Post by J-Mart on Aug 21, 2009 0:41:29 GMT -4
[glow=red,2,300]The Promo[/glow]
When a wrestler cuts a promo just by himself, all alone, it seems as if a level of intimidation is in the room. And that intimidation transfers from that one wrestler and into you television set. That’s exactly how we join Joe Martinez. Joe is sitting directly under a dimly lit light bulb. His surroundings are not certain, but it looks like he’s sitting on a stool in an empty bar. Joe has a bottle of beer in his right hand. He raises the bottle to his lips and chugs down about a quarter of the bottle. Joe is in his signature “G.O.A.T.” Tee with a picture of a goat on the back. He turns slightly to his left and reaches out behind him with the bottler of beer and places it on the back counter where the bartender would usually make the drinks. Joe turns his attention back to the camera and runs is hand through his curly hair, which has been getting too long. He scratches his scruffy beard that he has been growing and lets out a sigh before beginning to speak in a quiet, yet angry voice.
So, Level One eh? Looks like my bitching at him got me a match with him. Which just goes to show you that bitching can get you anything you want. Three no’s and a yes means yes. Look at me now. I’m in my first match in the APW, and I’m already in the main event. That has got to be a fucking record. Jeff is a smart man. He knows that having me in the main event will boost the ratings up 10 fold. The people will pay to see me. The people will pay for my T-shirts, my wristbands, my albums, my movies, and my fucking accessories. The men will tune in every week to see me kick some ass. The ladies will tune in every week to see my ass in those tights. And when I’m in that ring, I simply electrify the whole damn building. This week’s Overdrive will be no different.
Joe waits for a yawn before he continues to speak.
Maybe some people will say that I haven’t done enough in the APW to deserve a main event match already. And they’re right about half of that accusation. I haven’t done shit here in the APW, but that hasn’t stopped this match from happening. Let me just make one thing clear. I am being put in the main event this week because I am a tough as nails wrestler. I come from a well decorated wrestling history. I have beaten some of the best, and I have also beaten some of the worst. And the worst ones were the ones who thought they were the best. One way or another, they’ll all come to learn that talking the talk and walking the walk are two different things, but in a way, they go hand in hand. Talking the talk is half the battle. Following through on your talk is the other half. If you can get inside the head of your opponent, all you have to do is drop his ass once. The rest will come after that.
Joe reaches back for his bottle of beer and intakes another quarter of the bottle. He wipe his mouth with his sleeve and puts bottle back on the counter. He turns his attention back towards the camera.
I know Level One has had an exceptional stay here in the APW since his coming here. I know he is without a loss thus far in his stay here. People have been coming up to me on the streets and saying, “Joe, what have you gotten yourself into? You can’t honestly expect to beat Level One right? He’s the best of the best! He’s the True Expert! He has beaten the greatest superstars in the world right now!”
Joe’s tone of voice becomes a little louder. More passion is in his words as he speaks now.
Then I answer their questions with another question. “Who the hell has Level One beaten that is so good?” Really, who has this dude beaten?! Who is his competition? Jesse Nunez? Michael Lively? John Gr-…
Joe breaks out in laughter.
Oh lord. What a fucking joke. Do you honestly expect someone as smart as me to believe that shit? To believe that Jesse Nunez, Michael Lively, and John Green are all legit challengers for Level One’s title? Please, give me a fucking break. Level One, you haven’t been challenged yet. You haven’t had an opponent who has pushed you to your absolute limit, and then push you even farther. But don’t worry, that’s where I come in. I’m going to hurt you Level One. I’m going to punish you. I’m going to beat you senseless, and then some. Why? Because it needs to be done, and I am fully capable of doing so. I’m more than able to kick your ass Level One.
Joe cracks a sadistic smile. If one didn’t know any better, someone would probably think he was completely insane.
While I’d like to thank you for the opportunity Level One, I would also like to give you a warning. Think of it as a thank you for accepting my challenge. Here it is buddy. I say this to all of my opponents, but this applies especially to you. You have never faced anyone quite like me. Hell, I’ll say it again. Level One, you have never faced anyone quite like me.
Joe leans back on the counter in order to let his word soak in. He sits back up straight.
I know what your going to do on Overdrive Level One. You’re going to come out for our match with your little title around your waist, with that stupid little smile on your face, thinking that this match is going to be a cakewalk. Well I have news for you man. It’s not going to be that easy. You can’t beat me Level One. You just can’t. You’ll find that out first hand come Overdrive.
Joe grabs his bear and finishes the rest of it as the scene fades to black on him.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
[glow=red,2,300]Saturday[/glow]
It’s Saturday morning. I was feeling kind of hungry, so I decided to go out to grab something to eat. After all, that’s what you do when you’re a big time wrestler right? You go out to eat. Anyways, I decided to go to a local diner that was just down the block from my apartment in Rosemont. This was basically your typical small diner. It was pretty small looking on the outside, and not a whole lot of cars were in the parking lot. If one hadn’t have known any better, they would probably think the place was closed. I parked my Spider and walked up to the entrance. On the way in, I bought a newspaper just for the hell of it. I might as well have something to do while I wait for my meal right?
I walked into the diner and was immediately greeted by a woman well into her 50s. Her name was Sharon. She has been serving me breakfast here for years. I usually come to this place at least once a week. The bacon here is to die for. The name of this place was “The Breakfast Place.” Now back to Sharon. She was a little heavy, and had arthritis in her legs. So moving around was difficult for her. Still, she was a very hard worker who had a family to take care of. She’s such a nice lady.
Joe! Hey honey how have you been? You haven’t stopped by for a while. I was beginning to think you had found a new place to eat at.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention this earlier. I’ve been very busy lately with all these legal issues involving the whole steroid scandal, and plus I have been in the process of developing the new (and final) Rocky VI movie. So I haven’t been in town a whole lot. And when I was in town, I was busting my ass in the gym over in Harlem. It’s been pretty difficult managing to be in two feds at once, but I’m somehow making it all work. I love this sport so much. Despite the fact that I get about three hours of sleep each night, I manage to get through each and every say. Of course, all the energy drinks and coffee probably play a factor in that too, but let’s just say I’m superman okay?
I looked at Sharon and smiled. She had that apron on that already had grease stains in it and the place had just opened about 15 minutes ago. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. She works so hard, and I really admired her for that.
Me? Nah, never. The Breakfast Place is like my home. As long as you keep making that bacon, I’m going to keep on coming back.
Sharon smiled back and led me to my booth. Once I was seated, she said she’ll be right back. When she had returned, she placed a cup of steaming hot French vanilla coffee on my table. My favorite. I order the same shit every time, so she basically knows me like the back of her hand.
