Post by derekstone on May 15, 2009 19:17:39 GMT -5
The scene opens in the dark, wet streets of Albany, New York. The sun has long since went down and the night life maneuvers quickly around in the cold spring air. As the camera pans over the view of dimly light streets and honking car horns and changing traffic lights we see the figure of Derek Stone making his way through the humanity. Wearing a black leather jacket, a "Sex Pistols" t-shirt, and baggy faded blue jeans. He walks confidently, closer to the camera's view.
As Derek begins to veer left, he stops in front of a small building that says Tattoo in red neon letters. The camera comes in quickly behind Derek as he enters the building.
"Help you?"
A tall man, with a black menacing beard and sleeve tattoo's rung down his exposed arms into his tucked in black t-shirt.
Derek:"Maybe."
Man:"Well look fella, if you ain't here for a tat' w ain't got nothing for ya'."
The man exclaims in his southern drawl, out of place for his location.
Derek:"Well, you see I'm looking for a particular tattoo if you will."
Man:"Well, tell me what ya' got and I'm sure we can make it happen pal."
Derek stands quietly examining the walls, which are covered in various examples of tattoo's. Providing ideas for the drunk and curious. Derek removes his leather jacket and rolls his right sleeve, exposing his arm.
Man:"Why don't you come take a seat and we'll go from there."
Derek walks over the only empty black leather chair in the room. Derek takes a seat as the man pulls up a wooden stool next to him.
Man:"Well, what'll it be?"
Derek:"Jesus."
Derek exclaims matter of factly.
Man:"Got a particular uh....look in mind?"
Derek:"No, use me as your canvas and give me your interpretation of Jesus."
Man:"What kinda weirdo are you?"
Derek flashes a smile.
Derek:"Think of it as a social experiment."
Man:"What the hell is this all about?!"
Silence between the men with the exception of the buzzing tattoo needles in the background. The camera closes in for a tight shot of both Derek and tattoo artist as they exchange conversation.
Derek:"Nothing honestly, I just wonder what people think. I ponder how they react to such a preposterous request. You're quite the subject."
Man:"What do you do to pay the bills fella?"
Derek nods and seems to think the question over.
Derek:"Professional wrestling."
Man:"That fake crap?!"
The man let's out a bellowing chuckle. Derek is not amused.
Derek:"Judgment, you're all the same."
Man:"Hey , if it pays the bills in this economy brother I say do what you got to do."
Derek:"It's not a job to me. It's a profession. You, you draw things on people. To some, it's expression. To other's it's curiosity. To some, especially in this town, it's one to many to drink resulting in a hard to erase regret. What does it feel like to wake in the morning and perhaps think that someone regrets coming into your establishment and getting work done?"
Man:"Doesn't make a hoot to me brother, as long as they pay."
Derek:"What drove you to this line of work? Abuse? Neglect? Where you the one in high school that failed to conform the basic understanding that life had a basic outline, a synopsis if you will for the perfect existence?"
Man:"What the hell are you talking about?"
Derek:"Fear. You fear being normal. Normal people wear suits and ties, drive a cheaply made foreign car, and go home to there so called American dream every night wondering where things went wrong."
Man:"I don't fear anything, pilgrim."
Derek:"You're quite the narcissist as well."
Man:"You going somewhere with all this crazy talk?"
The mans look is impatient and tired. The aged black and white clock on the wall has the time about fifteen minutes from midnight.
Derek:"I've got an opponent, and I don't know anything about him. You see, you think professional wrestling is a big stage play. To me, it's competition on the purest level. People fighting each other in the most basic form of sport and survival."
Man:"And that had what to do with you wanting a tattoo this evening?"
Derek:"Psychology. I want to Peirce his skin, pierce his mind if you will. I want him, a mister James Bailey to be on his toes. In my world, you don't do anything off camera. All that you do makes it's way to some form of media. I've never cared for standing in front of a camera and saying that I'm the best and that I'm going to win because I do this and do that. I'd rather target the basic weakness all humans possess. Fear. Fear creates prejudice, fear creates violence, fear pit's you in a different state of mind. You make mistakes."
Man:"Seems to me you just creep 'em the hell out. It's working on me man. I've seen some goofballs but you're ranking up there right now."
Derek smiles a almost evil grin.
Derek:"Thanks. Judgment passed again."
Man:"Whatever fella."
The man stands up from the wooden bar stool as the camera begins to pull backward for a wider shot. The man takes a few steps from Derek, as Derek examines his arm.
Derek:"There's nothing there...."
Man:"Never said I was a believer..."
The man says bluntly as he walks from camera's view. Derek stands and puts his leather jacket back on.
Later that evening
The scene opens once more, Derek Stone's face tight with the camera. A cigarette is the light, providing an eerie orange tinge to the darkness.
Derek:"And a wise man once said, just because you don't see it with your own two eyes doesn't mean it isn't there. James Bailey your silence is strategic. I know you're laying in wait. Waiting for that perfect opportunity to reach out and say something clever."
Derek takes a long drag off his cigarette as the smoke pours through his nostrils.
Derek:"What you just saw was an example. There are people like me everywhere. We are mislead, and most importantly misunderstood. The fact that there is nothing on my arm plays to the strength's of us all. Free thinkers, our paths are our own to create. James Bailey, you are the beginning obstacle that I must overcome to create my path. I trust that you will not go down easily. You're one and nothing around here. You want this win as bad as I do."
Derek:"James, before your music starts, before you walk through that curtain you better ask yourself one question. Do I believe? James when the bell rings you're not facing another outcast in a world full of mis enchanted souls, you are facing Derek Stone. A reinvigorated Derek Stone. A Derek Stone that will go straight to the top, starting with you."
