Flat

[chase]

[The pitter patter of rain drops can be heard pelting the red shingled rooftop of a Red roof Inn motel as the camera slowly pans to the road below where a man in a shiny yellow hooded raincoat stands next to a used beige beater car, a 1986 four door hatchback Honda Civic. He looks down at his flat tire, deflated. A striking flash of lightning lights up the night sky, briefly illuminating the man that we now identity as Northern Pro Wrestling newcomer, Bryan Chase. He digs out a baby yoda keychain from his front-right pocket. The key finds the keyhole on the hatchback and it pops open. Chase moves a few objects around before pulling out a tire jack and tire iron. He dirties the left knee on his brown corduroy pants when he drops down to loosen the lug nuts on the flat tire with a tire iron. It slips off the bolt and a four lettered profanity slips out as the tire iron spins around bruising the knuckles on the left hand.]

“FAWK!”

(Bryan Chase shakes it off and begins to crank up the tire jack while cutting a promo directed at no one in particular at the moment as an occasional car drives by splashing up a mud puddle onto his once clean, white Adidas shoes.)

-Bryan Chase-
Lord knows I’m far from perfect. Never been much of a model “Christian” and broken more of the ten commandments than I care to admit. It’s so easy to cast stones from glass houses and blame others nowadays for our own faults. There are points in our lives where we realize that the buck stops with us. The common denominator in all of my own poor life choices, bad mistakes and personal decisions made gone wrong is the man who looks back at me in the mirror.

(He gives a glance at his reflection in the side view mirror then continues cranking the tire jack up.)

-Bryan Chase-
It was a very sobering reality coming to this conclusion. That I’m responsible for every action and inaction in my life. Take this flat tire, for example. It isn’t the tires fault for driving over a board with a long nail in it, it is mine for choosing a shortcut and then paying more attention to texting than driving.

(Howling can be heard as a half crescent moon glows through the grey clouds above.)

-Bryan Chase-
Prior to coming into NPW, I had become consumed maybe even obsessed with satisfying my own ego or protecting it’s fragility with delusions of grandeur while living vicariously through others success. Energetically I was putting out fuzzy, half committed signals instead of putting out a tone clear and pure as a church bell of my wants, needs and desires inside of this business of professional wrestling. I became complacent, unmotivated, numb to the outer world. Masking my true feelings of failure through pills, booze and drugs.

(He rubs his wrist where a deep, short, vertical “suicide” scar is shown running up his forearm behind the silver Rolex watch and reads the time. It’s 10:54 pm.)

-Bryan Chase-
That is until one fateful day when I consumed and ingested enough narcotics to overdose myself into a coma. My doctor explained to me that During an overdose, the body experiences CNS depression, which can result in decreased rate of breathing, decreased heart rate, and loss of consciousness, possibly leading to coma or death. In other words, an overdose causes the body to forget to breathe on its own. Fortunately I woke up in a hazy fog and had an awakening. An epiphany. A realization that I have been riding in the passenger side of my own life with the seatbelt on for far too long. Piggy backing off my clients successes as if it were my own, living vicariously through them while riding off the coat tails of their hard earned work. After all, you can’t lose when you are sitting on the sidelines crossing t's and dotting i's right? Wrong. You miss 100 percent of the shots that you don’t take. Truth is if you don’t try to win then you already lost; a lesson I learnt the hard way.

(He removes the lug nuts then fetches the spare from the trunk.)

-Bryan Chase-
All the wrestling skills in the world won’t help anyone win when your head isn’t in the game. I’ve been given a new lease on life and now I’m ready to make the most of it with concussion kicks far as the eye can see. The old me would take my lumps and suck it up then move on to the next without giving it a second thought. The new me? Isn’t going to turn the other cheek in some empty handed gesture of being the bigger man. Eric Dane and Scott Steel want to play backstage bully? Well I’ll be your Huckleberry, boys. I have seen and heard what you have done in my short time here and I’m impressed with what you both bring to the proverbial table. Two naturals on the microphone and in that squared circle we call a wrestling ring but if you think that I’m the type to role over and play dead like a opossum then you’ve got another thing coming because now I have the necessary motivation to become a problematic burden for the pair of you. Not the thorn in your side or a pebble in the shoe kind of nuisance but more like a bamboo stick shoved under your toenails while you run a marathon but all in due time.

(He pulls the flat tire off and slides the spare into position, tightening the lug nut bolts.)

-Bryan Chase-
First things first. Black Diamond. If the rumors are true. That this masked luchador from Mexico is coming to Northern Pro Wrestling, then the fans will get their money’s worth when we put on wrestling classic where we determine who the better man is on that night, old school style.

B. C. Versus B.D. luchador versus a well rounded catch-n-catch-can technical assassin..

Lucha Libre Wrestling has a long and rich history in Mexico with a flashy, high flying style while implementing some of the most innovative counter wrestling moves in the sport. A clash of styles makes for great matches and this is a match that I’m hyped for and pumped up to participate in so lace up those boots and that Lucha mask real tight BD! We are going to find out which of us are closer to that cusp of greatness.

(Bryan Chase climbs into the beater car and fires up to 4 cylinder engine, driving off into the night with sights set on Black Diamond as we fade to black)