Post by graymalone on Jul 4, 2016 17:08:33 GMT -5
[OFF CAMERA]
[Chesapeake, Virginia]
[7-4-16]
The CASE International tractor backs up to the truck, slowly. Gray Malone is standing on the back of the truck, making sure the seed drill doesn't hit the truck. He waves to the driver to keep backing up, until it meets the truck, and he tells the driver to stop. The driver drops the hopper down a bit, so Gray can get on it, and open up both sides. Leaving the engine running, the driver opens the door, and slowly gets out. Gray walks to the edge to help the much older man up onto the walkway.
Malone: Boy, you are getting lighter, aren't you Dad?
His father waits as Gray starts putting bags of soybean seed on the edge of the hoppers, and he cuts a bag at a time with a knife, dumping the seed inside, before throwing the empty bags over the side. He looks at his son, always proud of him, but saddened at the state of him presently.
Dad: Gray? Why do you continue to do these things?
He points at Gray's face, where a bandage is over his forehead, and an eyepatch is over his eye.
Dad: What are you trying to prove? Haven't you proven enough? Me and your mother watched you fall from that scaffold against that young man. A scaffold, Gray?
Gray stacks another bag onto the hopper, and rests for a moment.
Malone: They don't respect me, Dad. As much as I have done for the sport of wrestling, and to not get any respect, it's just...
His father interupts.
Dad: Respect? Son, you are pissing all that respect away by losing every single match you are in. And for what? For the fans? Just so you can put a battle on for them? What difference does it make, if you end up losing? When you fell off of the scaffold, where were those fans at when you got carted off to the hospital? Where were your so called friends? Oh, I'm sorry....your friend? Don't you see, these people nowadays don't respect a battle from some 36 year old veteran. They want to see wins. You aren't giving them Shit!
He starts opening more bags, as Gray stares at him.
Malone: I know Dad. You are right.
He stacks more bags on top of each other, and starts to help open them to fill the hopper up with seed.
Dad: Stop picking fights with everyone, just to show them that you can fight them. Okay? It's pointless. You make plenty of money with all these wrestling schools you own, nationwide. You take care of Layne the best you can, and she is growing into one heck of a young lady. You have nothing to prove to the fans, you have nothing to prove to any of those guys and girls in the business. Go out there and do it for you, son. Do it for you. One at a time, bud. That scaffold match was pointless. You got hurt for what? You think that young British guy respects you? Hell no. He could care less
about you. All he is worried about is he got another win. Understand?
The hoppers are full. Gray closes one side, and his Dad closes the other. He hands Gray his knife, and he puts his hand on his son's shoulder.
Dad: I love you son. Go out there and be Gray Malone. Do what you've done for years. Do it for yourself. Okay? Have fun with it.
Gray hugs his dad.
Malone: I love you too Dad. I will. I understand what you are saying. I promise. Give me a call when you are ready to fill up again, I'll be at the house.
His dad smiles. Gray helps him down, and watches as the man he admires so much gets back in the tractor, and heads off to plant more soybeans.
[ON CAMERA]
Off in the distance, there is a tractor planting in the fields of what once stood wheat. Gray Malone walks through a field, wearing blue jeans and black, dusty work boots. He has no shirt on, and he is sweating. A huge stitched up laceration is plastered across his back, and as he turns to look at the camera, a bandage is on his forehead, and an eye patch covers his right eye.
Malone: Not a good look, I know. Feel like a fucking pirate. But I asked for it, and I got it tenfold. It wasn't the fall that did this to me. It was the landing. The fall, was freedom for me. The fall was so welcoming. I felt the warm liquid flow from my eye, as I saw the pleased face of Jenson Idol get smaller and smaller, as the splintering wood surrounded me, and I lost everything to darkness. Yet I don't blame Jenson for how it went down. I don't blame Janell either. There were no rules involved in the contest, were they not? So if Perry the fucking Pigeon happened to distract yours truly, to help
Jenson claim victory, then so be it. More power to the 3 of them defeating....ONE creature.
He bends down and picks up a left over stalk of wheat. He places it in his mouth, as he hops over a ditch.
Malone: These wounds? They will heal. They always heal. The breath in my lungs never cease, and no one from the IPW, Alpha Rising or the NGW, can stop that from happening. Reason being? No one is truly bad enough....nay, truly evil enough to go that extra mile to end me for good. Let's be honest with ourselves here. Does anyone truly think that this ignorant prick known as Rockin Lunatic has that predator nature? No. No way. Never. Nunca. It ain't happening. This match up will be an embarassment for the booking commitee that decided on placing this guy against the Angel of Shadows, one on one. I pray that they weren't hoping on a certain time limit with this thing, because however long it takes Devlin Scott to wrap his greasy, filthy wrist with that overly big, diamond encrusted watch.....Lunatic will no longer exist in the NGW.
