Post by Gerard Angelo on Mar 20, 2018 16:51:28 GMT -5
March 1st, 2018
Detective Joe Turner’s chest heaved as he pressed his back against the warm metal of the coup he was hiding behind. Sweat dripped down his forehead mixing with the blood from his head wound. He lick his lips and spat out the metallic mixture of sweat and blood. He flexed the finger he kept on the trigger of his hand gun and move, peaking his head out over the hood of the car. He quickly ducked down again as bullets from an automatic rifle wized by where his head used to be. A few rounds buried themselves in the side of the car, making it shake.
“Oh yeah this is fine.” Said Turner as he shook his head. “Let’s go after the cartel by yourself Joe. Smart. Real smart.”
Joe stuck his hand gun on the hood of the car, firing out a few shots in the direction of the shooter. They are almost immediately answered by another round of bullets hitting the car and shatter a few windows on the coup. Turner curses to himself as glass rains down on his head.
“You know it’s not nice to shoot at the police!” He screams out into the Miami after noon air. “It makes me think you guys are up to something sketchy!”
His assailants respond with more automatic weapon fire. One of the tires on the car gets popped and cause the car to shift slightly. Joe rolls his eyes and shoots back through one broken window. He sighs and decides its time to put a stop to this or the Chief will have his badge.
“Alright, dickheads, it’s go time.”
The bell rings as the director yells cut. Gerard Angelo stands up and tosses his prop gun on the street in disgust.
Gerard: “What the fuck was wrong with this take Mike?!”
The director, Mike DaFoe gets up from his chair.
Mike: “The line is its time to rock n roll, Gerry! We’ve been doing this take 7 times already.”
“It’s time to rock and roll is lame as fuck, Mike. Who’s writing this shit? We’ve been doing this for four season and this season is starting to sound like fucking Mickey Mouse is writing it!”
Mike grits his teeth, not used to having actors yell at him, an Academy Award winning director.
Mike: “Listen maybe it’s not the writing. Maybe it’s your shitty acting!”
At this point the entire crew and other actors have stopped what they’re doing to watch the co-star and director scream at each other. Gerry’s fist tightens at his side as he tries to keep himself from causing a real scene.
“Listen here, Mike, you balding fuck.” DaFoe steps back as the larger man steps closer to him, poking a finger into his large chest thats only outsized by his gut. “The only reason you’re even directing this show is because Tom retired. You are a washed up has been. You know it, I know it, and everyone on this god damn set knows it! If this show makes it through the entire fifth season it’ll be a god damned miracle.”
Mike, being in shock for the first few moments of Angelo’s rant, has the shock replaced with anger and embarrassment.
Mike: “You… you’re nothing but another spoiled, talentless actor. This shows ratings have been tanking season by season. Tom retired because he didn’t want you bringing down his legacy! I was brought in to save this show, and I’ll be damned if you don’t show me the respect I deserve. I have Oscars! If it wasn’t for that awful, redneck, garbage you’re famous for you would be an extra in…”
Gerard has heard enough as he shoves the short man in the chest. Not ready for it, Mike tumbles backwards and lands hard on his ass. Most crew members are in shock, along with Mike, but a few of them including the actors laugh under their breath. Gerard smirks, but quickly realizes what he did and decides to leave to make sure the situation doesn’t exacerbate.
“I’ll be in my trailer.”
Gerry quickly walks off set and down the street. He turns at the intersection where the trailers, makeup, and catering are being held. He gets and few head nods from various makeup artist, bests boys, and grips as he walks, most them not knowing what he did to the director yet. He reaches his trailer and skips up the four steps and open the door. He shuts it and sighs, pressing his back into the door as the cool air from the A/C hits his sweaty skin.
“You’re back early. You done shooting already?”
Gerry looks over at his brother, Sean, stretched out on the couch in shorts and and white tee, MacBook computer high on his chest as he continues to surf the internet, not looking up at his older brother. Gerry chuckles.
“Not really. I kinda got into a screaming match with DaFoe and I shoved him, so I dipped.”
Sean: “Good, that guys a cuck. You know you’re being romantically linked to Kendall Jenner these days?”
Gerry laughs at his brother and shakes his head. He always knew how to cheer him up.
“They’re about two years too late with that news.”
Sean: “No wonder you sucked at wrestling toward the end.”
“Hey! I had a career threatening knee injury!”
Gerry grimaces even though his little brother doesn’t see. He knew it was a joke but between mike bringing it up and now his brother he was starting to wonder if he had given it all he had left before he walked away. He had always thought he did but the familiar itch was starting to plague him once more. Had he left it all in the ring? Or was the knee injury just an excuse because he couldn’t hack it anymore? The surgeon said his knee was almost as good as if he never tore anything. Gerry stroked his beard before rubbing his hand on the side of his face, rubbing off the fake blood. Maybe he should inquire at promotions, see if he can make a come back. Maybe he still had one more….
Sean: “Gerry… you even listening? God damn…”
Gerard snaps out of his pondering and looks at his brother.
Sean: “I asked if you wanna go get some tacos since you’re obviously not working the rest of the day. I’m really craving fish tacos.”
