The scene opens outside a local flower shop. A Black 2010 Ford Mustang pulls into the parking lot, with the stereo blaring. The music cuts off, and the doors open. A woman with dark hair steps out of the passenger side. She is wearing a pair of black leather pants, and a black jacket, with a pink checkered scarf wrapped around her neck for warmt. The drivers side door opens, and James Silkk steps out, wearing a pair of black dress pants, and a black leather jacket. He lifts up his sunglasses and smiles-looking at the sign.
“Autie M’s Flower Shop” the sign says.
Silkk: Is this the place Mercedes?
Mercedes: I think so.
Silkk: It’s amazing how long it took me to find a place that had black roses.
Mercedes: I know, but they’re going to a good cause.
Silkk: This is true. Come on, we have a couple other places to visit, let’s get this over with.
Silkk locks the car, and the two head into the flower shop. The bell rings, and an elderly black woman comes out from the back room.
Autie M: Can I help yalls?
Silkk: Umm, yes. We placed an order a few hours ago. Last name is Silkk. It was for the dozen black roses.
Autie M: Oh yeahs, I have those all ready for yas. I gotsta say though, what’s the deal.
Mercedes: We’re visiting a friend in the hospital…
Autie M: With black roses?
Silkk: Yes. With black roses. Now just give us the damn flowers, and go back to listening to your stupid fucking Kanye record.
Autie M grunts.
Autie M: That will be tirty seven fitty.
Silkk sighs and hands her two twenty dollar bills.
Silkk: Keep the damn change.
Mercedes takes the flowers as they head out the door.
Silkk: Fucking Google….
Scene Two: Journey Through The Decade
Static, and the scene resumes in the car. Silkk and Mercedes are driving down a highway.
Mercedes: Jimmy, are you sure this is a good idea?
Silkk: If there’s anything my brother taught me, it’s how to play mind games.
They pull off the highway onto Exit 13, and head down the road to a large Hospital.
Mercedes: I know, but what do you think LDK’s reaction will be.
Silkk: I don’t care. I want to ensure he’s 100% focused on our match this weekend.
Mercedes: Don’t you think you’re going a little overboard?
They pull into a parking spot, and Silkk turns the car off.
Silkk: No Mercedes. I don’t think I’m taking this too far. Come on, let’s go.
The two get out of the car, and Mercedes brings the flowers with her.
Scene Three: Death’s neighbor is a’knockin’
Receptionist: Thank you for calling Belluvue Cancer Treatment Center, please hold.
The sounds, the smells, the distilled taste thats left in your mouth the minute you step foot into a hospital. I loathe them. I loathe them all. I really do. I remember coming to one in Toronto when my mother died, and outside of visiting John when he was laid up in November, I’ve refused to step foot in one. They disgust me more than anything else in the world. Here we go.
The scene opens to the main front lobby of the Bellvue Cancer Treatment Center. A large medical facility-that specializes in all forms of Cancer Research and Treatment, just as the name suggests. Silkk and Mercedes step in through the automated door, and look over the main lobby. Mercedes smiles as a pair of young children play infront of a table of legos, while a teenage girl sits in a chair, half watching them, and half with her nose buried in her iPhone, presumably MyFourFaceTweetBookingSquareter-ing away.
Little Girl: When do you think Mommy will get out of here?
Little Boy: I dont know. VROOOOMMMM
The boy runs a toy car over the lego building they just built, as a small tear sheds down the older girls eye. She’s obviously their older sister, and she knows the answer to that question, and the answer is simply, “She isn’t.”
Silkk: Bellvule, Death’s next door neighbor, the sheep check in-but they rarely..if ever…check out.
Mercedes smacks him in the chest.
Mercedes: Shut up, let’s get this over with.
Silkk smirks as they walk up to the receptionist’s desk.
Receptionist: Belluvue Cancer Treatment Center, please hold.
She puts the phone down, as they approach the counter.
Receptionist: Can I help you?
Mercedes: We’re here to see a patient of Dr. Mousa’s, a Ms. K?
The receptionist clicks through some files on her computer, and mumbles to herself.
Receptionist: We only allow one set of visitors at a time for our intensive care patients, and it looks like her son Leonard just scanned out about a half hour ago. Here you go.
She hands them a pair of key cards.
Receptionist: Room 101
Silkk: Hmm, this roleplay is writing itself….
Receptionist: Excuse me?
Mercedes: Oh nothing. Thank you. Come on James!
The two walk away as the receptionist sighs, and goes back to the phones.
Scene Three point Five: The Visitation
STATIC. The camera focus on the door to a hospital room. We pan over to the number on the door, which reads “101: Dr. Mousa.” on it. A small chuckle is heard off camera, as the angle widens and we see James Silkk step into frame. His leather jacket is off, and he is wearing a black dress shirt, black vest, and a pearl white tie. He walks up to the door number, and touches it-after removing his sunglasses and hooking them on his vest.
