But, But, I Thought I Meant Something to You! (RP #3) - Printable Version
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But, But, I Thought I Meant Something to You! (RP #3) (/showthread.php?tid=9972)
But, But, I Thought I Meant Something to You! (RP #3) - Tony Santos - 01-27-2014
The scene opens near a park in Tewksbury, Massachusetts, a suburb just outside of Boston. There are a collection of oak trees spattered around a grassy field, making a loose fortress around the playground that is housed within it. The scene is one of gleeful children playing on some normal sized, yellow swings, flailing across the ten-foot long monkey bars, and jumping rope in the parking lot. It's a mild day in this unassuming suburban town, one filled with rich history and a strong white collar, familial community.
A game of dodgeball is being played in the middle of the parking lot, smack dab between two rows of cars, which more or less act as barriers to avoid allowing the balls to go in to the street or just be a pain to grab. The game carries on with little to no disturbance, until, all of a sudden, a chill hits the air. Not your typical, winter breeze, but rather a... disturbance. Just then, a 2013 black Ferrari roars around the corner, almost side swiping a car while simultaneously almost nipping a tree. The Ferrari immediately changes course and speeds through the parking lot. Zipping through the row of cars, the squeal of the rubber sliding against the pavement unnerves the the children playing. The Ferrari suddenly takes shape a mere 30 feet from the children, as they hurriedly dart out of the way.
The car stops, and a loud and unending horn can be heard blaring from the car. Inside, this can be heard pulsating from the interior of the vehicle...
Suddenly, the music stops and the driver's side door of the Ferrari is kicked open with brute force. A size 13, black boot appears from the vehicle, slamming itself down on the pavement. A bony, calloused hand slaps the top of the door and grips the car with all its might, its fingers turning a dark maroon.
Santos: You motherfucking kids! What do you think this is, a fucking playground?!
The frightened children flash slightly puzzled, yet quite fearful, stares at Tony's direction as his question manages to baffle them due to its obvious answer. Tony pauses, looks around at the red dodgeballs bouncing around the playground, then lets the left edge of his lip curl upwards in a pure awkward muscle spasm.
Santos: Um, well, I guess it is. Fuck it! Get these fucking balls out of my fucking face! And no, that's not meant to be an immature joke for you to use at your fucking disposal, you elementary, shit in your pants fucktards! Now get to steppin'!
The children bolt to their feet and make haste toward their elementary school. Even their adult supervisors are too fearful to consider protecting the children, but rather ensure that they're the first ones inside.
And they say that the youth of America are the screwed up ones...
Coincidentally, an XWF cameraman happens to be focused on the scene unfolding. Tony, dressed in a black leather jacket and leather gloves (with the holes cut out of the fingertips, of course) as well as ruined, gray jean shorts, hobbles over to the camera.
Santos: Neonero! Neo, oh Neonero! Long time no see, eh? Months in fact, but it's felt like years! Where'd you run off to, anyway, my boy? You won that nifty US Title of yours, then shit your proverbial pants in fear of Eli James and practically handed it off to the man the moment that bell rang between you two. Of course, this wasn't before you took one last look at yourself in the reflection of the US Title, focused it on your shriveling manhood, and realized how much of an utter failure you'd become. And it was quite sad for me to watch, really. Why?
Because I wanted to face you for that belt. I wanted my rematch with the Cyaneyed Assassin, the Thane of Inane, the Methodical Murderer... wait, that wasn't a thing, was it? Oddly enough, only one out of those three was made up. Only one of those three didn't churn through the wheels in your head. You found two of those names to be smart and catchy. It's no wonder you went AWOL. That pinto bean you call a brain probably led you off to a local oil spill, instructing you to just bend over and take a drink. That bite-sized cortex of yours couldn't even remember what you and I fought for all those months ago.
It wasn't for the European Title.
I most certainly impressed you even less than you're giving me credit for.
And you're most certainly just a god damn idiot.
Yes, you are a fool for talking about Ariel Sharon. Yes, your "trash talk," which, by the way, is a term that the piece of Care Bear diarrhea named Kimmy K uses, is incredibly tame. Yes, you're underwhelming. And yes, I am a bad, bad, BAD man...
At driving, and listening, and with basic motor skills, and with avoiding the liquor store for more than a day, and at paying my taxes, and at showing love and appreciation for human beings, and at executing a solid pirouette.
And I'm most certainly a bad, bad loser. I whine. I throw tantrums. I knocked out a tooth just because I was bored and slightly irritated. I have issues. Many, many issues.
But one issue that I don't have, that you most certainly do, is one of insecurity. I can sense it in the way you speak. I can sense it in the way you carry yourself. I can sense it in the way you approach me, just some nutjob with a bad temper and a drinking problem. I can sense it in your demeanor.
Neo, my dear Neonero, I look forward to stepping in to that ring with you, my sweetness. I'm going to show you the appreciation you deserve. The appreciation you failed to show me by even remembering our first date together. Our first lovers' tryst. Our first falling out.
Tonight, I'll take you out on a nice getaway, just the two of us! Sure, there will be thousands watching us dance and serenade one another, but don't be mistaken Neo, it's just you and me that matter. I'll twirl you around, make you feel special, and make your hips shake, your eyelids quiver, your muscle tighten. Then, when all is said and done...
I'll give you a sweet, sweet kiss goodnight. See you tonight, gorgeous. Get ready to lock that luscious tongue of yours in my tooth gap as I tear it from its sanctuary.
The scene fades to black as Tony picks up an acorn and... smiles.