Post by lanceerickson on May 6, 2007 13:24:40 GMT -6
The scene opens up with Lance Erikson in a local gym with a couple of musclebound Arnold Schwarzenegger clones spotting him. Lance has already finished his agility and speed training away from these guys, but he had to find people strong enough to spot him. After a moster set of huge bench press reps, Lance puts the weight back into it's cradle on the bench and sits up. The two guys look just as tired as Lance does, but Lance has been doing all the lifting. He takes a swig of his carb drink, revitalizing himself and takes the two guys over to the power cage. They load up Lance's desired amount of weight, an ungodly amount, and Lance wipes his hands down with a towel, then places the slightly damp towel over his shoulders. Lance gets in position and muscles the weight up, then backs to his spotters. Lance goes down and powers the weight back up multiple times, screaming every time he does it. Finally, he bottoms out and the two guys hike the weight back up to it's starting position. Lance does three more sets to failure as the two other men replace it every time. Lance polishes off his carb drink as the two guys remove the weight from the bar. Lance goes over to sit down for a bit of a rest and the two guys come up to him after they've finished their duties.
Dwight (Arnold Clone #1): What's next Mr. Erikson?
Lance Erikson: Nothing, I've got all my core shit done.
Vincent (Arnold Clone #2): (Panting) Thank god. We got quite a workout just from spotting you.
Lance Erikson: And now you two have found why it's stupid to be too big. I can lift all that weight and STILL run circles around just about anybody. Get out of my sight.
Dwight and Vincent walk off, looking slightly offended because their magnificent bodies had just been insulted. Lance walks over to the gym owner who's sitting behind a desk, reading a copy of yesterday's newspaper. Murray (the owner) looks up at Lance and puts the paper down.
Murray: You all done for the day Mr. Lance?
Lance Erikson: Yeah, there's not much else I can do without risking hurting myself. What the hell happened Murray? This gym used to be a good place. It's gone in the shitter since I've been here. All these pretty boy types who, despite their massive muscles, can't rep a damn clothes hanger.
Murray: They pay, so I don't complain.
Lance Erikson: Well, you might want to be a bit more...'selective' about who you let in here. Soon all your equipment's going to rust because these guys come in here to show off to the women instead of getting a good, sweaty workout.
Murray: Well, that's not going to happen. I personally make sure all of the equipment is in top working order.
Lance Erikson: Look at those two. (Points to the Arnold clones) They're over there hitting on some gal just because they broke a sweat from spotting me. You better be careful Murray, otherwise you're going to get people like Brad Armstrong and his 'mentor' in here.
Murray: What's wrong with that?
Lance Erikson: Nothing, unless you want to see them getting all giddy after one rep on the lat machine.
Murray: You have a problem with these two guys I don't even know?
Lance Erikson: Yeah, a bit. This guy, Brad Armstrong, gets a big head after winning a match last week against a nobody. He talks this big game and wants a better opponent, so Tito does the right thing and puts him against me this week. As soon as the match is announced, I don't see hide nor hair of him. He just disappeared off the face of the earth. I think Dante said it best, "Silence is Boring". This guy is boring the hell out of me here.
Murray: He could be working out or doing some training.
Lance Erikson: Well, it's a possibility. But I think he's probably gorging himself on Big Macs and Whoppers, getting nice and fat. Maybe if he gains three or four hundred pounds in the next week I wouldn't be able to lift him. But I'd still find a way to beat his ass.
Murray: Wait...Dante...Is that the guy...?
Lance Erikson: Who wrote "Dante's Inferno"? Yeah. he is. Kind of fitting actually, because I put myself through hell every week when I train. If I lose, I'd better not be walking out of the arena that night. I can already tell you that Brad Armstrong isn't going to be able to do that to me. He's this (smirks) little guy with a go get 'em attitude. Optimism isn't enough to walk out with the victory against somebody like me. It takes a level of skill that he won't reach in a hundred years. Murderous Intent were the only guys able to take me down so far. They were the only ones who were able to batter me enough to get the victory. After they beat me though, I was able to take them down with two other guys who are of the calibre to main event a show in this company. If ANY of us go against this fool, he'll fall like the French army.
Murray: Ah, I see. So why were you working so hard today?
Lance Erikson: I don't know who it's going to be next week. It could be the Heavyweight Champion himself. I keep myself in top physical condition so I can bitch slap whoever is unfortunate enough to face me. Armstrong pulled my card this week, and he's going to tap out to my Shattered Lance. (Lance Pauses, looking around the gym again) Hate to do this to you Murr, but these guys are starting to piss me off. I should get out of here.
Murray smiles as he picks up his newspaper and continues perusing the articles. Lance heads off to the grungy lockerroom. He wipes his face down with the towel and heads off to the showers, grabbing a fresh towel. Now fresh and clean, Lance exits the shower with the towel wrapped around his waist. The camera pulls itself up as Lance opens his locker up to find his suit with the word "pussy" spray painted over it in red. Lance angrily throws his gym shorts back on, out of view of the camera, grabs his suit and walks out to the main gym. After demanding to know who did it, a guy with a passing resemblance to Mr. Showtime raises his hand, laughing. Lance walks over to the guy, getting right in his face.
