First Impressions
Dec 21, 2016 21:34:49 GMT -5
Post by theminimalist on Dec 21, 2016 21:34:49 GMT -5
Scene One
Monday, December 19th 2016
Latham, NY
Off Camera
Blake Rogers took a sip from the small cup with “Sonic” written down the side of it and then stared at the radio in his blue Impala. The touch screen was illuminated with all of his presets from XM satellite radio, but the channel he was listening to at the moment was number 18, Holiday Traditions. It was an old school Christmas music channel featuring all of the classics from Dean-o, Sinatra, Bing, Perry Como, Elvis and more. It was enough to melt even the most icy of hearts with Christmas spirit, but Blake certainly didn’t seem happy. He sighed and lowered his gaze to his lap for a few moments before the sound of his passenger side door opening brought him back to reality.
“Man!” The sandy haired man climbing into his car said, shaking his head as he did so. “It is a god damned madhouse in there. I think everyone in the Capital region that went shopping tonight stopped by here for dinner.” Blake nodded, but didn’t say a word. This got the attention of his friend, who looked over at him with some concern. “You okay, man? You haven’t talked much and you haven’t touched your grilled cheese sandwich at all.” He nodded at a wrapped sandwich which had been on the dash in front of Blake for so long now, it must have been like an ice cube.
“I’m just tired, Tyler. That’s all.” Blake said simply and matter of factly. Tyler, however, didn’t seem to buy it at all. He shook his head and arched an eyebrow as he looked across the car at Blake. “That, my fine feathered friend, is the biggest bunch of bullshit that’s come out of your mouth in a while. What’s wrong?” Blake sighed and looked down at his lap again. Perhaps he should have known better than to try and lie, but he really didn’t want to get into what was on his mind. Not now. Not yet.
“I don’t know, Ty. It’s just this match that I’ve got coming up in FGA……..” Blake said and bit his lower lip for a moment. Tyler, however, interjected himself as he crossed his arms over the front of his black leather Yankees jacket. “My god, Blake Rogers is getting some butterflies, isn’t he? After all of the matches that you’ve had, you’ve finally found one that’s gotten you nervous?”
Blake gave this a snicker and a smile. He looked over at Tyler and shook his head. He let go of a deep breath and then spoke again. “Nah, I’m not nervous. It’s just…………my family.” Tyler seemed to know what Blake was getting at and his demeanor changed drastically. Gone was his lighthearted humor. Gone was his smiles and playfulness. His face got somewhat stoic and he nodded at his friend.
“Gotcha.” He nodded again and then sighed as well. “Well, regardless of how they feel…..you really should tell them. I mean, it’s not like this match at Final Frontier is going to be all the way in Boston or New York City. It’s right here in Albany, man. Hell, it’s practically just a few miles away from them in the Times Union Center. I think they’d be hurt if you didn’t tell them.”
This just caused Blake to hang his head even more. As if he needed more to worry about. “I don’t know, Ty. I don’t think my parents really want to see me right now. You know how bad they got on July 4th at that barbecue, how my dad told me to get the hell out and never come back. That he didn’t want to see me again. It’s not like he hasn’t lived up to that, either. I’ve tried to call them since then. I tried to make some kind of plans with them for Thanksgiving but you know what happened? They either never picked up or I got my dad on the phone.”
Tyler nodded and lowered his eyebrows as he looked across the car at Blake. “Well that don’t seem that bad to me. What did he say?” Blake just stared at the steering wheel for a few moments and then closed his eyes as he let go of a long, painful sigh. “He told me that he has no son and hung up. I want to call them, Ty. I want to pick up my phone right now and let them know because I know that my mom would find a way downtown to see my match. She’d absolutely love that I’ve taken a step forward with my wrestling and that my first big match is going to be right here…..but I’m afraid of what my dad would do and what he would say.”
Tyler gave him a silent nod and looked at the black and silver dashboard in front of him as he leaned back in his seat. “You never know until you at least try.” Blake nodded and looked at the Chevy logo on the steering wheel, deep in thought. Tyler looked over at him for a few moments and then sighed and reached over to grab Blake by the hand. “Honey, don’t be scared. They’re your parents and they may get mad, but eventually they’ll come around. They’ll accept you for who you are. It’s just that your dad is old school and hard headed as fuck. But I don’t think it means he loves you any less, regardless of what the old coot says.”
