Post by tibbs on Sept 21, 2005 22:09:25 GMT -5
[Fade In]
Open scene to the corner of Cookman Avenue and Bond Street in Asbury Park. The morning sun rises over the dilapidated buildings in the background of the city section of Asbury, and the shadows become long, separating from the darkness of night to live in the light. As the shadows take shape, one shadow walks forward from under the cover of a buildings overhang...And The Man stands before us.
“It all comes back to this,” Indicating his surroundings with outstretched arms. “For me, there is no other place to call home. It is dirty, rat infested, disease ridden. Hell, if I wasn’t standing here, and everybody here didn’t know me,” Tibbs points to the Eastern street corner. “there would be a crack dealer standing right there at this time of the morning.”
“Too many times, I have been asked by fans, or insulted by my peers, as to why I always return here. Why is Asbury Park the one place that I return to all the time, though my personal trainer and his facilities are now in Chicago? Why do I always return here? The answer is simple; it is hard.”
“Eric Hardcastle,” He addresses the camera. “I really do enjoy the luxury of estates. The total access and privacy of private gyms, the convenience of a personal plane, and the multitude of women. It is a life-style that I can adjust to all too easily; I could even have endorsements for television commercials because of your namesake, and the money would roll in oh so quickly.”
“But I have to let it all go.”
Tibbs rustles up his trench coat over his shoulders a little more, trying to ward off the cold morning air of the Jersey Shore.
“Everything would come so easily, and what a life it would be. I can only compare it to my thoughts of what Heaven must be like, for I never experienced the lap of luxury like I would if I lived like you. The problem is, I would also be weak, and weak is something that I cannot be during this period in my life. The life of luxury and decadence is made for people like you Eric.”
“Maybe this is something that you cannot relate to Hardcastle, but I will try to explain. I was born several miles from here, in a place called Red Bank. It was a dirty ghetto style town just like this. I spent my years moving from one rat hole to another. All my life, nothing was given to me, and you couldn’t even earn something worth working for; so you had to steal it. I had nothing to live for, until I was introduced to the world of the wrestling.”
“I always believed that nothing ever comes easily, Eric; that is, until you came along. I knew all too soon that something was not right. There is nothing worth having that you do not have to work hard to get, that has always been my motto, and you epitomized the exact antithesis of that self-same statement. You are slovenly, sloppy and lazy, and all the extravagance that you hide behind cannot change that fact; or hide the results.”
“When was the last time that you’ve had yourself a good match, Hardcastle? When’s the last time that you had a match that you’ve actually worked hard to win? Me two weeks ago? Heh, you lost that one, remember? You’ve become weak. Everything that you could possibly want is at your disposal, and you want for nothing but revenge. Case in point, you lost in the Valor Heavyweight Championship tournament, and had one of the best matches of your career when you fought Bailey to advance. There was suddenly a hole in your life, and you knew what it was to want. Now, however, you attempt to get back on top again. When is the last time that your drink was not full while sitting at your poolside? When was the last time your suit was not pressed; when was the last time you had only one suit? The most heinous atrocity you’ve had to deal with in the recent weeks was me giving you regular Reality Checks.”
Tibbs smirks and squints at the camera.
“You’re lazy Hardcastle, you’re weak, and I plan on giving you something to desire after our match is through… a rematch. Every waking moment of my life has been a struggle, Eric; you try to add struggle to your life by jumping into what Brandon called the thorn bush. I'm sorry, but that's not the same. You’ve forgotten what it means to want, Eric. I have risen to the top for one reason, and that is the fact that I wanted it more than anyone else; including you. You call yourself 'The Show' and I doubt you feel the need to pass that monicker to me, but just as I’ve done with the rest… I take what I want.”
The Man looks up to the now clear blur sky.
“No clouds,” He comments, looking back at the camera. “but that’s okay…I make my own forecasts.”
Tibbs turns to walk towards the Asbury Park Train Station. He stops for a moment, casting a half glance behind him.
“America has been getting hit with storms left and right this year. Sunday, another one hits Albany, NY...Will you be ready?”