Silkk: In the George Orwell literary masterpiece, “1984”-Room 101 was a place designed by the Ministry of Love. It was a secret room, where prisoners of the government were forced to live out their worst nightmares or phobias, as a means of interrogation. . It’s a torture chamber. In the book, Winston Smith was deathly afraid of rats. So what did O’Brien do? He put a helmet on his head, and filled it with rats-until he denied his love for Julia, and finally gave in to Big Brothers mind control. It’s kind of fitting, that Room 101 here and now, in 2011-also holds the worst nightmare and phobia for one LDK. While he may not be locked in room with rats gnawing at his face-he is being tortured by that room. Every night he wakes up in a cold sweat-because of this room.
Silkk pauses for a moment, and smirks, as he turns to the camera, and leans against the wall.
Silkk: But why? What could be in here that is causing him so much pain?
He pulls a piece of paper off the sign, the door now reads “Momma K.”, Silkk smirks once more and chuckles under his breath, before standing straight up, and glaring into the camera.
Silkk: Here lies Momma K. The dear beloved mother to her fallen son, LDK-the man I face in just a few weeks in my WARPED Wrestling debut. Come with me class, and let’s take a fieldtrip into the seventh circle of LDK’s own personal hell. Let us enter, Room 101.
He smirks as he heads into the room, with the camera in tow. He is stopped by a nurse.
Nurse: Can I help you sir?
Silkk: Yes, I just wanted to drop off these flowers and visit my Auntie K, if that’s alright.
Nurse: Well, she’s heavially sedated. She’s in alot of pain.
Silkk: Oh, I understand, we’ll only be a minute. You see, my wife here is pregnant, and we wanted to deliver Auntie K the news face to face. I know she doesn’t have much, and I just wanted to put a smile on her face-if that’s alright ma’am.
Nurse: Oh. Okay, you have ten minutes. I’ll be back.
Mercedes: Thank you, it means the world to us.
The nurse leaves as Silkk and Mercedes both facepalm.
Silkk: I was under the impression common sense was a requirement to work in medicine.
Mercedes: Let’s just get this horrible thing over with James.
The two walk up to the bed, where Momma K is laying and resting. She looks at peace, she looks over at them-too drugged up to give them any type of real look.
Momma K: Are..are you a friend of Leonards?
Silkk: Umm, you could say that. My name is James Silkk, and I came to give you these.
He lays the roses on her, and smirks-before stepping to the other side, and crouching down-right in the frame of the camera.
Silkk: Shhh, it’s okay. Go to sleep, save your energy. I want you do see what’s going to happen to your son on the 7th in Richmond.
Momma K: What?
Silkk: Shhh. Hah. LDK, I’m not a bad man, no, not at all. You see, I feel for you Leonard, I really do. I understand the pain you’re going through here. Your poor innocent mother. The woman who gave you life, the woman who raised you to be a convicted felon. The woman who raised you to be exactly what you are today, nothing but a low life thug trying to make his pressence known in an industry that simply doesn’t need your kind in it. WARPED21, Moving Forward. LDK, the only thing that will be moving forward is my career, my journey, my quest.
He smiles for a minute, placing the flowers in Momma K’s hand-her body and mind fading in and our of a drug induced sleep.
Silkk: You know, my mother always told me that you don’t really know a man-until you unleash his dark side. You don’t really know someone until you see their inner demon. You don’t understand someone, until they step from the shadows-by God Leonard, we must be best friends by now, right? After all…I know everything you said, I know everything about you. I’ve done my homework, and I know exactly where to strike. I hope that I’ve brought out your demon, because in Richmond, I wouldn’t of had it any other way. Leonard, sir. You think I’m sick? You think I’m depraved? No sir, it’s you whose sick, and its you who needs cleansing. In Richmond, you will have treatment begin. Now do you understand Leonard? Now do you understand..the Abstract?
Silkk smiles, as he stands up. He looks at Momma K, and than lifts her chart off the bed.
Silkk: Tsk, tsk. Who knows-she might not even make it to Friday. That’s too bad.
He puts the chart down, and looks at her again, before leaning over and kissing her forehead.
Silkk: Sleep tight Momma K. Conserve your rest.
He smiles, as he pulls his iPhone out of his pants pocket, and begins heading out of the room.
Silkk: What was that number Mercedes? 760-251-5146?
Silkk smiles as he dials it into his phone. Mercedes questions him as he puts it to his ear. The two of them pass the nurse on their way out.
Mercedes: What are you doing?
Silkk: You’ll see..shh… Hello? Yes. Is this the Manager of the apartment complex down the road? It is? Good. Listen, I’m a friend of Mr. Leonard Darius K’s, and ….
The voice on the other end begins screeching racial obscenities.
Silkk: Sir, sir. Yes. I understand he’s back on his rent. That’s actually why I’m calling. Tell me sir, would I be able to make a payment on Mr. K’s behalf? I want to garentuee him a roof over his head for the next month or so. Trust me, he’ll need it.
Silkk smiles as the walk down the hallway, fade to black.