She gives me the coffee and takes off without giving me a menu or taking my order. Like I said, she already knows that I’m going to order the “Breakfast All-Star Breakfast.” Yeah, clever name, huh? The breakfast consists of three pancakes, 4 strips of bacon, 4 sausage links, about 2 eggs, and a piece of toast. I love that meal. I could eat that shit every day.
I grabbed my news paper and shook it open. I noticed the headline that read “Bears Open Preseason.” Being the big Chicago sports fanatic that I am, without hesitation I flipped the pages over to the Sports section. The Chicago Tribune was a paper I read quite frequently. But I’m getting off subject. So after reading about the Bears facing off against the Bills, I notice a smaller section in the paper titled “ Who’s Next?” A small photo of Level One, the APW Champion, is in the corner of the section. I was intrigued to say the least. It was a small portion of the beginning of the story. It was continued on the next page. Basically all the article was about was Level One’s history in the APW and how he’s so good and shit. After reading that article, suddenly I had lost my appetite.
I folded the paper back up and moved it to the side. I wasn’t in the mood for reading anymore. I turned my head to the window and found myself staring off into space. I pondered the reason for Level One’s success. What makes Level One so good? How is he different from anybody else? I thought I had the answer to that question right then and there. I would come to find out later that I was entirely wrong.
Sharon came back with my breakfast. I was startled when she placed the plate down on the table.
What are you so jumpy about?
I was just daydreaming I guess. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I’ve just got a lot going on right now Sharon.
You’re not superman Joe. You can’t do everything. Do you want to talk about it?
Nah, I’ll be alright. Thanks Sharon.
Once Sharon left, I started going to work on my breakfast. I was so hungry. I haven’t really had time to eat three meals a day lately. I’ve just been so busy. My daily intake of food consisted of a few cookies in a Chips Ahoy bag, and some potato chips. Oh, and I would down a few cans of Pepsi every now and then. When I wasn’t working, I was Sleeping. Sometimes I just want to quit everything. But then I figure that all this hard work will pay off in the long run.
I took a sip of my coffee and a bite of my pancakes. This was the first real mean I’ve had in a long time. A few minutes into my meal, my cell phone went off. Still with a mouth full of pancakes, I answered the phone.
Hello?
Joe?
Yeah it’s Joe. This is my cell phone, who else would it be?
Hey man. It’s Dre. I need you to come back down to the studio. I just got done making a hot beat that I think you’re really going to like. I figured we could get a start on your next album next week.
I just dropped my first one two weeks ago. I thought that was just a one time deal. I didn’t want to be a big rapper man. I just did it for the sake of publicity. Do I have to do this?
You signed a two year deal with Shady Aftermath bother. The least you could do is make another album for us. I mean, your last one has sold 500,000 copies already. You’ve gone gold. People like listening to you speak man. You don’t have to be good bro. Just get on the mic and read a fucking Dr. Sues book. The people will be all over it.
Alright man. I’ve got nothing planned today, so I guess I’ll stop by the studio. I was planning on using the day to rest, but this is more important right?
You can rest next week. I’ll see you later man.
Wait, before you go, can I ask you something?
Yeah man. Go ahead.
Have you seen these articles with Level One in them in the newspaper lately? That shit is getting out of hand.
Yeah, I remember seeing something like that the other day. Looks like you’ve got your hands full next week, huh?
…Yeah…I’ll catch you later Dre.
Wait, why did you ask me that?
Well, I’m just a little confused. Why the fuck does everyone think he’s so good? What’s so good about that asshole?
Well I assume it’s because he’s undefeated. If you were undefeated, don’t you think people would think you’re the fucking best too? You may not agree with his methods, but he gets the damn job done. And when it comes down to it, that’s all that really matters. It’s all about the big “W” at the end of the day. You know what I mean man?
Yeah, I guess you’re right. Alright, thanks man. I’ll see you later then.
Yup. Later.
After hanging up, I glanced over at that picture of Level one in the paper. I could feel the rage building up inside of me. I didn’t know why I was so angry. I just was. It’s hard to explain, but I guess I was experiencing a mix of envy and rage. Yet at the same time, I found level One’s work to be admirable. I had no idea why. It was just the strangest thing. How could I admire the career of one who thrives off of humiliating his opponents? Such a heartless man shouldn’t have any fans. Of course, I would never dare to say I was a fan of Level One to his face. That’s just something you don’t do. I guess if you would like me to put it a different way, I could.
Let’s use Adolph Hitler for example. Hitler was a man who made an entire nation follow him. What he did was terrible, no doubt. I’m not saying that him putting the Jews in death camps was a good thing, so don’t get it twisted. I’m just saying that anyone who could make an entire country believe that everything wrong that has happened was the Jewish people’s fault is one hell of a speaker. Influencing someone by your actions is one thing, and doing it by dialog is another. I hope you know what I mean when I say that Hitler was a good leader. His objective as a leader wasn’t what made him a good leader, it was how he was able to achieve his objective that made him a good leader.
Now, I’m not saying that Level One and Hitler are alike, but I am comparing them. Level One’s objective is to embarrass other APW superstars by showing them no respect. But he beats every single one of them. I don’t agree with Level One’s objective, but I admire how he is able to achieve his goals. That’s what makes him a good champion. The ability to follow through on what he says. Isn’t that what this business is all about? Following through? If you just come out and say that you’re going to win, you damn well better make sure you do so. Because then you’re the shit for being able to follow through on your prediction so to speak. If you say you’re going to lose and follow through with it, you’re just a jackass who deserves to lose. In that perspective, I guess as long as your objective is positive, and you achieve it, you’re a man of your word. However, if your goal is negative in the sense of failing your goal, you’re not really that impressive.
That said, I guess my point is that it is much harder to win than it is to lose. And there is a reason for that. You see, every wrestling move, every single wrestling move known to man, was created for the same reason. To win the match. Nobody just makes a move that isn’t designed to win you the match. Sure, there are moves that aren’t very good at doing that, (See The Level Advances) but all in all, you perform a wrestling maneuver in hopes of winning the match. Now back to the story.
I finished my breakfast and left a handsome tip for Sharon. After saying my goodbyes, I took off for the studio. I wasn’t too happy about it, but Dre is a good friend of mine and I did sign a contract. Plus, I’m making a good amount of money off of the first album. Dre had recently opened up a studio in Indian. Close to the West border, so I could get there from Chicago easier. Eminem could get there easier from his home in Detroit than in Chicago, so we compromised and had the studio in a location between both of our homes. I had “Tell Me” Featuring 50 Cent playing in my CD player on the way to the Studio. That track seems to be the most popular on the whole CD.
Once I got to the studio, I saw that only Dre and a few other developers were there.
Hey, where’s everyone else?
It’s just going to be you today. I think that we could a track done by the end of the weekend. Here, tell me how this beat is.
