Post by Deleted on May 15, 2014 20:18:21 GMT -6
A lound overly distorted guitar song is playing in the background, as a man walks into view grabbing a microphone, and starts singing into it with a raspy growl. He moves the stand around dipping it and turning it like he's making out with it. Suddenly the music stops, the man continues to sing, and lights come on. He is standing in a recording studio. He's dressed like a dirtball. He has torn up jeans, a faded and ripped flannel shirt tied around his waist. He's wearing a faded and ripped black Nirvana shirt, and a leather jacket. His hair is long and curly with an unkempt beard hiding his face, hints of grey peaking out of the clear attempts to mask it with blond dye.
"What's going on guys? Why'd you stop the music?"
"Vance, we need to talk,” a voice over a loudspeaker fills the vocal booth.
Vance walks out of the booth, to face a group of four other guys. Three of them are all dressed in drainpipe jeans, and well pressed button up shirts. The third is in a casual polo and blue jeans, with a very conservative pair of sneakers.
"What's up guys?" Vance asks, clearly confused.
"Vance, it's not working anymore." The first drainpipe jeans guy says.
"What are you talking about Keith?" Vance puzzlingly asks.
"Look at you dude, you don't look the part." The guy to the left of Keith replies
"What part? Look what part? What the fuck are you guys talking about? Zach? Ben?" Vance looks first to the left of Keith, then the right, trying to drum up support.
"Vance, look at us, this is what the kids are wearing; this is how they look. Do you think they're going to relate to you, when you're dressed stylistically from the same decade where they were born, or possibly even their parents were born?"
"What the fuck does it matter how I dress, it's about the songs, the lyrics, the sound, the style means nothing." Vance says, clearly becoming agitated by the ignorance of his band mates.
"Vance, it's a business, it's all about image; it's all about marketability." Ben replies.
"Yeah, and kids just aren't buying into the 'Grunge' gig anymore. They want emotional songs about hurt and anger and angst." Zach offers, expanding on Ben's reply.
"That's what I sing about you dipshits."
"But you don't scream, you don't sing harmony and then let out a big piercing scream." Keith offers.
"YOU GUYS ARE FUCKING STUPID. YOU DON'T SEE THAT YOU ARE MORE WORRIED ABOUT IMAGE THAN THE PASSION FOR THE MUSIC. WORRIED ABOUT SELLING A FEW MORE ALBUMS TO A POST PUBESCENT BUNCH OF SHITS THAT JUST EAT WHAT IS FORCE FED AT HOT TOPIC, AND YOU'RE OK WITH THAT? Keith, Ben, what happened to your passion for the message? Zach, what happened to all the things you were trying to get off your chest? Why now is it all about what they want, it should be about what you want. People relate to you, not your clothes."
"That's where you are wrong Vance, studies have shown that people like music they can visually relate to." Zach interjects.
"Fuck you guys." Vance throws the microphone he was holding through the glass window in the studio and walks out. Walking with intent he gets to the parking lot, gets into his beat up brown Chevy Nova and tears out of the parking lot.
"Image, PSH...I'll show them image." Vance mutters to himself as he glares out the windshield, smoking a cigarette.
A BMW cuts in front of him, sending him swerving all across the road, trying to avoid a crash. Vance speeds up behind the obviously hurried BMW, and starts riding real close to the bumper. Vance follows this closely for about 5 blocks, before he speeds up to go around. He sees the driver’s window down, and flings a cigarette into the window, sending the driver swerving up onto the sidewalk, and into a light pole. Vance just smiles, as he tears off further down the road.
He pulls up to a small little yellow house that looks a bit rundown compared to the other houses in the neighborhood, parks his car, and steps out. He runs up the steps, and opens the door. He kicks off his boots, and walks in from the entry into the living room.
"Beth, I'm home." He walks around the small house looking around.
"Beth?" He looks in the bathroom to see if she's taking one of her many long baths, nothing, then he hears rustling in the next room. He opens the door to see Beth naked in bed while another guy is rushing to put on his clothes.
"BETH! WHAT THE FUCK!?"
