Post by lanceerickson on Mar 3, 2007 15:43:02 GMT -6
The scene opens up with Lance Erickson standing wide-eyed with Big Ci outside of a tailor's shoppe. Big Ci is clad in a huge suit while Lance is wearing a loose midriff tank top that says "Masculine" on it, complemented with a pair of track shorts and tennis shoes. Big Ci walks over to the door and opens it up, but Lance doesn't budge an inch. Big Ci waves his hand for Lance to move, but Lance stands there, still staring at the sign with his mouth agape.
Big Ci: Come on, you agreed to this when you joined.
Lance Erickson: (Quickly) Uh uh.
Big Ci walks over and picks Lance up, draping him over his shoulder. Lance still has the wide-eyed, dumbstruck look on his face and doesn't budge an inch. Big Ci opens the door and walks into the joint. He sets Lance down at the counter and rings the bell. An old man with nimble fingers walks out and looks happy to see his new customers. Big Ci shakes the man's hand while Lance's expression hasn't budged from his previous look.
Big Ci: Hey, I've got a new customer for you pops. He may be a bit apprehensive, but give him the works.
Pops: Not a problem. What colors are we looking at?
Big Ci: Lance? (Pause as Lance doesn't answer) Let's go with gray, silver, and a dark, sort of royal purple.
Pops smiles as he grabs Lance's hand and leads him to the measuring room. Lance complies without resistance. Big Ci plops down on a chair and picks up an issue of Big Rig Digest and flips through it while Lance is getting measured.
Pops: My, my, my...we can't have you wearing this. We'll get you fixed up in no time.
Pops starts measuring Lance from head to toe, back to front, side to side, and every other way possible.
Pops: (While measuring Lance, taking his time) So, why the new suit? I don't think this fits your "normal"...style of clothing.
Lance Erickson: (Sighs) Well, Ci and I are wrestlers. I joined with him and a pair of brothers. I guess they have a dress code or something.
Pops: What? Is this like a big tag team?
Lance Erickson: No, just a group of guys who support each other and whatnot as we all go for our separate titles and success. Take me for example. I'm wrestling this guy named David DeAngelo this week.
Pops: I think I read something in the paper about him...isn't he the guy that somebody said was gay? A bit fruity?
Lance Erickson: Yep, that's the Apricot.
Pops: Oh yeah? What do you think of him?
Lance Erickson: I could probably like the guy if he didn't treat women like he does. I don't care what he does with them on his own, but he shouldn't be giving them away as 'gifts'. Although, aside from his callous treatment of women, I could probably hang out with the guy. He seems to know what it means to be a man.
Pops: (measuring Lance's arms) Oh? What about his skill in the ring?
Lance Erickson: Honestly? I don't know. He doesn't exactly have a list of accolades. So far, during my tenure in POW, I've wrestled some of the best. I beat Chester Coban last week. I beat now ally Dave Hunter and Jason Dread when I tagged with Macros in my first match. Although I have a loss under my belt, it was to a damn good wrestler. I've been consistently wrestling the best and beating them most of the time. The Starfruit wrestled a nobody last week and he tied with another guy the week before. Either both he and Black are both horrible, or they're both great. So like I said, I don't know. I'm a bit wary though, because he made it into the business, so obviously he has SOME skill.
Pops: (Measuring chest and torso lengths) So how are you getting ready?
Lance Erickson: Apparently this damn thing is going to help, at least according to Big Ci and the Hunter Boys. But other than that, I'm going to make sure I'm in top form. David has a shot at the TV Title at All In. The Kiwifruit is pretty well versed in the areas that I excel in. It's just a matter of making sure that I know more of my style than he does. Then a couple of other areas to round myself off. It'll be like the Terminator taking on a Care Bear if I have anything to say about it.
Pops: (Working on Lance's legs now) So why were you thrown in this match? Do you two have a history or something?
Lance Erickson: No, I did something at last week's show that I'm not too happy with. The Mango brought in his 'gift' to a guy who's retiring, I lost my temper and fed him some cake. I hope he can put this behind him and we can have a clean match. I'm sure his moustache took most of the brunt anyway. He should be fine.