I liked the beat. It was pretty simple, just a 1-2 kind of beat. But that was more my style anyway. A few different ideas ran through my mind while the beat was playing. I figured I could do just four short verses and for a hook I could just keep repeating some stupid ass phrase. I really just wanted to get this over with quickly so I could get home and get some rest.
Dre had some lyrics already written down for me. Usually I write my own shit, but Dre likes to help his clients a lot. He’s a really cool guy. So once I got into the back room, put my earphones on and Dre let the beat play. We usually like to do everything right away because of all the clients Dre has. As the beat was playing, I just moved around and bobbed my head to get a good feel for the rhythm. I could start at any time.
I can’t do this Dre. I’m sorry man.
I removed my earphones and walked out of the room. Dre got up out of his seat.
What’s wrong Joe? Why did you walk out like that? We’ve got to get this done now if you want to get done by Monday.
I said I was sorry bro. I just can’t right now. I’ve got a lot on my mind.
Dre let me walk out. On the way to my car, I was experiencing a lot of emotions. First of all, I was totally fucking stressed out. Too much shit is going on right now. I had another movie shoot going on Monday, and I have a meeting with Jeff tomorrow to discuss my contract issues. I decided to go drink my problems away. I got in my car and stopped home to take a fucking nap because I haven’t gotten any sleep lately. After that, I took off for a place called “The Bar.” It was about 9:00 when I got there.
When I walked in, not too many people recognized me. Two fine young women and A fat black guy asked for my autograph but that was it. I obliged of course, because I’m a good guy. I sat by the counter, and some sexy bitch sat down next to me. Now, I’m all about the bitches, so of course I had to talk to her. She was drinking a margarita, and I was just having a Miller Light. She had long brown hair, some highlights in it. She had that great tan too. She was wearing the shortest fucking skirt I’ve ever seen. I saw her belly piercing because of her goddamn bra for a shirt. She was just a total whore, and I knew she was drunk as hell already. It was time for a young stud like me to go in for the kill.
Hey baby, what do you say we get out of here and head to my place for a little bit?
I don’t think so buddy. I’m not that kind of girl.
Ok, so I just got shut down by a drunk bitch. Nothing that a few more drinks won’t cure. Trust me, I’ve been doing this for years. I know a thing or two about getting the ladies.
Oh, I see. Well, can I buy you a drink?
I guess…Just don’t expect me to sleep with you just because you buy me a drink or two.
Oh, not at all.
A few shots of tequila later…
Alright baby, I’m getting so hot. I want you so badly.
I was drunk out of my fucking mind. But then again, so was she.
Yeah, I want you too. Let’s get out of here. We can take your car.
Okay.
Sha-zam! I’m in baby! We left the bar together. We decided to take her car because she said she lived in a bad neighborhood, and I didn’t want my car stolen or anything.
Alright baby, give me the keys. You’re too drunk to drive.
No, no. I’m fine. Get in through the other door. I can drive I’m good.
No, give me the keys baby. I can do it. I’m fine.
After going back and forth for a while, she let me drive. I didn’t even know this woman’s name, yet here I am, driving in her car to her house to get some pussy. I’d rather have sex than have an APW world title any day. It’s funny though, because in a way, they both go hand in hand. I couldn’t stop smiling in the car. I was being flipped off by the other drivers on the road because of my swerving and such on the road. And that’s when it happened.
I heard those fucking sirens.
In the car, the bitch was passed out, so she didn’t even know what was going on. But lucky for both of us, I had an idea. I clever fucking idea. I sped past a corner popped open the drivers door. I quickly jumped into the backseat. The car slowly came to a stop and the police car stopped behind our car. The officer stepped out and approached the driver’s window, but I had the door opened. The officer flashed his flashlight into the car.
Hello? Anybody in there?
I was pretending to be passed out in the backseat. My plan was to make the police officer think the driver of the car had ran away, leaving to passed out adults in the backseat. My heart was racing when the officer was looking around the vehicle, but guess what? My plan worked…
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
[glow=red,2,300]The Movie[/glow]
No…I can’t go into this fight Rob. I’m 62 years old. I’ve got to face it. It’s over for me.
Well, you do what you got to do dad. Whatever your decision is, you know I’ll support you.
Rocky looks up at the ceiling in the old gym. The lights are dangling and very dimly lit. This is the very same gym he used to sweep up back in the day. He and his son Robert are sitting on the edge of the old beat down boxing ring. Old, partially torn posters of Rocky from back in the day are tapped to the walls of the gym. Posters of Apollo, Mr. T, and Mason Dixon are hanging up as well. The Dixon one a little newer. All of the former boxers were opponents of Rocky’s at one time.
Rocky rubs his hands together, chalk is lingering around in the air.
I just don’t know if I can do it. I mean, I want to. But he’s so young. He’s so agile. He’s so powerful. He’s so-
Robert interrupts his father.
He’s just like you when you were younger.
Rocky turns his head to his son and looks him deeply in the eyes.
Yeah. He’s just like me, huh?
Robert chuckles.
Yeah dad.
I know I can’t let what he said go unpunished. I think I have one more fight left in me, but I think people are sick of seeing me come and go. And if I’m going to hurt him, I want to do it professionally. I want to out-box him. I know that I might lose, but I also know that I can hurt him in the process. And that’s all I want to do Rob. I want to hurt him.
Robert stopped smiling. He knew that his father meant business. He had never seen him so serious before. The look in eyes…He had it. He had that look. It was the same look he had in his eyes when he fought Ivan Drago. He had the eye of the tiger. Robert looked at his father again. He was just staring forward at the entrance to the gym. Robert stands up.
Who cares?
Rocky looks up at his son.
Do what’s right dad. Don’t worry about what the people think. This isn’t for the fans. Not this time. This one is personal. He made it personal. Not you dad. Shut him up. If not for you, then for our family. Don’t let him get away with this. In my opinion, I think you can beat him. Because you have one quality that he will never have. And that is your perseverance. Dad, you’ve never backed down to anything in your life. And that’s what makes you so strong. You have me. You had mom. You have something worth fighting for, and as long as you have that, you will always prevail. Yes, you have never backed down. So why start now? Age is only a number dad. And you can go out there and prove it against that chump. Either that, or you could sit around for the rest of your life wondering what could have been. And dad, not only will you be wondering “what if,” but I will as well. And I’m sure everyone else will too. So please dad, I’m not asking you this as your son, but as a fan of Rocky Balboa. Please go show that Mike Brown chump that some things only improve with age.
Rocky smiles. He stand up and embraces his son. Rocky wipes a tear from his cheek.
I’ll do it son. I’m going to fight Mike Brown.
Rocky lets go of his son.
No dad, you’re going to beat Mike Brown.
Rocky and his son share a laugh together as the scene fades out.
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
That’s it baby! You’re the champ!
