A Shawn Collins Roleplay: 06

06. AN AD IN AN AD IN AN AD.

In this life, you have no worries.
In this life, you have no fears.
In this life, you have no friends, no enemies, no family.
In this life, there is only us.

Run outside all day.
Doing jobs you hate to love.
This is my escape.

It's called a haiku poem. I've explained this before, but I'll do it again for those who don't know what I'm talking about. Five syllables, seven syllables, five syllables. You know, poems, English class, grade two? I am a potato. You don't like the skin, but it's what's on the inside that counts.

Today, I've taken off. This weekend is Canada Day weekend. No more work for me. Well, besides the Pay Per View I have to supervise in British Columbia tomorrow. Today, I've taken off. And today, I fight neXt. neXt with his silly promos. neXt with his sorry self-esteem. neXt with his... whatever. The point is, he seems to be losing an ounce of self-esteem every day. He's a cake. And I'm just picking pieces. That's too bad. Things would have been much more enjoyable if he wore some pants. Once again, that's a metaphor. Take me literally, and you won't understand me.

Right now, I'm heading home. I'm on the bus, and a kid is looking at me from across the vehicle. He's looking at me and smiling. So, being the asshole that I am, I give him a really pissed off face. You know, the one where you crunch the muscles around your eyes, slightly close your eyelids, and make the meanest looking frown possible. Yeah, it works pretty well on children.

I'm sitting here, on the bus, giving this kid dirty looks until tears start rolling down his eyes, when my stop comes. Ding! The kids dad is sleeping, and I walk my way off the bus giving him the tongue-out, eyes-wide look.
This is my escape.

There's a car parked in front of my building. A rental. You can tell because of the license plate holder. It tells you the name of the dealership or rental company. In the end, it's all just a bunch of advertisement. The GM Pontiac-Oldsmobile Dealership. "Come to us, we give you great deals at only 0.1% financing!" This is what's written all over the cars. A driving advertisment. "Call us here at..." insert number here. Everywhere you go, you're a living advertisement.

Phat Farm shirts saying "You want me." Karl Kani shoes saying "Buy me." The Yankee hats saying "Watch us play!" The Joe Blow bubble gum saying "I make you look cool." The CK cologne saying "Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me."
Just a walking advertisement.

These things run your life because you allow them to. The Audi sports cars. People think they are powerful when they reach a point in thier life when they've taken everything they want. That's not power. Knowledge is power. I can give you a hundred and one ways to destroy an Audi car. Need a lockpick? It's a master lock you say? I can give you these things. WE can give you these things. Did you know that a powerful enough blow to someone's coccyx could kill them? Before you ask, a coccyx is the tail bone.

Who gives a fuck about an Audi?
Remove the muffler of a car, add one cup of gas to it, and put it back in. This can be done at a body shop, or in your parking lot at night. When someone starts the car, you have yourself a bonifide bonfire.

I am an old sage.
So full of useless info.
Release and Express.

Before you ask... Haiku.

So I'm walking into my apartment now, wearing my Polo shirt and Eddie Bower khakis. Wearing my Lugz boots on top of my Tommy socks. Wearing my Coolwater cologne, and my Guess watch. A walking "Buy me! Sell me! Hate me! Love me!" advertisement. I unlock the door, and push open. Usually when a guy sees a woman with only her bra and panties on, sitting on his kitchen table eating and watching television, his jaw would drop. Naturally. We're horny by nature. So, my jaw dropped. For a second, until I noticed who it was.

Rei Sierra.

Now, any other guy would be excited to see her sitting there. Beautiful. An angel. But, not me. I'm used to this. I lived with her for a few months, and this is the only way she dresses around the house. Rei Sierra is my savior my angel my rage my devil. And she turns around, and smiles at me.

Please rape and pillage me.
And this is what goes through my mind.

My jaw is open.
Her smile is melting my heart.
Just leave me alone.

She walks up to me and grabs my shirt. She pulls me close and says, "So... where've you been?"
And I push her to the side.

"What the hell was that for?!" is what she splurts out.
I ask her, "What do you want?"

I don't bother asking her how she got in here. She can pick a lock. I know this, because I taught her.

"My hotel room didn't have cable, and I was going to miss my soaps." Yeah, right.

Rei Sierra reminds me of Houston reminds me of EWA reminds me of wrestling reminds me of neXt.

neXt, the kid with no self-esteem. The kid who thinks that without him, I would be leading my Express and Release anger management classes. The kid who thinks that without him in this world, I wouldn't be in the wrestling world. How far off can people get? I am neXt's brain. I have no realistic perception of reality in any way shape or form. It's the worst thing you can do. Put yourself down, I mean. And that's what neXt has done. Game. Set. Match.

I am neXt's brain on drugs.
E=mc²

I haven't talked to Rei after that comment. I begin to make myself a shake. And she yells at me, "Why the hell did you leave us anyway?! You just took off one day without telling anyone! I'm the victim here! Not you! So don't you try to turn things around on me!"

I just look at her, and after a second I let out a laugh I've been holding in. She gives me one of those confused, what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you faces. "I left, because I couldn't stand you. I couldn't stand Matt. I couldn't stand you. I couldn't stand my life. I'm so much better off here."

"Are you really?" This. This is classic.
And I tell her, "Do I look like I'm bullshitting?"

WHACK!

She storms off into the washroom, and locks the door. Her in her Fruit of the Loom underwear. I'm used to this, this isn't anything new to me. So I continue to make my milkshake. She starts yelling gibberish from behind the door. It's only gibberish because I choose not to listen. You don't know the history between Rei Sierra and I. Maybe I'll tell you some time.

In the meantime, I'm having fun with this radical. My orange juice is frozen, and I have tanks of gasoline under my bed. You know what that means, don't you? It's time to make some napalm. Tonight's going to be a fun night.

One night at a time.
I completely free myself.
I am a balloon.

This moment in Shawn Collins' life has been brought to you by Express and Release.
We're more than just an anger management group!

This roleplay, the graphics, and Shawn Collins are copyright © Priam Productions 2001. All wrestlers used in this roleplay are all copyrights of their respective owners. The actor in the Shawn Collins logo is Skeet Ulrich. All likenesses of Skeet Ulrich are property of its owner. No copyright infringement intended.