Post by K. Williams on Aug 20, 2009 21:41:23 GMT -5
<The image. Williams with a confused look on his face. The eyes have lost some of the cloud they once held, but not completely. The reality. You’re seeing a reflection in the window of a store. The store? Not important. Some random store on the street, where the window shoppers buy with their eyes and their money, much to the shop keeps dismay. He glances from one side to the other, and then the camera focuses. We see a toy. An action figure of Kevin Williams himself. Only no grey hair or 5 day beard. Kevin in his prime. Four years younger physically, but about ten every other way around. The price reads a measly 2 bucks. The cloud returns to the gaze.>
KW: Amazing isn’t it? A career summed up not by TV announcers, or magazines, or these wrestling buffs in their basements. But by a store owner on some forgotten street in No Where, USA. 2 bucks. 2 bucks! That’s what I’m worth in the eyes of the public? When I was that guy, I would not have cared what some piss brain shop owner thought about me. Now it bothers me to no end. But why, is the true question here. Why do I care so deeply? I may never know. But there is one thing I might know.
< Williams steps around and throws open the door and walks in. He scans the area, just a junk store it seems. He finds the desk and walks up to it.>
KW: Hey man, you the owner?
Owner: Yes.
KW: This action figure in the window.
<Williams walks over and grabs it and lays it on the counter.>
KW: Why is it only two bucks?
<The man looks at it, then at Williams.>
Owner: Why it’s you. I didn’t recognize you! Why I remember when you were in KoS, and you guys broke into the CWF office building and stole the belts and declared yourselves the champs. And you’re feuds with Thornhill, and the PRO Cha...
KW: Listen, and listen well. That’s gone. Dead and gone. I want to know why this is only two bucks? Two bucks, is that all I’m worth to you?! Is that what you think my whole life is worth?
Owner: Look Mr. Williams, it’s just a toy, I mean you’ve been off TV for years…
KW: I just beat some jabroni in the CWR! It was on TV.
Owner: Really? Then it’s ten dollars.
<Williams looks at the man, trying to spew the threats he once used so easy. But instead he reaches into his wallet and throws a Hamilton on the desk. Grabs the toy and leaves.>
KW: Ten bucks. I guess that’s better than two. But the next show, whatever it is, and whoever my opponent may be. Horror clause or whatever. I’m 1 and 1. Mayhap I’ll be 1 and 2. But I’m coming. I’m coming for you, or whoever gets in the way, the ref, the sound tech. It does not matter. Ten bucks… bah. Maybe if I just start crackin skulls I’ll find the path. But no. That’s just anger speaking. I’m not that man anymore. But maybe I can dust off the old mat skills a little more and pull one out against Jack Skellington. I mean the last match was a close one, but I came through. Maybe I can do it again. Listen to me. Trying to convince me or you people at home? You can’t scare the boogie man but maybe you can hit him with a chair when the refs not looking. Or hell, hit him with a chair when he is. I don’t care. One more rung on the ladder out of this hell that has become my existence. No prisoners.
KW: Amazing isn’t it? A career summed up not by TV announcers, or magazines, or these wrestling buffs in their basements. But by a store owner on some forgotten street in No Where, USA. 2 bucks. 2 bucks! That’s what I’m worth in the eyes of the public? When I was that guy, I would not have cared what some piss brain shop owner thought about me. Now it bothers me to no end. But why, is the true question here. Why do I care so deeply? I may never know. But there is one thing I might know.
< Williams steps around and throws open the door and walks in. He scans the area, just a junk store it seems. He finds the desk and walks up to it.>
KW: Hey man, you the owner?
Owner: Yes.
KW: This action figure in the window.
<Williams walks over and grabs it and lays it on the counter.>
KW: Why is it only two bucks?
<The man looks at it, then at Williams.>
Owner: Why it’s you. I didn’t recognize you! Why I remember when you were in KoS, and you guys broke into the CWF office building and stole the belts and declared yourselves the champs. And you’re feuds with Thornhill, and the PRO Cha...
KW: Listen, and listen well. That’s gone. Dead and gone. I want to know why this is only two bucks? Two bucks, is that all I’m worth to you?! Is that what you think my whole life is worth?
Owner: Look Mr. Williams, it’s just a toy, I mean you’ve been off TV for years…
KW: I just beat some jabroni in the CWR! It was on TV.
Owner: Really? Then it’s ten dollars.
<Williams looks at the man, trying to spew the threats he once used so easy. But instead he reaches into his wallet and throws a Hamilton on the desk. Grabs the toy and leaves.>
KW: Ten bucks. I guess that’s better than two. But the next show, whatever it is, and whoever my opponent may be. Horror clause or whatever. I’m 1 and 1. Mayhap I’ll be 1 and 2. But I’m coming. I’m coming for you, or whoever gets in the way, the ref, the sound tech. It does not matter. Ten bucks… bah. Maybe if I just start crackin skulls I’ll find the path. But no. That’s just anger speaking. I’m not that man anymore. But maybe I can dust off the old mat skills a little more and pull one out against Jack Skellington. I mean the last match was a close one, but I came through. Maybe I can do it again. Listen to me. Trying to convince me or you people at home? You can’t scare the boogie man but maybe you can hit him with a chair when the refs not looking. Or hell, hit him with a chair when he is. I don’t care. One more rung on the ladder out of this hell that has become my existence. No prisoners.