Post by Smith Jones on Aug 18, 2019 21:23:27 GMT -5
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~OFF CAMERA~
WINSTON: “Ooof!”
Winston Jones’ body comes crashing down on a big, blue mat inside the Mojo Dojo in downtown Toronto, Ontario, Canada. His soft blue eyes wince in agony at yet another leg sweep from his arch nemesis, Rodney. Winston hadn’t even wanted to take this class anyway. It was his mother’s way of toughening him up for whatever beatdowns may come his way at school… at home…
Rodney always reminded Winston of his father, the way his face puckered with disgust all the time and his words slinked out of his face like a slippery hiss. Creepy as heck.
Winston had told his mother he wanted to take a wrestling class and THIS is what she came up with. Self defense was not Winston’s motivation. His desire was to go on the attack! Those days were as yet still very far away from young Winston. Patience was going to be a hard lesson for him to learn over the coming years. Time always wins. Rodney grabs Jones by the front of his all white guy and stands him up. Rodney squares up to attack again. Winston dodges, but Rodney adjusts and flips Winston to the mat again with a swift leg sweep.
WINSTON: “Ooof!”
RODNEY: “Need a nap, Winnie?”
MARIAH: “Leave him alone, Rodney!”
RODNEY: “This is a self defense class. Defend yourself!”
Rodney once again grabs Winston by the front of his guy and pulls him to his feet. Rodney stands over the shorter Jones and glares down at him. Winston stands as tall as he can.
INSTRUCTOR: “Let’s try something a little different. Winston. You come stand here next to me and watch. Mariah. Rodney. Face off.”
WINSTON: “You’re kidding. She’s kidding, right?”
RODNEY: “Let’s dance, princess Mariah.”
MARIAH: “Ew.”
Winston balls up his fist as tightly as he can and… waits… and watches as Rodney grabs hold of Winston’s crush and throws her to the mat. He loses his mind… on the inside. He does nothing to help her. Winston doesn’t even offer a hand to help her up. HE stands next to the instructor, frozen. Mariah sniffles and then she gets to her feet. She runs off in a random direction.
~~~
~ON CAMERA~
SMITH JONES: “This is a call to arms.”
Fade up on a shot of Smith Jones’ balled up fist as it hangs at the end of his right arm at his side. His fingers are fully flexed, pressing into one another with the force of a black hole. Jones is dressed in dark jeans a plain gray tee. The camera follows slowly up as Jones raises his arm and aims his fist at the sky. Smith tilts his head back and he looks up at the clouds above him in the middle of a hot, Arizona day. Smith closes his eyes
SMITH JONES: “The Masuda Corporation is a problem. I don’t want a single member of the Alpha Professional Wrestling roster to rest on a single laurel on this. Lace up. Show up. Every Monday! Because, we all know that Masuda Jubei and anyone associated with Masuda Jubei are the type of people who want to take something good and pure and make it into something dark and twisty like the depths of their own souls. They aim to turn this entire company into their own sadistic playground, you ALL OF YOU back there in our locker room are the play things! Is that what you want? Is that the point of your careers?? Do you really want to leave a legacy of being that guy that got destroyed by those cool dudes from that big group gimmick back in twenty-nineteen?!?!! Is that who you are?”
Just then, we begin to hear the rapid cadence of helicopter propellers as they cut through the dry desert air. The distant rhythm moves closer and closer. Cut to a wider shot where we can see that Smith Jones is standing near the edge of the Grand Canyon. The chopper is plain white with a large, silver “1’m” painted on the side of it. With his arm still extended straight up, Smith opens his fist and spreads his fingers wide as the chopper hovers over him. A rope ladder unrolls as the chopper hovers about ten feet above Jones. Smitty grabs hold of the ladder and begins to ascend to the helo above him. It starts to fly away. Just before he enters the aircraft, he yells.
SMITH JONES: “Anything is possible if you have the good ol’ fashioned gumption to get off your ass and make it happen!!!”
He climbs up into the aircraft and is handed a cold glass of milk in a frosted glass by a smoking hot young lady in a black cocktail dress. He takes a long gulp of his ice old milk and lets out a deep sigh of satisfaction. He wipes his milk moustache away with his hand and rubs it on his thigh. Jones reclines into a white leather armchair and looks into camera. His icy blue eyes send a chill down your spine, but you won't admit that in public.
SMITH JONES: “Jones versus Jones is not the story of your Main Event this Monday Night Metal. The story of your Main Event is Smith Jones versus Masuda Jubei. Master. I wipe my feet respectfully on the apron every damned time I step into a wrestling ring. You’ve watched me do it on every episode of Metal and both Supershows. You know from our short time on the same roster that Smith Jones is a legitimate performer. Despite my rough edges, you already know that when I speak, I SPEAK THE TRUTH.”
He leans in close to the lens and speaks in a loud, loud whisper.
SMITH JONES: “That’s why it is so critical that you all heed me now. This is no time to stand idly by. APW. If we do not stand up and fight for what is ours, what is ours will be taken from us. I have no king. I am free. And so, when I get put into a match against a feisty woman called Defenestration Jones with Masuda as the special guest referee, I do not bend the knee. When I feel the weight of The Masuda Corporation already beginning to crush down on the roof of APW, I do not duck and run. And when my day finally comes and I am granted the shot I’ve already earned against the man who would be king, I will not bend the knee. I will rise! I will fight for what I want because regardless of what you all may think of me as an individual, you know that I will stop at NOTHING to be the APW World Heavyweight Wrestling Champion; even if you hate me, you know I’ve got a shot. You know by now, eh? Am I too early on this? I am the only one in all of APW with the required drive, determination, and skillset to topple the champion and show the world what it really means to be the APW Champion!”
Smith leans back in his chair wearing his signature stone scowl. He takes a sip of his milk.
SMITH JONES: “Jones. I’ve never been very good at martial arts. I’ve tried! Lord knows I’ve tried to get it, but it’s just not my style. I’ve heard it said that styles make fights and I tend to agree. So, when you bring that unfamiliar style of yours to face my traditional pro wrestling approach, I don’t… I… don’t… know exactly what will happen. I’m at a loss. But, what I do know with absolute certainty is that you’ve got a better chance of tickling Yoda’s choda with a dodo’s tail feather than you have of walking out of Flagstaff with a win over the incredible Smith Jones.”
Fade to black.
SMITH JONES: “I’ll even supply the feather.”
~~~
~OFF CAMERA~
Smith bolts awake and sits up in bed with wide eyes, breathing heavily and not finding quite enough air.
AMÉLIE DAVENPORT: “That dream?”
SMITH JONES: “It’s relentless.”
AMÉLIE DAVENPORT: “What can I do?”
SMITH JONES: “You are doing it already, Belle. I’ve never felt so loved.”
AMÉLIE DAVENPORT: “You can do anything, Smith.”
SMITH JONES: “I know.”
