Post by lanceerickson on Mar 6, 2007 4:19:54 GMT -6
The scene opens up with Lance Erickson decked out in his gym gear at a high school assisting the kids in a weightlifting class. Lance is walking around, checking to see if the kids have proper form. He stops at a power cage and pulls a kid into proper squat form before he hurts himself. One kid calls Lance over to spot him on his bench press while he's maxing out. Lance checks the weight to make sure it's even on both sides and then helps the kid pull it off the supports. The kid gets it down to his chest and then struggles with it before Lance catches the weight before he bottoms out. The kid sits up and Lance hands him a water bottle.
Kid: Thanks Mr. Erickson...I still can't get 250.
Lance Erickson: Look, Mr. Erickson doesn't really fit my personality. Call me Lance. Besides, don't worry about it. You're what? 17? You got plenty of time to get to 250.
Kid: How long did it take you to get as big as you are now?
Lance Erickson: Oh, only about eight or nine years. I really worked at it though. You have friends and other stuff to do right? I didn't have those back in High School. All I had were the steel plates and sweat to keep me company.
Kid: What's your bench max anyway, Mr. Eric...Lance?
Lance Erickson: I think it's somewhere around Five-Fifty or something...I haven't maxed out in years.
Kid: Can I see you try?
Lance Erickson: Sure, but get a couple more guys over here to spot me. No offense, but you alone can't save me if I get into trouble.
Lance starts piling iron onto the bar while the kids start to gather around to watch the herculean feat of strength. Lance swings his arms to limber up a bit before sidling under the bar and exhaling a couple of deep breaths. Four of the biggest kids in the class help Lance lift the bar up off the supports and then they let go. Veins start to expand in Lance's neck and arms as he lowers the bar to his chest. He then exhales loudly as he tries to push the bar up, but fails. The kids just about jump in before Lance shakes his head at them. He then lets out a primal roar of manliness as he pushes the bar with all his might back up. The kids then cheer for him as Lance puts the bar back and sits up with a scream, completely pumped.
Kid: HOLY HELL! How much was that?
Lance Erickson: Hey, watch your language while you're in school. I'd hate to see you get detention because of me. It was about 580 lbs.
Kid #2: You're pretty good man. I still can't even get 150 up.
Lance Erickson: Hey, I just showed you all that it's possible to lift insane amounts of weight. All you need is the right mindset.
Kid: You mean like no drinking and no smoking?
Lance Erickson: Well...no. I drink like a beast. (seeing a couple of looks from the kids) But wait 'till you're old enough...No, you just need the drive to push yourself even when you think you can't do any more. There's always that little extra something in each of you. You just gotta find it.
The bell rings as Lance shakes the hands of a couple of students and signs a couple of bookbags and pieces of paper. Lance follows the kids into the locker room where the gym teacher is waiting for him.
Teacher: Thanks for coming Mr. Ericks...Lance. You can change in my office. These guys get a little rowdy in the locker room.
Lance smiles as he hears a couple of towels snap and high pitched shrieks of pain before following the coach to his office.
Lance Erickson: Hey, it's not a problem Jake...I just like helping out where I can. Get the kids to appreciate a life of fitness. I like showing them that you don't have to be huge like me, you just have to be happy. And exercise releases endorphins, and those make you happy. Kind of like being high, but a good high.
Teacher: I try to show them that, but I think it had more of an impact coming from you.
Lance Erickson: Maybe, I hope so anyway.
They arrive outside the coach's office and Lance disappears inside. With almost superhero quickness, he emerges from the office in his "suit". The coach gives him a weird look while some of the guys from the gym catcall to Lance as he heads to the parking lot where his Yugo is parked. Lance hops up and sits on the roof of the car, which bows under his weight, before staring at the camera.
Lance Erickson: Now, I know I have a brand new Z4 sitting at home, but I like this car. It was the first one I ever bought myself and it still runs. I'll drive that sporty thing around when I'm with the guys or going to a show, but this one has more personality for everyday activities. Besides, I'm wearing the damn suit.
Lance pats his trusty toupe-colored auto hard.
Lance Erickson: Now, David...I have a couple of things to say to you. Interesting...club you bought yourself there. But I'll hand it to you. Those guys that frequent your joint seem to be more manly than 95% of the POW roster. As long as you give me a good fight on Thursday, I could give two shits what you do on your own time. Although, I think I finally understand why people don't like you. I mean, you're an alright guy from what I can tell, but people are scared of sex. And that's what you're all about. Hell, you picked up that asian waitress person without saying more than three words to her. Good job.