He kicks a mound of dirt down, causing dust to float away, as he turns to see the tractor come back down the field in the distance.
Malone: Listen to me carefully. The Angelz of Destruction have been discredited. I take all the blame for that. My ego knows no bounds. However, Ask yourselves this. If I had not have put all the attention on me....challenging all of these proud idiots, and continuously talking pure shit to everyone that would listen.....then you all would have seen the inevitable come forth. Another Angel looms in the skies, waiting....frothing at the mouth. Two of us have captured the Tag Team Titles, and if that wasn't enough...both Aurora and Damon are the number one contenders in both the Unified Heavyweight and Five Lakes Brackets....respectively. And none of you saw that coming. Now you all shower those two with respect, calling them the top two of the Angelz. What's funny is.....they don't give a shit what any of you think. Aurora remains undefeated, and she will stay that way. Damon will easily grab that Five Lakes title, whenever he feels it necessary. Doubt me? Watch what they do to the Grimes couple on the same night, that Rockin Lunatic does his final Headbang....when I drive it into the mat with pure fury.
Gray turns to face the camera, and he plucks the straw of wheat to the ground.
Malone: I have done my part. I now slide back into the shadows. The Angelz are slowly rising to where only we knew we would be...and yet, Gray Malone is the worst competitor on the roster. Funny.....that was my job, and I played it well. Meanwhile the grip has slowly encircled this entire federation. I am pleased to now go forth with my turn. My turn is simple. For you all have forgotten about me quickly. No one gave a shit that I crumbled 30 feet to the ring from that scaffold. Instead...it was a celebration for a fucking parrot. That's good. Invisibility suits me well. Rockin Lunatic will feel what he won't see. In and out, I will crush this person in that ring. While you all talk with each other about the latest engagement, or honeymoon backstage I will be out there ending a hopeless existence. He doesn't know he has sinned.
He's about to find out...........he lost everything.
Gray hears the horn of the tractor, and turns to head towards it, as the scene fades to black.
[Chesapeake, Virginia]
[7-4-16]
The CASE International tractor backs up to the truck, slowly. Gray Malone is standing on the back of the truck, making sure the seed drill doesn't hit the truck. He waves to the driver to keep backing up, until it meets the truck, and he tells the driver to stop. The driver drops the hopper down a bit, so Gray can get on it, and open up both sides. Leaving the engine running, the driver opens the door, and slowly gets out. Gray walks to the edge to help the much older man up onto the walkway.
Malone: Boy, you are getting lighter, aren't you Dad?
His father waits as Gray starts putting bags of soybean seed on the edge of the hoppers, and he cuts a bag at a time with a knife, dumping the seed inside, before throwing the empty bags over the side. He looks at his son, always proud of him, but saddened at the state of him presently.
Dad: Gray? Why do you continue to do these things?
He points at Gray's face, where a bandage is over his forehead, and an eyepatch is over his eye.
Dad: What are you trying to prove? Haven't you proven enough? Me and your mother watched you fall from that scaffold against that young man. A scaffold, Gray?
Gray stacks another bag onto the hopper, and rests for a moment.
Malone: They don't respect me, Dad. As much as I have done for the sport of wrestling, and to not get any respect, it's just...
His father interupts.
Dad: Respect? Son, you are pissing all that respect away by losing every single match you are in. And for what? For the fans? Just so you can put a battle on for them? What difference does it make, if you end up losing? When you fell off of the scaffold, where were those fans at when you got carted off to the hospital? Where were your so called friends? Oh, I'm sorry....your friend? Don't you see, these people nowadays don't respect a battle from some 36 year old veteran. They want to see wins. You aren't giving them Shit!
He starts opening more bags, as Gray stares at him.
Malone: I know Dad. You are right.
He stacks more bags on top of each other, and starts to help open them to fill the hopper up with seed.
Dad: Stop picking fights with everyone, just to show them that you can fight them. Okay? It's pointless. You make plenty of money with all these wrestling schools you own, nationwide. You take care of Layne the best you can, and she is growing into one heck of a young lady. You have nothing to prove to the fans, you have nothing to prove to any of those guys and girls in the business. Go out there and do it for you, son. Do it for you. One at a time, bud. That scaffold match was pointless. You got hurt for what? You think that young British guy respects you? Hell no. He could care less
about you. All he is worried about is he got another win. Understand?
