Re: Notice me Senpai!! cc: Carmen Cambridge
Oct 27, 2016 0:43:01 GMT -5
jamesradford and TheLaw like this
Post by Zack Fantana on Oct 27, 2016 0:43:01 GMT -5
"It's always nice to hear from a fan. To know you've left an indelible mark on someone's life to the extent that they just want to speak with you. It's always nice... usually."
Zack Fantana draws the window shades closed in his Manhattan apartment. The camera readjusts to the lighting in the room as Zack approaches it.
"Look, Benny Stevens, I'm, uh, what's the word? Flatterrified - no, flattered that you'd look to me for advice, but this..."
Fantana lifts up a bundle of envelopes tightly held together by a rubber band.
"This is a bit much. You expect me to sift through all of this?"
He rolls the rubber band off of the envelopes and begins to place them down one-by-one before happening upon an envelope marked "From Furuya" that's been sealed with a lipstick kiss.
"I swear I told my publicist to burn this one."
Fantana carefully places the envelope in the shredder before continuing through the stack of letters. His face grows more frustrated with each envelope, half of them unopened.
"But wait, there's more!"
Fantana strolls across the room and plops down into rolling office chair at his desk before cracking open his laptop. He opens up the spam folder in his email, which is completely full of emails from hawttstuff69@hotmail.com. Zack opens one up and it reads simply "I also asked Bobby to tell me where you are training or w/e, but he didn't tell me anything!" presumably a continuation of a thought in a long series of emails.
"I honestly can't tell if you're trolling me or not. Take this one for instance."
Zack lifts a brown envelope off the table and pulls out three photographs in which Benny Stevens is wearing dresses.
"That's literally all that's in the package. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this, but given the effort you've gone through to reach me, I suppose you've earned a reply. I could just wait until next week in D.C. to address you in the ring, but I'm Zack Fantana and I care about my fans."
Fantana spins his chair toward the laptop and cracks his knuckles before placing his fingers delicately on the keyboard. The camera zooms in to capture his words.
Those keystrokes visibly send a shiver rippling down Fantana's spine. He briefly removes his fingers from the keyboard in order to regain his composure.
The cursor blinks threateningly next to that last sentence as Zack reconsiders his honesty with a cursory glance at the backspace key.
| | | | | | | |
With an exasperated sigh, Zack hits the enter key and moves onto his next thought.
It's true. Even me, the venerable Zack Fantana, used to worry what people thought of me. I used to think I would have to remake myself to ever get over in the eyes of the audience. I looked at the heroes of my youth and wondered where the hell I went wrong.
It wasn't until a few years later that I discovered the error of my eyes. See, just like you, I thought the way I'd succeed was to be the next Bobby Franchise, for instance. But in my heart of hearts, I never wanted to be the next Bobby Franchise. I wanted to be the first Zack Fantana.
So here's my advice, Benjamin. Be true to yourself.
You might think you're already being genuine, but I see through you. All these contrivances to get yourself noticed - the daredevil stunts, the cross-dressing, the twitter trolling - it's all just a facade to cover up the insecure little boy inside you that still influences your everyday life. The bullies back in Seattle really fucked you up, didn't they, Benny? You're so terrified that someone will make a joke about you that you make the joke first. Damn, that's sad.
While I recognize that you'd like to think that you're more genuine than Carmen Cambridge, you really aren't. You've just shelved the purple hair dye in favor of a sparkly pink sundress. You're every bit the con artist that boo boo is. You're just wearing less make-up.
Zack pauses to look over the photographs on the table.
Or are you?
| | | | | | | | |
You know what? Forget I asked. I've already seen more from you than I bargained for tonight.
Fantana covers up some of that "Benny leg" in the photographs with papers on his desk.
Let's move on to Carmen Cambridge. Honestly, I don't see why Benny hates you so much, Carmen. You two seem rather made for one another. You'd make good gal pals. You could go shopping together at Nordstrom and help Benny pick out what he's going to wear to AWE's premiere before sitting down for a nice meal at the restaurant you own in Seattle. You know that's Benny's hometown, right? OMG. Besties.
Just like Benjamin, you're defining yourself by your clothing. The Gucci Girl. What exactly are you trying to tell the world with a nickname like that? That you're high maintenance? Overpriced? A fad? In many ways, you're worse than Benny because you represent everything that's wrong in today's thoughtless, bandwagon culture. You're just glomming onto a brand name for your identity. We both know you can do better than that.
You want a truth realer than #nofilter, boo boo? I've been in this game a hell of a lot longer than either of you. I've won more gold than you both combined. That's not posturing. That's not a cry for attention. That's a fact. You can keep your Gucci. I don't need it, because gold is the only accessory I'll ever need.
I do hope you both enjoy the title match.
