Post by ethanking on Feb 7, 2018 13:06:48 GMT -5
"Upon reflection, I think I should be insulted."
Ethan King once again is sitting at a desk in a dark room, reclining in the shadows as though conducting an interview for a job applicant he has already decided to reject, but is stringing along out of some twisted entertainment. Every inch of him oozes an almost malignant confidence as he leers at the camera with uncaring disdain.
"One would have assumed that winning Combat Wrestling's first ever Main Event might earn me a little more attention in the follow-up episode. I should have been booked against Killian Kold or Taane. Someone who has won a match in this company who at least can present the idea of being on my level through the benefit of having the same win record as I do. Instead I get paired with Taane's sloppy seconds, the man too weak to win and too boring to pin - HardKore."
Ethan abruptly pauses to take a long, exhausted sigh, closing his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose. He looks beyond the camera, seeming to break the fourth wall as he addresses not the audience, but the cameraman.
"Are we... are we seriously doing this? I mean,"HardKore"? Tell me something - Why am I wrestling an eight-year-old boy? I can only assume that I'm wrestling an eight-year-old boy in an adult human suit. "HardKore". Really, that's... that's what he's got. I see more creativity in how McDonald's names its food. Ooh, look at me, I'm a hard core wrestler so I'm just going to call myself that but replace the "c" with a "k" because I'm edgy and cool. Please tell me this is a joke."
The camera shakes side to side. Ethan looks like he's about to have an aneurysm.
"...It's not. Wow, okay, he's actually expecting people to take him seriously?"
The camera nods up and down.
"Huh. So by that logic I'm wrestling Barney the fucking Dinosaur next week? Fine, whatever, lets move on. What? No. No, I don't want you to edit this part out of the promo, I want him to see exactly how much respect I lack for this bottom-feeding joke of a wannabe athlete, keep rolling."
Ethan shakes his head and regains his composure, once again staring the camera down. "I'm going to just assume that Spike Kane is waiting for some other idols to be built up so that it matters more when I tear them down. Until then... this match is... happening... I guess."
"What do you think... the red, or the purple?"
Gwen and Ethan were at the Boston Lord & Taylor. They had spent the last few weeks enjoying the presidential suite at a downtown luxury hotel, but they had begun to grow tired of the constant presence of strangers in the building. While it was nice to not have to worry about their own belongings for a time, the two of them ad agreed the night before that it was high time for them to strike out and find their own place to live. As they had sold all of their furniture from their apartment in Japan, they had decided to make a sweep of the better department stores in the city to get a head start on furnishing their home.
Ethan examined the two couches carefully. "I'm leaning more towards the purple. It has more of the regal look, and I think it goes better with your eyes."
"Flatterer."
"One of my many gifts."
They made a note with the sales clerk to put the item in question on hold. Even if they didn't have a place of their own yet, they could at least purchase things to place in storage until such a time as they'd come to an agreement on where they would be living. That had, in itself, been more complicated than Ethan had anticipated. None of the apartments they'd visited had met Gwen's approval yet, and he was beginning to worry if any of them would satisfy her. He wanted to give her everything she wanted, but if what she wanted didn't exist...
"You were right about Boston, by the way?"
Ethan raised an eyebrow, snapping out of his worry. "Oh?"
Gwen smiled at him as she leaned against a mahogany table. "Mm. I'd forgotten how much I enjoy America's grit. I'll miss Japan, but it's more familiar here. Like... like swimming in a river where you know all the currents. Boston fits."
Ethan smiled back at his wife. "I'm glad. I'd have hated to take you here only for you to despise it."
"And what would you have done if I had?"
Ethan chuckled. "Told Spike Kane that there are more important things to me than his little company and gone somewhere else, taking you on some new adventure."
Gwen chuckled warmly as she turned to examine the table she'd been leaning upon. "Good man... but I think your instincts were right on this one. I can see myself living here. Long term."
Ethan arched an eyebrow again, curious. "How so?"
Gwen turned to face him. "I think it's time, Ethan. I think this is the place. I want a house, not an apartment. We can still travel the world and go on adventures together... but I think I'd like having a house in Boston to come home to."
Ethan hesitated. Since he'd first moved out of his parents' Green Bay home at 18, he'd never truly settled down. He'd reveled in the freedom it gave him, moving from place to place almost on a whim. Their five years in Japan had been the longest he'd spent in a single place beyond his childhood home, and he had only been able to do so because Gwen was with him. Making roots, building a permanent home... it was an almost alien idea to him. He had enjoyed his freedom so long... could he be happy staying in one place for the rest of his life?
Gwen called the clerk over again, making reservations on the table. She was smiling. Excited. He imagined her walking through the halls of a proper mansion, running her hands along that mahogany table in the sunlight streaming trough the window with an ocean view. He smiled at the thought. It was Gwen that made life in Japan for those five years joyous. Gwen would make the rest of his life in Boston just the same.
"Okay," he said at length, nodding. "Definitely the purple."
