"Be" versus Braxton Locus on Monday Night Metal
Jun 15, 2019 21:42:01 GMT -5
BonnieBlue, Braxton Locus, and 2 more like this
Post by Smith Jones on Jun 15, 2019 21:42:01 GMT -5
The Smith Jones Cross-Continental Motivational Speaking Tour Bus is rolling across North America! All footage herein was captured by the documentary crew and is to be considered ON-CAMERA.
Enjoy!
~
Victoria Park
Regina, Saskatchewan
Thursday, June 13th, 2019 - 05:29
Regina, Saskatchewan
Thursday, June 13th, 2019 - 05:29
SMITH: “How much longer can I do this?”
It is early morning in Regina, Saskatchewan. The sun has just barely made it into the sky and is casting a flood of bright orange light over the city. The vibrant orange hue skims across the glass of The McCallum Hill Centre Towers across the park from where Smith Jones is sitting on a park bench alone. He sits near the statue of Sir John A. Macdonald in the middle of the park. He stares pensively up at the statue with his brows furrowed and his lips tightly pursed. The absolute silence is golden to Jones. No matter what Smith Jones ever does in life, he will never sacrifice his moments of solitude. It’s a necessary recharge to keep him going in what can very often be a difficult and challenging life. The road schedule is already beginning to break Smith down. His muscles are sore. His mind is drowning in unwanted thoughts. He is beginning to feel surrounded and he’s struggling to breathe, metaphorically speaking.
Just then, Smith catches a bit of movement in the distance out of the corner of his eye. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, letting out a pained sigh. He opens his eyes again and looks to where the movement is happening. Jones’ fears are confirmed. There is an old man shuffling and clicking his way down the path towards him. Smith stares up at the statue again.
SMITH: “Bet you had no idea it’d get so out of hand. Were you noble or were you a fiend? I suppose that could be asked of anyone, eh?”
The old man’s cane gets slowly closer to Jones. Click… click...click… Smith’s shoulders tighten automatically. As the man arrives at the bench, Jones glares at him as he sits down right next to him. Jones cringes at the old man’s presence and leans slightly away. Of all the places in this entire park that this man could choose to be, he chooses this bench directly abreast Smitty. He seethes while trying to dig out a proper smile. The old man does not remain silent for long.
OLD MAN: “You’re Smith Jones.”
SMITH: “Every day.”
OLD MAN: “Bullshit.”
SMITH: “Excuse me?!”
OLD MAN: “You ain’t you. I remember you. I was a fan...”
SMITH: “Thank you.”
OLD MAN: “...a long time ago. I chanted Smitty before chanting Smitty was cool. I held up signs. I bought your first T-shirt ever. The one with the large white X overtop of it. Do you want to know why I was so proud of that shirt? Why I wore it out in public so many times? Because Smith Jones stood for everyone who didn’t have a voice. He represented those people-- people just like myself who felt they had to pretend to be something they weren’t just to fit into a world they didn’t care to be part of. I have a lot of miles behind me on life’s roads, Smitty! I’ve seen more things than I would ever care to share. Life is long and it ain’t always fun and games. That’s the type of horse pucky you sling at your motivational meetings, eh? If we all dig deep within ourselves we can all work together to make a better world?? Is that who you’ve become after all these years?”
The old man laughs and laughs at the top of his lungs. A flock of pigeons takes flight a short distance away from the men, aside from on. One pigeon lands on Sir John A. Macdonald’s arm. Both men look up at the bird as the bird watches them.
OLD MAN: “I was one of those few voices you used to speak of out in the crowd. The rare bird that don’t travel with the rest of ‘em. You’ve heard my voice before. It has nurtured your inner power. I am one of the few who helped to make you strong. And what have you done with that power since then? You’re a… motivational speaker now? So, let me get this straight...”
Jones starts to get up. The old man grabs him by the wrist and pulls him back down to a seated position. Smith does not resist. He listens as the man rants on.
OLD MAN: “What gives me the right to grab you by the arm like that and TELL SMITH JONES WHAT TO DO?!?!!? Sammy Badmoon is going to have his absolute way with you this week on Monday Night Metal. Yeah, I still watch you from time to time. When I heard you were coming out of retirement, I was excited for your return! But then I saw who you’ve turned into and my interest simply waned.”
SMITH: “What are you saying?!”
OLD MAN: “I’m saying BE SMITH JONES now!!! Enough of this sucking up garbage. Nobody wants to see you happy. They pay to see you MAD.”
Smith inhales to speak, but no words form. He exhales slowly and sinks into the bench. He thinks back to his early pro days in PCW. The reunion show is already booked for November and Jones is nowhere near ready for his fight against The Devil Brytain Rollins. But that doesn’t mean he won’t be. Smith closes his eyes and leans forward to bury his face in his hands. Jones growls a reply.
JONES: “I DON’T CARE WHAT THEY PAY TO SEE, OLD MAN!”
Smith’s eyes bolt wide in a panic and catches his reflection in a puddle between his feet. He looks up at himself with a disappointed look on his face.
JONES: “Tsk, tsk, tsk… The old man’s right. Do you see the confidence dripping from Braxton Locus this week? You have no chance.”
SMITH: “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
OLD MAN: “John A. Macdonald stepped up and became the FIRST EVER Canadian Prime Minister. He stood out from the crowd and he made an impact on the future of something he had passion for!”
JONES: “Do you have that kind of passion, Smitty?
OLD MAN: “You’re losing your grip, aren’t you Smitty?”
JONES: “You’re out of your mind.”
SMITH: “I need to think...”
Smith closes his eyes as tightly as he can. Fade to black.
~
Capital One Arena
Chicago, Illinois
Sunday, June 16th, 2019 - 14:47
Chicago, Illinois
Sunday, June 16th, 2019 - 14:47
SMITH JONES: “Everyone has demons.”
