Post by Press1269 on Feb 14, 2020 20:42:40 GMT
The shot opens up to a scene of Press strolling down the hall somewhere backstage in the Shreveport Municipal Memorial Auditorium, a look of irritation written all over his face. He is already dressed for the Main Event later on in the evening, complete with the ‘Press Pass’ folding chair firmly in his grasp, but preparation didn’t seem to have put him in a better mood as he roams the empty corridor. He comes to a stop at one of the doors lining the hall, and brings his mitten like hand up to slap the frame.
PRESS: Hey, Youth, come on! Your match is up next!
He waits for a moment with no sound coming from the door, and shakes his head in disdain as he continues down the hall.
PRESS: I swear, this kid is going to be the death of me. YOUTH!
The shout reverberates down the hall, and echoes off the concrete to no avail. He growls an obscenity, and then continues checking doors as he goes. Finally, he comes to a stop in front of a door at the end of the hall with a plaque hanging from it that read ‘Custodian’. He could hear a muffled conversation coming from behind the door, and when he pushed it open, there was Youth and Janitor Bud, both sitting on overturned buckets and hovering over a game of dominoes.
PRESS: You have a match in two minutes, dip shit! Get your ass to the top of the ramp!
Youth raises his hand for silence, which causes Press to almost blow his stack, while Bud strokes his wrinkled chin in contemplation. Youth takes one of the pieces set out in front of him, and sets it down on one of the rows that have already been created, and then hops up with his hands over his head.
FLAMING YOUTH: YES! I win again! Now, Bud, I need your finest sweeping device so that I can get out here and show Ian Wright just exactly how to clean up PAW.
Bud looks up at Youth in disgust.
JANITOR BUD: What the hell are you talking about?
FLAMING YOUTH: A broom, Bud. I need a broom.
JANITOR BUD: Oh, then why the heck didn’t you say so?
Bud reaches over and scoops up a broom, and hands it over to Youth who nods confidently. He turns to make his way out the door as Press watches with a mixture of disbelief and disdain.
FLAMING YOUTH: Alright, Bud. Jumble them bad boy’s up, and we’ll play in a few.
He looks over at Press, and raises his eyebrows.
FLAMING YOUTH: Come on, dude. I’ve got a match to win.
He flashes Press a grin and a wink, and then skips out into the hall heading towards the curtain. Press palms his forehead and shakes his head before looking back over at Bud, who shrugs nonchalantly.
PRESS: Imagine living with that day in and day out.
JANITOR BUD: I’ve lived with worse.
Press regards the janitor with a sidelong glance, while Bud continues to stare at him with a discontent expression.
PRESS: What are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be back at the Park making sure everything's clean over there?
JANITOR BUD: Hey, I go where the show goes! I'm an intricate part of this team. What would happen if there was a spill somewhere.
Press stares at Bud, his face full of doubt.
PRESS: He paid you to be here, didn't he.
JANITOR BUD: Yup.
Press shook his head in disbelief, before finally turning to make his way towards the ramp way. The scene fades to the next segment.
PRESS: Hey, Youth, come on! Your match is up next!
He waits for a moment with no sound coming from the door, and shakes his head in disdain as he continues down the hall.
PRESS: I swear, this kid is going to be the death of me. YOUTH!
The shout reverberates down the hall, and echoes off the concrete to no avail. He growls an obscenity, and then continues checking doors as he goes. Finally, he comes to a stop in front of a door at the end of the hall with a plaque hanging from it that read ‘Custodian’. He could hear a muffled conversation coming from behind the door, and when he pushed it open, there was Youth and Janitor Bud, both sitting on overturned buckets and hovering over a game of dominoes.
PRESS: You have a match in two minutes, dip shit! Get your ass to the top of the ramp!
Youth raises his hand for silence, which causes Press to almost blow his stack, while Bud strokes his wrinkled chin in contemplation. Youth takes one of the pieces set out in front of him, and sets it down on one of the rows that have already been created, and then hops up with his hands over his head.
FLAMING YOUTH: YES! I win again! Now, Bud, I need your finest sweeping device so that I can get out here and show Ian Wright just exactly how to clean up PAW.
Bud looks up at Youth in disgust.
JANITOR BUD: What the hell are you talking about?
FLAMING YOUTH: A broom, Bud. I need a broom.
JANITOR BUD: Oh, then why the heck didn’t you say so?
Bud reaches over and scoops up a broom, and hands it over to Youth who nods confidently. He turns to make his way out the door as Press watches with a mixture of disbelief and disdain.
FLAMING YOUTH: Alright, Bud. Jumble them bad boy’s up, and we’ll play in a few.
He looks over at Press, and raises his eyebrows.
FLAMING YOUTH: Come on, dude. I’ve got a match to win.
He flashes Press a grin and a wink, and then skips out into the hall heading towards the curtain. Press palms his forehead and shakes his head before looking back over at Bud, who shrugs nonchalantly.
PRESS: Imagine living with that day in and day out.
JANITOR BUD: I’ve lived with worse.
Press regards the janitor with a sidelong glance, while Bud continues to stare at him with a discontent expression.
PRESS: What are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be back at the Park making sure everything's clean over there?
JANITOR BUD: Hey, I go where the show goes! I'm an intricate part of this team. What would happen if there was a spill somewhere.
Press stares at Bud, his face full of doubt.
PRESS: He paid you to be here, didn't he.
JANITOR BUD: Yup.
Press shook his head in disbelief, before finally turning to make his way towards the ramp way. The scene fades to the next segment.