The cigarette falls from Derek's face as the last bit of smoke pours from his mouth. The scene slowly fades to black.
As Derek begins to veer left, he stops in front of a small building that says Tattoo in red neon letters. The camera comes in quickly behind Derek as he enters the building.
"Help you?"
A tall man, with a black menacing beard and sleeve tattoo's rung down his exposed arms into his tucked in black t-shirt.
Derek:"Maybe."
Man:"Well look fella, if you ain't here for a tat' w ain't got nothing for ya'."
The man exclaims in his southern drawl, out of place for his location.
Derek:"Well, you see I'm looking for a particular tattoo if you will."
Man:"Well, tell me what ya' got and I'm sure we can make it happen pal."
Derek stands quietly examining the walls, which are covered in various examples of tattoo's. Providing ideas for the drunk and curious. Derek removes his leather jacket and rolls his right sleeve, exposing his arm.
Man:"Why don't you come take a seat and we'll go from there."
Derek walks over the only empty black leather chair in the room. Derek takes a seat as the man pulls up a wooden stool next to him.
Man:"Well, what'll it be?"
Derek:"Jesus."
Derek exclaims matter of factly.
Man:"Got a particular uh....look in mind?"
Derek:"No, use me as your canvas and give me your interpretation of Jesus."
Man:"What kinda weirdo are you?"
Derek flashes a smile.
Derek:"Think of it as a social experiment."
Man:"What the hell is this all about?!"
Silence between the men with the exception of the buzzing tattoo needles in the background. The camera closes in for a tight shot of both Derek and tattoo artist as they exchange conversation.
Derek:"Nothing honestly, I just wonder what people think. I ponder how they react to such a preposterous request. You're quite the subject."
Man:"What do you do to pay the bills fella?"
Derek nods and seems to think the question over.
Derek:"Professional wrestling."
Man:"That fake crap?!"
The man let's out a bellowing chuckle. Derek is not amused.
Derek:"Judgment, you're all the same."
Man:"Hey , if it pays the bills in this economy brother I say do what you got to do."
Derek:"It's not a job to me. It's a profession. You, you draw things on people. To some, it's expression. To other's it's curiosity. To some, especially in this town, it's one to many to drink resulting in a hard to erase regret. What does it feel like to wake in the morning and perhaps think that someone regrets coming into your establishment and getting work done?"
Man:"Doesn't make a hoot to me brother, as long as they pay."
Derek:"What drove you to this line of work? Abuse? Neglect? Where you the one in high school that failed to conform the basic understanding that life had a basic outline, a synopsis if you will for the perfect existence?"
Man:"What the hell are you talking about?"
Derek:"Fear. You fear being normal. Normal people wear suits and ties, drive a cheaply made foreign car, and go home to there so called American dream every night wondering where things went wrong."
Man:"I don't fear anything, pilgrim."
Derek:"You're quite the narcissist as well."
Man:"You going somewhere with all this crazy talk?"
The mans look is impatient and tired. The aged black and white clock on the wall has the time about fifteen minutes from midnight.
Derek:"I've got an opponent, and I don't know anything about him. You see, you think professional wrestling is a big stage play. To me, it's competition on the purest level. People fighting each other in the most basic form of sport and survival."
Man:"And that had what to do with you wanting a tattoo this evening?"
Derek:"Psychology. I want to Peirce his skin, pierce his mind if you will. I want him, a mister James Bailey to be on his toes. In my world, you don't do anything off camera. All that you do makes it's way to some form of media. I've never cared for standing in front of a camera and saying that I'm the best and that I'm going to win because I do this and do that. I'd rather target the basic weakness all humans possess. Fear. Fear creates prejudice, fear creates violence, fear pit's you in a different state of mind. You make mistakes."
Man:"Seems to me you just creep 'em the hell out. It's working on me man. I've seen some goofballs but you're ranking up there right now."
Derek smiles a almost evil grin.
Derek:"Thanks. Judgment passed again."
Man:"Whatever fella."
The man stands up from the wooden bar stool as the camera begins to pull backward for a wider shot. The man takes a few steps from Derek, as Derek examines his arm.
Derek:"There's nothing there...."
Man:"Never said I was a believer..."
The man says bluntly as he walks from camera's view. Derek stands and puts his leather jacket back on.
Later that evening
The scene opens once more, Derek Stone's face tight with the camera. A cigarette is the light, providing an eerie orange tinge to the darkness.
Derek:"And a wise man once said, just because you don't see it with your own two eyes doesn't mean it isn't there. James Bailey your silence is strategic. I know you're laying in wait. Waiting for that perfect opportunity to reach out and say something clever."
Derek takes a long drag off his cigarette as the smoke pours through his nostrils.
Derek:"What you just saw was an example. There are people like me everywhere. We are mislead, and most importantly misunderstood. The fact that there is nothing on my arm plays to the strength's of us all. Free thinkers, our paths are our own to create. James Bailey, you are the beginning obstacle that I must overcome to create my path. I trust that you will not go down easily. You're one and nothing around here. You want this win as bad as I do."
Derek:"James, before your music starts, before you walk through that curtain you better ask yourself one question. Do I believe? James when the bell rings you're not facing another outcast in a world full of mis enchanted souls, you are facing Derek Stone. A reinvigorated Derek Stone. A Derek Stone that will go straight to the top, starting with you."
The cigarette falls from Derek's face as the last bit of smoke pours from his mouth. The scene slowly fades to black.