Post by The Future on Jun 27, 2016 14:57:49 GMT -5
We open up on an old Cathedral, Spanish style Basilica. It’s late afternoon,
almost dusk, in who really knows where…camera man’s probably scared
as whoever else chooses to occupy this condemned, dilapidated-
house-of-worship-not-even-God-frequents-anymore is.
As the frame widens & we get a clearer view of the surroundings,
the stone spires of the chapel seem to hang like stalagmites
in the distance—man made albatrosses of faith.
Hanging from the tallest spire, we see a spike & two gargoyle statues…
although one seems to be swaying ever so slightly…upon closer look,
as the setting sun catches the shaded side of this ornament, we realize it’s not
a piece of granite, stone, or marble at all-but a man. Perched in the same frog-legged, hands
in a three-point stance position, his black cape flanks both of his thighs like leathery wings.
His mask is dark as the shadows surrounding him, but the area around
his pupils glow a pearlescent white. He appears possessed.
Panning in now, the camera swoops & cranes its way through the stainglass menagerie
leading to the main corridor, where the pulpit & church organ were once housed.
Now, all that covers the ground & elevated platform are yards & cubic centimeters
of moss & wild weed sprouting about like unruly teeth, a forest fire of green.
Creeping through a shattered piece of stained-glass, over the fallen shards, is a masked man.
He scampers to a higher part of the vaulted ceilings, climbing as if
an arachnid, who the hell knows how.
almost dusk, in who really knows where…camera man’s probably scared
as whoever else chooses to occupy this condemned, dilapidated-
house-of-worship-not-even-God-frequents-anymore is.
As the frame widens & we get a clearer view of the surroundings,
the stone spires of the chapel seem to hang like stalagmites
in the distance—man made albatrosses of faith.
Hanging from the tallest spire, we see a spike & two gargoyle statues…
although one seems to be swaying ever so slightly…upon closer look,
as the setting sun catches the shaded side of this ornament, we realize it’s not
a piece of granite, stone, or marble at all-but a man. Perched in the same frog-legged, hands
in a three-point stance position, his black cape flanks both of his thighs like leathery wings.
His mask is dark as the shadows surrounding him, but the area around
his pupils glow a pearlescent white. He appears possessed.
Panning in now, the camera swoops & cranes its way through the stainglass menagerie
leading to the main corridor, where the pulpit & church organ were once housed.
Now, all that covers the ground & elevated platform are yards & cubic centimeters
of moss & wild weed sprouting about like unruly teeth, a forest fire of green.
Creeping through a shattered piece of stained-glass, over the fallen shards, is a masked man.
He scampers to a higher part of the vaulted ceilings, climbing as if
an arachnid, who the hell knows how.
“I guess I just have to wait now. It looks like
things are finally starting to turn around.”
things are finally starting to turn around.”
A voice bellows from the belly of the church. Its intestines seem to grumble, but
his stomach seems full. A sandbag hanging from a chain suspended from
a screw placed into the beam our lurking hero is positioned on now,
as he silently absorbs the monologue being spouted around him.
his stomach seems full. A sandbag hanging from a chain suspended from
a screw placed into the beam our lurking hero is positioned on now,
as he silently absorbs the monologue being spouted around him.
“My mother…
My father's death…
a stranger...
She lost herself."
My father's death…
a stranger...
She lost herself."
Our eavesdropping hero starts going blow-for-blow
verbally with his foe, far away & unheard as he is...
verbally with his foe, far away & unheard as he is...
“You know, bruh…you really need to stop seeking scapegoats.
Stop accepting yourself as a bum…
See, when sheep don’t like what they’ve herd,
they break from the flock.
They roam on their own & either find home
or get eaten. Seems you are solidly
on one of these paths at the moment...
You know, maybe you never really left your baby bedroom…
Mommy tucking you in beneath the glow
of a nightlight can be reassuring…
Comforting...
Like the warm hug you get from a new needle…
I’m not sympathetic to your cause.
You lost a father,
you grasp desperately at maternal affection.
You lost him…you don't have her now...
but you had your time.
You were fortunate enough to even have family
to lose in the first place.
Yet you fled.
Like a coward. Like a little lamb.
Now you wish you had her back, your virginal,
perfect, lily-white church dress to stain again...
Your loss led you to ruin…
To abuse...
To flee smack dab into smack
& place all hope in dope. But you don’t know
what loss really is, do you, boy?
I don’t know if you know this- but running solves nothing.
The only way you get better is by facing
the storm head on, young ward…”
Stop accepting yourself as a bum…
See, when sheep don’t like what they’ve herd,
they break from the flock.