Mike Brown is seen striking a weight bag. He is in a newer looking, state-of-the-art gym. His trainer, Tyson Edison, is shouting out compliments to the young Brown, whom is the current undefeated World Heavyweight Champion. With every strike, it seemed as if the whole gym itself shook. Such power…Such speed…His punches were as fast as lightning. His punches were thunderous. The way he moved…He moved with such grace, such beauty. He’s better than Rocky was at his age. Much better.
Brown lands two quick left-right jab combinations before hitting the bag one last time a heavy right hook.
Nice work champ. That old hag Balboa doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.
Brown takes a drink of water before sitting down on a bench in the gym. Edison, his coach, does the same.
I don’t know Tyson…Rocky’s an icon in the professional boxing world. I don’t know if the people would like it if I beat him down.
Hey, you can’t call someone a bitch and insult their kids by calling them little shits and not go out there and back up your words.
I know, I know. I can beat Rocky, I already know that. It’s just that I’m worried about my reputation.
The fans don’t seem to show you much respect nowadays anyway.
Mike Brown shares a laugh with his trainer/coach.
Yeah, I guess you’re right.
You guess? You guess I’m right? Come on Mike, I’m always right. You know that!
Ha ha, don’t get carried away now man. I can fire you in a heartbeat.
The two laugh together.
Now let’s go get in that ring and see what you’ve got in store for that Rocky Balboa!
The two get back up to their feet and head over to the ring. Mike gets into the ring and begins stretching, while Tyson heads into a closet to grab some protective gear. Tyson gets into the ring with Brown. Tyson jogs around the ring, trying to evade Brown, who hits him with a few jabs as the scene fades.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
A bunch of people are crammed into a bar. There is a big flat screen HD television on showing an ESPN broadcast. It appears to be a boxing report. A man with a comb over and bright blue eyes is the anchor. His broadcast partner is a woman with brown hair and brown eyes.
It’s official folks. Mike Brown will be defending his word title against Rocky Balboa, who is coming out of retirement for one more fight. Rocky is in his early 60s while Brown is in his mid 20s. Brown is expected to win by KO in the first round. We now join Trisha Robinson in an in depth interview with Mike Brown.
Trisha and Brown sit across for each other.
So Mike, why did you want this match?
Oh, I didn’t want it. Rocky did. I know I can beat him. He’s an old man. A shell of his former self.
Well, you did insult him and his family. What did you expect?
Are you questioning me? Look, Rocky is a punk ass bitch. I’ll fuck that bitch up any day of the week. His family is nothing worth fighting for. Fuck ‘em, man. Fuck all of them.
What drove you to say such things?
Look Trisha, I’m getting hated on by these fans. They’re tired of seeing me dominate opponent after opponent. They think Rocky is better than me. After seeing him go the distance with Dixon, they think he can do the same with me. Bullshit Trisha. Bull-fucking-shit.
So, in a way, you wanted this match too?
I guess you could say that. I knew that his old ass would fight me if I verbally attacked him and his family.
One man in the bar gets up from the stool he was sitting on. He grabs the stool and hurls it at the television.
The rest of the bar watches the man exit the bar.
That man was Rocky Balboa. He exit’s the bar and walks out into the cold night air. With his hands in his pockets, he slowly begins to walk down the street away from the bar.
Wait! Where are you going?
Rocky turns around.
Are you talking to me?
Yeah I’m talking to you. Do you have any idea how much that T.V. cost me?
The man talking to Rocky was the bar owner. He was well into his 50s. He still had an apron on with a few grease stain on it. He had his black hair slicked back, and he had a big cigar in his mouth.
I’m sorry. I’ll get you another one.
The bar owner jog to catch up with Rocky.
Don’t worry about it. I can replace that thing. I’m just worried about you. Is there something on your mind?
Rocky stops walking and looks up at the full moon. The moonlight seemed brighter than usual.
That kid you saw on the screen…He insulted me and my family. I’m going to fight him. The thing is though, I’m not sure I can win. He’s faster than me. He’s stronger than me. He’s younger than me. I’m not scared or anything, I’m just having some doubts.
Ah, don’t let that fucker get to you Rock. Give ’em hell.
Rocky chuckles, as does the bar owner.
I wish it was that simple. I really do. Unfortunately, it’s not that easy.
Nobody said it was going to be easy Rocky. You just have to train your ass off and hope for the best. You’ve had to work at every thing in your life. Nothing has ever been handed to you. This fight is no different. I believe in you Rock. I know many of the other fans believe in you too.
Well, thanks man. That means a lot to me. I’m not planning on winning that match though.
The bar owner looks confused.
Rock, with that attitude, you’re going to get pummeled.
Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. But my main objective going in to this fight is to hurt him. I want that kid to suffer. I want to make sure he learns his lesson.
The bar owner pats Rocky on the back.
Good luck Rock. I believe in you.
Thanks.
The bar owner begins to walk away.
Hey!
The bar owner turns around.
What’s your name?
Jared.
And with that, the two head their separate ways.
========================================
The screen fades to black, as the power has been shut off.
So, what do you think?
I don’t like it.
What?
I said I don’t like it. You’re acting is terrible. Stick to wrestling you jackass.
Phil, you’re being a little cruel don’t you think?
Phil, my good old Grandpa. What a guy. This man has been criticizing every little fucking thing that I do. He’s always been a dick for as long as I can remember. The moment I popped out of my mother’s fucking uterus, he’s been nothing but a prick to me. I thought that he would maybe like my upcoming Rocky VI movie considering how big of a boxing fan he is, but here he is, being an asshole as usual. I should have known better.
What? So now you’re too famous to address your grandpa as your goddamn grandpa?
Oh come one Phil. Give me a break. You refer to me as a disgrace, but I can’t refer to you as your real name?
You are a damn disgrace Joe. You always have been, and you always will be.
Phil, ever since I was born, you’ve been an ass to me. The least you could fucking do is complement my movie.
Why would I do that?
Holy fucking shit. Never mind. You’re such a dick man. Why can’t you be like normal grandpas and tell me stories about how tough it was back in the day and how we kids these have it so good?
Why can’t you be a normal kid and shut the hell up?
First of all, I’m an adult. Second of all, kids talk all the time. Why must we argue over everything?
Probably because you’re a self-centered jackass who thinks he’s the king of the world.
I’m through exchanging words with you Phil. Put your dukes up.
You want to fight your own grandfather? Why I never!
I punched Phil in the stomach. He immediately dropped to his knees and started gasping for air. I tried hard not to laugh, and pretended I was actually concerned about him.
Phil? Are you alright? I’m sorry.
Phil smiled when I bent over to see if he was alright and punched me in the nuts. I fell to the floor and it was me who was gasping for breath now.
I may be older than you, but I’m also wiser than you. I can’t believe you fell for that!
