Drinking on the job

[We open to the inside of what can only be described as a hole in the wall bar, at best. The type of place that hasn’t seen a woman since the last time its been inspected for health code violations. Brown dingy décor, wooden stools, and a thick grey blanket of cigarette smoke in the air. Two bodies are visible. One elderly man behind the bar wipes down the bar top with a rag that most likely hasn’t ever seen a washing machine. The other is a patron and he has his back toward the camera, sitting on one of the aforementioned stools.]

“Give me another. Make it a double.”

[If the scenery alone doesn’t give it away, the “ZERO TOLERANCE” across his shoulders on the top rocker of his biker vest should. It’s the most hated man in wrestling, Nick Blade. As the camera closes in, he notices he’s being stalked.]

“Might as well have a seat, since you’re here. Just keep your mouth shut and the focus sharp.”

[Glancing up at the camera to acknowledge its existence before starting his rant.]

“I hear the little chitter chatter from the Thunder Buddies. As long as your collective GWA record remains at three wins and six losses, go kill yourselves. Throw yourselves off a cliff and let the grown ups talk.”

[Nick kicks back half his drink. Not even a grimace across his face at the taste of it.]

“Sinister would have you believe that my accomplishments don’t matter because they happened over the course of one or two years. What he won’t mention is the fact that in my one or two good years, I overshadowed everything he’s ever done. You wanna do interviews in front of your trophy case as if you ever got more than one in GWA? There’s no Hall of Fame award in that room. There’s no Wrestler of the Year. If Rockshade hadn’t of been there to carry your dead weight around for all those seasons, nobody around here would even know who you are. So come September 16th, bring that case with ya. Bring all the little cute video vignettes, stories from the road.. hell, bring Remy to the ring. More importantly bring that little pea shooter and pack it full of rubber bullets, because once I stuff that barrel down the back of your throat and pull the trigger, I want it to bounce off all your organs and blow all that dumb shit you been saying directly out your ass.”

[He snickers, taking a break to contemplate his words before verbalizing them. The index finger on his left hand circles the rim of the glass that he’s drinking from.]

“Rockshade, Rockshade, Rockshade.”

[Shaking his head in disapproval.. or disappointment. Blade holds up his half empty glass and downs it before continuing.]

“I’m a drunk with a bum knee. That’s a fact. Facts are a funny thing though. They get a little twisted depending on your point of view. However, from the top of the GWA mountain looking down on you, my view says a drunk with a bum knee and his partner ran circles around you and yours. How long did it take you to hold gold in that ring? It took us one match. I was a star in that arena you sit alone in before I knew who you were. It’s taken us half the time to earn the same amount of achievements you have, simply because you’re half the men we are.”

[Standing up, albeit a bit wobbly, he straightens his vest, brushes the hair out of his face with his right hand and then smiles.]

"Unfortunately for you boys, I got Zero Tolerance for people who spend their entire lives trying to be as good as I always was."

[Fade out.]