"Tell me, Hard... god, no, I still just can't do it. Hey camera guy... what's a name that you think is the kind of name most likely to belong to the kid in the back of the class eating paste?" After a moment he starts laughing. "Yes! That one! Perfect! Okay, HardKore - from now on? You're Chauncey. Deal with it."
He smirks and leans back in his chair. "So tell me Chauncey. As you walk into this match, full of those little things I imagine people who fail at things console themselves with - things like 'well at least I didn't get pinned', 'but I made him fight for it' and 'maybe mom won't hit me with her bible when I get home this time' - how much of a chance do you really think you have against me? I mean, think about that long and hard for a few moments, Chauncey - because right now I don't see anything from you that I would consider the least bit threatening."
He shakes his head, chuckling. "The truth is, Chauncey, that I could honestly be doing three dozen other things right now that would be much more worth my time than sitting here and continuing to remind you how completely insignificant I find you. And believe me, I enjoy sitting down and tearing someone's self-esteem apart for hours on end - its one of my favorite parts about quarterly reviews. But you're just so... entirely boring. You've done absolutely nothing of interest in Combat Wrestling. You showed up one night and stood around, too bland to even be involved in the finish of your own debut match. Whereas I? I've won every match I've been involved in since I joined Combat Wrestling - not just didn't get pinned, but WON. Face the facts, Chauncey - you've been put in the unfortunate position of simply being a time-waster for the company as they set up a big event where they can afford to blow the interesting matches."
He arches an eyebrow. "You... do... realize that, don't you Chauncey? I wasn't joking earlier when I said I was assuming that the only reason you're booked against me is to give the other, more interesting competition time to build themselves up so it's more impactful when I beat them. You see, Chauncey, as much as you will inevitably try to convince yourself and the rest of the world otherwise, you aren't a roadblock on my highway to domination in Combat Wrestling. You're not a challenge in my way, something for me to overcome.
You're a 50-cent toll booth on an Illinois freeway - cheap, easy to get through, and intended to be nothing more than an inconvenient delay for my travel plans while making just a little more money for the state."
He sighs and stands up behind his desk. "I've been more invested and entertained in shopping for furniture than I am in sitting here and wasting my time painting your deaf ears with my words - so you know what? I'm calling it here, Chauncey. I'll see you on Friday Night, and put you firmly in your place."
He takes a step away before catching himself, reaching into his pocket. "Before I forget - here's your fee."
He takes out two quarters and holds them before the camera with an arrogant grin, tossing them into the lens as the video cuts to black.
Ethan King once again is sitting at a desk in a dark room, reclining in the shadows as though conducting an interview for a job applicant he has already decided to reject, but is stringing along out of some twisted entertainment. Every inch of him oozes an almost malignant confidence as he leers at the camera with uncaring disdain.
"One would have assumed that winning Combat Wrestling's first ever Main Event might earn me a little more attention in the follow-up episode. I should have been booked against Killian Kold or Taane. Someone who has won a match in this company who at least can present the idea of being on my level through the benefit of having the same win record as I do. Instead I get paired with Taane's sloppy seconds, the man too weak to win and too boring to pin - HardKore."
Ethan abruptly pauses to take a long, exhausted sigh, closing his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose. He looks beyond the camera, seeming to break the fourth wall as he addresses not the audience, but the cameraman.
"Are we... are we seriously doing this? I mean,"HardKore"? Tell me something - Why am I wrestling an eight-year-old boy? I can only assume that I'm wrestling an eight-year-old boy in an adult human suit. "HardKore". Really, that's... that's what he's got. I see more creativity in how McDonald's names its food. Ooh, look at me, I'm a hard core wrestler so I'm just going to call myself that but replace the "c" with a "k" because I'm edgy and cool. Please tell me this is a joke."
The camera shakes side to side. Ethan looks like he's about to have an aneurysm.
"...It's not. Wow, okay, he's actually expecting people to take him seriously?"
The camera nods up and down.
"Huh. So by that logic I'm wrestling Barney the fucking Dinosaur next week? Fine, whatever, lets move on. What? No. No, I don't want you to edit this part out of the promo, I want him to see exactly how much respect I lack for this bottom-feeding joke of a wannabe athlete, keep rolling."
Ethan shakes his head and regains his composure, once again staring the camera down. "I'm going to just assume that Spike Kane is waiting for some other idols to be built up so that it matters more when I tear them down. Until then... this match is... happening... I guess."
"What do you think... the red, or the purple?"
Gwen and Ethan were at the Boston Lord & Taylor. They had spent the last few weeks enjoying the presidential suite at a downtown luxury hotel, but they had begun to grow tired of the constant presence of strangers in the building. While it was nice to not have to worry about their own belongings for a time, the two of them ad agreed the night before that it was high time for them to strike out and find their own place to live. As they had sold all of their furniture from their apartment in Japan, they had decided to make a sweep of the better department stores in the city to get a head start on furnishing their home.
