped up, turns and climbs down the building.
This guilt trip has to end soon. Easton is tired of feeling sorry for himself, especially for something he didn’t do. This isn’t his fault, but now he’s got a chnace to finish it. Monday is approaching fast, and so is his chance to put things right. Both Cohln and Masters believe that they’re better than him, but Easton’s out to prove that that just isn’t true. People simply become too arrogant about fighting him and that’s one thing that has proved to be the downfall of so many. Easton sighs as he heads into town. Going out on a limb, he decides to turn into a bar.
College kids are flooding the bar and the place is extremely rowdy. Easton never went to college, so he never got to experience what these kids are experiencing. He takes a couple steps in, looking around for a seat. It looks like a place that Dave Attell would find himself at home in. Easton walks towards an empty stool when he is cut off by someone. Quizzically, he looks up and finds himself staring straight at the man who identified himself earlier as Marty. He is wearing a smug smirk on his face and he’s dressed in a black Queens of the Stone Age t-shirt and blue jeans. His white cap is crooked backwards now. He shoves Easton backwards.
Marty: “Ha. TV Champion my ass. I’m glad Masters beat you for that belt, man, ‘cause I would have hated to see you as the champ of my TV any longer than you were.”
Easton shakes his head and steps backwards. The man raises his bottle and laughs, taking a swig. Easton’s fists clench and unclench rapidly, but he doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t want to explode, doesn’t want to be that “loose cannon.” This guy is just too much, though, but still... Easton can’t bring himself to do anything and he can’t figure out why. He’s shrugged off labels before, he can do it again, so what’s holding him back?
Marty: “Man, fuck you. You’re gonna lose so bad Monday, and then what’ve you got? Nothing. Your punk ass won’t have nothing. You’re gonna be wrestling all the losers again, gonna be sleeping in ratty hotels all over town. Wouldn’t be surprised if that slut you keep in New York left you for one of those Japs.”
Easton’s eyes snap up, locking with Marty’s. The crowd falls slient as they witness the feral look in Easton’s eye. He grabs Marty’s collar and shoves him backwards, leaning him backwards over the bar counter. Rage boils behind E-Rex’s face and bubbles over, showing itself in every movement he makes. Marty’s beer falls out of his hand and crashes against the floor. A fearful look washes over the previously smug repairman’s face.
Easton Hall: “What was that!? Yeah, say it again, fucker! I DARE YOU! C’mon, where’s your spine now, you fucking coward! Where’s your smartass comments!?”
Easton slams his fist into the man’s face and the crowd lets out a pained groan. Easton begins to pound him with rights and lefts, smashing his fists, forearms, and elbows into the man’s upper body. Marty lets out strangled wails that are instantly cut off with each new blow Easton lands. Marty falls backwards over the counter and the bartenders clear out as E-Rex leaps over. Marty turns over, covering the back of his head as Easton beats the living shit out of him. Easy E grabs Marty by the collar and the belt and heaves him back over the counter.
Easton Hall sails over the counter once again, landing knee-first on Marty’s back. The repairman groans as Easton continues his assault, punching Marty over and over on the back of his head. A long line of saliva hangs from the corner of Easton’s mouth as he rises. He wipes it from his mouth with the back of his hand and flings it on Marty, causing another whimper. His face is still contorted with anger and the patrons of the bar back away from him in fear of being his next target.
Easton Hall: “Fuck... you. When you get to where I am, you can come back and tell me how hard it was. How you dragged yourself up every inch. When you have a girl like mine, you can come back and tell me how much you’re worried about losing her. When you get a life like mine, you can come back and show me what you did that’s so great. Until then, you worthless shit, until then, don’t even think about opening your fucking mouth to me.”
Easton turns away and exits the bar, shoving the door open roughly. It’s not the drive he’s going to need for Monday, but it is a release. He can fight Deamon with that same conviction, he knows that. He just has to do it, and he’s going to get his chance tomorrow. His fists clench. He’s got the chance to get retribution against those who have wronged him most, and he just has to wait.
Back in the bar, a bartender and another strong guy have tossed Marty onto the street. Business has returned to normal, with the topic of choice being Easton’s brutal beating of Marty, the repairman.
Patron: “Yeah, I’d like a scotch. What’re we gonna do about that guy who kicked Marty’s ass? We gonna call the cops or sumthin’?”
Bartender: “Marty’s a bit too proud to call for any help. Besides, that fucker had it coming to him.”
A man climbs up a ladder onto the roof. He’s wearing a blue shirt and blue jeans and a white hat is mashed over his dusty blonde hair, looking like he’s in his mid-20’s. Surprisingly, the man’s goatee is very well trimmed and taken care of. The man strokes his beard for a second, rocking on the balls of his feet and looking around. Easton glances up at the man, but his eyes don’t linger. He’s pretty much consumed with the match Monday, his chance to get back at Hell's Army and take the TV Title someday, starting with beating Deamon Cohln. The man grins at Easton, but the Original isn’t taking notice. He walks towards Hall, wringing his hands in anxiety.
Man: “Hey... I’ve seen you on TV somewhere. You a pro wrestler?”
Easton Hall: “Mmhmm. They call me ‘the Original’ Easton Hall, and coincidentally, I call myself that, too.”
Man: “I’m Marty, Mr. Hall, it’s nice to see someone I’ve watched on TV in person. It’s a shame how that Masters guy turned on ya. I was looking forward to seeing you as TV champion sometime along the road.”
Easton Hall: “I plan to get back at him for that.”
