Post by mikeyunlikely on Oct 1, 2014 14:32:15 GMT -6
The scene opens to a dark room. The size of the room is unable to be determined due to the lack of lighting. As a matter of fact, nothing can be seen at all, save for one desk that sits in what appears to be the center of whatever place we are in. The desk is a bright oak color, which helps with its visibility in the low lighting. More so, a small desk lamp that rests off to the right side of the desk, lights only the desk, a red empty chair, on the opposite side of the desk, that faces toward the camera, and a small spot below it. It appears as if the ground is a dull grey concrete. The legs of the desk rest on small pads against the concrete.
A quick, loud, sound emerges from the darkness, almost a ripping sound, but well too short to be anything but post it notes. The sound is heard again, after a few seconds, it’s heard one more time. An audible sigh is heard, and then shuffling. The shuffling of paper, starts slowly, methodically, then begins to pick up speed. “Shif, shif, shif, shif”, each sheet says, before being lost in the darkness. Finally the shuffling stops and a loud BANG is heard as something is dropped flat onto the concrete! Finally, steps… slowly approaching, and growing in volume.
Through all of this, we seen nothing but the desk, now a figure looms nearby, eventually the stepping stops and a Caucasian hand reaches across the desk, It pulls open on of the drawers, that are on the opposite side of the cameraman. Inside the hand/arm pulls out a gray shaded pencil. The figure examines the pencil in under the lamp, but his face still not revealed. He uses his opposite hand to pull open another drawer and to pull out a plain everyday 3 subject notebook. He places it directly in the middle of the desktop. He steps in front of the chair, as if to sit, but stops… He picks up the pencil again, and puts it into a sharpener he had sitting on the opposite end of the desk. Once the mechanical whirring stops, the pencil goes underneath the lamp again for examination. This time the figure bows down and blows on the sharpened end of the pencil.
When he leans in, the light reflects against his face, revealing him to be well known entertainer and rapper, Mikey Unlikely. He is wearing a pair of Khaki shorts, and a black wife beater. His black hair is completely wet. As a matter of fact, water pours from his hair, into his face, and down his chin. His wife beater has a ring around the collar, where it had gotten wet also. Looking closer, it’s fairly easy to tell that it is sweat, and not water that soaks the black haired wrestler. He sits down in his chair, and only then do we notice that he is also completely barefoot.
Mikey opens the notebook, and picks up the pencil, he starts writing something, and then he tears the page out of the book, crumples it, and tosses it into the abyss that is behind him. He starts writing on a fresh page, and again tears it out and tosses it. Finally he looks up from the notepad, and see’s the cameraman. He glares, before trying to start writing again, this time he speaks as he does…
“Welcome to my happy place”. Mikey says ‘matter of factually’. His pencil never stops moving.
“My name is Mikey Unlikely, this upcoming week, I make my V.O.W. Debut. I am both excited, and irritated. Happy and sad! Elated, and morose!”
He tears another page from the book.
“You, see I have not been wrestling a very long time, I am not what you would consider a titan in the grappling industry. I am but a name on the card. A face to the fans. Another somebody who wants to make it big. You see, when people come to watch VOW, they are here to see Shane Sparx, they come to see Stacy Jones, and they come to see, Casanova English! That is why I am flustered, stirred, and boiling! I am going to be involved in the opening match to the next breakthrough. I am Mikey Unlikely. Although you do not know my ability, you will soon. The first to fall will be Marcus Nelson, but he will not be the last…. Oh no…. Not by a long shot. “
Mikey finishes the long paragraph he was working on, and tears the sheet out of the notepad, but this one, he does not crumple, this one he places carefully next to the notebook, and opens to another new page. He does not begin writing immediately this time.
You see, we are all afforded an opportunity, a blank slate if you will. We all carve our own path. Take a sheet of paper for example. What do you see? Something worthless? Something light? A way to fold an airplane? Not me… I see infinite possibility, I see the unlocking of doors, the shaking of hands, I see opportunity! There is nothing in this world we cannot create with a sheet of paper! We decide what we write or draw, we decide the setting or scale, we can do anything, that our INCREDIBLE brains allow us to do!
Now Mikey begins to draw, large animate letters. It’s too dark to decipher what he is drawing.