Lance does a little golf clap for David DeAngelo.
Lance Erickson: But now we've also stumbled upon the reason I'm going to whip your behind on Thursday. You're two things from what I can tell. First and foremost, you're a swinger...(Sultry voice and hand motion) liquid sex. (Normal Voice) You own a club, bang more chicks, and possibly guys, than I've ever looked at. Secondly, you're a wrestler.
And while that's all good, you go and do your thing, wrestling is and has been my life since before I hit puberty. While I try to do some good with kids, wrestling is the most important thing to me. You're looking at the epitomy of wrestling skill. I've trained myself too hard and for too damn long to lose to you. While you probably do have some skill, I've been working for years to perfect this art. And yes, it is an art form to me.
Lance hops down from the roof of his Yugo and leans up against the back of it.
Lance Erickson: About this little funeral you're planning on having for you and your career or something like that...whatever it is. Can you save it until AFTER our match? I'm not really in the mood to wrestle a dead guy. But I have to hand it to you. Most people after hearing something like that rumor would've defended themselves with an irrational outburst of angry defense. No, not you, you go with it. You're gonna milk it just to piss off the guy or gal who said that about you. Don't get me wrong, I fully intend to beat you on thursday, but I don't want to end anyone's career. I'm not the guy who's going to "end" David DeAngelo. But I am going to end your wonderful winning streak of one.
You complement me for knowing what I like and putting it out there every day, but you've got me beat in that department. Seriously, who wears a mullet? That takes some major self-esteem. That and the zebra striped speedo you were sporting. Where do you get those by the way? I would look fantastic in a purple leopard print model. I'm being serious here, let me know.
Lance pauses as his phone rings. He holds his finger up as he answers it.
Lance Erickson: Hey Dave...
(pause)
Yeah, okay...
(listens)
Alright, give me 30.
Lance Erickson hangs up his phone and stuffs it into his "suit" top.
Lance Erickson: Looks like I'm gonna have to cut this short. Apparently Big Ci found an upscale establishment that I'm gonna love. I'm seriously going to drag these guys to a real, grungy, dirty, dive bar one of these days. DeAngelo, this is the first match I've had in POW where I respect all of my opposition. Prepare yourself for a war on Thursday.
Lance hops into his Yugo and speeds away to his hole-in-the-wall apartment to swap out cars before heading off to join his teammates. The camera zooms out for a view of Lance and the school in one shot. The camera fades out.
Kid: Thanks Mr. Erickson...I still can't get 250.
Lance Erickson: Look, Mr. Erickson doesn't really fit my personality. Call me Lance. Besides, don't worry about it. You're what? 17? You got plenty of time to get to 250.
Kid: How long did it take you to get as big as you are now?
Lance Erickson: Oh, only about eight or nine years. I really worked at it though. You have friends and other stuff to do right? I didn't have those back in High School. All I had were the steel plates and sweat to keep me company.
Kid: What's your bench max anyway, Mr. Eric...Lance?
Lance Erickson: I think it's somewhere around Five-Fifty or something...I haven't maxed out in years.
Kid: Can I see you try?
Lance Erickson: Sure, but get a couple more guys over here to spot me. No offense, but you alone can't save me if I get into trouble.
Lance starts piling iron onto the bar while the kids start to gather around to watch the herculean feat of strength. Lance swings his arms to limber up a bit before sidling under the bar and exhaling a couple of deep breaths. Four of the biggest kids in the class help Lance lift the bar up off the supports and then they let go. Veins start to expand in Lance's neck and arms as he lowers the bar to his chest. He then exhales loudly as he tries to push the bar up, but fails. The kids just about jump in before Lance shakes his head at them. He then lets out a primal roar of manliness as he pushes the bar with all his might back up. The kids then cheer for him as Lance puts the bar back and sits up with a scream, completely pumped.
Kid: HOLY HELL! How much was that?
Lance Erickson: Hey, watch your language while you're in school. I'd hate to see you get detention because of me. It was about 580 lbs.
Kid #2: You're pretty good man. I still can't even get 150 up.
Lance Erickson: Hey, I just showed you all that it's possible to lift insane amounts of weight. All you need is the right mindset.
Kid: You mean like no drinking and no smoking?
Lance Erickson: Well...no. I drink like a beast. (seeing a couple of looks from the kids) But wait 'till you're old enough...No, you just need the drive to push yourself even when you think you can't do any more. There's always that little extra something in each of you. You just gotta find it.
