Andrew Morgan - A Lot To Prove
Jul 11, 2021 20:17:42 GMT -5
robriot, Jesse Jamester, and 2 more like this
Post by Union Jack on Jul 11, 2021 20:17:42 GMT -5
The midday sun burns bright in the afternoon sky high above ‘The Phoenix Ranch’ as Andrew Morgan emerges onto the deck of his ramshackle home. He is wearing a pair of well worn dusty denims, a black tee and a brown leather jacket. As he steps down from the deck onto the arid ground below his work boots kick up a small cloud of dust. He slowly crosses the hardpan driveway, a gym bag clutched in his right hand.
The screen on his front door swings open and closed once again as a tired, chocolate brown Labrador Retriever follows his master out into the stifling heat. Blinking against the offensive brightness he draws his body back stretching his front legs before righting himself, yawning and licking his chops. He growls momentarily, drawing Morgan’s attention. Morgan looks back at the dog, then follows his gaze to stare directly into the observing camera several feet away. A look of disdain washes across his face.
"Huh?” Morgan’s gruff, demanding tone tells of an unheard conversation we suddenly find ourselves witnessing. “What did you say?"
Morgan pulls open the driver side door and tosses the bag across the cab into the footwell of the passenger's seat before looking back at the camera.
"Management sent you? A vignette? Do I look like I wanna shoot a vignette?" Morgan sighs his annoyance. "Why don't you just go talk to one of the others? Christ knows there’s enough of us! Fowler, Riot, Windsor… Better yet, Parsons! They’re the showmen, they’ll give you something to work with. A story… soundbite… Whatever it is that you’re looking for, one of them will give it to ya." Morgan snort’s laughter. “If I know Chris; and I do know Chris, he’ll have a Pirate Ship ready and waiting to shoot a vaguely wrestling themed Princess Bride skit.”
“What?!” Instantly a tone of extreme annoyance had returned to Morgan’s voice “Yes, Obviously I know Andre was in the movie! I meant a slightly more wrestling themed version!”
The dog steps heavily down off the deck, wanders over to Morgan’s side and nuzzles against his thigh. Without a second’s thought, Morgan reaches down and scratches him between the ears.
“Wait… Are you recording?!” Morgan listens intently for a moment or two before taking a half step toward the camera “This had better not air! I do not want to be roped into more of Chris’ bullshit.”
“No… No, I never said that. You’re misunderstanding me.” Morgan shakes his head and leans against the truck door. “It isn’t that I dont wan’t to work with those guys. Far from it. Despite their quirks, their eccentricities, their unique… themness, each of them has somehow managed to take their place among the most legendary figures in the entire industry.” Morgan sighs loudly. “Okay fine; I’ll give you something to work with, but you cut the rest, Okay? I really don’t want Parsons hearing that idea… As the resident big man in the Galactic Sex Pirates” Morgan rolls his eyes as he uses their collective name “I don’t need to be giving Parsons That idea.”
Morgan looks down at the dog, who’s ability to read his owner is uncanny and the animal looks up to his master at just the right moment. Morgan nods his head toward the truck, an almost invisible gesture, and the brown dog hops into the cab before Morgan slams the door shut. Morgan straighten's himself and a fixed look comes over his face as he stares into the camera.
“Look… A large part of why I came back during the Call To Arms tournament was as a favour to Chris Parsons... but I’d be lying if I denied having an itch to scratch. I’d figured one match would be all I needed, then I went out first. Do you know how that feels?! Yeah, we did okay as a team, but once I went from the Young Boy to World Champion in the space of one tournament... and now I can't get through a single match?!" Morgan shakes his head in disgust "What's worse, I agree to continue on with this Sex Pirate horseshit and get booked in the fuckin' opener on a generic 'self titled' no named show against a career loser, a talentless hack and a diversity hire... what's worse is my opponents are all so god damned interchangable, even they wouldn’t be able to tell which of those references is aimed at them.”
Morgan shakes his head and chuckles.
“When I stepped away from wrestling, I believed I’d done everything that I needed to. By winning a World Championship in the opening stages of my career I felt I’d accomplished the impossible and that everything thereafter was simply icing on the cake…” A brief flash of anger flares in Morgan’s eyes. “But now I find there are questions. Not from the fans, or the bookers, or even the locker-room, but in here…” Morgan drives a clenched fist into his chest. “Internal questions brought about from my own self-doubt.”
“You can call me a Galactic Sex Pirate, an Inglorious Bastard... whatever you call me, know I’m here to prove myself as more than a one hit wonder or face in the crowd, more than a past my prime flash in the pan. I’ve aligned myself with some of the most talented, successful wrestlers this industry has ever known. Wherever they go each is synonymous with success. They are titans among men, and soon my name will deservedly be etched in the history books alongside theirs… The Phoenix will once again rise from the ashes.”