Lance Erikson: (Fuming) You've got about ten seconds to fork over the cash for a new one of these.
The guy looks around at his buddies, laughing, and then shakes his head. Lance rears back and punches the guy square in the face, feeling his nose break from his brass knuckles which were hidden on his fist. Lance throws the suit over his shoulder and walks out. He heads out to his car and drives off to get a new suit made.
::Fade Out::
Dwight (Arnold Clone #1): What's next Mr. Erikson?
Lance Erikson: Nothing, I've got all my core shit done.
Vincent (Arnold Clone #2): (Panting) Thank god. We got quite a workout just from spotting you.
Lance Erikson: And now you two have found why it's stupid to be too big. I can lift all that weight and STILL run circles around just about anybody. Get out of my sight.
Dwight and Vincent walk off, looking slightly offended because their magnificent bodies had just been insulted. Lance walks over to the gym owner who's sitting behind a desk, reading a copy of yesterday's newspaper. Murray (the owner) looks up at Lance and puts the paper down.
Murray: You all done for the day Mr. Lance?
Lance Erikson: Yeah, there's not much else I can do without risking hurting myself. What the hell happened Murray? This gym used to be a good place. It's gone in the shitter since I've been here. All these pretty boy types who, despite their massive muscles, can't rep a damn clothes hanger.
Murray: They pay, so I don't complain.
Lance Erikson: Well, you might want to be a bit more...'selective' about who you let in here. Soon all your equipment's going to rust because these guys come in here to show off to the women instead of getting a good, sweaty workout.
Murray: Well, that's not going to happen. I personally make sure all of the equipment is in top working order.
Lance Erikson: Look at those two. (Points to the Arnold clones) They're over there hitting on some gal just because they broke a sweat from spotting me. You better be careful Murray, otherwise you're going to get people like Brad Armstrong and his 'mentor' in here.
Murray: What's wrong with that?
Lance Erikson: Nothing, unless you want to see them getting all giddy after one rep on the lat machine.
Murray: You have a problem with these two guys I don't even know?
Lance Erikson: Yeah, a bit. This guy, Brad Armstrong, gets a big head after winning a match last week against a nobody. He talks this big game and wants a better opponent, so Tito does the right thing and puts him against me this week. As soon as the match is announced, I don't see hide nor hair of him. He just disappeared off the face of the earth. I think Dante said it best, "Silence is Boring". This guy is boring the hell out of me here.
Murray: He could be working out or doing some training.
Lance Erikson: Well, it's a possibility. But I think he's probably gorging himself on Big Macs and Whoppers, getting nice and fat. Maybe if he gains three or four hundred pounds in the next week I wouldn't be able to lift him. But I'd still find a way to beat his ass.
Murray: Wait...Dante...Is that the guy...?
Lance Erikson: Who wrote "Dante's Inferno"? Yeah. he is. Kind of fitting actually, because I put myself through hell every week when I train. If I lose, I'd better not be walking out of the arena that night. I can already tell you that Brad Armstrong isn't going to be able to do that to me. He's this (smirks) little guy with a go get 'em attitude. Optimism isn't enough to walk out with the victory against somebody like me. It takes a level of skill that he won't reach in a hundred years. Murderous Intent were the only guys able to take me down so far. They were the only ones who were able to batter me enough to get the victory. After they beat me though, I was able to take them down with two other guys who are of the calibre to main event a show in this company. If ANY of us go against this fool, he'll fall like the French army.
Murray: Ah, I see. So why were you working so hard today?
Lance Erikson: I don't know who it's going to be next week. It could be the Heavyweight Champion himself. I keep myself in top physical condition so I can bitch slap whoever is unfortunate enough to face me. Armstrong pulled my card this week, and he's going to tap out to my Shattered Lance. (Lance Pauses, looking around the gym again) Hate to do this to you Murr, but these guys are starting to piss me off. I should get out of here.
Murray smiles as he picks up his newspaper and continues perusing the articles. Lance heads off to the grungy lockerroom. He wipes his face down with the towel and heads off to the showers, grabbing a fresh towel. Now fresh and clean, Lance exits the shower with the towel wrapped around his waist. The camera pulls itself up as Lance opens his locker up to find his suit with the word "pussy" spray painted over it in red. Lance angrily throws his gym shorts back on, out of view of the camera, grabs his suit and walks out to the main gym. After demanding to know who did it, a guy with a passing resemblance to Mr. Showtime raises his hand, laughing. Lance walks over to the guy, getting right in his face.
Lance Erikson: (Fuming) You've got about ten seconds to fork over the cash for a new one of these.
The guy looks around at his buddies, laughing, and then shakes his head. Lance rears back and punches the guy square in the face, feeling his nose break from his brass knuckles which were hidden on his fist. Lance throws the suit over his shoulder and walks out. He heads out to his car and drives off to get a new suit made.
::Fade Out::