They roam on their own & either find home
or get eaten. Seems you are solidly
on one of these paths at the moment...
You know, maybe you never really left your baby bedroom…
Mommy tucking you in beneath the glow
of a nightlight can be reassuring…
Comforting...
Like the warm hug you get from a new needle…
I’m not sympathetic to your cause.
You lost a father,
you grasp desperately at maternal affection.
You lost him…you don't have her now...
but you had your time.
You were fortunate enough to even have family
to lose in the first place.
Yet you fled.
Like a coward. Like a little lamb.
Now you wish you had her back, your virginal,
perfect, lily-white church dress to stain again...
Your loss led you to ruin…
To abuse...
To flee smack dab into smack
& place all hope in dope. But you don’t know
what loss really is, do you, boy?
I don’t know if you know this- but running solves nothing.
The only way you get better is by facing
the storm head on, young ward…”
“Nothing is gonna stop me from getting to the top!
Trevor Wolf couldn’t
& neither the hell is Future!”
Echoes out & resounds through the church tower,
vibrate the bell & almost make Future’s tonsils shudder.
vibrate the bell & almost make Future’s tonsils shudder.
“Yeah…about that, kid…”
Future hangs down from the rafters on his grappling hook-
prepared to rappel & knock the syringe off the plastic pad
it’s kept on, on top of the bedroll…
prepared to rappel & knock the syringe off the plastic pad
it’s kept on, on top of the bedroll…
“So some super hero thinks he's going to come up and try to take it from me?
Who the hell does this green mother
er think he is?
You go against everything I stand for.
Wrestling has been in my family for decades.
You're the reason people don't take wrestling seriously."
Who the hell does this green mother
er think he is? You go against everything I stand for.
Wrestling has been in my family for decades.
You're the reason people don't take wrestling seriously."
“Seriously? Like…srsly.
-__-”
After dry-facing, not taking these impassioned threats for much,
Future decides it’s best not to drop down on Vass right before
he trips balls & crashes himself…
Future decides it’s best not to drop down on Vass right before
he trips balls & crashes himself…
“I don't care if you're in a hall of fame and I don't care
if you were WFWF champion!
Title or not, this caped
crusader
is gonna be slain.”
if you were WFWF champion!
Title or not, this caped
crusader
is gonna be slain.”
“Tweakers, man…damn.
I mean…before I didn’t want to hurt you. It wasn’t my aim.
I honestly just wanted to knock some rust off, you know,
get back on the canvas and jack jaws for the first time
in about 12 years…but it seems you want me
to take this personally.
I’m the reason people don’t take wrestling seriously?
Me?!?
Masks & swooshing capes are unprofessional…
but shooting up comes with the territory?
You don’t care about my accomplishments
the same way I don’t give a shit about your family...
your 'legacy'.
I couldn’t care less if your dad was Bret Hart, Ice Dogg,
Donkey Kong or Frank Gotch…
You’re a fly in my ointment, kid.
You’re a speck in the crystal meth of life & when people want
their ice clean, they don’t look to someone who can’t
even keep a home of his own for saving.
They look to someone more…stable. Someone…”
*yawn*
“Even I'm tired of hearing myself talk about you...
You know? This whole drug-binge thing gets quite boring.
Watching someone chase the dragon isn’t half as exciting
as even the least titty-filled episode of Game of Cones.”
Future pulls out a tablet from his utility belt...
Disconnected from WiFi…
Disconnected from WiFi…
“Faaack, of course no 4g service here…”
& begins to (slowly) stream an episode of a late-90’s teen WB show.
“VASS THE GREEN BEAST SLAYER!”
*Guitar riff intro & video montage before credits: starring Vassah Micaela Gellar,
the annoying geek, the hot one, a lesbian, the guy with intense eyebrows
& the cavalcade of off-again on-again cast members*
GONG!GONG! *guitar riiiiiffff!*
We pan in on the program being streamed on Future’s (now 3g) device…
the episode starts with Vassah stabbing monsters in the heart in a darkened cemetery.
Long hair swaying with each sharpened-stake strike. Booty bouncing
in the moonlight. A green monster pops in from hard camera left,
looking like a jacked up gremlin. Vassah easily disposes of him,
his insides bursting out & the thick brown viscera which once filled him
now comes spurting out in all directions like a sprinkler.
After slaying, Vassah throws out a quick one-liner…
the annoying geek, the hot one, a lesbian, the guy with intense eyebrows
& the cavalcade of off-again on-again cast members*
GONG!GONG! *guitar riiiiiffff!*
We pan in on the program being streamed on Future’s (now 3g) device…
the episode starts with Vassah stabbing monsters in the heart in a darkened cemetery.
