Post by Smith Jones on May 6, 2020 10:29:50 GMT -5
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Documentarian: “STOP HIM!!!”
Cut from black to a shot of Smith Jones lying down on the sidewalk as documentary crewmembers rush to his aid!
Documentarian: “Smith!! Are you alright?!”
Smitty: “I’m fine! I just blew the timing by a few feet. Set up for another take! Back to ones, everybody!!!”
He starts to get up with help. Jones shrugs them off and dusts himself off. He is dressed in a classic black and white striped prison jumpsuit.
Documentarian: “No way!!! Smith, take a breath!”
Smitty: “I’m not gonna stop now! We’re on a roll!! I’ll hit it this time. ONES!!!”
Documentarian: “NOOOOOO!!!”
The documentarian puts his hand on Smith’s chest. Jones’ eyes turn to fire. Smith puts his hand over the camera lens. Suddenly, we cut to a shot of Smith Jones sitting on a small bed inside a prison cell wearing a classic black and white striped prison jumpsuit. The door is closed and locked. The lighting is low. Smith rests his elbows on his knees with his face in his palms.
Documentarian: “Okay, Smith… And… ACTION.”
Keeping his head down, he speaks in a low grumble.
Smitty: “Another day.”
Smith shakes his head ever so slightly before he rubs his hands up and over the back of his head, letting them land in his lap with a deep sigh. He sits up straight and looks directly into camera. He is utterly defeated. His eyebrows are knit, yet wilted. His lips are pursed, yet saggy. His eyes are alive, yet dead.
Smitty: “I’m ready.”
He reaches down and begins to rip a piece of cloth from the surface of his thin mattress. He clutches it in his hand.
Smitty: “I’m ready to face today differently than I faced yesterday. I’m ready to put my blind trust in those around me and allow them to lead me to the promised land.”
There is a loud buzzer that reverberates throughout the cell block as the lights come up just a very little bit. Some of the brighter lights flicker. The cell door slides open and stops with a loud clang. Jones still holds the cloth as he stands and steps out of the prison cell. He looks up at the open cells all around and above him.
He is alone. Smith fashions the cloth into a blindfold and ties it around his head. He then begins to walk.
Smitty: “I’m ready to give myself to the whimsey of the masses and allow fate to drag me to my finish line. I’m ready to throw away all of the notions I’ve clung to for so many years and start anew. Who am I to think I know everything? Who am I to think I’m always right?”
Another prisoner enters via a door at the end of the block. The man is… well, he’s a zombie! He moves ever closer to Smith and stops him right before Smith is about to walk into a wall. Instead of chowing down on brains, the zombie redirects Smitty towards the door. Jones doesn’t acknowledge this help in any way. He keeps moving forward.
Smitty: “I’m ready to sit and listen to every single opinion of every single doubter I have. They can remind me how the world works. They can explain to me how to do my hair, how to dress, how to not walk funny.”
Another prison zombie appears to set Smith straight just as he almost crashes against the door jam of a prison cell. The zombie corrects Jones’ path. Smith keeps moving forward.
Smitty: “Too long have I enjoyed the freedom of making my own choices. I want to give that away to the masses. I want someone sitting at a keyboard on the other side of the world to tell me how fat I am, how ugly I am, how stupid I am…
I want to draw imaginary lines in the sand and spit in the faces of anyone who dares cross them. I choose to give away my self esteem, my confidence, my very dignity. I elect to be constantly judged by a jury of people who would never have any chance of being my peers in the real world.”
Smith reaches out in front of him and touches a door. It’s the door towards the exit hallway. He takes a deep breath before he presses down on the handle and it clicks right open! He moves into the hallway, placing his hand on the wall to guide his way.
Smitty: “I’m ready to let your opinions of me touch me in ways I’d be ashamed to admit to a priest. Change me. Make me yours. Take a bite out of me and make me more like you.”
Suddenly, another zombie pops out from around the corner and shoves Jones in a new direction, down a different hallway..
Smitty: “You have no idea what it’s like to live within the governance of rules I set myself long before I ever understood how difficult it would be to walk those rigid lines.
Corey Black. I get it when you talk about being a one company man. That’s been my way of life for years too! One company at a time. One title at a time. Traditionally, when you’ve seen Smith Jones try to straddle two worlds, it ends up being only a matter of time before I am forced to choose one over the other. That’s how I’ve lived. Until recently. Y’see, I’m trying to make a change for myself so that I don’t have to remain locked inside my head all the time. I don’t have to keep my secrets anymore. I want to let them all out so that the world can see me, naked and afraid, and point and laugh at all the things I’ve ever done wrong.