Phil walked out of the room as I tried to pull myself together.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
When a wrestler cuts a promo just by himself, all alone, it seems as if a level of intimidation is in the room. And that intimidation transfers from that one wrestler and into you television set. That’s exactly how we join Joe Martinez. Joe is sitting directly under a dimly lit light bulb. His surroundings are not certain, but it looks like he’s sitting on a stool in an empty bar. Joe has a bottle of beer in his right hand. He raises the bottle to his lips and chugs down about a quarter of the bottle. Joe is in his signature “G.O.A.T.” Tee with a picture of a goat on the back. He turns slightly to his left and reaches out behind him with the bottler of beer and places it on the back counter where the bartender would usually make the drinks. Joe turns his attention back to the camera and runs is hand through his curly hair, which has been getting too long. He scratches his scruffy beard that he has been growing and lets out a sigh before beginning to speak in a quiet, yet angry voice.
So, Level One eh? Looks like my bitching at him got me a match with him. Which just goes to show you that bitching can get you anything you want. Three no’s and a yes means yes. Look at me now. I’m in my first match in the APW, and I’m already in the main event. That has got to be a fucking record. Jeff is a smart man. He knows that having me in the main event will boost the ratings up 10 fold. The people will pay to see me. The people will pay for my T-shirts, my wristbands, my albums, my movies, and my fucking accessories. The men will tune in every week to see me kick some ass. The ladies will tune in every week to see my ass in those tights. And when I’m in that ring, I simply electrify the whole damn building. This week’s Overdrive will be no different.
Joe waits for a yawn before he continues to speak.
Maybe some people will say that I haven’t done enough in the APW to deserve a main event match already. And they’re right about half of that accusation. I haven’t done shit here in the APW, but that hasn’t stopped this match from happening. Let me just make one thing clear. I am being put in the main event this week because I am a tough as nails wrestler. I come from a well decorated wrestling history. I have beaten some of the best, and I have also beaten some of the worst. And the worst ones were the ones who thought they were the best. One way or another, they’ll all come to learn that talking the talk and walking the walk are two different things, but in a way, they go hand in hand. Talking the talk is half the battle. Following through on your talk is the other half. If you can get inside the head of your opponent, all you have to do is drop his ass once. The rest will come after that.
Joe reaches back for his bottle of beer and intakes another quarter of the bottle. He wipe his mouth with his sleeve and puts bottle back on the counter. He turns his attention back towards the camera.
I know Level One has had an exceptional stay here in the APW since his coming here. I know he is without a loss thus far in his stay here. People have been coming up to me on the streets and saying, “Joe, what have you gotten yourself into? You can’t honestly expect to beat Level One right? He’s the best of the best! He’s the True Expert! He has beaten the greatest superstars in the world right now!”
Joe’s tone of voice becomes a little louder. More passion is in his words as he speaks now.
Then I answer their questions with another question. “Who the hell has Level One beaten that is so good?” Really, who has this dude beaten?! Who is his competition? Jesse Nunez? Michael Lively? John Gr-…
Joe breaks out in laughter.
Oh lord. What a fucking joke. Do you honestly expect someone as smart as me to believe that shit? To believe that Jesse Nunez, Michael Lively, and John Green are all legit challengers for Level One’s title? Please, give me a fucking break. Level One, you haven’t been challenged yet. You haven’t had an opponent who has pushed you to your absolute limit, and then push you even farther. But don’t worry, that’s where I come in. I’m going to hurt you Level One. I’m going to punish you. I’m going to beat you senseless, and then some. Why? Because it needs to be done, and I am fully capable of doing so. I’m more than able to kick your ass Level One.
Joe cracks a sadistic smile. If one didn’t know any better, someone would probably think he was completely insane.
While I’d like to thank you for the opportunity Level One, I would also like to give you a warning. Think of it as a thank you for accepting my challenge. Here it is buddy. I say this to all of my opponents, but this applies especially to you. You have never faced anyone quite like me. Hell, I’ll say it again. Level One, you have never faced anyone quite like me.
Joe leans back on the counter in order to let his word soak in. He sits back up straight.
I know what your going to do on Overdrive Level One. You’re going to come out for our match with your little title around your waist, with that stupid little smile on your face, thinking that this match is going to be a cakewalk. Well I have news for you man. It’s not going to be that easy. You can’t beat me Level One. You just can’t. You’ll find that out first hand come Overdrive.
Joe grabs his bear and finishes the rest of it as the scene fades to black on him.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
[glow=red,2,300]Saturday[/glow]
It’s Saturday morning. I was feeling kind of hungry, so I decided to go out to grab something to eat. After all, that’s what you do when you’re a big time wrestler right? You go out to eat. Anyways, I decided to go to a local diner that was just down the block from my apartment in Rosemont. This was basically your typical small diner. It was pretty small looking on the outside, and not a whole lot of cars were in the parking lot. If one hadn’t have known any better, they would probably think the place was closed. I parked my Spider and walked up to the entrance. On the way in, I bought a newspaper just for the hell of it. I might as well have something to do while I wait for my meal right?
I walked into the diner and was immediately greeted by a woman well into her 50s. Her name was Sharon. She has been serving me breakfast here for years. I usually come to this place at least once a week. The bacon here is to die for. The name of this place was “The Breakfast Place.” Now back to Sharon. She was a little heavy, and had arthritis in her legs. So moving around was difficult for her. Still, she was a very hard worker who had a family to take care of. She’s such a nice lady.
Joe! Hey honey how have you been? You haven’t stopped by for a while. I was beginning to think you had found a new place to eat at.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention this earlier. I’ve been very busy lately with all these legal issues involving the whole steroid scandal, and plus I have been in the process of developing the new (and final) Rocky VI movie. So I haven’t been in town a whole lot. And when I was in town, I was busting my ass in the gym over in Harlem. It’s been pretty difficult managing to be in two feds at once, but I’m somehow making it all work. I love this sport so much. Despite the fact that I get about three hours of sleep each night, I manage to get through each and every say. Of course, all the energy drinks and coffee probably play a factor in that too, but let’s just say I’m superman okay?
I looked at Sharon and smiled. She had that apron on that already had grease stains in it and the place had just opened about 15 minutes ago. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. She works so hard, and I really admired her for that.
Me? Nah, never. The Breakfast Place is like my home. As long as you keep making that bacon, I’m going to keep on coming back.
Sharon smiled back and led me to my booth. Once I was seated, she said she’ll be right back. When she had returned, she placed a cup of steaming hot French vanilla coffee on my table. My favorite. I order the same shit every time, so she basically knows me like the back of her hand.