Long hair swaying with each sharpened-stake strike. Booty bouncing
in the moonlight. A green monster pops in from hard camera left,
looking like a jacked up gremlin. Vassah easily disposes of him,
his insides bursting out & the thick brown viscera which once filled him
now comes spurting out in all directions like a sprinkler.
After slaying, Vassah throws out a quick one-liner…
“Looks like some monsters go dump in the night!”
After the drop of this line—an audible groan eminates from our caped friend…
he quickly hits the home screen on his tablet, still hovering over Vass’ home(less)
gym system. He pops open another streaming service—Vetpix, and begins
playing the animated show-
“TWEEN GOLIATHS, GO!”
The lite-brite colors almost pop the LED pixels of his screen,
as a trippy green Beast-like Kid enters screen right into
the (cartoon) kitchen to argue with Android:
he quickly hits the home screen on his tablet, still hovering over Vass’ home(less)
gym system. He pops open another streaming service—Vetpix, and begins
playing the animated show-
“TWEEN GOLIATHS, GO!”
The lite-brite colors almost pop the LED pixels of his screen,
as a trippy green Beast-like Kid enters screen right into
the (cartoon) kitchen to argue with Android:
“Chalupas are better!”
“No, chicken sangwiches!”
“CHALUPA!”
“CHICKEN!”
“CHALUPAAAAAA!!!”
“CHICKENNNN!!!”
Future snickers at the argument, as the purple-cloaked character ‘Crow’
sardonically mutters something to both the distracted boys before
growing tired of their debate & ultimately clubbing them
with a shadow-realm created mallet until they’re
both turned flat as a fast food patty.
Distracted by the ADHD-fueled images on his screen, Futch loses sense of his surroundings
& notices the bag is no longer swaying & his nostrils sense the faint smell
of burning death…nowhere near strong as day-old meat,
but definitely no febreze signature scent.
He stumbles back from the wooden beam supporting him & almost plummets
(not to his death, but definitely an ouch-inducing fall) to the ground…
but something catches him by the ankle. It swings him
to an adjacent ledge & scampers away unseen.
Future is *understandably* freaked out…
sardonically mutters something to both the distracted boys before
growing tired of their debate & ultimately clubbing them
with a shadow-realm created mallet until they’re
both turned flat as a fast food patty.
Distracted by the ADHD-fueled images on his screen, Futch loses sense of his surroundings
& notices the bag is no longer swaying & his nostrils sense the faint smell
of burning death…nowhere near strong as day-old meat,
but definitely no febreze signature scent.
He stumbles back from the wooden beam supporting him & almost plummets
(not to his death, but definitely an ouch-inducing fall) to the ground…
but something catches him by the ankle. It swings him
to an adjacent ledge & scampers away unseen.
Future is *understandably* freaked out…
“Is this tweaker messing with me?
I’d hate to have to square up before we meet in the r-”
“Oh, but Future…you, too, have kept some bones in your Belfry…”
“Who the hell i-“
“Tell me, hero…have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?”
Future takes out a tool from his Futch-tility belt,
but the batteries on his scope are dead.
No night-vision tonight…
He realizes his tablet has a flashlight & slips out of his cartoon
& into bright beam-mode. By the time he shines it
in the corner he heard the voice come from,
it’s gone.
All he can make out through the narrow beam of bright is some floating dust particles
& the clapper of the church bell swinging in a small semicircle
without hitting the lip of the bell to make a sound…
but the batteries on his scope are dead.
No night-vision tonight…
He realizes his tablet has a flashlight & slips out of his cartoon
& into bright beam-mode. By the time he shines it
in the corner he heard the voice come from,
it’s gone.
All he can make out through the narrow beam of bright is some floating dust particles
& the clapper of the church bell swinging in a small semicircle
without hitting the lip of the bell to make a sound…
“Feel like I’m the one tripping out now…”
Before he can gather his thoughts or his tools, Futch hears the loud
thrash of a car door slamming from outside the bell tower.
Next, the unmistakable clash of shattered glass…
Peering out past the bell pull, Future grabs the rope for balance & can
only make out a small figure zig-zagging in the short grass
behind the church, heading toward the woods.
thrash of a car door slamming from outside the bell tower.
Next, the unmistakable clash of shattered glass…
Peering out past the bell pull, Future grabs the rope for balance & can
only make out a small figure zig-zagging in the short grass
behind the church, heading toward the woods.
“Damn junkie kid…”
With a whir of his cape, Future descends from the tower to make his way
toward the fleet-footed fleeing man…realizing they’re no longer alone.