Ethan examined the two couches carefully. "I'm leaning more towards the purple. It has more of the regal look, and I think it goes better with your eyes."
"Flatterer."
"One of my many gifts."
They made a note with the sales clerk to put the item in question on hold. Even if they didn't have a place of their own yet, they could at least purchase things to place in storage until such a time as they'd come to an agreement on where they would be living. That had, in itself, been more complicated than Ethan had anticipated. None of the apartments they'd visited had met Gwen's approval yet, and he was beginning to worry if any of them would satisfy her. He wanted to give her everything she wanted, but if what she wanted didn't exist...
"You were right about Boston, by the way?"
Ethan raised an eyebrow, snapping out of his worry. "Oh?"
Gwen smiled at him as she leaned against a mahogany table. "Mm. I'd forgotten how much I enjoy America's grit. I'll miss Japan, but it's more familiar here. Like... like swimming in a river where you know all the currents. Boston fits."
Ethan smiled back at his wife. "I'm glad. I'd have hated to take you here only for you to despise it."
"And what would you have done if I had?"
Ethan chuckled. "Told Spike Kane that there are more important things to me than his little company and gone somewhere else, taking you on some new adventure."
Gwen chuckled warmly as she turned to examine the table she'd been leaning upon. "Good man... but I think your instincts were right on this one. I can see myself living here. Long term."
Ethan arched an eyebrow again, curious. "How so?"
Gwen turned to face him. "I think it's time, Ethan. I think this is the place. I want a house, not an apartment. We can still travel the world and go on adventures together... but I think I'd like having a house in Boston to come home to."
Ethan hesitated. Since he'd first moved out of his parents' Green Bay home at 18, he'd never truly settled down. He'd reveled in the freedom it gave him, moving from place to place almost on a whim. Their five years in Japan had been the longest he'd spent in a single place beyond his childhood home, and he had only been able to do so because Gwen was with him. Making roots, building a permanent home... it was an almost alien idea to him. He had enjoyed his freedom so long... could he be happy staying in one place for the rest of his life?
Gwen called the clerk over again, making reservations on the table. She was smiling. Excited. He imagined her walking through the halls of a proper mansion, running her hands along that mahogany table in the sunlight streaming trough the window with an ocean view. He smiled at the thought. It was Gwen that made life in Japan for those five years joyous. Gwen would make the rest of his life in Boston just the same.
"Okay," he said at length, nodding. "Definitely the purple."
"Tell me, Hard... god, no, I still just can't do it. Hey camera guy... what's a name that you think is the kind of name most likely to belong to the kid in the back of the class eating paste?" After a moment he starts laughing. "Yes! That one! Perfect! Okay, HardKore - from now on? You're Chauncey. Deal with it."
He smirks and leans back in his chair. "So tell me Chauncey. As you walk into this match, full of those little things I imagine people who fail at things console themselves with - things like 'well at least I didn't get pinned', 'but I made him fight for it' and 'maybe mom won't hit me with her bible when I get home this time' - how much of a chance do you really think you have against me? I mean, think about that long and hard for a few moments, Chauncey - because right now I don't see anything from you that I would consider the least bit threatening."
He shakes his head, chuckling. "The truth is, Chauncey, that I could honestly be doing three dozen other things right now that would be much more worth my time than sitting here and continuing to remind you how completely insignificant I find you. And believe me, I enjoy sitting down and tearing someone's self-esteem apart for hours on end - its one of my favorite parts about quarterly reviews. But you're just so... entirely boring. You've done absolutely nothing of interest in Combat Wrestling. You showed up one night and stood around, too bland to even be involved in the finish of your own debut match. Whereas I? I've won every match I've been involved in since I joined Combat Wrestling - not just didn't get pinned, but WON. Face the facts, Chauncey - you've been put in the unfortunate position of simply being a time-waster for the company as they set up a big event where they can afford to blow the interesting matches."
He arches an eyebrow. "You... do... realize that, don't you Chauncey? I wasn't joking earlier when I said I was assuming that the only reason you're booked against me is to give the other, more interesting competition time to build themselves up so it's more impactful when I beat them. You see, Chauncey, as much as you will inevitably try to convince yourself and the rest of the world otherwise, you aren't a roadblock on my highway to domination in Combat Wrestling. You're not a challenge in my way, something for me to overcome.
You're a 50-cent toll booth on an Illinois freeway - cheap, easy to get through, and intended to be nothing more than an inconvenient delay for my travel plans while making just a little more money for the state."
He sighs and stands up behind his desk. "I've been more invested and entertained in shopping for furniture than I am in sitting here and wasting my time painting your deaf ears with my words - so you know what? I'm calling it here, Chauncey. I'll see you on Friday Night, and put you firmly in your place."
He takes a step away before catching himself, reaching into his pocket. "Before I forget - here's your fee."
He takes out two quarters and holds them before the camera with an arrogant grin, tossing them into the lens as the video cuts to black.