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+--- Thread: Go Boom! (RP #1) (/showthread.php?tid=5003)
Go Boom! (RP #1) - Tony Santos - 07-29-2013
Jeremy: Sir, get out of that tree...
Tony Santos was in fact sitting in a tree. The person calling up to him? None other than his glorified babysitter, erm, intern, Jeremy (or as Tony so lovingly called him, "the kid."). Santos, upset and dismayed after his stunning loss to a much more prepared Stevie Tyler, had spent the past week in his apartment, sulking. His recent alcoholic binge, along with lingering daddy issues that he was still reeling from, certainly played a part in his title loss, but it was obvious that his lack of focus and drive was another major player.
Now, after having sulked for a good few days, Tony is perched in a branch at the top of a large oak tree down his street in Brighton, Massachusetts. Unshaven, his thick, brown beard makes him look at least ten years older than he is. However, his attire of torn, beige, khaki shorts and Tom Brady knockoff jersey make him look more like a single, unemployed 40-something who spends his days at The Last Drop (a local, quite empty watering hole in Brighton that is only crowded or somewhat significant at 1 in the morning after all of the BU students living off campus have made their way for literally their last drops of the night). Tony is seen staring intently at a squirrel that's making its way along a branch, searching for food.
Santos: Look at this little bastard, kid. He's got one objective in mind, and that's to find food. Literally, that's it. He doesn't give a damn who or what's in his way, he just wants to find a nut or two and have dinner...
Santos, frowning as he has the look of realization that an immature middle-schooler gets after he's figured out how hilarious yet so, so wrong the word "queef" is, looks down at Jeremy, and, realizing that Jeremy either doesn't realize the Freudian slip he just made or doesn't care, continues.
Santos: This creature knows what he wants and he takes it. No questions asked. No obstacle too great. That thing just gets it done.
Jeremy: Sir, he's scrambling around the tree, sniffing around for a nut. He's completely without direction or purpose. He'd just as easily give up after a good few minutes, scramble down the tree, then cross the street, only to get hit by a car. Sir, there's literally nothing to admire about a squirrel. Why are we talking about this anywa...
Tony cuts Jeremy off before he could finish his sentence, lifting his right index finger to his lips. Whispering...
Santos: Shhh, you're scaring him. He's frozen stiff by the sound of your voice. Quiet, kid.
The squirrel, frozen by the sound of Tony's voice, actually, stares to his right, shaking slightly. He then proceeds to make his way down the tree, scrambling from what he perceives as imminent danger. Eyes bugging out, the squirrel scampers down the trunk of the tree and sits on the warm pavement.
Santos: See, kid? He not only knows what he wants, he knows how to get away from what he doesn't. Kid, I've been sitting in this tree for over an hour, and I've learned so much from the concrete jungle animals roaming our little wilderness here. They let bygones be bygones, and they sure as hell don't go on pointless, out of character rants...
Jeremy, not exactly sure where this is going, interjects.
Jeremy: They let bygones be bygones because they're too stupid to remember said bygones for longer than a day. Sir, can you just get down, please?
Santos: I won't get down, kid. I won't get down from this tree simply out of a sheer desire not to. It's time that I show some discipline, kid. It's time that I do what I want to do; go after what I want. Just like that tough little squirrel down by your feet. I'm losing my mind, kid, and it's time that I take a page out of the book of the little rodent down below and go for the kill, without regard for the potential consequences, but smart enough at the same time to be cognizant of those risks. Stone cold. Brutal. It's time that I take a stand, kid. Time to forge my own path. Time to get hungry, and fulfill that hunger. Time to...
Just as Tony looks to finish what was probably only a sentence to the halfway point of a much longer rant, a 2004 Dodge Durango comes roaring around the corner. The squirrel, oblivious to the sights and sounds around him, juts out into the street, interested in finding a new tree to lay waste to, tearing apart its insides for sustenance. With an animalistic hunger leading the way, the squirrel leads the charge to the other side of the road... and then...
Its head is crushed under the right front tire of the Durango. The squirrel lays there, dead as a door nail.
Jeremy: How 'bout you get out of the tree now?
The scene fades to black.