On The Road Again
We open with a battered old VW van, heading up a back roads highway. It’s red with flecks off white bird feces and brown-gold rust covering the entire frame. The front window is filthy; it’s a wonder that the driver can see where he’s going at all. The camera does a slow fade into the back area of the van. It’s cluttered with milk crates, paper bags, McDonald’s wrappers, assorted clothes, and cassette cases. This is obviously someone’s home.
The camera pulls forward to the front cab. The passenger’s side is littered in a manner quite like that of the back of the van. On top of all the other junk, though, is a pair of red wrestling tights with gold trim. The lay neatly folded on top of an empty two-liter bottle and a dirty rag or two. The driver’s side is filled by one man: Alister Hayze. He’s let his blond hair grow back out to his shoulders; he likes it better that way. It makes him feel like he belongs on the road again. He’s bulked up a little. He can tell because the 901 T-shirt that used to fit him so well is now really tight. He makes a mental note to have some more made. He stares ahead at the road, humming a tune to himself since the tape deck got stolen back in Memphis.
ALISTER HAYZE: You know, I really missed this. I missed it all, I mean, but this here. Driving to the show, thinking about what you’re going to do, who you’re going to face. It’s all very calming. Very Zen. It takes you someplace inside…I don’t know if I can describe it well enough. It’s anticipation, and that’s oftentimes better than actually being there. You know it’s going to be good. Hell, you know you’re going to be good. You can see them cheering, you can hear the pop with mat gets slapped 1, 2, 3...it’s a little scary that way. It doesn’t matter who wins, you know there will be a pop. And you know, no matter who you are, there’ll be someone in that crowd who loves you. There will be someone who says, “Damn, that guy is AWESOME!” Even if it’s one person…it’s still a fan.
There was a time when I would rant and rave about being placed in a dark match. Alister Hayze is Pay-Per-View material, my friends, make no mistake about that. I’ve main evented, and I’ve had some frickin’ great matches. That’s just what ol’ Al does, my friend. He wows you when he gets on the mat. Yeah, I would totally have gone off on some huge diatribe about how I’m being misused, or something to that effect. But not now…Now is a New Era…And all that I’ve done before needs to get forgotten. What matters now is who I face today, and then tomorrow, and then the next day. What matters now is what happens in the ring marked “N-E-W.” The slate is wiped clean, and it’s as if I’ve never done anything at all. Whether it’s televised or not, the match is the whole world from now on.
Don’t get me wrong; Al is not taking a sabbatical. There is no new me. I haven’t “found my smile” or anything. If you’re nothing compared to me -- and, let’s be honest with ourselves, not a lot of people can live up to my ability -- then you’re going to hear about it. A LOT. Especially after I beat you. And I will. Ice, pay attention to this bit, because it involves you. I will beat you. Period. There is no doubt about that. This may be a dark match now…but keep in my mind what I told you earlier…Alister Hayze is Pay-Per-View material.
Which brings us to Mr. Iceshon. Now, Ice, I’m sure you’re so cool you’re chilly, or else you’re liable enough to kill a man in COLD blood…There’s all sorts of clever things you can do with that. Judging from what I’ve heard from you, you’re more of the “stone cold killer” type. You’ve been a fighter all your life, you like beating people up, and, most importantly, it seems you plan to kill me in the ring. You’ve never heard of me, either, which doesn’t say much, considering I’ve never heard of you. What matters is ability, and I got that in spades, man. You can bring your A-game, you can promise to go for my blood. It doesn’t matter which you decide to do, you poor confused soul. I can brawl with the best of them, and I can out-wrestle just about anybody. You’re on that list, too.
Listen, Ice…I never thought I’d say this, but it’s not about the gab. It’s about how good you are. Now, I’m good at gabbin’, but I’m absolutely fantastic at wrestling. And I am going to flatten you. It’s not because you’ve ticked me off, because, frankly, I was laughing through all of your threats. It’s because Alister Hayze is a Pay-Per-View kinda guy, and it’s time to show the New ERA of wrestling just what they’re missing by leaving me in the dark.
Fade out as Hayze guns the accelerator, his blue eyes pointed at Chicago.
