Post by PKA on Jun 16, 2014 19:49:57 GMT -6
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
The scene opens up to last Wednesday, June 11th, in the living room of PKA's home in Wichita, Kansas. He's wearing white basketball shorts and a white v-neck, laying on the couch with an ice pack up against his neck. His longtime, blonde-haired, tattooed friend Kris sits in the lazy-boy chair next to the couch.
Kris: "What's exactly wrong?"
PKA: "My neck. My back. My pussy and my asscrack. Well, okay, not the last two. I'm hurting, dude."
Kris: "Maybe not the second to last.."
PKA: "Watch iiiit.."
Kris: "I'd rather not watch 'that' happen.."
PKA: "Brett Carson dropped me on my head, bottom line. What a damn match that was."
Kris: "I saw. You guys pulled out all the stops. By the way, props on that Blockbuster victory."
PKA: "Heh, Reya Serra. I tweeted about it yesterday, that she's part of history. That's the first time I ever gained a victory using the Blockbuster."
Kris: "How'd that feel?"
PKA: "Pretty damn good, dude. I wonder how SHE is feeling?"
Kris: "No telling, especially with that weirdo Seth Riser."
PKA: "Iser."
Kris: "Hmm?"
PKA: "It's Seth Iser. I've got him at the next show, actually."
Kris: "Oh, Iser."
PKA: "Oh, Iser is right. And his manager is already on my nuts on Twitter. He tweeted, like..'Kid...you might be talented...but my client will kick the living dogshit out of you.'"
Kris: "Ha, bringing the heat!"
PKA: "Please. Sounds like a cheap knock off of that time Kanye West interrupted Taylor Swift."
He mocks Kanye and Vincent Moretti's tweet.
PKA: "PKA, I'mma let you finish, but my client is the best of all time!"
Kris laughs.
PKA: "He even referred to me as KID, which I totally dug. It must be my youthful looks."
Kris: "It's your immaturity."
PKA: "Like you can talk."
Kris: "I made a living out of it."
PKA stares blankly at Kris Red, no-selling his obvious joke about being a color commentator for a decade.
PKA: "Touche.."
Okay, he acknowledged it after all.
"I mean, I'm 30 years old. That Seth Iser fella is only three years older than me. So, we're peers, and Moretti complimented me by calling me 'kid' .. I think I like this so far. Well, except for the fact that this Iser guy is huge as all get out."
Kris: "When has that been a problem? You've been facing bigger guys all your life. You're 5'9" and claim to be over 200 pounds."
PKA: "I didn't say it was a problem, but he's definitely the biggest guy I've had to deal with in a long time.. well, since Hugo a few months back. And well, I lost that one."
PKA is referring to a recent Deathmatch he had with Hugo Strange in WARPED Wrestling in which all sorts of weapons were used and Hugo came out on top.
Kris: "Well let's be honest, Hugo is younger than you. Kids these days are faster no matter what their size. They need to be tranquilized."
PKA smirks as he picks up his phone and swipes through it.
PKA: "In this scenario, I'm the younger one. I'm faster, I'm smarter, and I'm a lot better looking, that's for sure. I have youthful, stunning looks, and I am a catch. Just ask his manager."
Kris: "Really?"
PKA: "I am the supreme gentleman."
Kris: "Okay, Elliot."
PKA raises an eyebrow at that reference and moves right along.
PKA: "I've got a supreme ass kicking to give Seth Iser on Tuesday. I imagine I'll literally be kicking his ass, cause I doubt I can reach his face. Though, that's what the ropes and turnbuckles are for. But before I get to any of that, I've got to go see a guy about a thing."
Kris: "Chiropractor?"
PKA: "Well, that's a lot less cool sounding. But, yes."
* knock, knock, knock *
They turn their heads toward the door at the same time. PKA grabs at his neck. Perhaps he shouldn't had turned that quickly. Kris opts to get up so his friend can rest.
PKA: "Wonder who that is..."
After a few moments, Kris brings a box back to the living room and sets it on the table.
Kris: "UPS guy."
PKA's eyes widen, especially after the recent package he received at Breakthrough Edition 4.
PKA: "Not this again.."
Kris raises an eyebrow as he passes the box over to PKA, who then begins ripping it open. Inside of the cardboard box is a plastic box with a note attached.