While running through the reeds & weeds in the back lawn, Future turns
toward the camera & in his best Deadpoolesque voice,
breaks the living shit out of the 4th wall—
toward the fleet-footed fleeing man…realizing they’re no longer alone.
While running through the reeds & weeds in the back lawn, Future turns
toward the camera & in his best Deadpoolesque voice,
breaks the living shit out of the 4th wall—
“Kids, drugs are no-no’s, okay?
If you learn nothing else today, it’s that
a dirty vein makes a worthless brain…
& it also makes you freak out &
do dumb stuff like run inebriated
into the woods.”
Future, now kicking his legs up going full-burst, stride for stride with the two
shaded figures in front of him, appears as if he’s trying to win
a Jim Carrey award for best Gazelle impression.
shaded figures in front of him, appears as if he’s trying to win
a Jim Carrey award for best Gazelle impression.
“Gee jiminy jillickers, I do hate having to dash after idiots. It always ruins the dapperness of a new suit.”
The masked hero begins to camouflage with all the deep shades of green
he is now surrounded by, winding through a labyrinthine path of fauna.
As he runs, continuing to be semi-lost & confused…
“How can you beat me if you can’t even beat your disease? You got me tweaking
through the woods now, dude- you need to get clean. Kick this habit
before it splits your ass in half like a 20 sack o-”
Soon as he’s about to hit his last punchline, Future’s eardrums are invaded
by a blood-curdling scream, he takes off toward the sound--
by a blood-curdling scream, he takes off toward the sound--
“This thoughtless skullduggery got me miffed
as Biff swinging & missing.”
He hacks at tall grass with his forearm, treating it as a machete.
“I didn’t even get an Enchantment Under the Sea
dance…or parents…dammit.”
“You know, hero…apples don’t fall very far.”
“WHO’S THERE?!”
“From the tree
of life.
Of knowledge.
You don’t know much,
Hah…
do you…
Hero…”
Future, visibly shaken now, picks up his speed toward the source of the shriek
but is scanning his entire periphery with his ghost-white eyes as he goes.
but is scanning his entire periphery with his ghost-white eyes as he goes.
“It was you…who let them.
Who left them.”
Who left them.”
Suddenly, a sunspot-hot light scorches through the trees—cueing up a familiar symbol.
The Future signal beam almost cuts through the stumps of the thick forest, creating
a patchwork of light through each twisted treelimb finger, catching our masked vigilante
by surprise & seizing his ghost-sight in the moment with its overpowering glare.
He’s stopped in his tracks. His cape pulled over his masked face,
he’s been made a statue by the light.
“Well, who in fuschia hell?”
Future scampers over toward the source of the light, leaping from branch to dead
tree branch, rotting limbs snapping as he springs from one to the next.
Dry leaves beneath him crackle, a shadowy figure also zig-
zagging its way through the forest in a panic…
Suddenly, the figure on the ground stops.
He is panting.
On his knees, as if pleading for forgiveness…
He reaches out toward nothing.
A phantasm.
He collapses.
Our hero doesn’t even have it in him to offer a helping hand.
This is his valley. He has chosen to lie here.
tree branch, rotting limbs snapping as he springs from one to the next.
Dry leaves beneath him crackle, a shadowy figure also zig-
zagging its way through the forest in a panic…
Suddenly, the figure on the ground stops.
He is panting.
On his knees, as if pleading for forgiveness…
He reaches out toward nothing.
A phantasm.
He collapses.
Our hero doesn’t even have it in him to offer a helping hand.
This is his valley. He has chosen to lie here.
“Vass…’Slayer’…want to know what I’ve learned, kid?
Sometimes no one can save us...
But us.
It’s up to you…to prove…
to do it for yourself.
But know it’s gonna get much, much worse
before it gets any better…
for you.
So stand back...kid...
because the Future
is coming
through…”
The Futch signal is still burning blowtorch-hot through the woods, but our hero bullets forward
through fallen tree corpses and back out into a thick brush from the clearing.
In his hurry, he leaves his tablet behind…his grappling hook…
He even leaves the cameraman behind, along with the slumped over, prone body of the man he was following…
sprawled out on the dry brown lawn, his arms folded down at his side, like a tiny bird
fallen from a tree still trying to reach its perch.
The night is once again quiet, but a small straw of light flickers once again off in the distance…
through fallen tree corpses and back out into a thick brush from the clearing.
In his hurry, he leaves his tablet behind…his grappling hook…
He even leaves the cameraman behind, along with the slumped over, prone body of the man he was following…
sprawled out on the dry brown lawn, his arms folded down at his side, like a tiny bird
fallen from a tree still trying to reach its perch.
The night is once again quiet, but a small straw of light flickers once again off in the distance…