She gives me the coffee and takes off without giving me a menu or taking my order. Like I said, she already knows that I’m going to order the “Breakfast All-Star Breakfast.” Yeah, clever name, huh? The breakfast consists of three pancakes, 4 strips of bacon, 4 sausage links, about 2 eggs, and a piece of toast. I love that meal. I could eat that shit every day.
I grabbed my news paper and shook it open. I noticed the headline that read “Bears Open Preseason.” Being the big Chicago sports fanatic that I am, without hesitation I flipped the pages over to the Sports section. The Chicago Tribune was a paper I read quite frequently. But I’m getting off subject. So after reading about the Bears facing off against the Bills, I notice a smaller section in the paper titled “ Who’s Next?” A small photo of Level One, the APW Champion, is in the corner of the section. I was intrigued to say the least. It was a small portion of the beginning of the story. It was continued on the next page. Basically all the article was about was Level One’s history in the APW and how he’s so good and shit. After reading that article, suddenly I had lost my appetite.
I folded the paper back up and moved it to the side. I wasn’t in the mood for reading anymore. I turned my head to the window and found myself staring off into space. I pondered the reason for Level One’s success. What makes Level One so good? How is he different from anybody else? I thought I had the answer to that question right then and there. I would come to find out later that I was entirely wrong.
Sharon came back with my breakfast. I was startled when she placed the plate down on the table.
What are you so jumpy about?
I was just daydreaming I guess. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I’ve just got a lot going on right now Sharon.
You’re not superman Joe. You can’t do everything. Do you want to talk about it?
Nah, I’ll be alright. Thanks Sharon.
Once Sharon left, I started going to work on my breakfast. I was so hungry. I haven’t really had time to eat three meals a day lately. I’ve just been so busy. My daily intake of food consisted of a few cookies in a Chips Ahoy bag, and some potato chips. Oh, and I would down a few cans of Pepsi every now and then. When I wasn’t working, I was Sleeping. Sometimes I just want to quit everything. But then I figure that all this hard work will pay off in the long run.
I took a sip of my coffee and a bite of my pancakes. This was the first real mean I’ve had in a long time. A few minutes into my meal, my cell phone went off. Still with a mouth full of pancakes, I answered the phone.
Hello?
Joe?
Yeah it’s Joe. This is my cell phone, who else would it be?
Hey man. It’s Dre. I need you to come back down to the studio. I just got done making a hot beat that I think you’re really going to like. I figured we could get a start on your next album next week.
I just dropped my first one two weeks ago. I thought that was just a one time deal. I didn’t want to be a big rapper man. I just did it for the sake of publicity. Do I have to do this?
You signed a two year deal with Shady Aftermath bother. The least you could do is make another album for us. I mean, your last one has sold 500,000 copies already. You’ve gone gold. People like listening to you speak man. You don’t have to be good bro. Just get on the mic and read a fucking Dr. Sues book. The people will be all over it.
Alright man. I’ve got nothing planned today, so I guess I’ll stop by the studio. I was planning on using the day to rest, but this is more important right?
You can rest next week. I’ll see you later man.
Wait, before you go, can I ask you something?
Yeah man. Go ahead.
Have you seen these articles with Level One in them in the newspaper lately? That shit is getting out of hand.
Yeah, I remember seeing something like that the other day. Looks like you’ve got your hands full next week, huh?
…Yeah…I’ll catch you later Dre.
Wait, why did you ask me that?
Well, I’m just a little confused. Why the fuck does everyone think he’s so good? What’s so good about that asshole?
Well I assume it’s because he’s undefeated. If you were undefeated, don’t you think people would think you’re the fucking best too? You may not agree with his methods, but he gets the damn job done. And when it comes down to it, that’s all that really matters. It’s all about the big “W” at the end of the day. You know what I mean man?
Yeah, I guess you’re right. Alright, thanks man. I’ll see you later then.
Yup. Later.
After hanging up, I glanced over at that picture of Level one in the paper. I could feel the rage building up inside of me. I didn’t know why I was so angry. I just was. It’s hard to explain, but I guess I was experiencing a mix of envy and rage. Yet at the same time, I found level One’s work to be admirable. I had no idea why. It was just the strangest thing. How could I admire the career of one who thrives off of humiliating his opponents? Such a heartless man shouldn’t have any fans. Of course, I would never dare to say I was a fan of Level One to his face. That’s just something you don’t do. I guess if you would like me to put it a different way, I could.
Let’s use Adolph Hitler for example. Hitler was a man who made an entire nation follow him. What he did was terrible, no doubt. I’m not saying that him putting the Jews in death camps was a good thing, so don’t get it twisted. I’m just saying that anyone who could make an entire country believe that everything wrong that has happened was the Jewish people’s fault is one hell of a speaker. Influencing someone by your actions is one thing, and doing it by dialog is another. I hope you know what I mean when I say that Hitler was a good leader. His objective as a leader wasn’t what made him a good leader, it was how he was able to achieve his objective that made him a good leader.
Now, I’m not saying that Level One and Hitler are alike, but I am comparing them. Level One’s objective is to embarrass other APW superstars by showing them no respect. But he beats every single one of them. I don’t agree with Level One’s objective, but I admire how he is able to achieve his goals. That’s what makes him a good champion. The ability to follow through on what he says. Isn’t that what this business is all about? Following through? If you just come out and say that you’re going to win, you damn well better make sure you do so. Because then you’re the shit for being able to follow through on your prediction so to speak. If you say you’re going to lose and follow through with it, you’re just a jackass who deserves to lose. In that perspective, I guess as long as your objective is positive, and you achieve it, you’re a man of your word. However, if your goal is negative in the sense of failing your goal, you’re not really that impressive.
That said, I guess my point is that it is much harder to win than it is to lose. And there is a reason for that. You see, every wrestling move, every single wrestling move known to man, was created for the same reason. To win the match. Nobody just makes a move that isn’t designed to win you the match. Sure, there are moves that aren’t very good at doing that, (See The Level Advances) but all in all, you perform a wrestling maneuver in hopes of winning the match. Now back to the story.
I finished my breakfast and left a handsome tip for Sharon. After saying my goodbyes, I took off for the studio. I wasn’t too happy about it, but Dre is a good friend of mine and I did sign a contract. Plus, I’m making a good amount of money off of the first album. Dre had recently opened up a studio in Indian. Close to the West border, so I could get there from Chicago easier. Eminem could get there easier from his home in Detroit than in Chicago, so we compromised and had the studio in a location between both of our homes. I had “Tell Me” Featuring 50 Cent playing in my CD player on the way to the Studio. That track seems to be the most popular on the whole CD.
Once I got to the studio, I saw that only Dre and a few other developers were there.
Hey, where’s everyone else?
It’s just going to be you today. I think that we could a track done by the end of the weekend. Here, tell me how this beat is.