Blake looked over at Tyler and nodded. “I’ll try call them when we get home to at least let them know about the match. I‘ll leave a message on their machine if I have to.” He flashed a smile as well. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Tyler shrugged a shoulder and sarcastically rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, but I think it’d be pretty damned boring with me.” Blake’s smile widened and he leaned in to give Tyler a peck on the lips.
“I just hope your dad don’t kill me if he does go to see your match because you know that I’m going to be there, too.” Tyler added and Blake gave him a nod. “Of course, I wouldn’t want you to miss it. You’ll be front and center with the best seat in the house.” Tyler gave him an approving nod, then gave the wrapped sandwich on the dash a look.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now if you’re not going to eat, what do you say we get going back to the house? I’m turning into Jack Frost over here.”
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Scene Two
Tuesday, December 20th 2016
Niskayuna, NY
On Camera
We open to a brightly lit Christmas tree. It’s multicolored lights twinkle and gleam as the camera pans out and reveals some presents under the tree, wrapped in some bright paper. Sitting down on the floor next to the tree, in a pair of jeans and blue turtleneck is Blake Rogers. He takes a deep breath, than starts speaking.
“When I was a kid, I loved Christmas. When November rolled around and the weather started to get really cold, I remember how giddy I used to get, how much I used to pump myself up looking forward to December 25th. Then, as the days wore on presents began appearing under the tree and I remember how much I used to fantasize about what could possibly wrapped up in each and every one of them. My mind would run wild with all of the possibilities. But you know what would happen? When Christmas morning rolled around, year after year, I’d find myself disappointed with a majority of what I got. It seemed like with each gift I unwrapped, the realization would dawn on me more and more that much of fantastical ideas of possible things I’d gotten as presents were just that. Fantasies.”
He snickers and shakes his head.
“Now, as an adult I find myself looking at Christmas for what it is…….a gimmick. It’s like people couldn’t get behind the day being about the birth of Jesus so they injected a bunch of pagan crap into it and now look what you’ve got. It’s the Frankenstein’s monster of all holidays. But it’s really not the only one. There’s Easter, Thanksgiving, Halloween…….it’s all gimmicks, bells and whistles and just a bunch of crap. But this leads me to Final Frontier. FGA’s last supershow of the year. Now, remember how I said that most of my Christmas haul as a child would disappoint me? Well, each year it seemed like I’d get one or two gifts that would make all of the disappointment that I’d have to endure worth it. Final Frontier is like that gift for me this year.”
Folding his arms over his chest, he smirks.
“Because at Final Frontier I get to make my in ring FGA debut in my hometown, Albany. I get to walk to the ring and make a statement in the very arena that I watched shows at as a kid. Make no mistakes about it, either, making a statement is exactly what I’ll be doing and it wouldn’t really matter if I had home field advantage or not. Because this match that I find myself in allows me to break away from the pack of newer faces in this company and show everyone why I’m head and shoulders above everyone else in this company.”
He pauses for a moment and a crooked smirk forms on his face as he reaches over and grabs a box from under the tree.
“For example, one of the three opponents I’ve got in this match is Julian Tijerina. You remind me of……Christmas gifts, Julian. You’re bright, you’re shiny, you’re handsome, you look good. But you lack any real substance when that exterior is peeled off of you. You may have gotten lucky against that oaf from the outback on the last Vertigo but it’s pretty obvious to me that you’re too busy running around here acting like Don Juan and showing off for the mamacitas to really do any damage. I‘m sure you‘re coming into this match looking to ride your tainted win over the blunder from down under as much as you can and maybe even avenge your debut match loss with a win here, but it‘s all just a fantasy and pipe dream. The fact is your short time here in FGA hasn’t been that great and you haven’t even been in the ring with someone quite like me yet. When that bell rings on Christmas Eve and the Times Union Center is rocking, reality is going to hit you like a sack of coal. Because I don’t just play to win, Julian. I try to make a statement each time I’m in the ring and unfortunately for you, you’ve drawn the short straw of being against me in this four way scramble and while I will walk out of downtown Albany with the win, I’m also going to send a warning to everyone else in FGA of what will await them when they get into the ring with me. This match to me is all about setting the pace for what’s to come. Of course…………”
He puts the gift box down and then draws a deep breath as he looks at the camera.