Marty: “So, you planning anything? There’s some good bars here in 'Nooga. I could show you around, y’know, maybe pick up some chicks...”
Easton Hall: “I’ve got a girlfriend, Marty. ”
Marty: “Yeah, I know, but she’s not around, is she?”
Easton Hall: “I have to assume she’s watching this. And anyway, I’ve got a match to prepare for. I can’t be wasting my time in bars, not now. Not when the match is tomorrow.”
Marty: “Suit yourself, man. I’m gonna go out and get myself some, and I doubt you’ve done that in a long time.”
Easton Hall: “Fuck off.”
Marty: “I don’t know what your temper is, but I hope Masters pummels you into the ground. Y’stupid fuck.”
Marty spits, although not at Easton, and he sneers at E-Rex before he climbs down the ladder. Easton’s left fist trembles with anger, but he doesn’t do anything. He should have whipsmacked that kid, but he didn’t. Why? He wishes he could blame it on the fact that he’s saving it for tomorrow, but he knows that isn’t true. No, he’s simply holding back, and if he doesn’t quit it, he’ll be holding back tomorrow. He rises from his seat and drinks down the rest of his Coke. Easy E looks over the edge of the building and, finding that the ladder is still propped up, turns and climbs down the building.
This guilt trip has to end soon. Easton is tired of feeling sorry for himself, especially for something he didn’t do. This isn’t his fault, but now he’s got a chnace to finish it. Monday is approaching fast, and so is his chance to put things right. Both Cohln and Masters believe that they’re better than him, but Easton’s out to prove that that just isn’t true. People simply become too arrogant about fighting him and that’s one thing that has proved to be the downfall of so many. Easton sighs as he heads into town. Going out on a limb, he decides to turn into a bar.
College kids are flooding the bar and the place is extremely rowdy. Easton never went to college, so he never got to experience what these kids are experiencing. He takes a couple steps in, looking around for a seat. It looks like a place that Dave Attell would find himself at home in. Easton walks towards an empty stool when he is cut off by someone. Quizzically, he looks up and finds himself staring straight at the man who identified himself earlier as Marty. He is wearing a smug smirk on his face and he’s dressed in a black Queens of the Stone Age t-shirt and blue jeans. His white cap is crooked backwards now. He shoves Easton backwards.
Marty: “Ha. TV Champion my ass. I’m glad Masters beat you for that belt, man, ‘cause I would have hated to see you as the champ of my TV any longer than you were.”
Easton shakes his head and steps backwards. The man raises his bottle and laughs, taking a swig. Easton’s fists clench and unclench rapidly, but he doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t want to explode, doesn’t want to be that “loose cannon.” This guy is just too much, though, but still... Easton can’t bring himself to do anything and he can’t figure out why. He’s shrugged off labels before, he can do it again, so what’s holding him back?
Marty: “Man, fuck you. You’re gonna lose so bad Monday, and then what’ve you got? Nothing. Your punk ass won’t have nothing. You’re gonna be wrestling all the losers again, gonna be sleeping in ratty hotels all over town. Wouldn’t be surprised if that slut you keep in New York left you for one of those Japs.”
Easton’s eyes snap up, locking with Marty’s. The crowd falls slient as they witness the feral look in Easton’s eye. He grabs Marty’s collar and shoves him backwards, leaning him backwards over the bar counter. Rage boils behind E-Rex’s face and bubbles over, showing itself in every movement he makes. Marty’s beer falls out of his hand and crashes against the floor. A fearful look washes over the previously smug repairman’s face.
Easton Hall: “What was that!? Yeah, say it again, fucker! I DARE YOU! C’mon, where’s your spine now, you fucking coward! Where’s your smartass comments!?”
Easton slams his fist into the man’s face and the crowd lets out a pained groan. Easton begins to pound him with rights and lefts, smashing his fists, forearms, and elbows into the man’s upper body. Marty lets out strangled wails that are instantly cut off with each new blow Easton lands. Marty falls backwards over the counter and the bartenders clear out as E-Rex leaps over. Marty turns over, covering the back of his head as Easton beats the living shit out of him. Easy E grabs Marty by the collar and the belt and heaves him back over the counter.
Easton Hall sails over the counter once again, landing knee-first on Marty’s back. The repairman groans as Easton continues his assault, punching Marty over and over on the back of his head. A long line of saliva hangs from the corner of Easton’s mouth as he rises. He wipes it from his mouth with the back of his hand and flings it on Marty, causing another whimper. His face is still contorted with anger and the patrons of the bar back away from him in fear of being his next target.
Easton Hall: “Fuck... you. When you get to where I am, you can come back and tell me how hard it was. How you dragged yourself up every inch. When you have a girl like mine, you can come back and tell me how much you’re worried about losing her. When you get a life like mine, you can come back and show me what you did that’s so great. Until then, you worthless shit, until then, don’t even think about opening your fucking mouth to me.”
Easton turns away and exits the bar, shoving the door open roughly. It’s not the drive he’s going to need for Monday, but it is a release. He can fight Deamon with that same conviction, he knows that. He just has to do it, and he’s going to get his chance tomorrow. His fists clench. He’s got the chance to get retribution against those who have wronged him most, and he just has to wait.
Back in the bar, a bartender and another strong guy have tossed Marty onto the street. Business has returned to normal, with the topic of choice being Easton’s brutal beating of Marty, the repairman.
Patron: “Yeah, I’d like a scotch. What’re we gonna do about that guy who kicked Marty’s ass? We gonna call the cops or sumthin’?”
Bartender: “Marty’s a bit too proud to call for any help. Besides, that fucker had it coming to him.”