Kris: "Well, read it!"
PKA opens the letter and reads it aloud.
PKA: "It says - 'do not open until Breakthrough. Open right before your match' - uhh, great."
PKA goes to open the box when Kris jumps up and puts his hands out.
Kris: "No, no! You gotta wait."
PKA stops opening and sighs.
PKA: "You're kidding me, right? I don't need to follow some stupid rule on a random package from God knows who."
He grabs the cardboard box and looks at the Return Address. He doesn't recognize it.
Kris: "What if you open it now and it jinxes you?"
PKA: "Oh my God. You're kidding me, right?"
Kris shrugs.
PKA: "Whatever."
He tosses the box on the ground and it cracks open and out pops a Jack-In-The-Box. Kris leaps up out of his seat and falls over back while PKA looks at the sideways child's toy on the floor with a blank stare.
PKA: "God damnit, Hugo."
Kris comes around the chair and picks up the Jack-in-the-Box.
Kris: "What are the odds? We were just talking about him..."
PKA rolls his eyes. Kris puts the box on the kitchen counter and notices something. He picks up the white manikin head and turns to PKA.
Kris: "What the fuck?"
PKA: "Oh dude, don't even ask. I don't even know where to begin."
PKA sighs and Kris looks on in confusion as the scene fades to black.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
PKA leaving the chiropractor, tweets to Laurel Anne Hardy about Friday night.
PKA exits through the front door of Zollinger Chiropractic Clinic on a nice, sunny Thursday in Wichita, Kansas. He smiles as he nods at the camera.
PKA: "Feeling much better."
He lifts up a prescription paper.
PKA: "Pharmacy, here I come."
As he arrives to his black Mustang, PKA checks his cell phone and pulls up his Twitter app. He sees a tweet from former co-worker and friend, Laurel Anne Hardy.
@sugarhardy Jun 13
like srs u cannot understand the amount of clothes i own
PKA thinks up a quick reply for the lovely female wrestler.
@officialpka
@sugarhardy I bought new underwear today.
PKA nods in the direction of his passenger's seat as the camera enters the back of the car. The camera shows a blue Walmart bag full of items, one of them being (apparently) new underwear. He pulls out of the parking lot and heads to the Walgreens to fill his prescription.
Soon after, the tweets between PKA and Laurel Anne Hardy would continue. PKA invites Laurel to be 'in on this historic occasion' to find out what the underwear is like. She invites him to 'hang out' Friday in New York City, and he accepts.
The cameras fade in 20 minutes later as PKA sits in his car following getting his prescription filled.
PKA: "Well, this has been a great day. My back and neck got adjusted. I've got a date with Laurel who wants to help me 'try on' my underwear, and not to mention that was the fastest I've ever gotten a prescription filled. This day can't get any better. I need this to carry over into next Tuesday when I face Seth Iser and take that big goof down."
Suddenly, there's a knock on PKA's window. He clicks the button and the window goes down as PKA notices a young boy, about seven years old, standing there next to his mother.
Boy: "Hi, mister. Are you PKA?"
PKA: "Well yeah, I am."
His mom intervenes.
Mom: "I'm so sorry for bothering you. My son loves you."
PKA smirks.
PKA: "Hey, it's no problem at all. Here, let me get out of the car at least."
The boy and his mother back away as PKA exits the car and kneels down to the boy. He notices the boy has a piece of paper and a marker in his hand.
PKA: "So what's your name?"
Boy: "James."
PKA: "Well nice to meet you, James."
Boy: "Can you sign my paper?"
PKA: "I'd be happy to."
PKA takes the marker and paper and signs his autograph and writes a message for the young boy, James.
Mom: "What do we say?"
Boy: "Thank you."
PKA hands the paper and marker back to the boy and nods his head.
PKA: "You're quite welcome."
The boy hugs his mom's leg as the mom mouths 'thanks so much' to PKA and they walk off. PKA grins as he opens the car door and watches them walk off.
PKA: "Even better."
He starts the car as the scene fades to black.
Sunday, June 1, 2014
The scene opens up now as we see PKA packing his suitcase. He holds up a pair of his new underwear and smirks.
PKA: "Friday night, I visited a friend in New York City. She and I had a fun time trying on my new underwear, and taking them off, and trying them on, and, oh who am I kidding? We only tried them on once. They were off the rest of the time."