“That brings me to the other opponents I have in this match. Ian Cross, you’re a greenhorn here much like I am. I’m sure that you find yourself in a position much the same as mine going into this match. You want to show everyone you’re capable of, you want to come out swinging and leave an impression. Heck, based on what you said on the last Vertigo, I’d say we were cut from a similar cloth.”
He stares into the camera for a moment, then snickers and looks down at the floor with a toothy smile as he shakes his head.
“Only we’re not. Again, what things look like on the outside aren’t what they are on the inside. I am what I say I am. I am someone who doesn’t need any flash or flair to get by because I’m just that damned dangerous when I get into the ring. You? You’re just a fake. A phony. A poser. You say that you’re all about taking names, kicking butt and getting by on skill and then you spout off a bunch of crap about being from England and having your ‘British strong style’. Whoppidee doo!”
He twirls a finger in the air sarcastically.
“Am I supposed to be impressed that you’re from England? Does hailing from London make you wrestling royalty or something? Because it don’t. All that it means is that you have an annoying accent, you’re breath will smell like Earl Grey and you’re probably going to have gear with that damned Union Jack all over it. I know you’ve said that you’re here to be champion, Ian, well you may never be champion here in FGA but what you will be is the first person that gets their head kicked off by me in this company because when that bell rings, I’m coming for you first.”
He nods at the camera, then pauses and sighs as he lifts his head up.
“That, of course, brings us the to the final piece of this puzzle. Erin Gordon. Now, you’re probably the most formidable of all of my opponents in this match. But let’s be honest, that’s not saying much. Because you’re exactly the kind of person in this business that I hate. Just being yourself can’t be enough, can it? You need a cool nickname like ‘The Oncoming Storm’. While you were at it, you got a theme song that sounds cool and plays into nickname and you’ve got a bunch of moves that you’ve renamed to fit this image, this schtick that you’re making for yourself. But it even goes beyond that. I’ve listened you, I’ve heard some of the things you’ve said and it makes me sick. It seems to me like all you do is throw pity parties for yourself.”
He twists his face into a pouty look and mockingly wipes imaginary tears from his eyes.
“Wah, wah, wah, I’ve got to find time to train in between shoveling around mountains of cow crap on my farm. Wah, wah, my dumb redneck of a husband done got himself killed. Wah, wah, I’ve had to raise my little bastard myself. It’s pathetic. As a matter of fact, I think I just vomited a little bit in my mouth. It’s like you’re doing everything you can to get attention besides kick butt in that ring. I think it goes without saying at this point how I feel about people like you. You’ve got no place in this business. People like you have taken this sport and made it into a white trash circus like The Jerry Springer Show. I get that maybe you’re just doing it to give your little brat a super hero to cheer for or something, but I’m going to give him something much more valuable than that at Final Frontier. A dose of reality. Because as far as I’m concerned, there’s three absolute truths in this world. Death, taxes and that no storm lasts forever. Even the worst hurricane passes after a few days and then what happens? People get over it."
He smirks wryly at the camera.
“No matter what you throw at me, Erin, no matter what you come at me with……I’ll be ready and whenever you knock me down, I’ll keep getting up and throwing everything that I have at you. Because after all of this is said and done, I want you to go back to that manure pit you call a home, look your little snot nosed punk in the eyes on Christmas morning and have to tell him how his mommy got beat up like a punching bag because she was completely in over her head. Of course, maybe after I’m done with you people will actually have a reason to pity you. Because like I said, I’m coming with everything I’ve got and I’m looking to make an example out of everyone in this match, mainly you.”
He shrugs a shoulder and arches an eyebrow.
“But you can’t say I never warned you, any of you about what’s going to happen. I said on the last Vertigo that whoever gets into the ring with me first will be in for maximum pain and maximum misery and unlike a lot of people in this business, I am a man of my word. But you’ll all know that first hand once that bell rings, because Final Frontier will prove to be my big night. In my first FGA match, in front of my home town crowd, I’m going to show everyone that even though I’m called The Minimalist, I can make a maximum impact here in this company.”
