Post by Ms. Monster on Oct 28, 2018 1:28:08 GMT -5
Derived from the Latin "monere," the word "monster" connotes "warning" combined with the idea of the marvelous. The traditional monster...lurks about the boundaries of civilization, half perceived, alienated, other; magical or supernatural, it destroys, consumes, obliterates, and then vanishes into whatever unearthly lair it issued from... Yet, today all too often, the monsters have moved from the margins to the center. Ann Rice's vampires... The terrifying Terminator of the first film... Hannibal Lecter... The question is why? What has happened? …[T]he carnage of the 20th century...suggests that humanity has transgressed such boundaries that aliens, demons, vampire, monsters are all superfluous: we need look no further than ourselves for the truly monstrous.
- “Where Have All the Monsters Gone?” by W. A Senior
- “Where Have All the Monsters Gone?” by W. A Senior
The scene opens at a Spirit Halloween store that has set up shop in a dead and abandoned Toys R Us. JP Blackstone is wandering the aisles of the pop-up store looking at tacky costumes and shoddily made accessories.He picks up what’s supposed to appear to be a severed limb, a foot with a plushy “bone” sticking out and red paint all around the severed ankle area. Blackstone mutters to himself in disgust?
JPB: That’s what passes for horror these days? Good god. My shits are scarier than this damn thing.
He tosses the foot back into the bin he got it out of and rolls his eyes as he walks on, further into the store. He spots a couple of little kids standing in front of a display of pressure activated animatronics. The kids are staring up at one, a standee of Jason Voorhees from the Friday The 13th franchise. The figure stands with a knife held high over his hockey mask adorned head and the kids are transfixed by it. Blackstone notices the figure is rigged to move if someone steps on a button just behind the children, so he slowly and quietly walks up to the button and mashes it with his foot.
The Jason figure jumps to attention with loud chh chh chh ahh ahh ahh sounds immitting from the figure as Jason flails his knife around wildly and the kids absolutely panic. One of the children falls straight backward in pure fear, but the other turns to run with his head down and promptly runs head first directly into Blackstone’s groin. Blackstone goes down like a sack of crap, and the little boy apologizes as he is laid out on the floor nursing his junk.
JPB: Oww! My balls! Good god, my balls!
Child: I’m awfully sorry, Mister. I didn’t see you there.
JPB: Watch where you’re goin’, you little ankle biter!
The kid helps his friend up off the ground, looks back at Blackstone, and heads off to another part of the store as a Spirit worker approaches him on the ground. The young man’s name tag reads Brenden, and he extends his hand out to help Blackstone up off the ground. Blackstone waves his hand away and works his way up to standing. As he’s brushing himself off, Brenden speaks.
Brenden: Are you ok, sir?
JPB: Do I look like I’m ok? One of those little bastards just hit me in the goddamn nuts!
Brenden: I’m sorry, sir. Can I do anything to help?
JPB: What the fuck do you think you can do to help my broken nuts?!
Brenden: I, um, I, uh… I don’t know, sir. Would you prefer if I left you alone?
Blackstone doesn’t answer.
Brenden: Sir?
Blackstone doesn’t answer.
Brenden: Sir? Would you prefer I left you alone?
Blackstone blows up.
JPB: Are you thick or just stupid?! I figured not telling you to fuck off was as good as telling you to fuck off! Get lost, dickweed.
Brenden scrambles to get moving away from Blackstone.
Brenden: Sorry, sir. Of course.
Blackstone returns to wandering the store aimlessly and talking to himself.
JPB: Why the fuck does everything have to be a sexy whatever? Just no originality these days. Everything is a copy of a copy of a copy.
His eyes fall on a costume titled sexy wrestler. His face falls flat reflecting his frustration and anger.
JPB: Brenden!
Brenden doesn’t respond at lightspeed, so Blackstone yells again, louder.
JPB: BRENDEN!
Brenden comes running up to Blackstone and breathlessly asks him a question.
Brenden: What’s wrong, sir?