PKA winks and half-grins. He puts the underwear away in the suitcase and visits the closet to pick out some shirts.
PKA: "After I made sure she was satisfied as only I can, I then hit the town and did my best to tear it up, sore neck and all."
PKA rubs at the back of his neck. He grunts and reaches in the drawer beside him and pulls out an orange prescription bottle full of pills. He twists the cap open and pours a few in his hand.
"Nothing a couple of few of these guys can't cure."
He pops them in his mouth and grabs his dark, iced beverage and takes a swig to get the pills down. He then pulls a couple dress shirts out of the closet and takes them off the hanger, before folding them up for the suitcase.
PKA: "I conquered the big apple. Seth Iser, I will do the same to you. Because much like The Big Apple, and my penis, you are large and red. You are erect and large at 250 pounds. Look at you. You're so stiff. You're all business. Why not lighten up and have a little fun now and then? Nobody wants to sit around and play with themselves all day long. You should take your giant, red, hard-headed self and get out on the town. Boy, oh boy, you should see the bitches I danced with Friday night. Even better, you should see the lovely one I woke up to Saturday morning. Tell me, Iser, who do you wake up to in the morning? Does Moretti sleep in the same bed, or are you in bunkbeds? Who's got top in that relationship? I'd hate to be bottom. You know what happens to the bottom, right?"
PKA winces and grabs at his backside.
PKA: "You're fucked. That's right, Tuesday night at Breakthrough, I've got a hell of a battle as I face you. I plan on bringing the superkick party train through your masked mug and knocking that thing right off your face. Then, I'll grab your greasy, black hair, pull you under my arm, lift you up an drop you with the triple OG P-Krusher. It's that simple, 1.. 2.. 3. Nobody likes being dropped on their head, trust me. And by the looks of things, and the fact that you've got another grown man doing the talking for you, it seems you may had been dropped on your head a few times as a child. Hell, you probably had plenty of concussions from your high school days as a failed football player. I know it must had just destroyed you on the inside with all of those injuries. Aww, poor thing you. Well, smart fucking move with choosing wrestling after having a torn ACL, MCL, and PCL, whatever the fuck that is."
PKA palm-faces.
PKA: "Seriously. Who fails at a high impact sport such as football and then gets a wild hair up their ass to join an even more high impact sport such as professional wrestling? That right there tells me you're not all that wise, even though you seem to be fooling some people into thinking you're some sort of intelligent fighter. Sure, you might know a lot of wrestling styles, but have you perfected even one of them? I can draw a stick figure or a nice hill with a sun and trees, but I don't call myself an intelligent and talented arteeeest.. No, see, you're just a big, bulky guy behind a mask who watched a wrestling tape with different styles of wrestling and suddenly you think you're an expert on them. Meanwhile, I've had years of experience under the tutelage of talents from Mexico, Japan, the the United States. I learned from the best to harness the lucharesu ground and air skills that I have used for years to be successful in this business. You're good at playing mind games because you're big and people don't know how to not be scared shitless of you. I'm not scared. Because, not only do I have the lucharesu skills down, I'm a sick son of a bitch when it comes to doing things that most wouldn't dare bothering with. Weapons? Scars? Blood? Pain? I party with those guys every weekend. We're the best of pals. After Breakthrough, your best pal is going to be the lights of Roy Wilkins Auditorium, cause they'll be the first thing you see when you finally come to. You'll thank them for being at your side after the wake up call you received from the Ultraviolent Perfectionist."
"Ring, ring."
PKA picks up his cellphone and pretends he is talking to somebody on the other end.
PKA: "Oh, hello? Yes, this is the winner. Who's this? Oh, the future? Sweet. Thanks, I'll be sure to meet you on the turnbuckle for my posing session as the fans cheer me on and my music plays. All right, see ya later future."
He sets the phone down on the bed and grabs his drink. Before taking a swig, he explains what that was about.
PKA: "Oh, right. That was the future calling. It can't wait for me to win. And neither can I. I'm bringing my Grade A Game Tuesday night to the Roy Wilkins Auditorium. I'm about to pass with flying colors, and you're going to be the same you were in high school - a failure. No fear. No limits."
PKA finally takes a big gulp of the beverage.
PKA: "Just pain."
