Post by ericbruce on Oct 7, 2010 0:03:39 GMT -5
“I'm sorry babe! Come on, don't do that... Don't!”
:: A Door slams shut. ::
“God Dammit!”
:: Eric Bruce is standing outside of his apartment, wearing only a pair of boxer-briefs and beating on the door. ::
Eric: “Suzy! I'm sorry! Can I at least have my cell phone?!?”
:: An old lady from down the hall opens her door, she looks like Mrs. Howell from Gilligans Island, and is staring at Eric with a look in her eyes that she probably hasn't had since Eisenhower was in office. ::
Eric: “SUZYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!”
:: The door suddenly opens and Suzy barges out with a pair of Louis Vuitton luggage bags. She is wearing a pair of sweat pants and a very flattering tank top. Eric looks at her as she's leaving, knowing that it's either follow her out to the street in his underwear, or go inside and wait for her to cool down, he makes the typical, uneducated choice, and follows her. ::
Eric: “Suzy, wait! Where are you going?”
:: He follows her to the elevator, where she, of course gets right in. Any other time, you gotta wait for the son of a bitch for 2 and a half hours, but today, when that could be valuable talk time, the mother fucker is right there waiting.. The elevator closes behind her, and Eric is once again left with a choice: To sprint down the stairs, and hopefully catch her before she gets in her car and leaves, or go back to his apartment, and sort out where things stand. ::
Eric: “Fuuuuuuuck.”
:: He looks at the door, and eventually makes the smart decision, and walks back to his apartment. He walks in, looks around and grabs his cell phone. ::
Eric: “Suzy, I know you pushed Ignore... Can we talk about this?”
:: Eric hangs up the phone and throws it at the couch. ::
Eric: “FUCK!”
….......................................
:: The scene opens up and we see Eric Bruce sitting in a pair of black sweat pants, wearing an open Minnesota Twins baseball jersey, and a Kelley Green Minnesota Twins hat with a white logo. The television behind Eric is showing replays of Roy Halladay's amazing no hitter in his first ever post-season appearance. Eric has bags under his eyes and looks like he hasn't slept. He stares into the camera with an intense look in his eyes. Beside him on either side are his NWA World Television Championship and his MCW Mid-South Heavyweight Championship belt, sitting on end tables. He is just staring blankly into the camera, when suddenly, he opens his mouth, no words come out. He closes his mouth, and shakes his head, as if to say: not yet. He glares even longer at the camera, as if he's trying to tell a story with his eyes... The fiery determination, that doesn't tell the story of a man who is beaten. That tells a story of a man who is ready to take on the world. ::
Eric: “I have run through every. single. roadblock. that the NWA has put in front of me. I'd be lying if I were to say that it hasn't taken a toll on me. I would be lying, if I said that my professional and personal life have taken a bit of a hit, due to the insane touring schedule that I have had since winning my belt. You know what though? It's worth it. If I am to achieve the goals that I have set for myself in this business, then everything has to come after wrestling.”
:: Eric smiles a little bit, you can tell that one of his goals has been achieved. He is the the NWA World Television Champion, and he won the belt on his first attempt, unlike so many that have tried. ::
Eric: “The next bump in the road on my path to achieving all of my goals is this... scrub, who calls himself “The Insane One”... Jesus Christ man, you couldn't come up with anything a little more original than that? I mean, that's almost as original as calling yourself Psycho. Look, you know god damned well that it's a stupid name. So from here on out, I'm referring to you as douchey. Okay? Okay. Listen douchey, I know that you go out there and you try to prove how hardcore you are, by hitting your opponents over the head with anything that you can find laying around the house, but what you have gotten yourself into now, well, it's a bit different. You see, what I do in the wrestling ring, and what you do in the wrestling ring, they are on polar opposite sides of the spectrum. I, am a technical mastermind. You, are a hardcore spot monkey with no idea what psychology means, you just go through the motions, hitting people in the head with chairs and ring steps and anything else you can get your hands on.”
:: Eric puts a hand up to his mouth, and covers it, as if he has said something that he shouldn't have. It doesn't stop him though, as he removes his hand and you can see the cocky smirk that has formed on his face. ::
Eric: “You know what, I may have already said more than most people want me to, but it's okay. I only have a little bit more to get off my chest. You see, I hear all of you people boo me. Night in and night out, it is nothing but a barrage of jeers and curse words. You know what though, I am fine with that. But don't trick yourselves into thinking that you'd be happy if I lost. We all know that at the end of the night, when you walk out the door, you're talking about the great match that you just witnessed, you are talking about how Eric Bruce was in the match of the night. You are talking about how amazing that finish was. You see, the only reason you allow yourselves to boo me, is because you all know that deep down inside, you are not, and will never be me. You won't allow yourself to cheer for me, because you will then have to admit that you are living vicariously through me. Just think about that.”