Blackston grabs the sexy wrestler costume off the rack and thrusts it into Brenden’s face.
JPB: What in the everloving fuck is this?!
Brenden: ...it’s a, uh, it’s a costume, sir…?
JPB: Don’t be a smartass! What. The. Fuck. Is this?!
Brenden: I really don’t know what you mean.
JPB: Look at this! Sexy wrestler?! That looks an awful lot like it’s a one-piece bodysuit in a swimsuit cut made out of what seems to be trying to look like black vinyl with silver and blue accents, no?
Brenden: I’d say that’s accurate, sir. What’s the problem?
JPB: It’s manufactured by Spirit?
Brenden: Um, yes, sir. I believe so. What’s the problem though?
JPB: You trademark infringing motherfuckers!
Brenden: Sir, please watch your language.
JPB: Fuck that! (Looking back at the costume) And fuck this, too!
Brenden: Seriously, what is the problem?
JPB: THIS SEXY WRESTLER IS MY GODDAMN CLIENT! YOU STOLE HER IMAGE!
Brenden: Sir, that’s a picture of a like 12 year old girl in the costume. Your client is a 12 year old girl?
JPB: No, you pedantic motherfucker. My client, Ms. Monster, is a grown ass woman who Spirit Halloween absolutely did not pay for the rights to recreate and profit off of her image!
Brenden grows more and more frustrated with the exchange and his professionalism starts to slip.
Brenden: Then it was her likeness that was stolen, not her image.
JPB: What-the-fuck-ever! Are you a goddamn lawyer or somethin’? No, no. That’s not it. What would a lawyer be doing working in a shithole like this?!
Brenden: Look, dude, I studied some pre-law stuff before I lost my scholarship. There’s nothing I can do about this though, man. If you want to complain, you’ll have to contact corporate. Copyright and trademark infringement is more than a little bit above my paygrade.
JPB: Take these off the shelves.
Brenden: What?
JPB: You heard me! Take these off the shelves!
Brenden: I can’t do that, man.
JPB: The hell you can’t! Put these pieces of shit in a box and shove that box right up your ass!
Brenden: Look, if I do that, I lose my job, so I’m not going to kowtow to you here, dude.
Brenden gives up on the interaction and walks away.
JPB: Where the hell are you going?!
Brenden ignores him.
JPB: Fine! Fuck you, too!
Blackstone looks around trying to find a way to make these costumes disappear, but he’s struggling.
JPB: There is no goddamn way I’m going to leave these here for this shit-ass company to make a dime on Ramona’s name!
The child who ran head first into Blackstone’s groin wanders by. The child looks like he is trying to find the restroom as he’s doing the pee-pee dance and grabbing himself as he wanders. Inspiration strikes Blackstone.
JPB: Hey, kid! You need to use the toilet? Come here!
Child: Yes! I need the bathroom bad!
JPB: Here, little buddy. Just piss all over these.
Blackstone grabs the entire stack of questionable costumes and throws them on the ground.
Child: Are you sure?
JPB: You don’t have much choice. Don’t worry about it. Just let’er rip!
Child: I’m not gonna get in trouble?
JPB: No way, my man. Just do your business.
Child: Uh… ok...
The little tyke whips out his little punisher and unleashes a torrent of piss all over the pile of costumes. Blackstone laughs uncontrollably. Brenden happens to glance over from reorganizing an endcap a few aisles over and a look of horror flashes upon his face.
Brenden: HEY! WHAT THE HELL?!
Brenden urgently makes his way over to Blackstone standing next to the peeing boy.
Brenden: Kid, what are you doing?!
The kid looks up at Brenden and starts to panic as he pulls his pants up. Blackstone takes the opportunity to get under Brenden’s skin again.
JPB: Woah, woah, woah! Brenden! You can’t just start yelling at an unaccompanied child like that! Cool it off, bucko.
Brenden ignores Blackstone.
Brenden: Where’s your mom, kid?
Blackstone butts in.