Maybe we don’t have to be in just one company to be company men, Corey. Here in Alpha Pro, I’ve been a solid staple. One of the precious few on this roster who’ve been here since day one. Alpha Rising. And I am the only one in this entire company ever to have held the Alpha Pro Wrestling World Heavyweight Championship TWICE. I hold the record for longest reigning. I have far and away the most combined days as World Champion. I have been integral to the very growth and development of this company since the very beginning.
Then, when I recently came across some old photos from the earliest days of my career, I decided quite impetuously to sign up to work for the company where I signed my very first pro contract. XHW is a highly competitive environment, much like APW. I never did win that X-Core Championship almost ten years ago, so I am bound and determined to win it this time around. Over in Xtreme Hardcore Wrestling, I am going to reclaim a piece of my own history and do it better than I did the first time around. While here in APW, as you can see, I am dedicated to the continued success of a company I helped build from the ground up. Call me some sort of Architect, if you will.”
A zombie stops Smith right in front of a counter with a little window. Inside the window is a zombie dressed as a prison clerk. The zombie searches through boxes in the back of the room while Jones waits.
Smitty: “FPV. You are a two-time champion just like me. Only… you dropped yours a week later in each case. Fourteen days as champion, eh? Roughly? ‘Bout the length of your standard mandatory self-quarantine. Not that I’m shaking a stick at your accomplishments. I know how hard it is to win a World Championship. I know how hard it is to keep a World Championship.
I also know, Frank, how hard it is to lose a World Championship. That smarts. It stings! You’ll get through it. Trust the process. Listen well. Pay attention to the voices in your head that tell you that you will never be that good again. Let it sink in that two World Championships with zero title defenses is not the kind of thing you want to leave behind as your legacy. Know deep down in your heart of hearts that the high you felt the first time you won the AW Championship is the last time you will ever feel that way.”
The clerk returns with a large brown paper bag full of Smitty’s personal effects. Still blindfolded, Smith doesn’t look inside. He takes the bag and turns to leave, but there’s a zombie right behind him! The zombie shoves Jones back to the desk where the clerk now hands him a pair of white patent leather boots, tied together by the laces. He does not reach out for them. Both zombies manipulate Smith’s body to get the boots into his hands. Smith feels the leather with his hands. He touches the stitching with his fingertips. He raises the boots to his nose and inhales deeply. A much softer sigh emanates from him as he slings the boots over his shoulder. The zombie shoves Smith out the front door and into the warm, welcoming rays of the sun. He lifts his face to the sky and feels the light wind as it caresses his face. Smith smiles as he keeps moving forward.
Smitty: “Man Made Gods. Is that what you are? It bothers me that a couple of Action Wrestling superstars walked into APW, won the tournament, and are now carrying around the Alpha Tag Team Championships, so I need something from the both of you. I need you to beat us. I need you to do everything you can to put myself and my tag partner into the ground this Monday night, because I need to know that the APW World Tag Team Titles that I fought so hard to augment in that tournament are in the proper hands. I need you, FPV, to get up and BE BETTER than you have been the past while. I need you to whine less and win, eh? Fun with anagrams.
The only reason we didn’t make it to that tournament final is due to The Architects getting SCREWED by Irina Ivanova when she assigned Spartan as the Special Guest Referee in our semi-final versus Balfore and Richards. Man Made Gods should have faced The Architects at Battlecade and everyone knows it.”
Smith walks past the prison sign, guided by random zombies the entire way.
Smitty: “This Monday Night Metal, I am going to free myself from the confines of my current reality. The wrestling world is going to see the match that they should’ve seen in that Tag Title Tournament Final. And they’re going to see the result that they should’ve seen. Your Alpha World Champion Damon Warrens and “Classic” Smith Jones, with Lex Collins at ringside, are going to storm that arena in Boise. And I swear to… er, well… one of you that we will show everyone who the real Tag Team Champions should be! Because, when I allow myself to be free of all my rules, free of the need to be polite, free of the need not to step on toes, free of the confines of the convoluted constructs of conventional society, that is when I am at my most dangerous. That often happens, gentlegods, after that opening bell rings.
The Architects are going to defeat Man Made Gods in the Metal Main Event this Monday night...
And may whoever the real God is strike me down where I stand if I’m wrong!!!”
Smith removes the blindfold and looks up just as a speeding bus is about to hit him! Cut to black.