“I thought you were a vegan now.”
Sean shake his head.
Sean: “Nah, bro. I’m only vegan in California. I do it for the girls. If you don’t put meat in your mouth, it’s easier to get your meat in a mouth.”
Gerard rolls his eyes as he motions for his brother to get up off the couch.
“You’re something else, Sean.
March 2, 2018
Gerard sits on his hotel room balcony. The warm breeze of Florida rustles his hair. It’s dark, his face illuminated by the light from his phone as he scrolls through the web on his phone. Gerry brings the cigarette he’s smoking to his lips, taking a drag as the cherry glow bright red, the breeze taking the blue/grey smoke with it. It’s a bad habit he thinks as he exhales, even if he only smokes when he’s stressed or something is weighing on his mind. Much like now. He scratches his bare chest and puts the cigarette out in the ashtray on the glass table in front of him. He needed to do something to ease his mind. He can’t let these nagging thoughts haunt him for the rest of his life. The “what ifs” plaguing his mind. One more run.
Gerry closed the internet app and opened up his phonebook and dialed the last caller. It rang for a bit before a voice answered.
“Yo Jimmy, it’s Gerard.”
Jimmy laughs on the other end of the line. Jimmy Rothenberg is Gerard’s agent since he first broke into Hollywood. He was a short man with an even shorter temper, but he was fiercely loyal to his clients.
Jimmy: “You’re in my phone. I know when my favorite client is calling me.”
“I thought I was your only client?”
Jimmy: “Rude. But what can I do you for, Gerry?”
“You know why I called.”
Jimmy sighs on the other end of the line.
Jimmy: “Are you sure you wanna do this, bud? You got such a good thing going on with the show, and I keep getting offers for you to do movies.”
“I’m sure about this, Jim. I need to do this.”
Rothenberg groans on the other end of the phone.
Jimmy: “Alright fine. I reached out to a bunch of companies and I got five offers for you. One is from Impact Wrestling. But no, I don’t even watch wrestling and I can tell this is trash. So I’ll throw that out. The remaining ones are Ring of Honor, New Japan Pro Wrestling, Pure Class Wrestling, and WWE. So I figured we can just sign the WWE one and…”
“No.” Gerry says as he cuts his agent off. “People will think I’m just looking for a payday or to further my stardom. I don’t want my legacy tarnished like that.”
Jimmy: “Who cares what people say? If you wanna do this wrestling thing you might as well make some money!”
“No. I’m going to sign with Pure Class.”
“I didn’t stutter, James. Call them and tell them I accept the offer.”
Jimmy: “Alright. Hey listen, I got a call from the studio. Did you really shove…”
Jimmy gets cut off as Gerard hangs up. He opens the internet app again to the site he was scrolling. PureClassWrestling.com.
Gerry winces as he sits up in bed, holding his lower back. He shakes the cob webs out of his head as he looks around the room, trying got figure out where he is. It looks like a hotel room, but its not his. It’s not his house he knows that. He goes to stand up, but holds his lower back again. That sneak attack at Mass Destruction really did a number on him. He looked down and realized he was naked. He turns and looks at the bed, a dark haired woman sleeping in the bed facing away from our hero.
“Ugh, I need to stop drinking…”
He slowly walks back over and lifts up the sheet, taking a peak.
“Niceee. Good job, Gerry.”
Angelo grabs his phone off the table and finds his boxers, sliding them on as he heads out onto the balcony of the hotel room. He looks down at the pool below him, seeing families playing in and around it. Our hero opens his phone and checks the weather, hoping it tell him where he is. Back in Miami it seems. Gerry calls his brother, waiting as the phone rings.
Sean: “Hey bro. Where did you go last night? You missed out on a great party that Darnell threw. A bunch strippers got naked in the pool and one even let me blow..”
“Sean! Shut up. I don’t need to hear how you got another STD.”
Sean: “Hey, you can’t get herpes twice.”
“You’re a moron.”
Sean: “I’m shrugging right now. So you okay after Mass Destruction? That big gal did a number on you. Did you get her number? I’d smash.”
Gerry rolls his eyes.
“Well my back hurts but I think I’m okay. Jimmy called me freaking out, he wanted to sue everyone.”
Sean: “Wow that guy really doesn’t get it.”
“Not at all. I’m just pissed every time I show up in a promotion a bunch of weirdos wanna jump me. It’s like all the kids that were shoved into lockers in high school wanna take it out on me.”
Sean: “They probably just wanna make a name for themselves since you’re a legit star. It was all over the news sites that you got jumped. Maybe that big girl likes you, bro.”
“Well she didn’t do a good job showing it. She got macaroni salad on my Armani suit.”
Sean: “Like you can’t afford another one. But listen, I gotta run I got Stacy coming over and we’re gonna use your hot tub if you feel me.”
“Wait you’re at my house? No! Don’t bring your nasty girlfriends into my hot tub! I just got it cleaned!”