He puts the drink down on the table and zips up his suitcase as the scene fades to black.
The scene opens up to last Wednesday, June 11th, in the living room of PKA's home in Wichita, Kansas. He's wearing white basketball shorts and a white v-neck, laying on the couch with an ice pack up against his neck. His longtime, blonde-haired, tattooed friend Kris sits in the lazy-boy chair next to the couch.
Kris: "What's exactly wrong?"
PKA: "My neck. My back. My pussy and my asscrack. Well, okay, not the last two. I'm hurting, dude."
Kris: "Maybe not the second to last.."
PKA: "Watch iiiit.."
Kris: "I'd rather not watch 'that' happen.."
PKA: "Brett Carson dropped me on my head, bottom line. What a damn match that was."
Kris: "I saw. You guys pulled out all the stops. By the way, props on that Blockbuster victory."
PKA: "Heh, Reya Serra. I tweeted about it yesterday, that she's part of history. That's the first time I ever gained a victory using the Blockbuster."
Kris: "How'd that feel?"
PKA: "Pretty damn good, dude. I wonder how SHE is feeling?"
Kris: "No telling, especially with that weirdo Seth Riser."
PKA: "Iser."
Kris: "Hmm?"
PKA: "It's Seth Iser. I've got him at the next show, actually."
Kris: "Oh, Iser."
PKA: "Oh, Iser is right. And his manager is already on my nuts on Twitter. He tweeted, like..'Kid...you might be talented...but my client will kick the living dogshit out of you.'"
Kris: "Ha, bringing the heat!"
PKA: "Please. Sounds like a cheap knock off of that time Kanye West interrupted Taylor Swift."
He mocks Kanye and Vincent Moretti's tweet.
PKA: "PKA, I'mma let you finish, but my client is the best of all time!"
Kris laughs.
PKA: "He even referred to me as KID, which I totally dug. It must be my youthful looks."
Kris: "It's your immaturity."
PKA: "Like you can talk."
Kris: "I made a living out of it."
PKA stares blankly at Kris Red, no-selling his obvious joke about being a color commentator for a decade.
PKA: "Touche.."
Okay, he acknowledged it after all.
"I mean, I'm 30 years old. That Seth Iser fella is only three years older than me. So, we're peers, and Moretti complimented me by calling me 'kid' .. I think I like this so far. Well, except for the fact that this Iser guy is huge as all get out."
Kris: "When has that been a problem? You've been facing bigger guys all your life. You're 5'9" and claim to be over 200 pounds."
PKA: "I didn't say it was a problem, but he's definitely the biggest guy I've had to deal with in a long time.. well, since Hugo a few months back. And well, I lost that one."
PKA is referring to a recent Deathmatch he had with Hugo Strange in WARPED Wrestling in which all sorts of weapons were used and Hugo came out on top.
Kris: "Well let's be honest, Hugo is younger than you. Kids these days are faster no matter what their size. They need to be tranquilized."
PKA smirks as he picks up his phone and swipes through it.
PKA: "In this scenario, I'm the younger one. I'm faster, I'm smarter, and I'm a lot better looking, that's for sure. I have youthful, stunning looks, and I am a catch. Just ask his manager."
Kris: "Really?"
PKA: "I am the supreme gentleman."
Kris: "Okay, Elliot."
PKA raises an eyebrow at that reference and moves right along.
PKA: "I've got a supreme ass kicking to give Seth Iser on Tuesday. I imagine I'll literally be kicking his ass, cause I doubt I can reach his face. Though, that's what the ropes and turnbuckles are for. But before I get to any of that, I've got to go see a guy about a thing."
Kris: "Chiropractor?"
PKA: "Well, that's a lot less cool sounding. But, yes."
* knock, knock, knock *
They turn their heads toward the door at the same time. PKA grabs at his neck. Perhaps he shouldn't had turned that quickly. Kris opts to get up so his friend can rest.
PKA: "Wonder who that is..."
After a few moments, Kris brings a box back to the living room and sets it on the table.
Kris: "UPS guy."
PKA's eyes widen, especially after the recent package he received at Breakthrough Edition 4.
PKA: "Not this again.."
Kris raises an eyebrow as he passes the box over to PKA, who then begins ripping it open. Inside of the cardboard box is a plastic box with a note attached.
Kris: "Well, read it!"
