Post by Dark Camelot on Mar 21, 2014 23:01:24 GMT -6
The scene opens up and Guinevere can be seen standing in an old abandoned school yard. She looks around . . . she walks over to a swing set it is heavily dented. She pats it softly . . . almost as though she were caressing it . . . this swing set holds special meaning for Guinevere . . . and by the look on her face she is contemplating telling it. She does not however and simply moves on she stops at a few other pieces of playground equipment . . . before finally coming to the spot that she has decided is her destination for this day. She turns in a grand gesture taking in all of this dilapidated, old playground . . . from the swing we saw earlier . . . to the old baseball field you can barely recognize except for a backstop fence . . . and a pair of rutted . . . broken benches.
And here we have it. ladies, do you remember this place . . . This is the place where it all begins isn't it? Many of us were ridiculed and bullied on these types of schoolyards. I bet you thought you put these places behind you didn’t you? This Monday you and I step inside the squared circle and it is about time . . . about time that I get the chance to get revenge for the ONE AND ONLY do you honestly believe that you will be the only people to even ATTEMPT to put us in our place?
Guinevere stops and it is visually clear that she is becoming unraveled. It takes some time but Guinevere manages to regain her stoic . . . lethal composure. She stands at the backstop of the baseball field and looks out over the scene.
You, you need to know that we have dominated everywhere we have been . . . you can call up any wrestler in the country right now . . . and if they have been in the ring with us they either lost or they barely came out of it alive . . . and with the most of them they were just men put into a ring to entertain a bunch of knuckle dusting neanderthals. You however you are a different animal entirely. You are a team . . . the team which has been designated as our SACRIFICIAL lambs. So this Monday this is not a match between you and us this is a war . . . a war of attrition.
Guinevere kneels on one knee and rubs her hand in the dirt. She draws back her hand and it has a clump of the clay in it.
Our careers have run rather close to parallel . . . it would seem that we both dominated wherever we were you seem to have carved out a nice little niche for yourself. There is just one problem with you and your work . . . and that would be the fact that you have done it under false pretenses. Your careermeans nothing not until you have faced someone of my calibre.
Guinevere stands and runs the clay between her fingers. After a few moments Guinevere walks back to the swing set from earlier. She leans on the most rusted post and looks to the sky.
You think that just because you have beaten others that you can do it again. We have been waiting months for the chance to show people that you are nothing more than punk ass kids. Now Monday night you need to know that this win can only go one of two ways either I win and regain our place of dominance . . . or lose and our career is over . . . because I will have reached the end. If I can’t beat you then it devaluates my commitment to this industry . . . and my ability to walk out in front of these cretans day in day out. So why would I even bother? I have made a decision. If I lose this match then my career is over.
Guinevere stands again and walks out of the school playground and into the parking lot. She walks over to her car and opening the door she gets in . . . she starts the engine and slowly drives out of the parking lot. After a few minutes the scene cuts out all that can be heard is the radio playing a punk radio station.
And here we have it. ladies, do you remember this place . . . This is the place where it all begins isn't it? Many of us were ridiculed and bullied on these types of schoolyards. I bet you thought you put these places behind you didn’t you? This Monday you and I step inside the squared circle and it is about time . . . about time that I get the chance to get revenge for the ONE AND ONLY do you honestly believe that you will be the only people to even ATTEMPT to put us in our place?
Guinevere stops and it is visually clear that she is becoming unraveled. It takes some time but Guinevere manages to regain her stoic . . . lethal composure. She stands at the backstop of the baseball field and looks out over the scene.
You, you need to know that we have dominated everywhere we have been . . . you can call up any wrestler in the country right now . . . and if they have been in the ring with us they either lost or they barely came out of it alive . . . and with the most of them they were just men put into a ring to entertain a bunch of knuckle dusting neanderthals. You however you are a different animal entirely. You are a team . . . the team which has been designated as our SACRIFICIAL lambs. So this Monday this is not a match between you and us this is a war . . . a war of attrition.
Guinevere kneels on one knee and rubs her hand in the dirt. She draws back her hand and it has a clump of the clay in it.
Our careers have run rather close to parallel . . . it would seem that we both dominated wherever we were you seem to have carved out a nice little niche for yourself. There is just one problem with you and your work . . . and that would be the fact that you have done it under false pretenses. Your careermeans nothing not until you have faced someone of my calibre.
Guinevere stands and runs the clay between her fingers. After a few moments Guinevere walks back to the swing set from earlier. She leans on the most rusted post and looks to the sky.
You think that just because you have beaten others that you can do it again. We have been waiting months for the chance to show people that you are nothing more than punk ass kids. Now Monday night you need to know that this win can only go one of two ways either I win and regain our place of dominance . . . or lose and our career is over . . . because I will have reached the end. If I can’t beat you then it devaluates my commitment to this industry . . . and my ability to walk out in front of these cretans day in day out. So why would I even bother? I have made a decision. If I lose this match then my career is over.
Guinevere stands again and walks out of the school playground and into the parking lot. She walks over to her car and opening the door she gets in . . . she starts the engine and slowly drives out of the parking lot. After a few minutes the scene cuts out all that can be heard is the radio playing a punk radio station.