Fade up on a shot of the back of Smith Jones’ shiny white robe with sparkly silver trim. It has “1’m” embroidered elegantly across the shoulders in silver. The camera zooms out to show Smith Jones standing on the interview set with his back decidedly to camera. His eyes are closed and his arms are down at his sides. His head is turned to one side so that we see his face in perfect profile. He very slowly raises his own personal white microphone to his lips and he takes a deep breath and he speaks.
SMITH JONES: “Everyone has them. We all have times in our lives when we are forced to fight through the agony, through the searing pain of existence. Life is a struggle. It’s an ongoing challenge. It’s a game that you have no choice but to win and no chance but to eventually lose. But we must all play. Through the sadness. Through those dark and lonely nights when it feels like you can’t go on, we must go… on. I like to lash out at those around me. I like to cause them pain and study the muscles in their face as they take it in. In life, there aren’t many places where a person can go to harm another without consequence.”
Jones slowly turns to face the camera. His shiny white robe sparkles under the lights. Jones breathes in and out, deeply and slowly, as he rotates. He looks deep into the lens with a stone scowl.
SMITH JONES: “Here in Alpha Pro Wrestling, damaging others is not frowned upon between the opening bell and the final bell. That’s why I’m going to do what damage I can when I am afforded the time to do so. So when I see a guy like Braxton Locis constantly running his mouth and walking these halls like he owns the place after only one APW match… I get to feeling like doing damage again. Sammy, everyone saw your knock down, drag out broadway instant classic against Masuda Jubei. You guys threw everything you had at one another and left everyone in that building and across the globe in awe of what you did. That Uranagi is… technically perfect. I’ve never used the move myself. I encounter it rarely. Guess I have a little something to learn about defending myself against Badmoon.”
Smitty takes a beat to think about what his strategy might be. He smiles to himself before darker thoughts begin to take over his mind. Jones chews on the inside of his cheek for a few moments. He begins to pace back and forth, becoming more and more agitated and animated with each passing second.
SMITH JONES: “Braxton, you and I do agree on a few things. We both believe in work ethic. It’s obvious that you spend an ample amount of time in the gym and in the ring perfecting your game and making yourself the best possible version of you that you can be. I hope the same translates regarding my work ethic. I’m sure it does. You are right to say out loud that APW must MEAN SOMETHING. I couldn’t agree more. While it is a privilege to be able to build APW from the ground up, it is also a great responsibility. We as a locker room must stand tall in the face of those who may try to steer us from our path that we are Alpha Pro and we stand for the very best in ring competition. This coming Monday night, the Metal Main Event features two of the top talents that this company has to offer and I’ll be damned if I;m going to let anyone believe that we’ve been wasting our time working hard to breathe life into APW. When I wipe the soles my white patent leather boots on that sacred ring apron and part the ropes to take centre, I will be there will mal-intent and equipped to do you great harm. I plan to drop you on your head with Spilled Milk. I have a very hard time stifling my sadistic instincts, Braxton. I plan to cripple you with Sleep Paralysis. I plan to throw myself headfirst into Tomorrow. You will be Crestfallen. And when I drop you with my patented Backstabber to the neck, everyone will remember where they were when I topple one of the most highly touted superstars in all of APW! Point of Controversy. Pinfall. One, two, three. That’s how this goes.”
Jones raises his right fist in the air and look up at it. He spreads his fingers wide and feels the stress of life trickling slowly out of him. He feels a sense of peace, temporary though it may be. He soaks his aching muscles in its warm caress.
SMITH JONES: “There is only one Smith Jones and I am he. You wanna make a deep cut in the face of APW, Sammy Badmoon?? I’m right here. Why don’t you dig a big, bloody crevice into my cheek, my forehead, my quadriceps? Come get me! Kick out an eyeball. Snuff out a dream. Why don’t you come dominate me and make me question my very future in this business? Take me out like it’s just that easy, Locus. Hurt me. Break my spirit. Pulverize my body. Stop me for good. This is a high profile must-win match for both of us. Neither of us wants to walk out of here as the loser in a match that will clearly define the victor as THE Alpha! In the absence of the APW Title, this still feels a lot like an APW Championship Match, doesn’t it? You and I are the winners of our respective co-Main Event matches at Alpha Rising! What in the world is going to happen when we go head to head in the Main Event of the flagship’s premiere?!! I did not come to Alpha Pro to be second best. I came here to be the FIRST EVER to secure the APW World Heavyweight Wrestling Championship tightly around my waist for all to see! I will do that when Alpha Showdown comes around. But this coming Monday Night Metal, I’m going to stand toe to toe with you, Badmoon, and raise a fiery bit of Hell with you in that squared circle. When you go for that Uranage, I’m going to be ready. You like to overturn other people’s plans. I get that. I like to do the same. I genuinely love to put people on the shelf. Between those bells, I am free to take your career away and you’re just the type of guy I’d like to shockingly devastate on my way to the top of this locker room, to the very apex of this company. The minute you try to turn this into some bloody bar room brawl, I’m right here to remind you that this is wrestling and wrestling is what I came here to do. There is no one in the locker room as proficient in this art as the incredible Smith Jones. I am the best wrestler you will find here. Look no further. And if you see a Badmoon rising, you’re not watching the same future I’m watching.”
Jones steps right up close to the camera lens and glares through the glass deep into your eyes. He can smell a hint of fear even from so far away. Jones thrives on the fear of those around him. He snacks on their ignorance. He savours their pain. Smitty’s gaze is intense and his manner is dead serious. He hisses his final words.
SMITH JONES: “Be Smith Jones in that ring this Monday night or don’t bother to be anything at all.”
Fade to black.