"Vance, it's not...I mean...You...What are you doing home?"
"What do you mean what am I doing home, what does that matter, what are you doing?"
"Well I think it's pretty obvious," the guy replies, cinching up his tie.
"Listen here pretty boy, I am not afraid to beat you to death, that's just the kind of day I'm having here."
The guy shuts up instantly, and Vance looks around.
"Beth, what the fuck, THIS GUY...What's with everyone I know selling out for some piece of shit suit?"
"Vance, you're broke, you can't take care of me and the kids, you spend more time with that stupid band..."
"Well you don't have to worry about that, they kicked me out..."
"What? Vance, I'm sor..."
"Shut it bitch, don't act like you all of a sudden care. You fucked a fucking yuppie suit, how long?"
"Vance, it's..."
"HOW FUCKING LONG!?"
"Its..."
"HOW FUCKING LONG GOD DAMMIT!?"
"A year." Beth looks down, clearly ashamed.
"A YEA..." Vance begins yelling, but stops, "a year? A fucking year? HOW FUCKING STUPID AM I?" I should have seen it, you get a newer car, you get this stuff for the house, for yourself. I figured you got a raise, but no you've got a fucking sugar daddy. YOU'RE A WHORE...You realize that, YOU'RE A FUCKING WHORE...HAVING SEX FOR MONEY."
"No, it's not like that, I really like Bryan, he's sweet, he listens, he understands me."
"OH SO HE'S A FUCKING HOMO?"
"No, he's..."
"A SENSATIVE BITCH?"
"No.."
"A PUSSY?"
"VANCE, SHUT THE FUCK UP, he's a good guy, he takes care of me, he loves me."
"I love you, that never seemed to carry much weight there, why now all of a sudden?"
"Vance, just shut up, it's been over for a while, just get over it, I'm taking the kids to my moms, get your shit out of here, and go somewhere else. You don't have a job, you can't pay for this place."
"No don't leave, I only need one fucking bag."
Vance stuffs a few shirts and pants in a duffle bag, takes his carton of cigarettes out of the freezer, grabs his case of beer, and goes out to his car. He throws his stuff in the backseat and then goes back into the house. When he gets in he sees Bryan giving Beth a kiss. Vance grabs the shoulder of Bryan, turns him around and throws a brick hard punch to the jaw. Bryan falls straight backwards, out on the floor, blood dripping down his cheek and chin.
"Fuck you Beth." Vance flips her the finger, and walks out the door, slamming it behind him.
Vance gets into his car, and begins driving, dragging hard on a cigarette, teeth clenched so tight, he’s crushing the filter between them. He pulls into a run down hotel, and parks. He walks up to a door, listens in, hearing nothing, and then jimmys the lock open with a maxed out credit card he hasn’t paid for in two years. He throws his stuff on the bed, keeping the lights out so he wasn’t noticed. He laid down on the bed, tired, and flipped the TV on.
“Today on Judge Joe Brown…” Static, “Next on COPS,” Click, “Do you want to be a Visionary?”
Vance sits up, intrigued.
“Come to St. Paul Convention Center, and show us what you’ve got. Visionaries of Wrestling are looking for talented individuals to show the world that the best wrestlers in the world are true Visionaries. Come on down tomorrow at 9:30 AM and show off your stuff. You could be the next World Visionary Champion.”
Vance clicks off the TV, and thinks aloud to himself.
“Wrestling? Could I really be a wrestler? I mean I’ve been in plenty of fights, I can’t imagine it’s too much different. I wrestled in high school. I was pretty good, maybe I could do this.”
Vance sits in bed, reaches over, hesitates a moment, and then grabs the alarm clock to set it. He grabs a beer out of the near empty case, and sits back, trying to forget the day that just unfolded in front of him. Before long he is passed out in bed, restless in his sleep, tossing and turning. Finally the alarm goes off. Vance slowly pulls himself out of bed, sliding his jeans and shoes on. He finishes getting dressed, leaves the room, and hops in his car, driving away down the highway heading towards St. Paul.