With that, we fade.
Monday, December 19th 2016
Latham, NY
Off Camera
Blake Rogers took a sip from the small cup with “Sonic” written down the side of it and then stared at the radio in his blue Impala. The touch screen was illuminated with all of his presets from XM satellite radio, but the channel he was listening to at the moment was number 18, Holiday Traditions. It was an old school Christmas music channel featuring all of the classics from Dean-o, Sinatra, Bing, Perry Como, Elvis and more. It was enough to melt even the most icy of hearts with Christmas spirit, but Blake certainly didn’t seem happy. He sighed and lowered his gaze to his lap for a few moments before the sound of his passenger side door opening brought him back to reality.
“Man!” The sandy haired man climbing into his car said, shaking his head as he did so. “It is a god damned madhouse in there. I think everyone in the Capital region that went shopping tonight stopped by here for dinner.” Blake nodded, but didn’t say a word. This got the attention of his friend, who looked over at him with some concern. “You okay, man? You haven’t talked much and you haven’t touched your grilled cheese sandwich at all.” He nodded at a wrapped sandwich which had been on the dash in front of Blake for so long now, it must have been like an ice cube.
“I’m just tired, Tyler. That’s all.” Blake said simply and matter of factly. Tyler, however, didn’t seem to buy it at all. He shook his head and arched an eyebrow as he looked across the car at Blake. “That, my fine feathered friend, is the biggest bunch of bullshit that’s come out of your mouth in a while. What’s wrong?” Blake sighed and looked down at his lap again. Perhaps he should have known better than to try and lie, but he really didn’t want to get into what was on his mind. Not now. Not yet.
“I don’t know, Ty. It’s just this match that I’ve got coming up in FGA……..” Blake said and bit his lower lip for a moment. Tyler, however, interjected himself as he crossed his arms over the front of his black leather Yankees jacket. “My god, Blake Rogers is getting some butterflies, isn’t he? After all of the matches that you’ve had, you’ve finally found one that’s gotten you nervous?”
Blake gave this a snicker and a smile. He looked over at Tyler and shook his head. He let go of a deep breath and then spoke again. “Nah, I’m not nervous. It’s just…………my family.” Tyler seemed to know what Blake was getting at and his demeanor changed drastically. Gone was his lighthearted humor. Gone was his smiles and playfulness. His face got somewhat stoic and he nodded at his friend.
“Gotcha.” He nodded again and then sighed as well. “Well, regardless of how they feel…..you really should tell them. I mean, it’s not like this match at Final Frontier is going to be all the way in Boston or New York City. It’s right here in Albany, man. Hell, it’s practically just a few miles away from them in the Times Union Center. I think they’d be hurt if you didn’t tell them.”
This just caused Blake to hang his head even more. As if he needed more to worry about. “I don’t know, Ty. I don’t think my parents really want to see me right now. You know how bad they got on July 4th at that barbecue, how my dad told me to get the hell out and never come back. That he didn’t want to see me again. It’s not like he hasn’t lived up to that, either. I’ve tried to call them since then. I tried to make some kind of plans with them for Thanksgiving but you know what happened? They either never picked up or I got my dad on the phone.”
Tyler nodded and lowered his eyebrows as he looked across the car at Blake. “Well that don’t seem that bad to me. What did he say?” Blake just stared at the steering wheel for a few moments and then closed his eyes as he let go of a long, painful sigh. “He told me that he has no son and hung up. I want to call them, Ty. I want to pick up my phone right now and let them know because I know that my mom would find a way downtown to see my match. She’d absolutely love that I’ve taken a step forward with my wrestling and that my first big match is going to be right here…..but I’m afraid of what my dad would do and what he would say.”
Tyler gave him a silent nod and looked at the black and silver dashboard in front of him as he leaned back in his seat. “You never know until you at least try.” Blake nodded and looked at the Chevy logo on the steering wheel, deep in thought. Tyler looked over at him for a few moments and then sighed and reached over to grab Blake by the hand. “Honey, don’t be scared. They’re your parents and they may get mad, but eventually they’ll come around. They’ll accept you for who you are. It’s just that your dad is old school and hard headed as fuck. But I don’t think it means he loves you any less, regardless of what the old coot says.”