I liked the beat. It was pretty simple, just a 1-2 kind of beat. But that was more my style anyway. A few different ideas ran through my mind while the beat was playing. I figured I could do just four short verses and for a hook I could just keep repeating some stupid ass phrase. I really just wanted to get this over with quickly so I could get home and get some rest.
Dre had some lyrics already written down for me. Usually I write my own shit, but Dre likes to help his clients a lot. He’s a really cool guy. So once I got into the back room, put my earphones on and Dre let the beat play. We usually like to do everything right away because of all the clients Dre has. As the beat was playing, I just moved around and bobbed my head to get a good feel for the rhythm. I could start at any time.
I can’t do this Dre. I’m sorry man.
I removed my earphones and walked out of the room. Dre got up out of his seat.
What’s wrong Joe? Why did you walk out like that? We’ve got to get this done now if you want to get done by Monday.
I said I was sorry bro. I just can’t right now. I’ve got a lot on my mind.
Dre let me walk out. On the way to my car, I was experiencing a lot of emotions. First of all, I was totally fucking stressed out. Too much shit is going on right now. I had another movie shoot going on Monday, and I have a meeting with Jeff tomorrow to discuss my contract issues. I decided to go drink my problems away. I got in my car and stopped home to take a fucking nap because I haven’t gotten any sleep lately. After that, I took off for a place called “The Bar.” It was about 9:00 when I got there.
When I walked in, not too many people recognized me. Two fine young women and A fat black guy asked for my autograph but that was it. I obliged of course, because I’m a good guy. I sat by the counter, and some sexy bitch sat down next to me. Now, I’m all about the bitches, so of course I had to talk to her. She was drinking a margarita, and I was just having a Miller Light. She had long brown hair, some highlights in it. She had that great tan too. She was wearing the shortest fucking skirt I’ve ever seen. I saw her belly piercing because of her goddamn bra for a shirt. She was just a total whore, and I knew she was drunk as hell already. It was time for a young stud like me to go in for the kill.
Hey baby, what do you say we get out of here and head to my place for a little bit?
I don’t think so buddy. I’m not that kind of girl.
Ok, so I just got shut down by a drunk bitch. Nothing that a few more drinks won’t cure. Trust me, I’ve been doing this for years. I know a thing or two about getting the ladies.
Oh, I see. Well, can I buy you a drink?
I guess…Just don’t expect me to sleep with you just because you buy me a drink or two.
Oh, not at all.
A few shots of tequila later…
Alright baby, I’m getting so hot. I want you so badly.
I was drunk out of my fucking mind. But then again, so was she.
Yeah, I want you too. Let’s get out of here. We can take your car.
Okay.
Sha-zam! I’m in baby! We left the bar together. We decided to take her car because she said she lived in a bad neighborhood, and I didn’t want my car stolen or anything.
Alright baby, give me the keys. You’re too drunk to drive.
No, no. I’m fine. Get in through the other door. I can drive I’m good.
No, give me the keys baby. I can do it. I’m fine.
After going back and forth for a while, she let me drive. I didn’t even know this woman’s name, yet here I am, driving in her car to her house to get some pussy. I’d rather have sex than have an APW world title any day. It’s funny though, because in a way, they both go hand in hand. I couldn’t stop smiling in the car. I was being flipped off by the other drivers on the road because of my swerving and such on the road. And that’s when it happened.
I heard those fucking sirens.
In the car, the bitch was passed out, so she didn’t even know what was going on. But lucky for both of us, I had an idea. I clever fucking idea. I sped past a corner popped open the drivers door. I quickly jumped into the backseat. The car slowly came to a stop and the police car stopped behind our car. The officer stepped out and approached the driver’s window, but I had the door opened. The officer flashed his flashlight into the car.
Hello? Anybody in there?
I was pretending to be passed out in the backseat. My plan was to make the police officer think the driver of the car had ran away, leaving to passed out adults in the backseat. My heart was racing when the officer was looking around the vehicle, but guess what? My plan worked…
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
[glow=red,2,300]The Movie[/glow]
No…I can’t go into this fight Rob. I’m 62 years old. I’ve got to face it. It’s over for me.
Well, you do what you got to do dad. Whatever your decision is, you know I’ll support you.
Rocky looks up at the ceiling in the old gym. The lights are dangling and very dimly lit. This is the very same gym he used to sweep up back in the day. He and his son Robert are sitting on the edge of the old beat down boxing ring. Old, partially torn posters of Rocky from back in the day are tapped to the walls of the gym. Posters of Apollo, Mr. T, and Mason Dixon are hanging up as well. The Dixon one a little newer. All of the former boxers were opponents of Rocky’s at one time.
Rocky rubs his hands together, chalk is lingering around in the air.
I just don’t know if I can do it. I mean, I want to. But he’s so young. He’s so agile. He’s so powerful. He’s so-
Robert interrupts his father.
He’s just like you when you were younger.
Rocky turns his head to his son and looks him deeply in the eyes.
Yeah. He’s just like me, huh?
Robert chuckles.
Yeah dad.
I know I can’t let what he said go unpunished. I think I have one more fight left in me, but I think people are sick of seeing me come and go. And if I’m going to hurt him, I want to do it professionally. I want to out-box him. I know that I might lose, but I also know that I can hurt him in the process. And that’s all I want to do Rob. I want to hurt him.
Robert stopped smiling. He knew that his father meant business. He had never seen him so serious before. The look in eyes…He had it. He had that look. It was the same look he had in his eyes when he fought Ivan Drago. He had the eye of the tiger. Robert looked at his father again. He was just staring forward at the entrance to the gym. Robert stands up.
Who cares?
Rocky looks up at his son.
Do what’s right dad. Don’t worry about what the people think. This isn’t for the fans. Not this time. This one is personal. He made it personal. Not you dad. Shut him up. If not for you, then for our family. Don’t let him get away with this. In my opinion, I think you can beat him. Because you have one quality that he will never have. And that is your perseverance. Dad, you’ve never backed down to anything in your life. And that’s what makes you so strong. You have me. You had mom. You have something worth fighting for, and as long as you have that, you will always prevail. Yes, you have never backed down. So why start now? Age is only a number dad. And you can go out there and prove it against that chump. Either that, or you could sit around for the rest of your life wondering what could have been. And dad, not only will you be wondering “what if,” but I will as well. And I’m sure everyone else will too. So please dad, I’m not asking you this as your son, but as a fan of Rocky Balboa. Please go show that Mike Brown chump that some things only improve with age.
Rocky smiles. He stand up and embraces his son. Rocky wipes a tear from his cheek.
I’ll do it son. I’m going to fight Mike Brown.
Rocky lets go of his son.
No dad, you’re going to beat Mike Brown.
Rocky and his son share a laugh together as the scene fades out.
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
That’s it baby! You’re the champ!