Traffic was light on this Thursday morning, as he sped down highway 169 from Mankato. His mind races with all the doubts as to why he should just turn and bail, but something keeps him driving, keeps him on his path towards the convention center.
Finally Vance arrives at the parking garage, “Shit…5 bucks to park a fucking car. Vance took the ticket from the automated machine, and put it on his dashboard. He pulls in, and parks the car. He grabs his duffle and takes the skyway to the convention center. He sees a long line, stops at the registration table, signs up, takes a number, and moves towards the back of the line. The person infront of him is dressed like a superhero, cape, tights everything.
“Hey, is your outfit in your bag? Good strategy, keep everyone guessing, dammit I wish I thought of that…God I’m so dumb.” The guy starts hitting himself.
“No, this is what I’m wearing.”
“Jeans? You can’t wrestle in jeans.”
“All I got, so I guess it will do.”
“Well, what’s your wrestler name?”
“Vance LaRoc”
“Needs work, maybe something completely different, what’s your real name?”
“Vance LaRoc.”
“Really? You don’t have a real wrestling name?”
“Ok, what’s yours?”
“Kaptain Kommunist, it’s a Russian schtick I’ve been working on, trying to generate some real heat.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I’ll stick with Vance LaRoc.”
"Suit yourself, but when I'm turning heads you'll be hearing crickets."
“Yeah I guess.” Vance shrugs it off, and turns back around. The line keeps moving slowly, as Kaptain keeps talking about wrestling waxing nostalgic about the old days, talking about his style, about everything he loves. Vance just kind of nods once in a while, only half listening. Finally the line dwindled down to Kaptain, Vance and Mugen, and the usher shuts the door. “Sorry, auditions are closed.”
“WHAT?” Vance yells.
“Are you deaf or retarded? The audition is closed.”
“I’m neither, I was just making sure before I kick your ass.”
“Bringing you fucking phony.”
Vance instantly jumps on the guy and starts pummeling him. Suddenly a security personnel jumps in and starts hitting Vance on the back of the head. Vance just keeps hitting and pummeling. Suddenly two more guards come in and start attacking Vance. Kaptain Kommunist takes off, and runs away.
The guards refuse to back off, as Vance is yelling at Kaptain Kommunist to come back and help him out, but to no avail. Vance just keeps hitting and pummeling until one by one the group of guards back off and retreat. That's when Vance hears clapping coming from down the hallway.
“Well done sir. You see, I was in need of some big brawling type guys, guys that would go out and just kick ass and take names, and you fit that bill perfectly.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Vance asks, angrily.
“Your new boss, I’m Stefan Frei, CEO of VOW. Welcome aboard.”
“You really think I want to join up after what you just pulled on me?”
“I know you will,” Stefan looks at Vance’s number, and then at his clipboard, “Vance, look at you, you need money, and I have the ability to make you a rich man, as long as you’re willing to help build a company from the ground up.”
“Fine, only because I have nothing better.”
“I knew you’d see things my way. Good, inaugural show on the 20th, you versus Mugen Mushaboom, have fun.” Stefan extends a hand for a handshake.
“Thanks,” Vance turns and walks away without shaking. He leaves the main entrance of the building, and begins walking down the street, away from the convention center and parking garage. He sees a bus roll by, and hops on the bumper, and holds on down the block for a few feet before hopping off.
"Mungen Mushybumm? What kind of name is that? I hope he didn't choose that name."
Suddenly some kid chimes in.
"He didn't, that's his birth name. He's a great fighter."
"Someone CHOSE that name for him? Mangy Mushybum?"
"NO, it's Mugen Mushaboom." The kid corrects Vance.
"Muddy Mashedbroom?"
"NO...MU-GEN" The kid says trying to get Vance to break it down
"Mu-Gen"
"Mush-a-boom"
"Mushroom."
"Just give up, you're not going to win anyway. He's too good of a fighter. Look at you, you're like...Old, and fat, and hairy."
"I'm not that old." Vance replies.
"Whatever gramps, Mugen's gonna kill you."
"He better be prepared for a fight then, because I'm not dying without a fight, and he better make sure I'm dead."
Vance gets up and walks away, leaving the kid smirking.