Post by The Corinthian on Oct 10, 2009 5:08:01 GMT -4
¤Black, glossy ribbon litters the floor; one long strand piled on top of its self dozens of times over. With a sound of plastic rubbing against its self, more and more lands onto the heap. Holtz stands over it, pulling the magnetic tape out of the video cassette. The tape hangs out onto the floor; shiny black intestine spilling out of the cassette. Holtz pulls until he reaches the end, where the tape connects to the gears. With slightly more force he pulls the tape loose. He discards the tape proper, holding up the cassette¤
Holtz: Sure, nobody uses them anymore, but it’s much more effective a visual, don’t you think?
¤He sweeps the pile of tape aside with his foot¤
Holtz: This tape, in case you’re wondering, is the footage from our match, Anthony Jordan. Sitting on the floor in a tangled mess, it doesn’t really do me any good. But, really, it never did me any good in the first place. See, I’m sure you’re watching footage of the match over and over again getting ready for this Monday. I’m sure you’ve watched footage of the match for the past two years. Pausing, rewinding, slow motion, going over every intricate detail. Trying to figure out just where, exactly, you went wrong. What you could have countered, when you could have done it. Why you lost. If it’s bothered you this long, I’m sure you’re doing everything in your power to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’m sure you’re wearing out your copy.
¤He taps on the tape before tossing it onto the pile¤
Holtz: I’ve never watched mine. Never wanted to. At the time I had more important things to worry about. Then after I left the CWA I never wanted to watch anything I did there. And now…
¤He shrugs¤
Holtz: There’s just no reason. See, I’m not wracking my brain trying to figure out where I went wrong. I already passed this test, I don’t need to study again. But I can tell you right now, it’s not going to do you any good either.
¤He reaches down to pick up the cassette and holds it up, with his thumb under his name¤
Holtz: See, you might not care if I’m “The Dark Horse” or “The Corinthian” or whatever, but I’m going to make this very clear; it’s more of a distinction than you realize. You aren’t fighting a dark horse, up and coming kid with some idealistic notions of professionalism. His time is long over. The man you’re watching on that tape doesn’t exist. He’s obsolete. That horse got fed to this rendering plant you call a wrestling industry.
¤He gestures to himself, holding his arms out at his sides¤
Holtz: And this is what those parts were made into.
¤His arms drop to his sides¤
Holtz: This industry…hell, you made me what I am now, and what I am now is something you apparently aren’t grasping. You’re so caught up trying to avenge a loss to a dead man that it’s going to cost you another match. I’m a changed man, Anthony. I’m not who you fought before, I haven’t been for a long time. And I hate to break it to you, but you can’t beat who I am now, either.
Holtz: Sure, nobody uses them anymore, but it’s much more effective a visual, don’t you think?
¤He sweeps the pile of tape aside with his foot¤
Holtz: This tape, in case you’re wondering, is the footage from our match, Anthony Jordan. Sitting on the floor in a tangled mess, it doesn’t really do me any good. But, really, it never did me any good in the first place. See, I’m sure you’re watching footage of the match over and over again getting ready for this Monday. I’m sure you’ve watched footage of the match for the past two years. Pausing, rewinding, slow motion, going over every intricate detail. Trying to figure out just where, exactly, you went wrong. What you could have countered, when you could have done it. Why you lost. If it’s bothered you this long, I’m sure you’re doing everything in your power to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’m sure you’re wearing out your copy.
¤He taps on the tape before tossing it onto the pile¤
Holtz: I’ve never watched mine. Never wanted to. At the time I had more important things to worry about. Then after I left the CWA I never wanted to watch anything I did there. And now…
¤He shrugs¤
Holtz: There’s just no reason. See, I’m not wracking my brain trying to figure out where I went wrong. I already passed this test, I don’t need to study again. But I can tell you right now, it’s not going to do you any good either.
¤He reaches down to pick up the cassette and holds it up, with his thumb under his name¤
Holtz: See, you might not care if I’m “The Dark Horse” or “The Corinthian” or whatever, but I’m going to make this very clear; it’s more of a distinction than you realize. You aren’t fighting a dark horse, up and coming kid with some idealistic notions of professionalism. His time is long over. The man you’re watching on that tape doesn’t exist. He’s obsolete. That horse got fed to this rendering plant you call a wrestling industry.
¤He gestures to himself, holding his arms out at his sides¤
Holtz: And this is what those parts were made into.
¤His arms drop to his sides¤
Holtz: This industry…hell, you made me what I am now, and what I am now is something you apparently aren’t grasping. You’re so caught up trying to avenge a loss to a dead man that it’s going to cost you another match. I’m a changed man, Anthony. I’m not who you fought before, I haven’t been for a long time. And I hate to break it to you, but you can’t beat who I am now, either.
