HWA Message Board: Enjoying a Sauna

Open scene.

We’re in a high-end sauna room.

Barring the camera crew, hopefully not perspiring to death is just one other occupant.

Tobias Clarke.

He has a towel draped to preserve his modesty, sitting as he is on the top bench of the sauna, all the better to both enjoy the heat of the sauna and to lord it over the camera crew who have to aim up at him.

He looks down, literally and metaphorically at you, the viewer.

Beads of sweat are dotted across his form, but he looks completely at home here.

A small noise off camera causes his eyes to flash with anger, clearly having enjoyed making the camera crew simmer longer than they have to.

(Tobias): Urgh, fine…

A dismissive wave of the hand towards the crew.

(Tobias): Can’t a man get peace, free from the stalking, smells and otherwise tiresome little creatures of the HWA… and that’s just Monkey…

A further roll of the eyes as he hams up the moment.

(Tobias): If there was one silver lining, one, it’s that Seattle is close to the best country in the world and so I’ve spent the last few days back in Canada, Vancouver to be precise…

Where let me assure you, if that little jumped up sh*t Monkey wants to try to pull anything, then the Mounties will be scraping him off the ground and into the incinerator.

Talking of scraping off the ground, let’s bring it back to what happened at Havoc. Monkey and Shark-Boy? Chica and I dominated them at Havoc. I mean, you saw how weak they were. How’d it feel to be mocked at the start of the match? Taste of your own medicine f*cker, amirite? But then, don’t think we didn’t have your wellbeing at heart Fish-Boy.

A hand goes to his chest, a look of sincerity that clearly doesn’t go as far as his eyes appearing.

(Tobias): I’ve noticed that your whole schtick is quite apt… you’ve got a very…

That sneering look of disdain appears.

(Tobias): How can I put it… you’ve got a very aquatic look about you, as you’ve got the eye placement of a hammerhead shark.

A small shudder runs through Tobias at the thought of the physical imperfection he’s describing.

(Tobias): So that beatdown that Chica and I gave you? All those kicks at your mangled head? That was us just trying to save you some of the dollars you’d have had to fork out for plastic surgery. Buddy, we were doing you a favor.

So listen up and listen up good.

Take it as a sign.

You don’t belong in the ring. Go play in traffic for all I care, but don’t bother showing your face in that arena in Charlotte. Have your ”match” with the Nutty Professor out in the parking lot away from me and anyone else wanting to actually make something of the HWA… and let’s be honest, that’s a very small list to begin with.

He adds emphasis to his last point by holding his thumb and ring finger close together.

With a small sigh, he gestures at the sauna around him before drawing attention to his sterling physique.

(Tobias): Enough about that little waste of space though, you’re not watching it for that, you’re watching it because of me and my talent and for that dream you all have that you’ll be able to eclipse me.

A shrill mocking laugh followed by another dismissive wave of the hand shows you what he thinks of that.

(Tobias): Anyway, I’m here, right now, sweating out the stink that both of those little rat f*ckers have oozing out of their pores like sewage from a pipe. I’m going to have to do it again once I go through this sh*tty match. It’s that thought that keeps me going. One more match and Monkey can f*ck off.

I heard he knows he loses all the time? Good! Nice to see that something can penetrate his skin and burrow into that lumpen sludge that he has for a brain… well…

Another smile.

(Tobias): I know a taser can penetrate his skin, so…

That laugh is back, echoing around the sauna.

Again though, the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

(Tobias): Listen up Monkey. All jokes aside, again… difficult to do so with you being such a massive f*cking walking, talking example and all that… ok, not talking, grunting, yes…

Another small shudder of the shoulders as Tobias is clearly loathe to have to picture Wolfy to begin with.

(Tobias): Urgh. The final straw is you daring...

He grinds out these words, leaning into the camera, stabbing down with a finger at the screen.

(Tobias): …daring to insult me by using my finisher? The disrespect!

He does almost seem flabbergasted at what had transpired, even with several days between the event and now.

(Tobias): First you stalk me, you breath the same air that I do, you hang around and constantly come down to ringside when I’m putting on a clinic… which, y’know buddy, on it’s own is understandable. I’m so good. You’re so sh*t. Eventually something’s got to click, y’know.

But no, then you constantly harass me, then you try to drown me. And then the icing on the mangy nugget encrusted cake that you’ve made, is to steal my move?

The neck muscles are taut like steel cables by now.

The whites of his eyes stare into your soul.

The utter conviction in his voice makes it clear what this means to him.

(Tobias): Monkey. I will f*cking end you.

Almost hyperventilating now, he throws himself back, the towel almost revealing what it’s otherwise done a sterling job of hiding.

Staring off into the distance, it’s like he forgets where he is, lost in his thoughts.

Another small cough from behind the camera brings his fury-laced attention back down.

He points at the exit to the sauna.

(Tobias): Go! And close the door behind you sharpish!

The camera turns towards the exit as the sounds of Tobias hurrying them up echoes throughout the sauna as the scene fades to black.