The hoppers are full. Gray closes one side, and his Dad closes the other. He hands Gray his knife, and he puts his hand on his son's shoulder.
Dad: I love you son. Go out there and be Gray Malone. Do what you've done for years. Do it for yourself. Okay? Have fun with it.
Gray hugs his dad.
Malone: I love you too Dad. I will. I understand what you are saying. I promise. Give me a call when you are ready to fill up again, I'll be at the house.
His dad smiles. Gray helps him down, and watches as the man he admires so much gets back in the tractor, and heads off to plant more soybeans.
[ON CAMERA]
Off in the distance, there is a tractor planting in the fields of what once stood wheat. Gray Malone walks through a field, wearing blue jeans and black, dusty work boots. He has no shirt on, and he is sweating. A huge stitched up laceration is plastered across his back, and as he turns to look at the camera, a bandage is on his forehead, and an eye patch covers his right eye.
Malone: Not a good look, I know. Feel like a fucking pirate. But I asked for it, and I got it tenfold. It wasn't the fall that did this to me. It was the landing. The fall, was freedom for me. The fall was so welcoming. I felt the warm liquid flow from my eye, as I saw the pleased face of Jenson Idol get smaller and smaller, as the splintering wood surrounded me, and I lost everything to darkness. Yet I don't blame Jenson for how it went down. I don't blame Janell either. There were no rules involved in the contest, were they not? So if Perry the fucking Pigeon happened to distract yours truly, to help
Jenson claim victory, then so be it. More power to the 3 of them defeating....ONE creature.
He bends down and picks up a left over stalk of wheat. He places it in his mouth, as he hops over a ditch.
Malone: These wounds? They will heal. They always heal. The breath in my lungs never cease, and no one from the IPW, Alpha Rising or the NGW, can stop that from happening. Reason being? No one is truly bad enough....nay, truly evil enough to go that extra mile to end me for good. Let's be honest with ourselves here. Does anyone truly think that this ignorant prick known as Rockin Lunatic has that predator nature? No. No way. Never. Nunca. It ain't happening. This match up will be an embarassment for the booking commitee that decided on placing this guy against the Angel of Shadows, one on one. I pray that they weren't hoping on a certain time limit with this thing, because however long it takes Devlin Scott to wrap his greasy, filthy wrist with that overly big, diamond encrusted watch.....Lunatic will no longer exist in the NGW.
He kicks a mound of dirt down, causing dust to float away, as he turns to see the tractor come back down the field in the distance.
Malone: Listen to me carefully. The Angelz of Destruction have been discredited. I take all the blame for that. My ego knows no bounds. However, Ask yourselves this. If I had not have put all the attention on me....challenging all of these proud idiots, and continuously talking pure shit to everyone that would listen.....then you all would have seen the inevitable come forth. Another Angel looms in the skies, waiting....frothing at the mouth. Two of us have captured the Tag Team Titles, and if that wasn't enough...both Aurora and Damon are the number one contenders in both the Unified Heavyweight and Five Lakes Brackets....respectively. And none of you saw that coming. Now you all shower those two with respect, calling them the top two of the Angelz. What's funny is.....they don't give a shit what any of you think. Aurora remains undefeated, and she will stay that way. Damon will easily grab that Five Lakes title, whenever he feels it necessary. Doubt me? Watch what they do to the Grimes couple on the same night, that Rockin Lunatic does his final Headbang....when I drive it into the mat with pure fury.
Gray turns to face the camera, and he plucks the straw of wheat to the ground.
Malone: I have done my part. I now slide back into the shadows. The Angelz are slowly rising to where only we knew we would be...and yet, Gray Malone is the worst competitor on the roster. Funny.....that was my job, and I played it well. Meanwhile the grip has slowly encircled this entire federation. I am pleased to now go forth with my turn. My turn is simple. For you all have forgotten about me quickly. No one gave a shit that I crumbled 30 feet to the ring from that scaffold. Instead...it was a celebration for a fucking parrot. That's good. Invisibility suits me well. Rockin Lunatic will feel what he won't see. In and out, I will crush this person in that ring. While you all talk with each other about the latest engagement, or honeymoon backstage I will be out there ending a hopeless existence. He doesn't know he has sinned.
He's about to find out...........he lost everything.
Gray hears the horn of the tractor, and turns to head towards it, as the scene fades to black.