Blake looked over at Tyler and nodded. “I’ll try call them when we get home to at least let them know about the match. I‘ll leave a message on their machine if I have to.” He flashed a smile as well. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Tyler shrugged a shoulder and sarcastically rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, but I think it’d be pretty damned boring with me.” Blake’s smile widened and he leaned in to give Tyler a peck on the lips.
“I just hope your dad don’t kill me if he does go to see your match because you know that I’m going to be there, too.” Tyler added and Blake gave him a nod. “Of course, I wouldn’t want you to miss it. You’ll be front and center with the best seat in the house.” Tyler gave him an approving nod, then gave the wrapped sandwich on the dash a look.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now if you’re not going to eat, what do you say we get going back to the house? I’m turning into Jack Frost over here.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Scene Two
Tuesday, December 20th 2016
Niskayuna, NY
On Camera
We open to a brightly lit Christmas tree. It’s multicolored lights twinkle and gleam as the camera pans out and reveals some presents under the tree, wrapped in some bright paper. Sitting down on the floor next to the tree, in a pair of jeans and blue turtleneck is Blake Rogers. He takes a deep breath, than starts speaking.
“When I was a kid, I loved Christmas. When November rolled around and the weather started to get really cold, I remember how giddy I used to get, how much I used to pump myself up looking forward to December 25th. Then, as the days wore on presents began appearing under the tree and I remember how much I used to fantasize about what could possibly wrapped up in each and every one of them. My mind would run wild with all of the possibilities. But you know what would happen? When Christmas morning rolled around, year after year, I’d find myself disappointed with a majority of what I got. It seemed like with each gift I unwrapped, the realization would dawn on me more and more that much of fantastical ideas of possible things I’d gotten as presents were just that. Fantasies.”
He snickers and shakes his head.
“Now, as an adult I find myself looking at Christmas for what it is…….a gimmick. It’s like people couldn’t get behind the day being about the birth of Jesus so they injected a bunch of pagan crap into it and now look what you’ve got. It’s the Frankenstein’s monster of all holidays. But it’s really not the only one. There’s Easter, Thanksgiving, Halloween…….it’s all gimmicks, bells and whistles and just a bunch of crap. But this leads me to Final Frontier. FGA’s last supershow of the year. Now, remember how I said that most of my Christmas haul as a child would disappoint me? Well, each year it seemed like I’d get one or two gifts that would make all of the disappointment that I’d have to endure worth it. Final Frontier is like that gift for me this year.”
Folding his arms over his chest, he smirks.
“Because at Final Frontier I get to make my in ring FGA debut in my hometown, Albany. I get to walk to the ring and make a statement in the very arena that I watched shows at as a kid. Make no mistakes about it, either, making a statement is exactly what I’ll be doing and it wouldn’t really matter if I had home field advantage or not. Because this match that I find myself in allows me to break away from the pack of newer faces in this company and show everyone why I’m head and shoulders above everyone else in this company.”
He pauses for a moment and a crooked smirk forms on his face as he reaches over and grabs a box from under the tree.
“For example, one of the three opponents I’ve got in this match is Julian Tijerina. You remind me of……Christmas gifts, Julian. You’re bright, you’re shiny, you’re handsome, you look good. But you lack any real substance when that exterior is peeled off of you. You may have gotten lucky against that oaf from the outback on the last Vertigo but it’s pretty obvious to me that you’re too busy running around here acting like Don Juan and showing off for the mamacitas to really do any damage. I‘m sure you‘re coming into this match looking to ride your tainted win over the blunder from down under as much as you can and maybe even avenge your debut match loss with a win here, but it‘s all just a fantasy and pipe dream. The fact is your short time here in FGA hasn’t been that great and you haven’t even been in the ring with someone quite like me yet. When that bell rings on Christmas Eve and the Times Union Center is rocking, reality is going to hit you like a sack of coal. Because I don’t just play to win, Julian. I try to make a statement each time I’m in the ring and unfortunately for you, you’ve drawn the short straw of being against me in this four way scramble and while I will walk out of downtown Albany with the win, I’m also going to send a warning to everyone else in FGA of what will await them when they get into the ring with me. This match to me is all about setting the pace for what’s to come. Of course…………”
He puts the gift box down and then draws a deep breath as he looks at the camera.
