Post by Smith Jones on Aug 10, 2013 23:17:23 GMT -5
Smith: Sometimes, I cross the line between sanity and freedom.
Fade up on a shot of a dark hospital hallway late this past Thursday night. The camera is at a crooked angle as it drifts in a meandering and twisted motion through the empty hall. At the very end of the dark hallway sits Smith Jones in a wheelchair. He is dressed in a fresh T-shirt and jeans brought to him by Chantal earlier in the day as he sat by Mya's bedside to keep her company. The gray tee reads ‘Stay down’ on the front of it with a large pink ‘X’ overtop of the whole thing. He rolls the wheelchair slowly forward and then back. As he does this, his face enters a shaft of light and recedes into shadow over and over again. The dim fluorescent lights above him hum a depressing tune that Smith has heard a million times before. The camera never stops moving and neither does Smith as they do a slow, rhythmic dance of subtle motion. Smith’s icy blue eyes pierce the gray scene as he looks into camera with a disgusted snarl. He speaks.
Smith: S&M. Smith and Mya. Where the fuck did this come from? Why do I find myself lurking in the shadows of some hospital at 2:29am waiting for this woman to wake up? Why do I care about Mya Denton? I don’t have a clear answer. I met her on May 11th in the ring on Saturday Night Rapture live from San Diego, California. I wasn’t expecting to like her at all. When I first saw the match card, I felt confident that I could beat her and I did. But she fought me harder than I’d expected her to. There was a spark in her eye that instantly caught my attention and from that night on, I watched Mya from a distance. Some might call it stalking. I call it observing. She intrigued me and I wanted to know more. I looked at her PCW profile and I watched all of her matches. I saw her out at lunch with Kai once and I followed her through a mall or two on a couple of shoe shopping trips. I learned her workout schedule and the rest of her daily rituals because I wanted to know her as well as I possibly could before I considered approaching her. And then, fate (if you’ll allow me to use that term) stepped in and changed everything for us.
He smiles a crooked smile and even laughs a bit as it transitions painfully into a deep cough. He’s been a little under the weather lately. A sign that he is a little stressed out about life. He had a fever the other night and his health is not optimal since the most recent Rapture. Worry does not suit him well. He starts to think about that fucking match… the one from…
Smith: ...Slamathon. The Barbed Wire Steel Cage Massacre Ambulance Match. The match type that Reaper told me about a zillion times he HATED. I agree, Ryan. I’ve agreed all along. I gave my opponent full match stip control and that’s what Nightrain came up with. The #BWSCMAMatch was a dud all along, but I dragged it all the way to the PPV and I still made you watch it! And for those of you out there too fucking stupid to get it right, The New Era did not target Nightrain. Nightrain targeted The New Era and we took him out! And let’s not forget that he was out of action for MONTHS after I was through with him in that abomination of a match at Slamathon!!! Threat neutralized. Smith Jones got the job done!!! So, fuck off with the Nightrain noise. A win is a win and I got it. If I'd worked a regular singles match that night, I would have gone to my hotel room after the show. As it turned out, the crazy fucking match chosen by Nightrain is the reason Mya and I had time alone together. She came to visit me in my hospital room and that was when I really started to fall for her.
He starts to roll the wheelchair slowly down the hall, further into the light. We can now more clearly see the silly grin plastered across his face. He stifles it and starts to think about the injuries incurred on Mya at the hands of Brytain Montgomery. His smile dissolves into a fierce scowl. He spits on the floor at the thought of that rancid pink hair and those cheap contact lenses. He wheels up to the door of Mya’s room. He sits there and looks in as the light of the moon pours across the floor. He can’t quite see her face from here. He looks up at the moon instead.
Smith: I rescued my Mya from a man who didn’t have the sense to recognize what he had. She loved him, but he didn’t get it. He took her for granted. He just didn’t fucking care. I’ve seen it so many times before. The doting girlfriend who will give anything for this one idiotic man to pay attention to her. This asshole of a guy, unworthy of her adoration, using her for whatever he needs and shoving her aside the moment he gets bored. And she waits. And she wants more, but how can he see her when he’s always looking the other way.
Smith looks at Mya. He stands up from the wheelchair and he walks into her room. He stands directly over her and watches her eyelids flit and flutter as she dreams. He imagines where her mind might go at night. He tries to climb into her dreams.
Smith: I see you, Mya. I’ve been watching for a long time and I’m hooked. Last Saturday night when we came out to The Mighty Fall by Fall Out Boy for the very first time was the beginning of a great adventure for the two of us. S&M hurts so good and we plan to hurt everybody. Everybody hurts!!! And even though you are stuck here in this hospital for the time being, time changes everything and you will recover and you will return stronger than you were before you got attacked by her.
