|
Welcome to NEWera Wrestling. We hope you enjoy your visit.
You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.
Join our community!
If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:
|
|
Fun day out; Vindication #2
|
|
Topic Started: Aug 18 2012, 03:29 AM (79 Views)
|
|
Deleted User
|
Aug 18 2012, 03:29 AM
Post #1
|
|
Deleted User
|
We are outside a pub in the midlands of England in the middle of the day. Dunstan Montgomery is facing the camera, incongruously wearing a black and white striped West Bromwich Albion jersey beneath a suit jacket and waistcoat. He is smoking, as usual. He unbuttons the waistcoat with one hand.
"Right."
He flicks the cigarette and enters the pub, but we stay outside. Faintly:
"I heard this a paedophile ring."
There is a commotion. Men begin shouting. Glasses are smashed. Dunstan stumbles out some minutes later with shaking his right fist to loosen it up. He turns directly to the camera.
"Welcome to Wolverhampton, ladies and gentlemen. I thought I'd give you a fun break from your usual dull television schedules. It's the home of Robert Plant."
Dunstan theatrically gestures at his surroundings, which consist of some chain stores, some parked cars and the pub he just beat up.
"Now, I came to Wolverhampton to beat up Mark Saddington's cousins, originally. This was my plan. But it actually turns out that he's not even from Wolverhampton, which is an unfortunate turn of events. I even bought the rival sports team's jersey."
He removes his jacket and waistcoat and drapes them carefully over his forearm, then turns around to reveal the name 'Odemwingie' on the back.
"I could have just gone to Nottingham, which is essentially the same place as Wolverhampton as far as you or I am concerned, but as I said, I bought this football jersey for the express purpose of creating tension in Wolverhampton, so I'm just going to create tension in Wolverhampton. Let's take a walk."
Dunstan takes a cigarette from a pocket in the jacket draped over his arm, lights it and begins to stroll down the street.
"I anticipate that the venerable constabulary of this vicinity are going to come try to arrest a man with a winning moustache in a West Brom jersey in the next hour or so, because of that little pub scuffle, but we have a little while before then. I want to take you to a nice little antique shop just up here."
He walks silently, smoking. The camera follows. He comes to the door of a small, dark shop and walks in. We follow.
"Now, there are some delightful mirrors in here, I've heard. Shopkeeper, show me your finest mirror."
The shop owner looks up from his newspaper at the counter, inquisitively.
"Mirror?"
"Yes."
"Well... we have a nice Victorian mirror over here. You can take a look if you want, but don't try to move it. If you want to buy it, just give me a shout."
"That's fine, thank you."
Dunstan approaches the mirror. The camera looks into the mirror, over his shoulder.
"I've spent plenty of time looking in mirrors in my life. More than most, in fact. I have a moustache that requires a relatively high degree of maintenance. But I've never seen a mirror quite like the mirror Mark Saddington gazed into earlier on today. That's why I'm here."
Dunstan turns his head to the left for a moment, then to the right. He stares closely at his reflection in the mirror.
"Now, as this is the finest antiques shop in Wolverhampton, and this is the finest mirror in this antiques shop, I thought it would be the most likely to have special qualities. Shopkeeper! Would you say this mirror has special qualities?"
The shopkeeper looks up from his newspaper again, bemused.
"It's a fine mirror. Well crafted."
"A fine mirror. Well crafted. Now, NEW viewers, what do you see when you look in this mirror?"
There is a pause.
"I'm going to suppose that you answered, "Dunstan Montgomery, a television camera, a boom microphone and some antiques". Is that reasonable? Good. Because it's strange. When Mark Saddington looks into the mirror, he sees some sort of cartoon ghoul version of himself."
Dunstan cocks an eyebrow.
"I was hoping to see a cartoon ghoul version of myself in this fine Victorian mirror, but all I see is my fine Victorian countenance. Shopkeeper!"
The shopkeeper looks up, a little annoyed now.
"Yes?"
"Shopkeeper, have you ever in your professional or personal life come across a mirror that displays a cartoon ghoul version of one's reflection? More specifically a cartoon ghoul version of one's reflection that encourages one to drink alcohol?"