“That brings me to the other opponents I have in this match. Ian Cross, you’re a greenhorn here much like I am. I’m sure that you find yourself in a position much the same as mine going into this match. You want to show everyone you’re capable of, you want to come out swinging and leave an impression. Heck, based on what you said on the last Vertigo, I’d say we were cut from a similar cloth.”
He stares into the camera for a moment, then snickers and looks down at the floor with a toothy smile as he shakes his head.
“Only we’re not. Again, what things look like on the outside aren’t what they are on the inside. I am what I say I am. I am someone who doesn’t need any flash or flair to get by because I’m just that damned dangerous when I get into the ring. You? You’re just a fake. A phony. A poser. You say that you’re all about taking names, kicking butt and getting by on skill and then you spout off a bunch of crap about being from England and having your ‘British strong style’. Whoppidee doo!”
He twirls a finger in the air sarcastically.
“Am I supposed to be impressed that you’re from England? Does hailing from London make you wrestling royalty or something? Because it don’t. All that it means is that you have an annoying accent, you’re breath will smell like Earl Grey and you’re probably going to have gear with that damned Union Jack all over it. I know you’ve said that you’re here to be champion, Ian, well you may never be champion here in FGA but what you will be is the first person that gets their head kicked off by me in this company because when that bell rings, I’m coming for you first.”
He nods at the camera, then pauses and sighs as he lifts his head up.
“That, of course, brings us the to the final piece of this puzzle. Erin Gordon. Now, you’re probably the most formidable of all of my opponents in this match. But let’s be honest, that’s not saying much. Because you’re exactly the kind of person in this business that I hate. Just being yourself can’t be enough, can it? You need a cool nickname like ‘The Oncoming Storm’. While you were at it, you got a theme song that sounds cool and plays into nickname and you’ve got a bunch of moves that you’ve renamed to fit this image, this schtick that you’re making for yourself. But it even goes beyond that. I’ve listened you, I’ve heard some of the things you’ve said and it makes me sick. It seems to me like all you do is throw pity parties for yourself.”
He twists his face into a pouty look and mockingly wipes imaginary tears from his eyes.
“Wah, wah, wah, I’ve got to find time to train in between shoveling around mountains of cow crap on my farm. Wah, wah, my dumb redneck of a husband done got himself killed. Wah, wah, I’ve had to raise my little bastard myself. It’s pathetic. As a matter of fact, I think I just vomited a little bit in my mouth. It’s like you’re doing everything you can to get attention besides kick butt in that ring. I think it goes without saying at this point how I feel about people like you. You’ve got no place in this business. People like you have taken this sport and made it into a white trash circus like The Jerry Springer Show. I get that maybe you’re just doing it to give your little brat a super hero to cheer for or something, but I’m going to give him something much more valuable than that at Final Frontier. A dose of reality. Because as far as I’m concerned, there’s three absolute truths in this world. Death, taxes and that no storm lasts forever. Even the worst hurricane passes after a few days and then what happens? People get over it."
He smirks wryly at the camera.
“No matter what you throw at me, Erin, no matter what you come at me with……I’ll be ready and whenever you knock me down, I’ll keep getting up and throwing everything that I have at you. Because after all of this is said and done, I want you to go back to that manure pit you call a home, look your little snot nosed punk in the eyes on Christmas morning and have to tell him how his mommy got beat up like a punching bag because she was completely in over her head. Of course, maybe after I’m done with you people will actually have a reason to pity you. Because like I said, I’m coming with everything I’ve got and I’m looking to make an example out of everyone in this match, mainly you.”
He shrugs a shoulder and arches an eyebrow.
“But you can’t say I never warned you, any of you about what’s going to happen. I said on the last Vertigo that whoever gets into the ring with me first will be in for maximum pain and maximum misery and unlike a lot of people in this business, I am a man of my word. But you’ll all know that first hand once that bell rings, because Final Frontier will prove to be my big night. In my first FGA match, in front of my home town crowd, I’m going to show everyone that even though I’m called The Minimalist, I can make a maximum impact here in this company.”
With that, we fade.