Zack hits print and leans against the desk, impatiently checking his watch as the printer spits out two copies of the letter. He then lifts a pen off his desk and scribbles in broad lettering across the bottom of each copy.
Zack Fantana draws the window shades closed in his Manhattan apartment. The camera readjusts to the lighting in the room as Zack approaches it.
"Look, Benny Stevens, I'm, uh, what's the word? Flatterrified - no, flattered that you'd look to me for advice, but this..."
Fantana lifts up a bundle of envelopes tightly held together by a rubber band.
"This is a bit much. You expect me to sift through all of this?"
He rolls the rubber band off of the envelopes and begins to place them down one-by-one before happening upon an envelope marked "From Furuya" that's been sealed with a lipstick kiss.
"I swear I told my publicist to burn this one."
Fantana carefully places the envelope in the shredder before continuing through the stack of letters. His face grows more frustrated with each envelope, half of them unopened.
"But wait, there's more!"
Fantana strolls across the room and plops down into rolling office chair at his desk before cracking open his laptop. He opens up the spam folder in his email, which is completely full of emails from hawttstuff69@hotmail.com. Zack opens one up and it reads simply "I also asked Bobby to tell me where you are training or w/e, but he didn't tell me anything!" presumably a continuation of a thought in a long series of emails.
"I honestly can't tell if you're trolling me or not. Take this one for instance."
Zack lifts a brown envelope off the table and pulls out three photographs in which Benny Stevens is wearing dresses.
"That's literally all that's in the package. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this, but given the effort you've gone through to reach me, I suppose you've earned a reply. I could just wait until next week in D.C. to address you in the ring, but I'm Zack Fantana and I care about my fans."
Fantana spins his chair toward the laptop and cracks his knuckles before placing his fingers delicately on the keyboard. The camera zooms in to capture his words.
Dear Benjamin,
I used to be a lot like you.
I used to be a lot like you.
Those keystrokes visibly send a shiver rippling down Fantana's spine. He briefly removes his fingers from the keyboard in order to regain his composure.
The cursor blinks threateningly next to that last sentence as Zack reconsiders his honesty with a cursory glance at the backspace key.
| | | | | | | |
With an exasperated sigh, Zack hits the enter key and moves onto his next thought.
It's true. Even me, the venerable Zack Fantana, used to worry what people thought of me. I used to think I would have to remake myself to ever get over in the eyes of the audience. I looked at the heroes of my youth and wondered where the hell I went wrong.
It wasn't until a few years later that I discovered the error of my eyes. See, just like you, I thought the way I'd succeed was to be the next Bobby Franchise, for instance. But in my heart of hearts, I never wanted to be the next Bobby Franchise. I wanted to be the first Zack Fantana.
So here's my advice, Benjamin. Be true to yourself.
You might think you're already being genuine, but I see through you. All these contrivances to get yourself noticed - the daredevil stunts, the cross-dressing, the twitter trolling - it's all just a facade to cover up the insecure little boy inside you that still influences your everyday life. The bullies back in Seattle really fucked you up, didn't they, Benny? You're so terrified that someone will make a joke about you that you make the joke first. Damn, that's sad.
While I recognize that you'd like to think that you're more genuine than Carmen Cambridge, you really aren't. You've just shelved the purple hair dye in favor of a sparkly pink sundress. You're every bit the con artist that boo boo is. You're just wearing less make-up.
Zack pauses to look over the photographs on the table.
Or are you?
| | | | | | | | |
You know what? Forget I asked. I've already seen more from you than I bargained for tonight.
Fantana covers up some of that "Benny leg" in the photographs with papers on his desk.
Let's move on to Carmen Cambridge. Honestly, I don't see why Benny hates you so much, Carmen. You two seem rather made for one another. You'd make good gal pals. You could go shopping together at Nordstrom and help Benny pick out what he's going to wear to AWE's premiere before sitting down for a nice meal at the restaurant you own in Seattle. You know that's Benny's hometown, right? OMG. Besties.
Just like Benjamin, you're defining yourself by your clothing. The Gucci Girl. What exactly are you trying to tell the world with a nickname like that? That you're high maintenance? Overpriced? A fad? In many ways, you're worse than Benny because you represent everything that's wrong in today's thoughtless, bandwagon culture. You're just glomming onto a brand name for your identity. We both know you can do better than that.
You want a truth realer than #nofilter, boo boo? I've been in this game a hell of a lot longer than either of you. I've won more gold than you both combined. That's not posturing. That's not a cry for attention. That's a fact. You can keep your Gucci. I don't need it, because gold is the only accessory I'll ever need.
I do hope you both enjoy the title match.
Zack hits print and leans against the desk, impatiently checking his watch as the printer spits out two copies of the letter. He then lifts a pen off his desk and scribbles in broad lettering across the bottom of each copy.