Mike Brown is seen striking a weight bag. He is in a newer looking, state-of-the-art gym. His trainer, Tyson Edison, is shouting out compliments to the young Brown, whom is the current undefeated World Heavyweight Champion. With every strike, it seemed as if the whole gym itself shook. Such power…Such speed…His punches were as fast as lightning. His punches were thunderous. The way he moved…He moved with such grace, such beauty. He’s better than Rocky was at his age. Much better.
Brown lands two quick left-right jab combinations before hitting the bag one last time a heavy right hook.
Nice work champ. That old hag Balboa doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.
Brown takes a drink of water before sitting down on a bench in the gym. Edison, his coach, does the same.
I don’t know Tyson…Rocky’s an icon in the professional boxing world. I don’t know if the people would like it if I beat him down.
Hey, you can’t call someone a bitch and insult their kids by calling them little shits and not go out there and back up your words.
I know, I know. I can beat Rocky, I already know that. It’s just that I’m worried about my reputation.
The fans don’t seem to show you much respect nowadays anyway.
Mike Brown shares a laugh with his trainer/coach.
Yeah, I guess you’re right.
You guess? You guess I’m right? Come on Mike, I’m always right. You know that!
Ha ha, don’t get carried away now man. I can fire you in a heartbeat.
The two laugh together.
Now let’s go get in that ring and see what you’ve got in store for that Rocky Balboa!
The two get back up to their feet and head over to the ring. Mike gets into the ring and begins stretching, while Tyson heads into a closet to grab some protective gear. Tyson gets into the ring with Brown. Tyson jogs around the ring, trying to evade Brown, who hits him with a few jabs as the scene fades.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
A bunch of people are crammed into a bar. There is a big flat screen HD television on showing an ESPN broadcast. It appears to be a boxing report. A man with a comb over and bright blue eyes is the anchor. His broadcast partner is a woman with brown hair and brown eyes.
It’s official folks. Mike Brown will be defending his word title against Rocky Balboa, who is coming out of retirement for one more fight. Rocky is in his early 60s while Brown is in his mid 20s. Brown is expected to win by KO in the first round. We now join Trisha Robinson in an in depth interview with Mike Brown.
Trisha and Brown sit across for each other.
So Mike, why did you want this match?
Oh, I didn’t want it. Rocky did. I know I can beat him. He’s an old man. A shell of his former self.
Well, you did insult him and his family. What did you expect?
Are you questioning me? Look, Rocky is a punk ass bitch. I’ll fuck that bitch up any day of the week. His family is nothing worth fighting for. Fuck ‘em, man. Fuck all of them.
What drove you to say such things?
Look Trisha, I’m getting hated on by these fans. They’re tired of seeing me dominate opponent after opponent. They think Rocky is better than me. After seeing him go the distance with Dixon, they think he can do the same with me. Bullshit Trisha. Bull-fucking-shit.
So, in a way, you wanted this match too?
I guess you could say that. I knew that his old ass would fight me if I verbally attacked him and his family.
One man in the bar gets up from the stool he was sitting on. He grabs the stool and hurls it at the television.
The rest of the bar watches the man exit the bar.
That man was Rocky Balboa. He exit’s the bar and walks out into the cold night air. With his hands in his pockets, he slowly begins to walk down the street away from the bar.
Wait! Where are you going?
Rocky turns around.
Are you talking to me?
Yeah I’m talking to you. Do you have any idea how much that T.V. cost me?
The man talking to Rocky was the bar owner. He was well into his 50s. He still had an apron on with a few grease stain on it. He had his black hair slicked back, and he had a big cigar in his mouth.
I’m sorry. I’ll get you another one.
The bar owner jog to catch up with Rocky.
Don’t worry about it. I can replace that thing. I’m just worried about you. Is there something on your mind?
Rocky stops walking and looks up at the full moon. The moonlight seemed brighter than usual.
That kid you saw on the screen…He insulted me and my family. I’m going to fight him. The thing is though, I’m not sure I can win. He’s faster than me. He’s stronger than me. He’s younger than me. I’m not scared or anything, I’m just having some doubts.
Ah, don’t let that fucker get to you Rock. Give ’em hell.
Rocky chuckles, as does the bar owner.
I wish it was that simple. I really do. Unfortunately, it’s not that easy.
Nobody said it was going to be easy Rocky. You just have to train your ass off and hope for the best. You’ve had to work at every thing in your life. Nothing has ever been handed to you. This fight is no different. I believe in you Rock. I know many of the other fans believe in you too.
Well, thanks man. That means a lot to me. I’m not planning on winning that match though.
The bar owner looks confused.
Rock, with that attitude, you’re going to get pummeled.
Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. But my main objective going in to this fight is to hurt him. I want that kid to suffer. I want to make sure he learns his lesson.
The bar owner pats Rocky on the back.
Good luck Rock. I believe in you.
Thanks.
The bar owner begins to walk away.
Hey!
The bar owner turns around.
What’s your name?
Jared.
And with that, the two head their separate ways.
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The screen fades to black, as the power has been shut off.
So, what do you think?
I don’t like it.
What?
I said I don’t like it. You’re acting is terrible. Stick to wrestling you jackass.
Phil, you’re being a little cruel don’t you think?
Phil, my good old Grandpa. What a guy. This man has been criticizing every little fucking thing that I do. He’s always been a dick for as long as I can remember. The moment I popped out of my mother’s fucking uterus, he’s been nothing but a prick to me. I thought that he would maybe like my upcoming Rocky VI movie considering how big of a boxing fan he is, but here he is, being an asshole as usual. I should have known better.
What? So now you’re too famous to address your grandpa as your goddamn grandpa?
Oh come one Phil. Give me a break. You refer to me as a disgrace, but I can’t refer to you as your real name?
You are a damn disgrace Joe. You always have been, and you always will be.
Phil, ever since I was born, you’ve been an ass to me. The least you could fucking do is complement my movie.
Why would I do that?
Holy fucking shit. Never mind. You’re such a dick man. Why can’t you be like normal grandpas and tell me stories about how tough it was back in the day and how we kids these have it so good?
Why can’t you be a normal kid and shut the hell up?
First of all, I’m an adult. Second of all, kids talk all the time. Why must we argue over everything?
Probably because you’re a self-centered jackass who thinks he’s the king of the world.
I’m through exchanging words with you Phil. Put your dukes up.
You want to fight your own grandfather? Why I never!
I punched Phil in the stomach. He immediately dropped to his knees and started gasping for air. I tried hard not to laugh, and pretended I was actually concerned about him.
Phil? Are you alright? I’m sorry.
Phil smiled when I bent over to see if he was alright and punched me in the nuts. I fell to the floor and it was me who was gasping for breath now.
I may be older than you, but I’m also wiser than you. I can’t believe you fell for that!
Phil walked out of the room as I tried to pull myself together.
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