Pops: (Rolling up his tape measurer) Clean match?
Lance Erickson: (Looking to the camera) Simple, no interference, no cheating. Just The Banana and me, skill against skill, mind against mind. I hope The Papaya's watching this so he can hear my apology for my less than stellar actions to him and hopefully accept it. (Looking back at Pops) I try to live by respect and honor, and even though he didn't respect his 'gift', I should have been man enough to leave it at words.
Pops smiles and pulls a dark gray swatch of cloth off the shelf and starts cutting with lightning speed. He pins things together and slaps it on Lance. After getting the jacket right, he goes straight to the pants. After he's sure those fit nice and loose, he grabs a shiny silver piece and fashions a shirt. Once Lance has those on, Pops produces a dark purple, shiny tie and ties a beautiful Windsor knot. Once that's done and Pops is surveying his work, Lance's eyes light up.
Lance Erickson: (Giddily) I just thought of something. Come here, I've got an idea. (Pops comes closer and Lance whispers in his ear)
Pops: (Standing back, looking horrified) I WILL NOT!!!
Lance Erickson: How about...now?
Lance digs around under the tailor-made pants and produces wad of cash from his gym shorts. Pops raises his eyebrow, pondering things for a second, he finally smirks and nods his head. Pops pulls the top articles off of Lance and makes a few more measurements. After some deft cuts, he puts the articles back on Lance. After nodding his head, he goes to sew and finish the suit. Lance wanders back out to wait with Big Ci who's now flipping through "Bass Masters Monthly". Lance hops down giddily and snags a "Gorgeous Muscle" and begins looking for workout tips.
Big Ci: (Without looking up) Why did pops burst out "I will not"?
Lance Erickson: (Smirking) No reason.
Big Ci: (draws out, reprimanding tone) LAAAAAAANCE.
Lance Erickson: What?
Big Ci: I haven't known you for that long, but I'm pretty sure this isn't going to be something I'm going to like.
Lance Erickson: Don't worry about it.
Pops comes out from the back and waves Lance in. Lance walks into the back to put his suit on, the camera stays with Big Ci. After a few minutes of rustling noises being heard, a shout is heard from the back.
Lance Erickson: (From back) WHOOOOO!!! Now THIS...is a suit I can wear!
Lance struts out while Big Ci looks forward to see the atrocity of a suit Lance Erickson has just purchased. It is shown that Lance is still wearing his white tennis shoes with loud green and orange stripes on them. But now he has on a pair of dark gray, pinstriped trousers which are standard fare for a suit. But his torso is sporting a matching jacket, silver shirt, and purple tie that have been cut short and sewn together to make a loose fitting, midriff top that resembes a suit with the arms cut off that still shows off the washboard that he calls a stomach. Lance struts out, does a moonwalk and twirl and then stands with a grin and arms wide to show off the new "suit".
Big Ci: (Smirking, half laughing) No. Go back. (Points to the back)
Lance Erickson: Hey, you said a suit. You didn't say what type. Plus, I already paid for this.
Big Ci: That's your fault. And well, a suit jacket is...well...I don't know...a JACKET!
Lance Erickson: Hey, things are being done in fashion that aren't a thousand years old. This is one of them. It's my creation, and it's more ME than anything else I could've done. You guys are the one's trying to stuff me into one of these restricting things.
Big Ci: I think you need a new one...an actual suit, not this...gypsies version of a suit.
Lance Erickson: You're paying for it.
Big Ci: (Exasperated) I am NOT!
Lance Erickson: Then we're in a stalemate. How's this? When I finally lose a match, then we'll talk I'll suffer in one of those...things.
Big Ci sighs and walks out of the establishment in frustration. Lance Erickson laughs and does a twirl out of the joint with his old clothes in a bag. Dave Hunter and his brother Shane are standing there, waiting to see the new duds.
Dave Hunter: That's...different. I can see why Big Ci wasn't too thrilled.
Shane Hunter: Nice threads man!