PKA opens the letter and reads it aloud.
PKA: "It says - 'do not open until Breakthrough. Open right before your match' - uhh, great."
PKA goes to open the box when Kris jumps up and puts his hands out.
Kris: "No, no! You gotta wait."
PKA stops opening and sighs.
PKA: "You're kidding me, right? I don't need to follow some stupid rule on a random package from God knows who."
He grabs the cardboard box and looks at the Return Address. He doesn't recognize it.
Kris: "What if you open it now and it jinxes you?"
PKA: "Oh my God. You're kidding me, right?"
Kris shrugs.
PKA: "Whatever."
He tosses the box on the ground and it cracks open and out pops a Jack-In-The-Box. Kris leaps up out of his seat and falls over back while PKA looks at the sideways child's toy on the floor with a blank stare.
PKA: "God damnit, Hugo."
Kris comes around the chair and picks up the Jack-in-the-Box.
Kris: "What are the odds? We were just talking about him..."
PKA rolls his eyes. Kris puts the box on the kitchen counter and notices something. He picks up the white manikin head and turns to PKA.
Kris: "What the fuck?"
PKA: "Oh dude, don't even ask. I don't even know where to begin."
PKA sighs and Kris looks on in confusion as the scene fades to black.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
PKA leaving the chiropractor, tweets to Laurel Anne Hardy about Friday night.
PKA exits through the front door of Zollinger Chiropractic Clinic on a nice, sunny Thursday in Wichita, Kansas. He smiles as he nods at the camera.
PKA: "Feeling much better."
He lifts up a prescription paper.
PKA: "Pharmacy, here I come."
As he arrives to his black Mustang, PKA checks his cell phone and pulls up his Twitter app. He sees a tweet from former co-worker and friend, Laurel Anne Hardy.
@sugarhardy Jun 13
like srs u cannot understand the amount of clothes i own
PKA thinks up a quick reply for the lovely female wrestler.
@officialpka
@sugarhardy I bought new underwear today.
PKA nods in the direction of his passenger's seat as the camera enters the back of the car. The camera shows a blue Walmart bag full of items, one of them being (apparently) new underwear. He pulls out of the parking lot and heads to the Walgreens to fill his prescription.
Soon after, the tweets between PKA and Laurel Anne Hardy would continue. PKA invites Laurel to be 'in on this historic occasion' to find out what the underwear is like. She invites him to 'hang out' Friday in New York City, and he accepts.
The cameras fade in 20 minutes later as PKA sits in his car following getting his prescription filled.
PKA: "Well, this has been a great day. My back and neck got adjusted. I've got a date with Laurel who wants to help me 'try on' my underwear, and not to mention that was the fastest I've ever gotten a prescription filled. This day can't get any better. I need this to carry over into next Tuesday when I face Seth Iser and take that big goof down."
Suddenly, there's a knock on PKA's window. He clicks the button and the window goes down as PKA notices a young boy, about seven years old, standing there next to his mother.
Boy: "Hi, mister. Are you PKA?"
PKA: "Well yeah, I am."
His mom intervenes.
Mom: "I'm so sorry for bothering you. My son loves you."
PKA smirks.
PKA: "Hey, it's no problem at all. Here, let me get out of the car at least."
The boy and his mother back away as PKA exits the car and kneels down to the boy. He notices the boy has a piece of paper and a marker in his hand.
PKA: "So what's your name?"
Boy: "James."
PKA: "Well nice to meet you, James."
Boy: "Can you sign my paper?"
PKA: "I'd be happy to."
PKA takes the marker and paper and signs his autograph and writes a message for the young boy, James.
Mom: "What do we say?"
Boy: "Thank you."
PKA hands the paper and marker back to the boy and nods his head.
PKA: "You're quite welcome."
The boy hugs his mom's leg as the mom mouths 'thanks so much' to PKA and they walk off. PKA grins as he opens the car door and watches them walk off.
PKA: "Even better."
He starts the car as the scene fades to black.
Sunday, June 1, 2014
The scene opens up now as we see PKA packing his suitcase. He holds up a pair of his new underwear and smirks.
PKA: "Friday night, I visited a friend in New York City. She and I had a fun time trying on my new underwear, and taking them off, and trying them on, and, oh who am I kidding? We only tried them on once. They were off the rest of the time."
