Post by lanceerickson on May 5, 2007 3:20:35 GMT -6
The scene opens up with Lance Erikson sitting in his luxurious apartment at his desk, leaning back with his hands on his face, thinking about something with his wrestling gear still on. A knock is heard on the door, but Lance ignores it. The raps at the wood come again, but Lance doesn't even move. The knocks turn into pounds and this time don't stop. Lance picks up a loafer and throws it at the door, telling whoever it is to go away. Finally, a key can be heard sliding into the lock, and the door opens while Holly walks in. She looks over at Lance and goes over and slaps him hard in the chest.
Holly: What the hell is wrong with you?
Lance Erikson: (Angrily standing up) What the **** are you talking about?
Holly: You lose ONE match and you up and disappear after the show! I had to call a d**n cab!
Lance Erikson: I didn't just lose this match. I lost it to a substandard joke of a performer. Not because I was off my game, I was in the process of kicking his ass all over the Star Pavilion. Mr. Shittime had to couldn't watch Lestat lose, he had to come in and give him the victory.
Holly: Get over yourself. You lost, so what?
Lance Erikson: (scowling) Don't push me. I'm not in a good mood right now. I need to find out who the hell I'm getting next week.
Holly: Don't worry, I got it all for you while you were wallowing in your own shame. Brad Armstrong, a new guy. He put on a good show tonight. Here's his tape from the match, and here's his Television introduction spot.
Lance Erikson: Wallowing? You're lucky I like you.
Lance grabs the two tapes and pops the match one into the VCR. After watching Armstrong make quick work of Dan Real, Lance ejects it and throws in the TV spot tape, opening a bottle of water. He sits there, watching it with mild interest, slightly dozing off, until Jay T Nitro pops up on the screen, talking to Armstrong. All of a sudden, Lance pops out of his stupor, watching the conversation intently. After the screen goes to snow, Lance leans back, arm around Holly.
Lance Erikson: What do you think of him?
Holly: I don't know much about him, all I was able to get was this stuff on the tapes...
Lance Erikson: Here's what I think. This guy's young, he's a rookie. Like me not too long ago. He wants a push and he's consorting with the right people to get it. If Jay T. Nitro's going to be training him, he can't be bad. But then again, he's seeking out help, so he's not confident.
Holly: But he won last week.
Lance Erikson: I could beat that guy with my arms and legs bound together. He's got some competition coming this week. If he's hoping to cotton onto the Nitro/Stevens legacy of godliness, he's got another thing coming. True, he wants gold, who doesn't? But I want it too. I've been on my way to a title shot since I arrived. If Armstrong is going to get a shot at the Heavyweight Title, he's going to have to get in line. Maybe one day, way down the line, he'll get a shot at me after I take it from whoever is unlucky enough to face me.
About his win though, this guy has to be put into his proper place in this company; at the bottom until he works his way up. I don't care if he's some hotshot wannabe from wherever the hell he's from. He's starting to build an unjustified ego. I'm the one who's been given the task of taking it away from him.
Holly: You seem to be over your loss.
Lance Erikson: It was only a couple of hours ago. I'm allowed to mope for an hour or two. I lost because of Mr. Showtime, and I'm going to make damn sure he doesn't do it again.
Holly: Don't do anything stupid, alright?
Lance Erikson: Don't worry about me. I can handle whatever comes my way. I just hope Showtime realizes a couple of things. He pissed me off, that was his first mistake. Second, I didn't need help from a joke of a wrestler like him, that's two. And three, if he decides that I need...help...this week, he's in for a world of hurt. I can handle Brad Armstrong like he handled Dan Real. No trouble whatsoever.
Holly: Don't get cocky, you saw what happened the last couple of times you got arrogant like this.
Lance Erikson: Huh, maybe you're right. I'm still going to show him what's it's like to wrestle one of the big boys. He's going to submit this week.
Holly laughs as Lance grabs ahold of the tape and tosses it into the garbage bin. He stands up slowly, stretching his tired arms out. Holly looks up at him, interested.
Lance Erikson: I should go get a good workout in tomorrow...and maybe some ice for my damn chin. What're you going to do?