JPB: She’s dead, Brenden, and he’s awfully sensitive about it.
The kid looks up at Blackstone with tears welling up in his eyes.
Child: SHE IS?! OH, NO! MOMMY!
The kid runs off distraught.
JPB: Look at what you just did! You scarred that kid for life, you little asshole!
Brenden reaches his breaking point and loses it. He is the kind of angry that results in him getting quiet, close to Blackstone, and doing all of his talking through clenched teeth.
Brenden: Just get the fuck out of here, you goddamn man-child! This was all obviously your doing, and you played that kid like a pawn. You’re a piece of shit, and I never want to see you in this fucking store again.
Blackstone laughs in Brenden’s face and walks away.
JPB: Yeah. Ok, big fella.
As he makes his way toward the door, he sees the child crying into a woman’s hip. He overhears the conversation.
Child: I couldn’t find the bathroom and someone told me to pee on some stuff and I did and the store man yelled at me and some body told me you were dead.
Mom is understandably pissed about what her little boy is telling her. She asks him to point out the man, but the boy is breaking down more and more and cannot give her more information. Blackstone pipes in, and the boy is too upset to call him out for instigating all of this.
JPB: Ma’am. I’m so glad I found you. I saw everything. The worker was incredibly unprofessional to your boy. I think his name was Brenden. You really should talk to a manager about his behavior. Unquestionably unacceptable. Good luck.
The mom thanks Blackstone as he turns and leaves the store with a shit-eating grin spread wide across his face.
JPB: That’ll teach that little shitlord to fuck with JP Blackstone’s client!
-----------------------------------
Later, Blackstone is wandering around the arena with Ms. Monster close behind as the pair looks for a proper location for this week’s Ms. Monster Youtube shoot, but there doesn’t seem to be a suitable location. Blackstone is frustrated.
JPB: First, it was those goddamn costumes, and now it’s this godawful building in this cousin loving state.
MM: I will make Hajeet, Petrov, Rose, Blaze and Harewood pay for your frustrations.
JPB: Oh, I know, Ramona. I know. I mean hell, you’ve beat three of them at least once already, so what even is the goddamn challenge?
MM: Mmm hmm. Exactly.
JPB: But Blaze was pretty recently a champion in this organization. I just think we gotta keep an eye on that little spit fire. The rest though? Meh. You’re certainly on the better team, Ramona.
MM: No matter who I was paired with, I was on the better team, JP.
JPB: No doubt. No doubt. But with Watterson, too?
MM: You’ve got a real hard on for her, huh?
JPB: What do you mean?!
MM: Don’t play dumb. Last week you told those radio guys that you’d take the call if she asked you to manage her, too.
JPB: I just recognize talent, Ramona. Nothing more, nothing less.
MM: Just don’t forget you’re my manager first. No one else unless I say so.
JPB: No need to play the jealousy game.
MM: It’s not jealousy.
JPB: Then what the hell is it?
MM: I don’t like her.
JPB: I get it. She’s bubbly and sweet, and you, uh… you’re you.
MM: I’m an adult. She’s just a child.
JPB: Well this is a silly conversation anyway. She hasn’t called and she isn’t going to call. No use making an issue out of something that isn’t going to happen.
MM: I suppose not.
JPB: So how do you feel about whoopin’ Harewood’s ass for the third week in a row?
MM: Ugh. He makes me sick.
JPB: Same here. Braggadocious tool. I just love seeing that wife beater lose to you week in and week out. I’ll never get sick of that. Did you notice that you’re the only person in that whole 5 on 5 contest that won last week?
MM: Chase didn’t even wrestle last week.
JPB: The point stands. There are 10 people in this match, and only one of them in the damn thing is on a winning streak.
MM: I’ll be on a 3 match streak after this week.
JPB: You’re goddamn right… Look, we need to find somewhere to cut this goddamn promo. Let’s focus and just get this shit done, ok?
The scene fades as they wander down the hall in search of a good shooting location.