“Marcus Nelson, I’m sorry. It has to be you. One sheet of paper, and your fate was sealed. I take paper, and turn that inanimate object into music! Into a rhyming soliloquy of my thoughts and feelings. Into art and obsession! Unfortunately for you Marcus, someone else took paper, and turned it into a defeat for you! Someone who took 8 seconds, to write one sentence, effectively changed your life forever! How does it feel Marcus? How does it feel, to know, you’re not in control? To know your future has already been decided for you, with the stroke of a pen!?
“You see, as soon as they put your name next to mine your career ended. Now I’m not saying you will never have a match again after me. No, I am sure you have a long career ahead of you, but never again in my arena. Never again in my story, and never again against someone who you so clearly don’t understand… You see, people think because I am a musical artist, that I cannot compete under wrestling’s physical schedule. I think its quite the opposite, I don’t think that VOW, is ready for Mikey in the ring. I don’t think they know what to expect, and I don’t think they ever saw me coming. No one has seen my mind; no one knows my thoughts, except me…..
Mikey claps twice and the entire room is engulfed in light. It takes a second for the camera to adjust to the lighting, but now we can see the room is about 25 feet in length and about 15 feet in width. Everywhere you look, every inch of cinderblock wall, is covered in paper. Each paper having a seemingly endless amount of writing on them. Torn paper and crumpled paper litters the floor, as small walking paths have been placed through the paper mess. Paper even hangs on strings from the ceiling in some parts of the room. We can tell now that this place is a basement, as we see the windows covered with black sheaths at the top of the cinderblock walls. 3 industrial lights hang in succession down the room. Mikey now fully revealed, keeps a serious look on his face….he turns his head a little, his eyes never leaving the camera… Mikey claps twice again and just as suddenly as the first time, the lights turn off again. Only the lamp remains lit, against the darkness.
Mikey gets closer to the desk and leans in. He looks around as if he felt like he was being watched, even though we just seen the empty room behind him.
“Yes, I am a rapper, Yes, I am an entertainer, and Yes…. I am dangerous…. “
Mikey smiles wide for just a second or two before dropping the expression back to a stone faced look… He gets up, and chuckles before walking off into the darkness behind him. He speaks one more time, before his deep retreat into the paper…
“Belie’Dat”
The camera man walks up to the desk, walks around it, before zooming in on what Mikey was drawing at the desk… On the open page of the notebook, in big block lettering are the words… “I’m Sorry Marcus!”
(Fade to Black)
A quick, loud, sound emerges from the darkness, almost a ripping sound, but well too short to be anything but post it notes. The sound is heard again, after a few seconds, it’s heard one more time. An audible sigh is heard, and then shuffling. The shuffling of paper, starts slowly, methodically, then begins to pick up speed. “Shif, shif, shif, shif”, each sheet says, before being lost in the darkness. Finally the shuffling stops and a loud BANG is heard as something is dropped flat onto the concrete! Finally, steps… slowly approaching, and growing in volume.
Through all of this, we seen nothing but the desk, now a figure looms nearby, eventually the stepping stops and a Caucasian hand reaches across the desk, It pulls open on of the drawers, that are on the opposite side of the cameraman. Inside the hand/arm pulls out a gray shaded pencil. The figure examines the pencil in under the lamp, but his face still not revealed. He uses his opposite hand to pull open another drawer and to pull out a plain everyday 3 subject notebook. He places it directly in the middle of the desktop. He steps in front of the chair, as if to sit, but stops… He picks up the pencil again, and puts it into a sharpener he had sitting on the opposite end of the desk. Once the mechanical whirring stops, the pencil goes underneath the lamp again for examination. This time the figure bows down and blows on the sharpened end of the pencil.
When he leans in, the light reflects against his face, revealing him to be well known entertainer and rapper, Mikey Unlikely. He is wearing a pair of Khaki shorts, and a black wife beater. His black hair is completely wet. As a matter of fact, water pours from his hair, into his face, and down his chin. His wife beater has a ring around the collar, where it had gotten wet also. Looking closer, it’s fairly easy to tell that it is sweat, and not water that soaks the black haired wrestler. He sits down in his chair, and only then do we notice that he is also completely barefoot.