Jones’ eyes find the camera suddenly. His expression is a stone frown.
Smith: Brytain Montgomery. If the question really is who’s going to stop you, the answer is Smith fucking Jones!!!!!! That belt you so lazily lug around is greater than you seem to care to know. I used to think of you as a woman of respect, but I have since learned otherwise. You’re a stinking piece of putrid human trash just like the rest of the world out there! You don’t recognize the value of what you have. Ever since the moment you won it, you’ve been a disgraceful piece of shit champion the whole fucking time. The very first thing you did was shove that belt into your duffel bag and leave it for dead. You think that saying you’re a good champion makes you a good champion. Oh, you’re a damned good wrestler, Bryte. A great wrestler, even. But as a representative of the Broadcast Division and of what that piece of metal in your hands means, you suck! The only reason you ever heard of the Broadcast Championship in the first place was from ME during my high profile reign of exactly seventy glorious days that gave that title power again!!! I am a great wrestler AND a great champion. I do both. What about you, Montgomery? Do you even remember that you hold that belt half the time? Your pink streak is all you care about and I know that the streak is the one thing on your mind going into Wrestle Extravaganza.
He walks out of the room, leaving the beautiful Mya asleep in her room. He walks down the hall, only… this hall looks very different. So different, in fact, that it looks like a completely different hospital. The lighting is brighter. The floor has no pattern. The staff uniforms are different… This is weird. Smith walks down the hall with a look of slight discomfort on his face. He seems to recognize the surroundings. He walks up to a room and looks in. He sees himself sleeping in bed in the middle of the day. Mya Denton sits in the chair next to his bed and leans her head against the wall as she watches Smith sleep. Smith stands outside his hospital room and he speaks.
Smith: This is my hospital room after Slamathon. I’d just been through that crazy fucking match I mentioned earlier. Mya came to my side and pretty much hasn’t left ever since. That comforts me. Since that time, we’ve become the hottest couple in PCW! And for those who may have been struggling to come up with a couple name for us, it isn’t Smya or Myth, although those were tempting. We are S&M. To think that one of the people responsible for bringing Mya and me together is that uncoordinated oaf, Nightrain. Fuck knew??!? But fast forward past my recovery to the most recent episode of Saturday Night Rapture. That’s where Mya Denton and Smith Jones officially came together as an entity and as a force to be reckoned with. We will watch the mighty fall all around us! S&M is the next PCW Broadcast Champion. Smith and Mya. She is key. You may not realize it, but this little vixen has sparked a new kind of fire in me. I’ve worked my ass off to earn the respect of my peers and to gain spots on the roster. I am clearly near the top of the list at this point. I put real asses into those seats. For the last ten months, whenever you watched PCW on a Saturday night, you are watching ME! Slight change. My Mya is now part of the equation. With her in my corner and me in hers, there’s nothing hotter on the entire Premium network.
Jones chuckles lightly to himself as he walks down the hall a bit further—a different hall. It’s late at night now. Cold. There is frost on the windows and snow falling outside. He walks up to another room. He sees himself inside the emergency room, alone. There is an old man sleeping outside Smith’s room. As he struggles to fall asleep, he listens to the sound of this old man breathing through a tracheotomy tube. It’s a gurgled sucking noise followed by a wheezing sigh and repeated all night long. Smith stands in the doorway and watches and listens.
Smith: This was my room after I crashed my black van off a two-lane highway and into a tree a couple of winters back. The old man is a stranger. I don't know the guy. Just some sod they wheeled up and left to die outside my room. I was alone when I crashed. I was texting and driving. I'd just received word of my next opponent for the week when I hit some black ice and swerved right through the guardrail. That was a long and lonely night. I crawled all the way up that embankment with a banged up leg and blood pouring down my face. I was lucky I didn’t die that night. I was told to take a few weeks off. I said ‘no’. I rehabbed my ass off and I was back in the ring (albeit at far less than 100%) after missing only one show! Just one. I pride myself on being there every single time. I have a reputation to protect and I’ve worked hard my entire career to get to where I am today. I’m not the number one contender for the Broadcast Title by accident. This doesn’t happen overnight. This has been a slow burn and the payoff is imminent. I’ve done a fuck of a lot for this company since I signed my contract. I don’t need to put up with cocky bullshit from anyone who thinks they are better than I am. I heat up Rapture every fucking week and Wrestle Extravaganza will be no different. Those other hot superstars may come and go, but I’m the only guy on the entire roster —AND THIS IS 100% TRUE— I’m the only one in this entire company that has worked every single Rapture since my debut on October 27th, 2012, in Montreal, Quebec. I’ve worked every single pay-per-view and special presentation since Struggle For Power III on December 8th, 2012, live from MSG. That night, in my very first PPV, I made Brian Stryker tap out to The System and I went Final Four in the Battlefield Match and again I say it was my very first PPV!!! And I’ve shown up on time and ready to work for every single PCW show since I started here. I’ve worked non-stop for ten straight months without a day off and I DON’T WANT ONE!!!!!! It’s so fucking impressive to see an old hero come back, but I think it’s even more impressive to watch a true workhorse carry the product week by week without fail! And on the 229th day of 2013, this 229-pound tactical genius will reclaim the championship I should never have lost to begin with!!!! I am the rightful owner of that belt and I am coming to claim it… because, let’s face it, Bryte… that belt is far too heavy for you.
