Post by Deleted on Jul 4, 2016 15:17:03 GMT
“This is pointless! I just can’t find anything!”
Open scene. Isaac Tarver is the focus, holding The Omaha World-Herald newspaper. He’s in his trailer at The Fresh Studios. Bright lightbulbs glow around the frame of his vanity mirror. The light they radiate accentuates his delightful facial structure.
“I’ve been reading the local newspapers from Omaha in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, I’d find a news report of a missing retard by the name of Christian Valentine. My hope was that there may be someone somewhere out there looking for you to come home to them Christian. But alas there’s not. You’re just another one of life’s dumbasses sailing through a society that doesn’t care about you while waiting to die.”
Tarver tosses the paper on top of the pile of publications. The Daily Record. The Reader. There’s a ton of newspapers on his dresser.
“Because you ARE a dumbass Christian. You only have to read your profile on the Engage website to prove this fact. You’re not playing to your strengths. Look at you. You’re six feet nine inches tall. You weight two hundred and eighty-five pounds. You’re one of the strongest men on the payroll and yet you can’t win a match to save yourself. Why? Well for starters look at how you choose to end fights.”
Isaac is on his phone now staring at the screen. It has Christian Valentine’s profile up.
“Tendency to end fights: OUTSMART! Seriously?! Outsmart?! No wonder you haven’t won a fight yet. You’ve got a brain like recovering coma victim and you’re relying on it to end fights?!?! You won’t outsmart me dumbass. It’s okay though because I’ve been doing some homework and it turns out that people as mentally challenged as you like routine and repetition. It’s a good thing you’ll lose AGAIN then isn’t it? We wouldn’t want to upset your rhythm.
And as for you Miss Montero? You’re just terrible. Sure you can move super fast and you’re flexible but those are traits of border crossing prostitutes. Give the white man the moves he can’t get at home and move quickly when you hear the sirens. Even if you DO use those traits to your advantage in this match, don’t think for a second that I won’t be ready for them. I can move too. There’s no dust on my Party Off The Pounds with Richard Simmons tape. I think you’ll be in for a surprise when you see me move in that ring darling.”
Tarver examines his reflection in the vanity mirror. He checks the lack of bags and crow’s feet under his eyes. Relief.
“Everyone knows that there’s only one winner in this ménage-a-trois on Sunday and it’s me. I’ll be the one showing that big cornfed ape Valentine what it really means to outsmart someone to end fights. I’ll be showing that little Chola how speed works better when you’ve got the strength to compliment it. When I hit the GREATEST MOVE IN THE WORLD on her it will send her and that outdated vernacular of hers back to 1996 where they both belong.
I came to Engage to give them a star. They signed me because they desperately need one. You two are nothing more than fodder for the cannon that will absolutely shoot me into superstardom after this Sunday. I suppose you two should get used to facing people of your level on a weekly basis. Just enjoy this fight and savour being able to share the spotlight with a man like me. I’m prepared to rub shoulders with peasants this week but I won’t be making a habit of it.
I belong in the main event. I belong in the title matches. I belong on the posters and the promotional materials for the Engage image. After this Sunday you’ll both agree with me. Just don’t fluff your lines because I will NOT be embarrassed by amateurs.
Scene.”
Tarver delivers his final line in dramatic fashion.
Fin.
Open scene. Isaac Tarver is the focus, holding The Omaha World-Herald newspaper. He’s in his trailer at The Fresh Studios. Bright lightbulbs glow around the frame of his vanity mirror. The light they radiate accentuates his delightful facial structure.
“I’ve been reading the local newspapers from Omaha in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, I’d find a news report of a missing retard by the name of Christian Valentine. My hope was that there may be someone somewhere out there looking for you to come home to them Christian. But alas there’s not. You’re just another one of life’s dumbasses sailing through a society that doesn’t care about you while waiting to die.”
Tarver tosses the paper on top of the pile of publications. The Daily Record. The Reader. There’s a ton of newspapers on his dresser.
“Because you ARE a dumbass Christian. You only have to read your profile on the Engage website to prove this fact. You’re not playing to your strengths. Look at you. You’re six feet nine inches tall. You weight two hundred and eighty-five pounds. You’re one of the strongest men on the payroll and yet you can’t win a match to save yourself. Why? Well for starters look at how you choose to end fights.”
Isaac is on his phone now staring at the screen. It has Christian Valentine’s profile up.
“Tendency to end fights: OUTSMART! Seriously?! Outsmart?! No wonder you haven’t won a fight yet. You’ve got a brain like recovering coma victim and you’re relying on it to end fights?!?! You won’t outsmart me dumbass. It’s okay though because I’ve been doing some homework and it turns out that people as mentally challenged as you like routine and repetition. It’s a good thing you’ll lose AGAIN then isn’t it? We wouldn’t want to upset your rhythm.
And as for you Miss Montero? You’re just terrible. Sure you can move super fast and you’re flexible but those are traits of border crossing prostitutes. Give the white man the moves he can’t get at home and move quickly when you hear the sirens. Even if you DO use those traits to your advantage in this match, don’t think for a second that I won’t be ready for them. I can move too. There’s no dust on my Party Off The Pounds with Richard Simmons tape. I think you’ll be in for a surprise when you see me move in that ring darling.”
Tarver examines his reflection in the vanity mirror. He checks the lack of bags and crow’s feet under his eyes. Relief.
“Everyone knows that there’s only one winner in this ménage-a-trois on Sunday and it’s me. I’ll be the one showing that big cornfed ape Valentine what it really means to outsmart someone to end fights. I’ll be showing that little Chola how speed works better when you’ve got the strength to compliment it. When I hit the GREATEST MOVE IN THE WORLD on her it will send her and that outdated vernacular of hers back to 1996 where they both belong.
I came to Engage to give them a star. They signed me because they desperately need one. You two are nothing more than fodder for the cannon that will absolutely shoot me into superstardom after this Sunday. I suppose you two should get used to facing people of your level on a weekly basis. Just enjoy this fight and savour being able to share the spotlight with a man like me. I’m prepared to rub shoulders with peasants this week but I won’t be making a habit of it.
I belong in the main event. I belong in the title matches. I belong on the posters and the promotional materials for the Engage image. After this Sunday you’ll both agree with me. Just don’t fluff your lines because I will NOT be embarrassed by amateurs.
Scene.”
Tarver delivers his final line in dramatic fashion.
Fin.