The shopkeeper sighs and rolls his eyes.
"Are you going to buy the mirror?"
"Answer the question."
"No, I have never seen one of those mirrors."
"Would you say, as a man with a longstanding professional relationship with mirrors, that such a mirror could exist?"
"I would think it very unlikely."
"Do you think it likely that one would exist in a pub in Nottingham?"
"I've never been to Nottingham."
"But on balance."
"No."
Dunstan turns abruptly from the shopkeeper back to the mirror.
"There you have it, viewers. Magic mirrors do not tend to exist in pubs in the midlands. So the logical conclusion to draw from this is... well I suppose the conclusion would be that Mark Saddington is crazy. Would you say so, shopkeeper?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Mark Saddington is a mentally unwell man. He goes to a bar to drink Coke. He looks in the mirror and sees things other than his reflection. When I look in the mirror, I see myself. When I go to a bar, I drink Irish whiskey, Scotch whiskey, red wine or cognac, in that order of preference. When I want a Coke, which is very rarely and usually tied to hangover recovery, I buy it in a corner store. I have no reason to need to commune with imaginary demons."
Dunstan turns from the mirror and goes to leave the shop.
"Thank you, shopkeeper. Fine work you do here."
The shopkeeper nods without looking up from his newspaper.
"But what are the root causes of this torment, I wonder? Why is it so bad for Mark Saddington? I think we can find out."
Dunstan walks at a brisk pace up the street to a public square. There are some teenagers hanging around, wearing black.
"Look at these children. Embarrassments."
Some of the teenagers are smoking. Some are talking enthusiastically. One or two are attempting (and failing) to do tricks on skateboards.
"Let's go talk to them. You there! Boy with green hair!"
A teenager looks up.
"Come here."
"Why?"
"Dear Lord. Young people these days have no respect at all. Come here if you want to be on television."
The teenager walks over towards Dunstan warily.
"What's your name, young boy?"
"I'm not a young boy. I'm 15. My name's Mark."
"Mark! Hah! Perfect. Now, I'm doing a documentary on the mental health of embarrassing children. Will you answer some questions for me?"
"Fuck off!"
The teenager tries to move away but Dunstan catches him with a stare.
"Tell me first, young boy named Mark, do you feel excluded from society?"
"Eh... yeah, I'd say so. I have my friends though. All the other people in school are bastards."
"Okay, so you feel excluded. Do you think you are unique?"
"I'm pretty unique."
"Green hair."
"Yeah, exactly, green hair. Plus I'm into cool music that most people don't know."
"You're excluded, you're unique. Do you write poetry?"
The teenager regards this question warily.
"...yeah I do. How did you know that?"
"Excluded, unique poet. Do you drink beer?"
"Are you the fucking police?"
Dunstan once again shoots a threatening stare at the teenager. He has slicked back hair and a large waxed moustache and is wearing suit trousers, leather shoes and a West Brom football jersey. The visual implication is, clearly, that he is not the 'fucking police'.
"Do you drink beer, I asked."
"Yeah I do."
"And why is that? Because you're self-destructive?"
"I suppose you could say I am, yeah."
"Okay, thank you green-haired young boy. I have made a comparative diagnosis of you and Mark Saddington."
"Mark Saddington? Rig X? The wrestler?"
"You're a fan?"
"Yeah, he's awesome!"
"Okay, well then you'll be interested in my diagnosis and solution. Mark Saddington, formerly and occasionally hallucinatorily Rigormortis X, suffers from narcissism because..."
Dunstan grabs the green-haired boy by the shoulder.
"...he was not bullied enough as a child."
Dunstan headbutts the teenager and begins a light run away.
"Everyone thinks they're special, Mark. You're not special. If you realised that, you might have a better chance. Man up."
In the background, two police officers walk into the square. The teenagers all point in the direction Dunstan is running in. He quickens his pace.
"That's all from Wolverhampton, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you've enjoyed my idea of a humorous and diverting day out."
|
|
|
| |
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
|
|