The bell rings as Lance shakes the hands of a couple of students and signs a couple of bookbags and pieces of paper. Lance follows the kids into the locker room where the gym teacher is waiting for him.
Teacher: Thanks for coming Mr. Ericks...Lance. You can change in my office. These guys get a little rowdy in the locker room.
Lance smiles as he hears a couple of towels snap and high pitched shrieks of pain before following the coach to his office.
Lance Erickson: Hey, it's not a problem Jake...I just like helping out where I can. Get the kids to appreciate a life of fitness. I like showing them that you don't have to be huge like me, you just have to be happy. And exercise releases endorphins, and those make you happy. Kind of like being high, but a good high.
Teacher: I try to show them that, but I think it had more of an impact coming from you.
Lance Erickson: Maybe, I hope so anyway.
They arrive outside the coach's office and Lance disappears inside. With almost superhero quickness, he emerges from the office in his "suit". The coach gives him a weird look while some of the guys from the gym catcall to Lance as he heads to the parking lot where his Yugo is parked. Lance hops up and sits on the roof of the car, which bows under his weight, before staring at the camera.
Lance Erickson: Now, I know I have a brand new Z4 sitting at home, but I like this car. It was the first one I ever bought myself and it still runs. I'll drive that sporty thing around when I'm with the guys or going to a show, but this one has more personality for everyday activities. Besides, I'm wearing the damn suit.
Lance pats his trusty toupe-colored auto hard.
Lance Erickson: Now, David...I have a couple of things to say to you. Interesting...club you bought yourself there. But I'll hand it to you. Those guys that frequent your joint seem to be more manly than 95% of the POW roster. As long as you give me a good fight on Thursday, I could give two shits what you do on your own time. Although, I think I finally understand why people don't like you. I mean, you're an alright guy from what I can tell, but people are scared of sex. And that's what you're all about. Hell, you picked up that asian waitress person without saying more than three words to her. Good job.
Lance does a little golf clap for David DeAngelo.
Lance Erickson: But now we've also stumbled upon the reason I'm going to whip your behind on Thursday. You're two things from what I can tell. First and foremost, you're a swinger...(Sultry voice and hand motion) liquid sex. (Normal Voice) You own a club, bang more chicks, and possibly guys, than I've ever looked at. Secondly, you're a wrestler.
And while that's all good, you go and do your thing, wrestling is and has been my life since before I hit puberty. While I try to do some good with kids, wrestling is the most important thing to me. You're looking at the epitomy of wrestling skill. I've trained myself too hard and for too damn long to lose to you. While you probably do have some skill, I've been working for years to perfect this art. And yes, it is an art form to me.
Lance hops down from the roof of his Yugo and leans up against the back of it.
Lance Erickson: About this little funeral you're planning on having for you and your career or something like that...whatever it is. Can you save it until AFTER our match? I'm not really in the mood to wrestle a dead guy. But I have to hand it to you. Most people after hearing something like that rumor would've defended themselves with an irrational outburst of angry defense. No, not you, you go with it. You're gonna milk it just to piss off the guy or gal who said that about you. Don't get me wrong, I fully intend to beat you on thursday, but I don't want to end anyone's career. I'm not the guy who's going to "end" David DeAngelo. But I am going to end your wonderful winning streak of one.
You complement me for knowing what I like and putting it out there every day, but you've got me beat in that department. Seriously, who wears a mullet? That takes some major self-esteem. That and the zebra striped speedo you were sporting. Where do you get those by the way? I would look fantastic in a purple leopard print model. I'm being serious here, let me know.
Lance pauses as his phone rings. He holds his finger up as he answers it.
Lance Erickson: Hey Dave...
(pause)
Yeah, okay...
(listens)
Alright, give me 30.
Lance Erickson hangs up his phone and stuffs it into his "suit" top.
Lance Erickson: Looks like I'm gonna have to cut this short. Apparently Big Ci found an upscale establishment that I'm gonna love. I'm seriously going to drag these guys to a real, grungy, dirty, dive bar one of these days. DeAngelo, this is the first match I've had in POW where I respect all of my opposition. Prepare yourself for a war on Thursday.
Lance hops into his Yugo and speeds away to his hole-in-the-wall apartment to swap out cars before heading off to join his teammates. The camera zooms out for a view of Lance and the school in one shot. The camera fades out.