:: Eric stands up and walks out of the shot as the scene fades to black. ::
:: A Door slams shut. ::
“God Dammit!”
:: Eric Bruce is standing outside of his apartment, wearing only a pair of boxer-briefs and beating on the door. ::
Eric: “Suzy! I'm sorry! Can I at least have my cell phone?!?”
:: An old lady from down the hall opens her door, she looks like Mrs. Howell from Gilligans Island, and is staring at Eric with a look in her eyes that she probably hasn't had since Eisenhower was in office. ::
Eric: “SUZYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!”
:: The door suddenly opens and Suzy barges out with a pair of Louis Vuitton luggage bags. She is wearing a pair of sweat pants and a very flattering tank top. Eric looks at her as she's leaving, knowing that it's either follow her out to the street in his underwear, or go inside and wait for her to cool down, he makes the typical, uneducated choice, and follows her. ::
Eric: “Suzy, wait! Where are you going?”
:: He follows her to the elevator, where she, of course gets right in. Any other time, you gotta wait for the son of a bitch for 2 and a half hours, but today, when that could be valuable talk time, the mother fucker is right there waiting.. The elevator closes behind her, and Eric is once again left with a choice: To sprint down the stairs, and hopefully catch her before she gets in her car and leaves, or go back to his apartment, and sort out where things stand. ::
Eric: “Fuuuuuuuck.”
:: He looks at the door, and eventually makes the smart decision, and walks back to his apartment. He walks in, looks around and grabs his cell phone. ::
Eric: “Suzy, I know you pushed Ignore... Can we talk about this?”
:: Eric hangs up the phone and throws it at the couch. ::
Eric: “FUCK!”
….......................................
:: The scene opens up and we see Eric Bruce sitting in a pair of black sweat pants, wearing an open Minnesota Twins baseball jersey, and a Kelley Green Minnesota Twins hat with a white logo. The television behind Eric is showing replays of Roy Halladay's amazing no hitter in his first ever post-season appearance. Eric has bags under his eyes and looks like he hasn't slept. He stares into the camera with an intense look in his eyes. Beside him on either side are his NWA World Television Championship and his MCW Mid-South Heavyweight Championship belt, sitting on end tables. He is just staring blankly into the camera, when suddenly, he opens his mouth, no words come out. He closes his mouth, and shakes his head, as if to say: not yet. He glares even longer at the camera, as if he's trying to tell a story with his eyes... The fiery determination, that doesn't tell the story of a man who is beaten. That tells a story of a man who is ready to take on the world. ::
Eric: “I have run through every. single. roadblock. that the NWA has put in front of me. I'd be lying if I were to say that it hasn't taken a toll on me. I would be lying, if I said that my professional and personal life have taken a bit of a hit, due to the insane touring schedule that I have had since winning my belt. You know what though? It's worth it. If I am to achieve the goals that I have set for myself in this business, then everything has to come after wrestling.”
:: Eric smiles a little bit, you can tell that one of his goals has been achieved. He is the the NWA World Television Champion, and he won the belt on his first attempt, unlike so many that have tried. ::
Eric: “The next bump in the road on my path to achieving all of my goals is this... scrub, who calls himself “The Insane One”... Jesus Christ man, you couldn't come up with anything a little more original than that? I mean, that's almost as original as calling yourself Psycho. Look, you know god damned well that it's a stupid name. So from here on out, I'm referring to you as douchey. Okay? Okay. Listen douchey, I know that you go out there and you try to prove how hardcore you are, by hitting your opponents over the head with anything that you can find laying around the house, but what you have gotten yourself into now, well, it's a bit different. You see, what I do in the wrestling ring, and what you do in the wrestling ring, they are on polar opposite sides of the spectrum. I, am a technical mastermind. You, are a hardcore spot monkey with no idea what psychology means, you just go through the motions, hitting people in the head with chairs and ring steps and anything else you can get your hands on.”
:: Eric puts a hand up to his mouth, and covers it, as if he has said something that he shouldn't have. It doesn't stop him though, as he removes his hand and you can see the cocky smirk that has formed on his face. ::
Eric: “You know what, I may have already said more than most people want me to, but it's okay. I only have a little bit more to get off my chest. You see, I hear all of you people boo me. Night in and night out, it is nothing but a barrage of jeers and curse words. You know what though, I am fine with that. But don't trick yourselves into thinking that you'd be happy if I lost. We all know that at the end of the night, when you walk out the door, you're talking about the great match that you just witnessed, you are talking about how Eric Bruce was in the match of the night. You are talking about how amazing that finish was. You see, the only reason you allow yourselves to boo me, is because you all know that deep down inside, you are not, and will never be me. You won't allow yourself to cheer for me, because you will then have to admit that you are living vicariously through me. Just think about that.”
:: Eric stands up and walks out of the shot as the scene fades to black. ::