Lance smiles, twirls for the crowd, and whistles for a cab.
Dave Hunter: Because you need to train, I'm going to let this go for now. We're gonna talk about this next week.
Lance gives a grin as he hops into a cab and speeds away to his apartment. The camera fades out and the scene ends.
Big Ci: Come on, you agreed to this when you joined.
Lance Erickson: (Quickly) Uh uh.
Big Ci walks over and picks Lance up, draping him over his shoulder. Lance still has the wide-eyed, dumbstruck look on his face and doesn't budge an inch. Big Ci opens the door and walks into the joint. He sets Lance down at the counter and rings the bell. An old man with nimble fingers walks out and looks happy to see his new customers. Big Ci shakes the man's hand while Lance's expression hasn't budged from his previous look.
Big Ci: Hey, I've got a new customer for you pops. He may be a bit apprehensive, but give him the works.
Pops: Not a problem. What colors are we looking at?
Big Ci: Lance? (Pause as Lance doesn't answer) Let's go with gray, silver, and a dark, sort of royal purple.
Pops smiles as he grabs Lance's hand and leads him to the measuring room. Lance complies without resistance. Big Ci plops down on a chair and picks up an issue of Big Rig Digest and flips through it while Lance is getting measured.
Pops: My, my, my...we can't have you wearing this. We'll get you fixed up in no time.
Pops starts measuring Lance from head to toe, back to front, side to side, and every other way possible.
Pops: (While measuring Lance, taking his time) So, why the new suit? I don't think this fits your "normal"...style of clothing.
Lance Erickson: (Sighs) Well, Ci and I are wrestlers. I joined with him and a pair of brothers. I guess they have a dress code or something.
Pops: What? Is this like a big tag team?
Lance Erickson: No, just a group of guys who support each other and whatnot as we all go for our separate titles and success. Take me for example. I'm wrestling this guy named David DeAngelo this week.
Pops: I think I read something in the paper about him...isn't he the guy that somebody said was gay? A bit fruity?
Lance Erickson: Yep, that's the Apricot.
Pops: Oh yeah? What do you think of him?
Lance Erickson: I could probably like the guy if he didn't treat women like he does. I don't care what he does with them on his own, but he shouldn't be giving them away as 'gifts'. Although, aside from his callous treatment of women, I could probably hang out with the guy. He seems to know what it means to be a man.
Pops: (measuring Lance's arms) Oh? What about his skill in the ring?
Lance Erickson: Honestly? I don't know. He doesn't exactly have a list of accolades. So far, during my tenure in POW, I've wrestled some of the best. I beat Chester Coban last week. I beat now ally Dave Hunter and Jason Dread when I tagged with Macros in my first match. Although I have a loss under my belt, it was to a damn good wrestler. I've been consistently wrestling the best and beating them most of the time. The Starfruit wrestled a nobody last week and he tied with another guy the week before. Either both he and Black are both horrible, or they're both great. So like I said, I don't know. I'm a bit wary though, because he made it into the business, so obviously he has SOME skill.
Pops: (Measuring chest and torso lengths) So how are you getting ready?
Lance Erickson: Apparently this damn thing is going to help, at least according to Big Ci and the Hunter Boys. But other than that, I'm going to make sure I'm in top form. David has a shot at the TV Title at All In. The Kiwifruit is pretty well versed in the areas that I excel in. It's just a matter of making sure that I know more of my style than he does. Then a couple of other areas to round myself off. It'll be like the Terminator taking on a Care Bear if I have anything to say about it.
Pops: (Working on Lance's legs now) So why were you thrown in this match? Do you two have a history or something?
Lance Erickson: No, I did something at last week's show that I'm not too happy with. The Mango brought in his 'gift' to a guy who's retiring, I lost my temper and fed him some cake. I hope he can put this behind him and we can have a clean match. I'm sure his moustache took most of the brunt anyway. He should be fine.
Pops: (Rolling up his tape measurer) Clean match?
