Post by The Kayby on Nov 9, 2020 19:15:07 GMT -5
"Poor Icarus." We open up with the muted pallet of grey decrepit concrete walls. The sole window, to the right of the camera, is blocked by a darkly-coloured blackout curtain. Respecting the rule of thirds, Hale Cassidy, far from the Kayby we've come to love over the last two weeks, occupies the left two-thirds of the screen. His hair, normally perfectly quaffed, is greasy and disheveled. His right hand enters the frame; a cigarette, not a Juul, held between his index finger and thumb. Held by the neck in his right palm is a nearly-empty 40 of Banff Ice. As he lights the cigarette with a dollar store Bic he brushes a greasy lock of hair over his ear with back of his vodka hand. "You flew too close to the sun." Staring blankly off-screen, he lifts the bottle to his lips. With a violent snap backward of his neck he shoots back a quarter of the bottle without so much as a grimace. From the doorway at the back of the room a very concerned Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor enters.
"Bae-by..." she says, apprehensive of what she may see when he turns around. The clicking of high heels that normally accompanies her gait is replaced by the scraping of glass bottles kicked aside on the floor. Hale Cassidy doesn't stir from his spot. His vacant stare suggesting he doesn't hear Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor. "I'm scared, Hale. You've been wallowing here for the last week and-"
In his own mind, and for the convenience of the people at home, entering at the back of the room, like a beam of morning light piercing the through the curtains, is Kayby Hale Cassidy. Dressed in vibrant colours that contrast all the grey around them, Kayby Hale Cassidy's fine Italian leather boots resound off of the floor as if it was tile. This hallucination looks down upon our downtrodden protagonist. "Look at you," the hallucination says with the normal swagger of Kayby Hale Cassidy. "You're not strong, you're not a king; you're pathetic." The hallucination walks right past Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor who is seemingly awaiting a reply to a question Hale does not hear. "You're scared of getting back into that ring because you don't want to lose again. So instead doing that you are going to stew while you slowly kill our liver and lungs; real smart there, idiot." The hallucination lays down beside our protagonist; propping himself up with his elbows. "You were promised a North American Championship match this week and Jubei lied to you." It pulls out a Juul and takes a drag. "But you know what you have instead?" He asks as vapor pours out of his mouth. "You have the World Heavyweight Champion in match. And once you beat him, non-title or otherwise, everyone out there will know who the de facto World Heavyweight Champion is."
The hallucination slaps Hale jerking his head to the left. Suddenly, with a near-seamless transition his head is now facing Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor. Her emerald-green eyes are ablaze with metaphorical fire. "Now you are gonna get your ass up, and you're gonna knock his ass out. You know why; because he calls himself the Devil Himself and the Nitemare; like N-I-T-E. It's so not even clever," Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor says without a hint of irony. "He's the same cookie cutter tool that calls himself sick and sadistic. It's the same shit, different day, Hale. And if you think you're loss to Mister Angry Pants was bad, you're going to be in for a shock. C'mon Hale, snap out of this bullshit. I want my Bae-by back."
As if called from deep within himself the self-righteous smile of Kayby Hale Cassidy returns. As they stand up the camera cuts to a new angle and the muted pallet is now gone. Kayby Hale Cassidy, now suddenly clean and sober, is dressed as vibrantly as his hallucination. "Sorry I'm late, Bambi. Come, I've got to make myself the de facto World's Heavyweight Champion." Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor, now filled with joy locks arms with Kayby Hale Cassidy as the two leave his personal prison.
"Bae-by..." she says, apprehensive of what she may see when he turns around. The clicking of high heels that normally accompanies her gait is replaced by the scraping of glass bottles kicked aside on the floor. Hale Cassidy doesn't stir from his spot. His vacant stare suggesting he doesn't hear Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor. "I'm scared, Hale. You've been wallowing here for the last week and-"
In his own mind, and for the convenience of the people at home, entering at the back of the room, like a beam of morning light piercing the through the curtains, is Kayby Hale Cassidy. Dressed in vibrant colours that contrast all the grey around them, Kayby Hale Cassidy's fine Italian leather boots resound off of the floor as if it was tile. This hallucination looks down upon our downtrodden protagonist. "Look at you," the hallucination says with the normal swagger of Kayby Hale Cassidy. "You're not strong, you're not a king; you're pathetic." The hallucination walks right past Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor who is seemingly awaiting a reply to a question Hale does not hear. "You're scared of getting back into that ring because you don't want to lose again. So instead doing that you are going to stew while you slowly kill our liver and lungs; real smart there, idiot." The hallucination lays down beside our protagonist; propping himself up with his elbows. "You were promised a North American Championship match this week and Jubei lied to you." It pulls out a Juul and takes a drag. "But you know what you have instead?" He asks as vapor pours out of his mouth. "You have the World Heavyweight Champion in match. And once you beat him, non-title or otherwise, everyone out there will know who the de facto World Heavyweight Champion is."
The hallucination slaps Hale jerking his head to the left. Suddenly, with a near-seamless transition his head is now facing Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor. Her emerald-green eyes are ablaze with metaphorical fire. "Now you are gonna get your ass up, and you're gonna knock his ass out. You know why; because he calls himself the Devil Himself and the Nitemare; like N-I-T-E. It's so not even clever," Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor says without a hint of irony. "He's the same cookie cutter tool that calls himself sick and sadistic. It's the same shit, different day, Hale. And if you think you're loss to Mister Angry Pants was bad, you're going to be in for a shock. C'mon Hale, snap out of this bullshit. I want my Bae-by back."
As if called from deep within himself the self-righteous smile of Kayby Hale Cassidy returns. As they stand up the camera cuts to a new angle and the muted pallet is now gone. Kayby Hale Cassidy, now suddenly clean and sober, is dressed as vibrantly as his hallucination. "Sorry I'm late, Bambi. Come, I've got to make myself the de facto World's Heavyweight Champion." Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor, now filled with joy locks arms with Kayby Hale Cassidy as the two leave his personal prison.