PKA winks and half-grins. He puts the underwear away in the suitcase and visits the closet to pick out some shirts.
PKA: "After I made sure she was satisfied as only I can, I then hit the town and did my best to tear it up, sore neck and all."
PKA rubs at the back of his neck. He grunts and reaches in the drawer beside him and pulls out an orange prescription bottle full of pills. He twists the cap open and pours a few in his hand.
"Nothing a couple of few of these guys can't cure."
He pops them in his mouth and grabs his dark, iced beverage and takes a swig to get the pills down. He then pulls a couple dress shirts out of the closet and takes them off the hanger, before folding them up for the suitcase.
PKA: "I conquered the big apple. Seth Iser, I will do the same to you. Because much like The Big Apple, and my penis, you are large and red. You are erect and large at 250 pounds. Look at you. You're so stiff. You're all business. Why not lighten up and have a little fun now and then? Nobody wants to sit around and play with themselves all day long. You should take your giant, red, hard-headed self and get out on the town. Boy, oh boy, you should see the bitches I danced with Friday night. Even better, you should see the lovely one I woke up to Saturday morning. Tell me, Iser, who do you wake up to in the morning? Does Moretti sleep in the same bed, or are you in bunkbeds? Who's got top in that relationship? I'd hate to be bottom. You know what happens to the bottom, right?"
PKA winces and grabs at his backside.
PKA: "You're fucked. That's right, Tuesday night at Breakthrough, I've got a hell of a battle as I face you. I plan on bringing the superkick party train through your masked mug and knocking that thing right off your face. Then, I'll grab your greasy, black hair, pull you under my arm, lift you up an drop you with the triple OG P-Krusher. It's that simple, 1.. 2.. 3. Nobody likes being dropped on their head, trust me. And by the looks of things, and the fact that you've got another grown man doing the talking for you, it seems you may had been dropped on your head a few times as a child. Hell, you probably had plenty of concussions from your high school days as a failed football player. I know it must had just destroyed you on the inside with all of those injuries. Aww, poor thing you. Well, smart fucking move with choosing wrestling after having a torn ACL, MCL, and PCL, whatever the fuck that is."
PKA palm-faces.
PKA: "Seriously. Who fails at a high impact sport such as football and then gets a wild hair up their ass to join an even more high impact sport such as professional wrestling? That right there tells me you're not all that wise, even though you seem to be fooling some people into thinking you're some sort of intelligent fighter. Sure, you might know a lot of wrestling styles, but have you perfected even one of them? I can draw a stick figure or a nice hill with a sun and trees, but I don't call myself an intelligent and talented arteeeest.. No, see, you're just a big, bulky guy behind a mask who watched a wrestling tape with different styles of wrestling and suddenly you think you're an expert on them. Meanwhile, I've had years of experience under the tutelage of talents from Mexico, Japan, the the United States. I learned from the best to harness the lucharesu ground and air skills that I have used for years to be successful in this business. You're good at playing mind games because you're big and people don't know how to not be scared shitless of you. I'm not scared. Because, not only do I have the lucharesu skills down, I'm a sick son of a bitch when it comes to doing things that most wouldn't dare bothering with. Weapons? Scars? Blood? Pain? I party with those guys every weekend. We're the best of pals. After Breakthrough, your best pal is going to be the lights of Roy Wilkins Auditorium, cause they'll be the first thing you see when you finally come to. You'll thank them for being at your side after the wake up call you received from the Ultraviolent Perfectionist."
"Ring, ring."
PKA picks up his cellphone and pretends he is talking to somebody on the other end.
PKA: "Oh, hello? Yes, this is the winner. Who's this? Oh, the future? Sweet. Thanks, I'll be sure to meet you on the turnbuckle for my posing session as the fans cheer me on and my music plays. All right, see ya later future."
He sets the phone down on the bed and grabs his drink. Before taking a swig, he explains what that was about.
PKA: "Oh, right. That was the future calling. It can't wait for me to win. And neither can I. I'm bringing my Grade A Game Tuesday night to the Roy Wilkins Auditorium. I'm about to pass with flying colors, and you're going to be the same you were in high school - a failure. No fear. No limits."
PKA finally takes a big gulp of the beverage.
PKA: "Just pain."
He puts the drink down on the table and zips up his suitcase as the scene fades to black.