Sean: “Sorry the number you called is not in service…”
Sean hangs up as our hero sighs. He’s definitely gonna have to choke Sean out next time he sees him. Gerard looks back into the room and tires to figure out how to get out of here with out waking up the woman. Gerry peers over the railing, wondering how far the drop would be. Nah not worth it.
Our scene cuts to Gerard Angelo, now fully dressed in a a grey suit with black pinstripes, setting up a portable camera. He steps backwards and sits in a directors chair. He smirks at the camera.
“No, no, PCW faithful! You are not dreaming. It is I, wrestling legend and famous actor, ‘The Hollywood Hero’ Gerard Angelo. And I am here in Pure Class Wrestling. Why do you ask? And I will answer your question with a question. Why not?”
“I’m here because I thought it was time to dust off the old rasslin’ boots. And believe me when I tell you I could have gone any where. And I mean anywhere. But I chose to come to PCW. Because I want to make sure my legacy is intact. I want to go down as the very best to ever lace up a pair of boots. I came to PCW because I want to face the very best in the world. Not to mention the very lucrative contract they drew up for me.”
“But thats neither here nor there. Anything that they’re paying me over these four years they will make up in six months with me just being signed here. As much as all the performers in PCW are the best in the world, I’m a legit star. Forget about my Hollywood pedigree. From a pure professional wrestling stand point I am a god among men. I’ve sold out arenas twice the size of the PCW Arena. I’ve headlined huge events from Toronto To Tokyo. Hell I move piles and piles of merchandise. I’m still getting royalty checks to this day. Look at what I’ve already done. Sunday, they day I signed on the dotted line in Myrtle Beach, PCW releases it’s game changing PCW Network. Why? Because I made it possible.”
Our hero smirks again as he selflessly promotes him self.
“I’ve given PCW the mega star that can lead them into the future. The real star that will make this company number one in the world in the eyes of everyone. The star that will put asses into the seats and sell subscriptions to the Network. I’m here to make sure all the paying fans go home happy. Just think of all the dream matches that everyone thought could never happen, that can now.”
Gerry looks up as if seeing an imaginary marquee.
“Gerard Angelo. Verses. Dominator.”
“Gerard Angelo. Verses. Justin Michaels.
Gerry waves his hand in the air.
“Gerard Angelo. Verses. Grimm.”
He lowers his eyes and stares at the camera filming this.
“Gerard Angelo. Verses. Kyle Shane.”
Gerry lets his words hang out there, making sure everyone can imagine these matches he’s presenting. His smirk then turns into a grimace.
“But before we get to any of the fun stuff. I have to deal with a group of silly cosplaying idiots. I’m backstage signing autographs because I’m a great guy, minding my own business when this reject Ronald McDonald strolls up to me and starts talking about Moby Dick. Now maybe I started it by insulting this guy, Braddock, or whatever. But he should’ve been a MAN, and said something to my face, instead of having Andrea the Giant jump me from behind. Speaking of her, you owe me twenty five-hundred dollars for that suit! I expect a check in the mail by Trauma.”
Angelo sits up and straightens out his suit.
“Not only do I gotta deal with those two jerk offs, but they got another BBW, Alexa Black, and an ex sumo?
Gerard rolls his eyes hard.
"Didn’t any of you ever take a class in stable building one oh one? You guys are more like a fetish porno then a dominating force.”
Gerry stands up and buttons his suit bottom.
“Listen Braddock. Jesus Christ thats a dumb fuckin' name. Couldn’t you have been something simple like Havoc, or Carl? Fuck it, I’m just calling you Brad. So Brad, I really don’t know what your problem is with me is. Maybe it’s because I have a face that doesn’t need to be covered up by cheap make up. Maybe it’s because you’re jealous. Maybe you just belong in a padded room. But you come face me like a man you big goon. Don’t send your girlfriend or Sumo Sam to do your dirty work, guy.”
“And that brings me to you Hiroshi Yukio. I’ve met many a sumo in my travels to the Land of the Rising Sun, and I have great respect for your sport. BUT, I don’t have any respect for someone who wants to align themselves with the Crazy Carnival or whatever you’re calling yourselves. God who is naming these things around here? Anyway, Hiro, can I call you Hiro, I’m going to anyway. Hiro, what do you need these other goons for? You’re a real athlete. A champion. I mean you could take the whole professional wrestling world by storm. That is of course, unless you’re a washed up has been.”
The Hollywood Hero smirks again.
“You are suppose to be this giant badass, along with Brad, and you guys couldn’t even handle business in a tag match together. And I’m supposed to be intimidated. Please.”
Gerard laughs but on the inside he realizes his plan will either work, or he’s going to get his organs rearranged next week by an angry 500 pound man.
“You’re a wash out from another sport. I’ve been wrestling since I was seventeen years old. I used to ditch out on high school to go wrestle in Mexico. I missed football games, basketball, baseball, all to follow something I’ve had a passion for since I was five years old. I’ve put my blood and sweat into the business for years until my body literally broke under the pressure to be the best day in and day out. I’m the Man With Out Peer. And tubby, you ain’t got nothing on me.”
The Hollywood Hero extends his arms, soaking in the moment of knowing he's about to be back.
“Learn to love it.”