Smith walks over to the elevator and gets in. There is a nurse with a pink flower in her hair. Smith admires it with a soft smile. He laughs an evil laugh and then stifles it when the nurse gives a look. Jones gets off on the seventh floor. He pushes through the double doors and walks down another different hallway. There is a man wandering the hall muttering to himself and a woman banging her head against the wall. A young lady is painting by the window. It’s a detailed picture of a kitten with its head cut off. Suddenly a guy comes running down the hall with a woman right behind him cursing her head off. Smith remembers these people. He walks over to a particular room and sees the room Smith stayed in for a week the time he tried to…
Smith: This is my room from eleven years ago when I was in a bad headspace. This is where I learned how easily people can be manipulated to do what I want them to do. I was in here because I took 102 pills and passed out in an underground parking garage. They should have kept me in here for a long, long time. At first, I expected to be locked in here for weeks. But, I wasn’t going to let that happen. I turned on the old Jones charm. I faked till I maked it, as it were. I had those fucking nurses eating out of my hand by paying them compliments, tattling on other patients, being quiet, but not too quiet… I was the model patient the way I am a model PCW employee right now. And when it came time for me to meet with the head shrink who would decide whether or not I had to stay, I just played normal and lied myself out of the psych ward. Yeah. Every word of that is true. So, Miss Montgomery, if you were trying to frighten me with scary stories from your dark side, pink again! I know what it’s like to live on the edge of insanity while trying to look like a normal person, knowing that I am the squarest of pegs, but rocking that round hole like a boss!!!!
Jones walks out of the psych ward as free as a bird. He takes the elevator to the obstetrics department. He steps up to the window and looks in at all of the newborn babies asleep in the nursery. He presses his forehead against the glass as he locks icy blue eyes with a scrawny young boy, just hours old. A single tear falls from Smith’s eye as he mouths I’m sorry to the infant who seems to shrug back at him. They stare at each other.
Smith: I didn’t come into this world to fail indefinitely. I’ve done more than my fair share of failing in this life. It’s time now for me to return to the success you all expect of me. I’m the most dangerous man in PCW and this Saturday night in Oklahoma City is MY NIGHT to return to my most deserved station. I will again become the PCW Broadcast Champion. I’ve spent the past few days trying to figure out how to go forward with this little game of yours. You like fucking with my mind. You want me to go completely insane and blow my cool heading into the most important match of my summer. There will come a moment mid-match where you will hit the floor and bump your head a little harder than expected and there will be a loud ringing in your ears before everything fades to silence and slo motion. You’ll think about giving up. A very, very good instinct, I must say. You’ll think about how hard it would be to wake up the next morning and no longer have that belt or that streak to make you feel important. And when I pull you up by your hair and jolt you rudely from that small slumber, how will you face the future? ANSWER ME, BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!! Because I really and truly want to know how you expect to get up and look at the many grave challenges ahead of you and overcome them. I don’t think you have it in you. That belt is too heavy and you’re going to drop it soon. The streak is a fluky phenomenon that you know you cannot maintain and I am going to come to that ring next Saturday and KILL your impossible dream of continuing on. I will crush you from the inside out!!! I do this thing where I get so deep in my opponent’s cranium that they consider moving out. I say burn it all the fuck down!!!! Because my obsession with the Broadcast Championship is not healthy for me or for you. I want that belt and I plan to take it from you at Wrestle Extravaganza IV.
Mya: Smith?
He bolts awake and is suddenly sitting in Mya’s hospital room the night before she is released.
Smith: Mya. People think they are going to Chesapeake Energy Arena to see some great big party. Fuck that shit! At WE4, I plan to fucking HURT Brytain Montgomery and I assure you that everything is not going to be OK. Sooner or later, the boom will come down on you and I will be the one holding that rugged old belt high above my head for all to see with my lover by my side! I’m the mean mean man. Hashtag heel. Be me. Try.
Mya: I love you, hun.
Smith: I love you, too. I can’t wait to get you out of this damned room.
Fade to black.