Mikey opens the notebook, and picks up the pencil, he starts writing something, and then he tears the page out of the book, crumples it, and tosses it into the abyss that is behind him. He starts writing on a fresh page, and again tears it out and tosses it. Finally he looks up from the notepad, and see’s the cameraman. He glares, before trying to start writing again, this time he speaks as he does…
“Welcome to my happy place”. Mikey says ‘matter of factually’. His pencil never stops moving.
“My name is Mikey Unlikely, this upcoming week, I make my V.O.W. Debut. I am both excited, and irritated. Happy and sad! Elated, and morose!”
He tears another page from the book.
“You, see I have not been wrestling a very long time, I am not what you would consider a titan in the grappling industry. I am but a name on the card. A face to the fans. Another somebody who wants to make it big. You see, when people come to watch VOW, they are here to see Shane Sparx, they come to see Stacy Jones, and they come to see, Casanova English! That is why I am flustered, stirred, and boiling! I am going to be involved in the opening match to the next breakthrough. I am Mikey Unlikely. Although you do not know my ability, you will soon. The first to fall will be Marcus Nelson, but he will not be the last…. Oh no…. Not by a long shot. “
Mikey finishes the long paragraph he was working on, and tears the sheet out of the notepad, but this one, he does not crumple, this one he places carefully next to the notebook, and opens to another new page. He does not begin writing immediately this time.
You see, we are all afforded an opportunity, a blank slate if you will. We all carve our own path. Take a sheet of paper for example. What do you see? Something worthless? Something light? A way to fold an airplane? Not me… I see infinite possibility, I see the unlocking of doors, the shaking of hands, I see opportunity! There is nothing in this world we cannot create with a sheet of paper! We decide what we write or draw, we decide the setting or scale, we can do anything, that our INCREDIBLE brains allow us to do!
Now Mikey begins to draw, large animate letters. It’s too dark to decipher what he is drawing.
“Marcus Nelson, I’m sorry. It has to be you. One sheet of paper, and your fate was sealed. I take paper, and turn that inanimate object into music! Into a rhyming soliloquy of my thoughts and feelings. Into art and obsession! Unfortunately for you Marcus, someone else took paper, and turned it into a defeat for you! Someone who took 8 seconds, to write one sentence, effectively changed your life forever! How does it feel Marcus? How does it feel, to know, you’re not in control? To know your future has already been decided for you, with the stroke of a pen!?
“You see, as soon as they put your name next to mine your career ended. Now I’m not saying you will never have a match again after me. No, I am sure you have a long career ahead of you, but never again in my arena. Never again in my story, and never again against someone who you so clearly don’t understand… You see, people think because I am a musical artist, that I cannot compete under wrestling’s physical schedule. I think its quite the opposite, I don’t think that VOW, is ready for Mikey in the ring. I don’t think they know what to expect, and I don’t think they ever saw me coming. No one has seen my mind; no one knows my thoughts, except me…..
Mikey claps twice and the entire room is engulfed in light. It takes a second for the camera to adjust to the lighting, but now we can see the room is about 25 feet in length and about 15 feet in width. Everywhere you look, every inch of cinderblock wall, is covered in paper. Each paper having a seemingly endless amount of writing on them. Torn paper and crumpled paper litters the floor, as small walking paths have been placed through the paper mess. Paper even hangs on strings from the ceiling in some parts of the room. We can tell now that this place is a basement, as we see the windows covered with black sheaths at the top of the cinderblock walls. 3 industrial lights hang in succession down the room. Mikey now fully revealed, keeps a serious look on his face….he turns his head a little, his eyes never leaving the camera… Mikey claps twice again and just as suddenly as the first time, the lights turn off again. Only the lamp remains lit, against the darkness.
Mikey gets closer to the desk and leans in. He looks around as if he felt like he was being watched, even though we just seen the empty room behind him.
“Yes, I am a rapper, Yes, I am an entertainer, and Yes…. I am dangerous…. “
Mikey smiles wide for just a second or two before dropping the expression back to a stone faced look… He gets up, and chuckles before walking off into the darkness behind him. He speaks one more time, before his deep retreat into the paper…
“Belie’Dat”
The camera man walks up to the desk, walks around it, before zooming in on what Mikey was drawing at the desk… On the open page of the notebook, in big block lettering are the words… “I’m Sorry Marcus!”
(Fade to Black)