[Fade to Black]
Open scene to the corner of Cookman Avenue and Bond Street in Asbury Park. The morning sun rises over the dilapidated buildings in the background of the city section of Asbury, and the shadows become long, separating from the darkness of night to live in the light. As the shadows take shape, one shadow walks forward from under the cover of a buildings overhang...And The Man stands before us.
“It all comes back to this,” Indicating his surroundings with outstretched arms. “For me, there is no other place to call home. It is dirty, rat infested, disease ridden. Hell, if I wasn’t standing here, and everybody here didn’t know me,” Tibbs points to the Eastern street corner. “there would be a crack dealer standing right there at this time of the morning.”
“Too many times, I have been asked by fans, or insulted by my peers, as to why I always return here. Why is Asbury Park the one place that I return to all the time, though my personal trainer and his facilities are now in Chicago? Why do I always return here? The answer is simple; it is hard.”
“Eric Hardcastle,” He addresses the camera. “I really do enjoy the luxury of estates. The total access and privacy of private gyms, the convenience of a personal plane, and the multitude of women. It is a life-style that I can adjust to all too easily; I could even have endorsements for television commercials because of your namesake, and the money would roll in oh so quickly.”
“But I have to let it all go.”
Tibbs rustles up his trench coat over his shoulders a little more, trying to ward off the cold morning air of the Jersey Shore.
“Everything would come so easily, and what a life it would be. I can only compare it to my thoughts of what Heaven must be like, for I never experienced the lap of luxury like I would if I lived like you. The problem is, I would also be weak, and weak is something that I cannot be during this period in my life. The life of luxury and decadence is made for people like you Eric.”
“Maybe this is something that you cannot relate to Hardcastle, but I will try to explain. I was born several miles from here, in a place called Red Bank. It was a dirty ghetto style town just like this. I spent my years moving from one rat hole to another. All my life, nothing was given to me, and you couldn’t even earn something worth working for; so you had to steal it. I had nothing to live for, until I was introduced to the world of the wrestling.”
“I always believed that nothing ever comes easily, Eric; that is, until you came along. I knew all too soon that something was not right. There is nothing worth having that you do not have to work hard to get, that has always been my motto, and you epitomized the exact antithesis of that self-same statement. You are slovenly, sloppy and lazy, and all the extravagance that you hide behind cannot change that fact; or hide the results.”
“When was the last time that you’ve had yourself a good match, Hardcastle? When’s the last time that you had a match that you’ve actually worked hard to win? Me two weeks ago? Heh, you lost that one, remember? You’ve become weak. Everything that you could possibly want is at your disposal, and you want for nothing but revenge. Case in point, you lost in the Valor Heavyweight Championship tournament, and had one of the best matches of your career when you fought Bailey to advance. There was suddenly a hole in your life, and you knew what it was to want. Now, however, you attempt to get back on top again. When is the last time that your drink was not full while sitting at your poolside? When was the last time your suit was not pressed; when was the last time you had only one suit? The most heinous atrocity you’ve had to deal with in the recent weeks was me giving you regular Reality Checks.”
Tibbs smirks and squints at the camera.
“You’re lazy Hardcastle, you’re weak, and I plan on giving you something to desire after our match is through… a rematch. Every waking moment of my life has been a struggle, Eric; you try to add struggle to your life by jumping into what Brandon called the thorn bush. I'm sorry, but that's not the same. You’ve forgotten what it means to want, Eric. I have risen to the top for one reason, and that is the fact that I wanted it more than anyone else; including you. You call yourself 'The Show' and I doubt you feel the need to pass that monicker to me, but just as I’ve done with the rest… I take what I want.”
The Man looks up to the now clear blur sky.
“No clouds,” He comments, looking back at the camera. “but that’s okay…I make my own forecasts.”
Tibbs turns to walk towards the Asbury Park Train Station. He stops for a moment, casting a half glance behind him.
“America has been getting hit with storms left and right this year. Sunday, another one hits Albany, NY...Will you be ready?”
[Fade to Black]