Holly: Oh, I'm probably going to watch some TV for a bit.
Lance Erikson: *yawning* Well, come on in when you get tired. I'll probably already be out.
Lance heads off to bed while Holly digs around through the menu on the TV, looking for something to watch. Lance crashes onto the bed, falling asleep almost immediately.
::Fade Out::
Holly: What the hell is wrong with you?
Lance Erikson: (Angrily standing up) What the **** are you talking about?
Holly: You lose ONE match and you up and disappear after the show! I had to call a d**n cab!
Lance Erikson: I didn't just lose this match. I lost it to a substandard joke of a performer. Not because I was off my game, I was in the process of kicking his ass all over the Star Pavilion. Mr. Shittime had to couldn't watch Lestat lose, he had to come in and give him the victory.
Holly: Get over yourself. You lost, so what?
Lance Erikson: (scowling) Don't push me. I'm not in a good mood right now. I need to find out who the hell I'm getting next week.
Holly: Don't worry, I got it all for you while you were wallowing in your own shame. Brad Armstrong, a new guy. He put on a good show tonight. Here's his tape from the match, and here's his Television introduction spot.
Lance Erikson: Wallowing? You're lucky I like you.
Lance grabs the two tapes and pops the match one into the VCR. After watching Armstrong make quick work of Dan Real, Lance ejects it and throws in the TV spot tape, opening a bottle of water. He sits there, watching it with mild interest, slightly dozing off, until Jay T Nitro pops up on the screen, talking to Armstrong. All of a sudden, Lance pops out of his stupor, watching the conversation intently. After the screen goes to snow, Lance leans back, arm around Holly.
Lance Erikson: What do you think of him?
Holly: I don't know much about him, all I was able to get was this stuff on the tapes...
Lance Erikson: Here's what I think. This guy's young, he's a rookie. Like me not too long ago. He wants a push and he's consorting with the right people to get it. If Jay T. Nitro's going to be training him, he can't be bad. But then again, he's seeking out help, so he's not confident.
Holly: But he won last week.
Lance Erikson: I could beat that guy with my arms and legs bound together. He's got some competition coming this week. If he's hoping to cotton onto the Nitro/Stevens legacy of godliness, he's got another thing coming. True, he wants gold, who doesn't? But I want it too. I've been on my way to a title shot since I arrived. If Armstrong is going to get a shot at the Heavyweight Title, he's going to have to get in line. Maybe one day, way down the line, he'll get a shot at me after I take it from whoever is unlucky enough to face me.
About his win though, this guy has to be put into his proper place in this company; at the bottom until he works his way up. I don't care if he's some hotshot wannabe from wherever the hell he's from. He's starting to build an unjustified ego. I'm the one who's been given the task of taking it away from him.
Holly: You seem to be over your loss.
Lance Erikson: It was only a couple of hours ago. I'm allowed to mope for an hour or two. I lost because of Mr. Showtime, and I'm going to make damn sure he doesn't do it again.
Holly: Don't do anything stupid, alright?
Lance Erikson: Don't worry about me. I can handle whatever comes my way. I just hope Showtime realizes a couple of things. He pissed me off, that was his first mistake. Second, I didn't need help from a joke of a wrestler like him, that's two. And three, if he decides that I need...help...this week, he's in for a world of hurt. I can handle Brad Armstrong like he handled Dan Real. No trouble whatsoever.
Holly: Don't get cocky, you saw what happened the last couple of times you got arrogant like this.
Lance Erikson: Huh, maybe you're right. I'm still going to show him what's it's like to wrestle one of the big boys. He's going to submit this week.
Holly laughs as Lance grabs ahold of the tape and tosses it into the garbage bin. He stands up slowly, stretching his tired arms out. Holly looks up at him, interested.
Lance Erikson: I should go get a good workout in tomorrow...and maybe some ice for my damn chin. What're you going to do?
Holly: Oh, I'm probably going to watch some TV for a bit.
Lance Erikson: *yawning* Well, come on in when you get tired. I'll probably already be out.
Lance heads off to bed while Holly digs around through the menu on the TV, looking for something to watch. Lance crashes onto the bed, falling asleep almost immediately.
::Fade Out::