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| Driving Demons; Tequila gets a time out | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 2 2005, 04:37 AM (36 Views) | |
| BobPalindrome | Apr 2 2005, 04:37 AM Post #1 |
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[We open up in a hotel room, small by American standards but just right for a single lodger. A black duffel bag lies on a nicely made bed, sitting fat and full in the dimly lit room with one window. It must be dawn, as the sun is just barely peeking through thick clouds hovering over London. El Lobo trots into the scene, opening and closing the door behind him. He has just finished jogging, as evidenced by his sweatshirt, his sweatpants and a pair of earphones around his mask hooked up to a CD discman at his side. He exhales slowly as he tosses a hotel key card on a dresser, fishes a bottled water out of his duffel and then swings open the doors to the room’s balcony. Imagine his surprise at seeing the lithe, lean form of Tequila Mockingbird already waiting for him. Dressed in a flowing dark black gown, her skinny choca-colored body glistens under the first rays of sunlight. She sips a glass of what looks like orange juice as Lobo flinches.] Lobo: (annoyed) I don’t understand why you have to keep up the suspense… You’ve followed me to London now? Tequila: You headed straight here after your last match with Bradley Johnson. You know… I was there… Lobo: (grabbing his duffel bag) Look, chica, I’m exercising. If you want to tag along with me while I hit the gym, you can. But I will thank you that you do not interrupt me too much as I prepare for my match. [Tequila doesn’t say anything, simply nodding. Lobo lets out a grunt and nods in return, taking his stuff and heading out the door. We cut to black. As we come back in, Lobo is working on a punching bag, bouncing on his feet and taking pauses between throwing punches and kicks. He grumbles as he strikes with increasing force, the momentum of his hits growing as he gets more and more into it.] Tequila: Lobo, look, I know you don’t want to talk about your loss… Lobo: You are right. And yet you bring it up. Tequila: Lobo… You shouldn’t feel bad about losing to Bradley… Lobo: Who is it that says El Lobo feels bad? [Lobo bites his bottom lip as he rocks the bag with a nasty fist to its middle. Tequila stands off to the side in an uncomfortable silence as Lobo continues his barrage.] Lobo: I fought Bradley on my own terms and could not defeat him. I fought him in an even rules match and lost. Every night that I do not walk away with victory… Every night that I am disappointed in what I do or do not do… It is an insult to my name. A disgrace to who I am… Tequila: But there are matters of honor… [A loud slap across the body bag by Lobo’s knuckles shuts Tequila up. She puts a petite hand to her thin lips as Lobo grimaces at her, looking much bigger and taller next to her than he actually is.] Lobo: Honor? Is that all you concern yourself with? What about winning? About showing the world what you’re made of? FIW is my chance to make my name known in the business, and right now, I’m blowing it. If I fail to defeat Kuriyama and show to everyone that I am better than that egomaniacal gringo and more deserving of accolades than he is… Tequila: Are you saying holding your own against Johnson and Kuriyama is nothing? Beating the legend of Max Corona? You have accomplished so much already and yet you are so driven by hatred and anger you have no idea what you are achieving. Lobo: All I’m achieving is a headache from your rambling and those damned chimney sweeps. [We cut to outside the gym, where a man dressed from head to toe in soot-covered clothes holds a chimney sweeper and stands talking to the traffic. He twirls a bushy soot-drenched mustache as he stares down ticked off drivers.] Chimney Sweep: Wotcha! Wotcha! Would anyone loike their chimney ter be Billie Jean? I am 'ere ter 'elp! I will love your todge for bread and honey! [We cut back to Lobo, who is now stretching out his body in various positions. We hear snaps, crackles and pops as he lies on his shoulders, lifting his legs in the air and straightening his lower back. Tequila stands nearby, her hands folded.] Tequila: You have many demons to face, Lobo. And you’re not going to be able to face them alone. Lobo: My heroine, Tequila! Always there to be my moral support! How lucky I am… Tequila: You know, I left Sanchez back in the States. I told him I was sorry and bought him a ticket back to Tijuana. [Lobo takes on a serious expression as he looks directly at Tequila for the first time since he first saw her today. He mumbles under his breath.] Lobo: I didn’t ask you to come here. I never asked you to follow me anywhere. But you’ve been sticking to me since Mexico City like toilet paper on the heel of your shoe. Why, Tequila? Are you do is tell me to have faith in myself, and so far, all I’ve done is gone out there and allowed myself to be destroyed! Tequila: You have demons to face, Lobo. My being here reminds you of your past… [Lobo slams the protective mat on the floor as he jumps to his feet and approaches Tequila, glowering over her once again. She frowns and shrivels up as he looks down at her with burning eyes.] Lobo: Screw facing my demons! What do you think has pushed me this far? What do you think explains these scars on my body? Why else do I get in a ring every Tuesday now and put my body on the line, shortening my career match after match? Yes, chica, I know I have my share of demons. And I have no intention of losing them. At Anarchy in the UK, I’m going to take Kuriyama down. He’s going to look so bad after the match he’s going to be a dead ringer for Thatcher. They won’t even be able to call him the Sex .22 Caliber. He’s going to be a little smudge on the canvas… Tequila: Lobo, you’re letting your emotion carry you away… Lobo: I’m letting my emotion get me to where I need to be! If Bill Kuriyama is going to be beaten, I need to go after him like I’ve never gone after him before. DDTs into necklocks, presses and splashes, backflips and moonsaults, twisting and spinning moves coming every which way… [Lobo gestures the motions, waving his hands wildly in the air crazily as he speaks.] Lobo: I don’t care if Anarchy leaves me paralyzed, hospitalized. Beating Kuriyama will be worth it. He thinks he’s ready for the next step on the ladder, but that belt he’s wearing doesn’t deserve to be around his waist. And he isn’t ready to move on to anything bigger and better if he can’t put me away. I’m going to capture the second half of that belt and finish what I started at Déjà Vu, I’m going to do it at Anarchy, and there isn’t anything you can do or say to stop me from wrestling how I want to wrestle! Wrestling El Lobo will be like playing a wall in tennis… I am relentless! Tequila: …Look, fine. If you want to face this on your own, you are welcome. Lobo: I didn’t ask for your permission, but mucho gracias anyway. [There is awkwardness as Tequila hesitates, but eventually she lowers her head and walks away, heading for the gym door. Lobo turns his back to her, looking at himself in one of the mirrors that line the walls (isn’t this the case at every gym?). As the door closes behind the mystical Mexican, a glimpse of doubt appears on Lobo’s face… Fade to black.] |
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7:06 PM Jul 11