Lance Erickson: (Looking to the camera) Simple, no interference, no cheating. Just The Banana and me, skill against skill, mind against mind. I hope The Papaya's watching this so he can hear my apology for my less than stellar actions to him and hopefully accept it. (Looking back at Pops) I try to live by respect and honor, and even though he didn't respect his 'gift', I should have been man enough to leave it at words.
Pops smiles and pulls a dark gray swatch of cloth off the shelf and starts cutting with lightning speed. He pins things together and slaps it on Lance. After getting the jacket right, he goes straight to the pants. After he's sure those fit nice and loose, he grabs a shiny silver piece and fashions a shirt. Once Lance has those on, Pops produces a dark purple, shiny tie and ties a beautiful Windsor knot. Once that's done and Pops is surveying his work, Lance's eyes light up.
Lance Erickson: (Giddily) I just thought of something. Come here, I've got an idea. (Pops comes closer and Lance whispers in his ear)
Pops: (Standing back, looking horrified) I WILL NOT!!!
Lance Erickson: How about...now?
Lance digs around under the tailor-made pants and produces wad of cash from his gym shorts. Pops raises his eyebrow, pondering things for a second, he finally smirks and nods his head. Pops pulls the top articles off of Lance and makes a few more measurements. After some deft cuts, he puts the articles back on Lance. After nodding his head, he goes to sew and finish the suit. Lance wanders back out to wait with Big Ci who's now flipping through "Bass Masters Monthly". Lance hops down giddily and snags a "Gorgeous Muscle" and begins looking for workout tips.
Big Ci: (Without looking up) Why did pops burst out "I will not"?
Lance Erickson: (Smirking) No reason.
Big Ci: (draws out, reprimanding tone) LAAAAAAANCE.
Lance Erickson: What?
Big Ci: I haven't known you for that long, but I'm pretty sure this isn't going to be something I'm going to like.
Lance Erickson: Don't worry about it.
Pops comes out from the back and waves Lance in. Lance walks into the back to put his suit on, the camera stays with Big Ci. After a few minutes of rustling noises being heard, a shout is heard from the back.
Lance Erickson: (From back) WHOOOOO!!! Now THIS...is a suit I can wear!
Lance struts out while Big Ci looks forward to see the atrocity of a suit Lance Erickson has just purchased. It is shown that Lance is still wearing his white tennis shoes with loud green and orange stripes on them. But now he has on a pair of dark gray, pinstriped trousers which are standard fare for a suit. But his torso is sporting a matching jacket, silver shirt, and purple tie that have been cut short and sewn together to make a loose fitting, midriff top that resembes a suit with the arms cut off that still shows off the washboard that he calls a stomach. Lance struts out, does a moonwalk and twirl and then stands with a grin and arms wide to show off the new "suit".
Big Ci: (Smirking, half laughing) No. Go back. (Points to the back)
Lance Erickson: Hey, you said a suit. You didn't say what type. Plus, I already paid for this.
Big Ci: That's your fault. And well, a suit jacket is...well...I don't know...a JACKET!
Lance Erickson: Hey, things are being done in fashion that aren't a thousand years old. This is one of them. It's my creation, and it's more ME than anything else I could've done. You guys are the one's trying to stuff me into one of these restricting things.
Big Ci: I think you need a new one...an actual suit, not this...gypsies version of a suit.
Lance Erickson: You're paying for it.
Big Ci: (Exasperated) I am NOT!
Lance Erickson: Then we're in a stalemate. How's this? When I finally lose a match, then we'll talk I'll suffer in one of those...things.
Big Ci sighs and walks out of the establishment in frustration. Lance Erickson laughs and does a twirl out of the joint with his old clothes in a bag. Dave Hunter and his brother Shane are standing there, waiting to see the new duds.
Dave Hunter: That's...different. I can see why Big Ci wasn't too thrilled.
Shane Hunter: Nice threads man!
Lance smiles, twirls for the crowd, and whistles for a cab.
Dave Hunter: Because you need to train, I'm going to let this go for now. We're gonna talk about this next week.
Lance gives a grin as he hops into a cab and speeds away to his apartment. The camera fades out and the scene ends.