Post by Austen Blackwell on Jun 28, 2017 6:07:10 GMT -5
B is for The Bay: CD Piece
WHERE: The Blackwell Home - Oceanside, California
WHEN: Flashback to 2010
Austen: Mom. Dad. Thank you so much!
He hugs his parents. They had thrown the best part for thirteen year old Austen. He always thought it was odd his parents were both blonde, and his hair was much darker. They also tended to burn in the Sun, and yet he would tan quite easily. He never really paid much attention, but his so-called friends would make sure he knew.
Brandon: AB, I didn’t know your parents were blonde. Where’s your hair come from man?
Austen: My grandmother, I guess.
He shrugs. This was the story he was told if it was ever brought up. Who was he to question it?
Jake: Nah man. I bet his dad is the mailman!
He elbows Austen.
Austen: Shut up guys!
Angela: Okay boys. It is cake time.
His mother, Angela takes the take and puts it on the table.
Angela: Make a wish Austen.
Austen closes his eyes and blows out the candle. His wish? To become a wrestler just like the ones he saw on television and locally. He much preferred the locals. They were more accessible. And they were more easily to be larger than life when they could slap your hand or sign an autograph instead of an overpaid “professional” on television that could give two shits about the sport.
Austen blows out the candle.
Angela: What did you wish for?
Jake: I bet he wished to meet the mailman!
Austen pushes Jake.
Angela: What? Austen don’t.
Austen: Ma-
Angela: You know better Austen.
Jake: Mailman! Mailman!
Austen: Fuck you guys.
Austen storms off as his mom yells.
Angela: Austen Dacre Blackwell! You get back here.
Austen: No. Tell them why my hair is dark and yours is blonde. And I don’t look like dad.
Angela immediately turns red as she looks over to her husband, Walter.
Walter: Okay kids. Let’s all get you some cake.
He tries to usher the kids on their way as Angela tries to follow Austen into the house. He storms up the stairs and slams his door shut. Angela walks up after him and knocks on the door.
Angela: Austen?
Austen: Go away!
Angela enters his bedroom slowly.
Austen: I don’t want to talk.
Angela: What is this all about?
Austen: They are saying that my dad is the mailman. And he’s not.
Austen looks up to his mom.
Austen: Right?
Angela: Of course not. First off we have a mail lady. And secondly, I would never do that
Austen: Promise.
Angela: Promise.
Austen: They are stupid.
Angela: Who?
Austen: Jake and Brandon.
Angela: I understand. But they are here for you.
Austen: No. They wanted to swim and eat cake. They don’t like me really.
Angela: What would you prefer to do for your birthday?
Austen: Anything?
Angela: Anything.
He sits up.
Austen: I would like to just have dinner with you and dad. No phones. No business meetings. No appointments. Pineapple and ham pizza. And Orange Pop. Definitely Orange Pop.
Angela smiles.
Angela: And this whole thing with friends?
Austen: They aren’t friends. You said to invite people, so I did. I don’t like any of them. I’d rather just get into the pool and swim alone.
Angela laughs.
Austen: Oh! And I want to see a wrestling show. I heard that The Great Conquistador is coming to the VFW Auditorium soon.
Angela: Wrestling? Like Hulk Hogan stuff?
Austen: Better than that. Real, in your face wrestling.
Angela: Well, if that is what you want…
He brightens up. In Angela’s head another crisis adverted.
WHERE: The Blackwell Home - Oceanside, California
WHEN: Flashback to 2010
Austen: Mom. Dad. Thank you so much!
He hugs his parents. They had thrown the best part for thirteen year old Austen. He always thought it was odd his parents were both blonde, and his hair was much darker. They also tended to burn in the Sun, and yet he would tan quite easily. He never really paid much attention, but his so-called friends would make sure he knew.
Brandon: AB, I didn’t know your parents were blonde. Where’s your hair come from man?
Austen: My grandmother, I guess.
He shrugs. This was the story he was told if it was ever brought up. Who was he to question it?
Jake: Nah man. I bet his dad is the mailman!
He elbows Austen.
Austen: Shut up guys!
Angela: Okay boys. It is cake time.
His mother, Angela takes the take and puts it on the table.
Angela: Make a wish Austen.
Austen closes his eyes and blows out the candle. His wish? To become a wrestler just like the ones he saw on television and locally. He much preferred the locals. They were more accessible. And they were more easily to be larger than life when they could slap your hand or sign an autograph instead of an overpaid “professional” on television that could give two shits about the sport.
Austen blows out the candle.
Angela: What did you wish for?
Jake: I bet he wished to meet the mailman!
Austen pushes Jake.
Angela: What? Austen don’t.
Austen: Ma-
Angela: You know better Austen.
Jake: Mailman! Mailman!
Austen: Fuck you guys.
Austen storms off as his mom yells.
Angela: Austen Dacre Blackwell! You get back here.
Austen: No. Tell them why my hair is dark and yours is blonde. And I don’t look like dad.
Angela immediately turns red as she looks over to her husband, Walter.
Walter: Okay kids. Let’s all get you some cake.
He tries to usher the kids on their way as Angela tries to follow Austen into the house. He storms up the stairs and slams his door shut. Angela walks up after him and knocks on the door.
Angela: Austen?
Austen: Go away!
Angela enters his bedroom slowly.
Austen: I don’t want to talk.
Angela: What is this all about?
Austen: They are saying that my dad is the mailman. And he’s not.
Austen looks up to his mom.
Austen: Right?
Angela: Of course not. First off we have a mail lady. And secondly, I would never do that
Austen: Promise.
Angela: Promise.
Austen: They are stupid.
Angela: Who?
Austen: Jake and Brandon.
Angela: I understand. But they are here for you.
Austen: No. They wanted to swim and eat cake. They don’t like me really.
Angela: What would you prefer to do for your birthday?
Austen: Anything?
Angela: Anything.
He sits up.
Austen: I would like to just have dinner with you and dad. No phones. No business meetings. No appointments. Pineapple and ham pizza. And Orange Pop. Definitely Orange Pop.
Angela smiles.
Angela: And this whole thing with friends?
Austen: They aren’t friends. You said to invite people, so I did. I don’t like any of them. I’d rather just get into the pool and swim alone.
Angela laughs.
Austen: Oh! And I want to see a wrestling show. I heard that The Great Conquistador is coming to the VFW Auditorium soon.
Angela: Wrestling? Like Hulk Hogan stuff?
Austen: Better than that. Real, in your face wrestling.
Angela: Well, if that is what you want…
He brightens up. In Angela’s head another crisis adverted.