With that, Morgan turns and climbs into the cab of his truck. He scratches his dog behind the ear before starting the engine. The sound of the truck almost completely drowns out the words he mumbles “ … God damn opening match…” as the truck heads off along the driveway and beyond.
The screen on his front door swings open and closed once again as a tired, chocolate brown Labrador Retriever follows his master out into the stifling heat. Blinking against the offensive brightness he draws his body back stretching his front legs before righting himself, yawning and licking his chops. He growls momentarily, drawing Morgan’s attention. Morgan looks back at the dog, then follows his gaze to stare directly into the observing camera several feet away. A look of disdain washes across his face.
"Huh?” Morgan’s gruff, demanding tone tells of an unheard conversation we suddenly find ourselves witnessing. “What did you say?"
Morgan pulls open the driver side door and tosses the bag across the cab into the footwell of the passenger's seat before looking back at the camera.
"Management sent you? A vignette? Do I look like I wanna shoot a vignette?" Morgan sighs his annoyance. "Why don't you just go talk to one of the others? Christ knows there’s enough of us! Fowler, Riot, Windsor… Better yet, Parsons! They’re the showmen, they’ll give you something to work with. A story… soundbite… Whatever it is that you’re looking for, one of them will give it to ya." Morgan snort’s laughter. “If I know Chris; and I do know Chris, he’ll have a Pirate Ship ready and waiting to shoot a vaguely wrestling themed Princess Bride skit.”
“What?!” Instantly a tone of extreme annoyance had returned to Morgan’s voice “Yes, Obviously I know Andre was in the movie! I meant a slightly more wrestling themed version!”
The dog steps heavily down off the deck, wanders over to Morgan’s side and nuzzles against his thigh. Without a second’s thought, Morgan reaches down and scratches him between the ears.
“Wait… Are you recording?!” Morgan listens intently for a moment or two before taking a half step toward the camera “This had better not air! I do not want to be roped into more of Chris’ bullshit.”
“No… No, I never said that. You’re misunderstanding me.” Morgan shakes his head and leans against the truck door. “It isn’t that I dont wan’t to work with those guys. Far from it. Despite their quirks, their eccentricities, their unique… themness, each of them has somehow managed to take their place among the most legendary figures in the entire industry.” Morgan sighs loudly. “Okay fine; I’ll give you something to work with, but you cut the rest, Okay? I really don’t want Parsons hearing that idea… As the resident big man in the Galactic Sex Pirates” Morgan rolls his eyes as he uses their collective name “I don’t need to be giving Parsons That idea.”
Morgan looks down at the dog, who’s ability to read his owner is uncanny and the animal looks up to his master at just the right moment. Morgan nods his head toward the truck, an almost invisible gesture, and the brown dog hops into the cab before Morgan slams the door shut. Morgan straighten's himself and a fixed look comes over his face as he stares into the camera.
“Look… A large part of why I came back during the Call To Arms tournament was as a favour to Chris Parsons... but I’d be lying if I denied having an itch to scratch. I’d figured one match would be all I needed, then I went out first. Do you know how that feels?! Yeah, we did okay as a team, but once I went from the Young Boy to World Champion in the space of one tournament... and now I can't get through a single match?!" Morgan shakes his head in disgust "What's worse, I agree to continue on with this Sex Pirate horseshit and get booked in the fuckin' opener on a generic 'self titled' no named show against a career loser, a talentless hack and a diversity hire... what's worse is my opponents are all so god damned interchangable, even they wouldn’t be able to tell which of those references is aimed at them.”
Morgan shakes his head and chuckles.
“When I stepped away from wrestling, I believed I’d done everything that I needed to. By winning a World Championship in the opening stages of my career I felt I’d accomplished the impossible and that everything thereafter was simply icing on the cake…” A brief flash of anger flares in Morgan’s eyes. “But now I find there are questions. Not from the fans, or the bookers, or even the locker-room, but in here…” Morgan drives a clenched fist into his chest. “Internal questions brought about from my own self-doubt.”
“You can call me a Galactic Sex Pirate, an Inglorious Bastard... whatever you call me, know I’m here to prove myself as more than a one hit wonder or face in the crowd, more than a past my prime flash in the pan. I’ve aligned myself with some of the most talented, successful wrestlers this industry has ever known. Wherever they go each is synonymous with success. They are titans among men, and soon my name will deservedly be etched in the history books alongside theirs… The Phoenix will once again rise from the ashes.”
With that, Morgan turns and climbs into the cab of his truck. He scratches his dog behind the ear before starting the engine. The sound of the truck almost completely drowns out the words he mumbles “ … God damn opening match…” as the truck heads off along the driveway and beyond.
