On The Greens

[Brock Anderson]

The scene opens up with drone footage showing the beautiful scenery of Vancouver, British Columbia. The city skyline topped with the mountains behind it. The drone footage brings its focus to beautiful green grasses, ponds and sand pits scattered in the mix. Trees hug the sides of the fairway; you’re viewing the beautiful and exclusive Point Grey Golf & Country Club. The camera fades as we go to a ground camera where a group of young, white males, all donning “Bama bangs” or a hairstyle that practically screams old money. All dressed in polos, with nice gold watches. But one stands out amongst them all, the Breakout champion, Brock Anderson, with the EBWF title fixated on the dash of the golf cart for the world to see. The camera comes draws nearer to Brock who is having a “BS” session with a couple of the guys as he sits with his hand draped over the steering wheel waiting for the last couple to finish teeing up. Brock spots the camera behind his expensive shades and shakes his head in disgust and disbelief.

Brock Anderson: And here I thought I could get away from you people and enjoy my time off! But I guess whenever my name hits the card, y’all just can’t avoid getting my two cents, huh? Hell, I don’t blame you.

He turns to the group of guys surrounding the cart and gives them a smug smirk.

Brock Anderson: Y’all see, when I talk, the Eee-bee-dubya-eef fans want to hear what I’ve got to say.

He grins while giving a “come on” motion to the cameraman with his gloved hand. He repositions himself in the cart and waits impatiently for the cameraman to get into the passenger side. Once settled, they buzz off down the course to where Brock hit his ball squarely on the fairway. Closer to the pin than everyone else, of course.

Brock Anderson: So it seems the Breakout champion has had to take a backseat of the usual to-do crap. The signings, the “required” training camps, the.. ehh you get the point. I’ve taken matters into my own hands and when you’re the champion -

He reaches over the steering wheel and slaps the title on the face.

Brock Anderson: You can do whatever the hell you want. I mean who’s gonna tell me any different? I don’t see anyone else’s name on that belt. BUT here we are, round two… much like the round of drinks I’m about to a part of after this hole… but round two of the King of the Ring tournament. But here’s the thing, I don’t need a piece of costume jewelry to live the way I deserve to live anyways. Although, “King” Brock Anderson has its allure.. I guess.

He grins at the camera, peering from behind his sunglasses. The cart takes an abrupt stop and the cameraman shifts forward, a thud is heard from them hitting their head on the plexiglass window. Brock sarcastically acts concerned as he steps from the cart and grabs an iron from the bag.

Brock Anderson: Watch yourself, dude… Now hurry up and come check this out.

He walks over to the ball and lines up his shot, almost effortlessly hitting it as it makes it way to the tee. The camera view peers on but suddenly draws back to Brock before the shot can be seen landing on the putting greens -or so we would want you to think it did-. Brock angrily shuns the cameraman for missing the landing.

Brock Anderson: This is a prime example of what’s wrong with you people and this place. Anytime greatness is in front of you, you want to turn the attention away from it happening! Get back in the cart.

He follows behind as gets back to the cart and they head to the putting greens.

Brock Anderson: Now where were we? Ah, that’s right… King Brock. Round two, but this week against.. Rocky Romero. Not Rocky Balboa, not Rocky Maivia - he got his old Hollywood ass laid into last week I think - and not Rocky and Bullwinkle. Probably the least known Rocky to ever grace God’s green… and it is green -

He pans his arms out insinuating the beautiful course they’re at.

Brock Anderson: Look… I know one hundred percent how I sound.. spoiled brat? Big headed? Maybe even entitled but lemme tell you something, I TRIED googling this guy. All I came up with was some Captain Hook looking flunky. But hey, I’ll take a squash job if it keeps me on the up and everyone else that’s below me - and they are well below me - down.

He shifts his view to the other guys as they take amateur attempts to get to the green.

Brock Anderson: I mean, quite frankly.. where do they find these guys? Is Wes out here putting up classifieds for LITERAL carnies? Gimme a friggin’ break! But I digress, Rocky Romero… what do we know? Well, nothing. What did I find out, aside from him I guess having one eye? Yea… nothing.

He shakes his head, getting back out of the cart to grab his putter and sink a quick putt. He signals for the cameraman to follow him to the on course drink cart.

Brock Anderson: Dos fireball shots.

He throws up two fingers to the bar cart girl who hands him small airplane bottles of Fireball whiskey.

Brock Anderson: So here’s to round one where I proved, once again, that I’m not here on someone else’s laurels.

He twists the cap off and tosses it to the side, holding it up with his golfing buddies as they cheers and down it quickly. He winces and goes for bottle number two, holding it up to the camera for a “cheers”.

Brock Anderson: And here’s to round two, where Rocky Romero’s google search will show that he was beaten senseless… maybe now needing two eyepatches… and Brock Anderson moves onto round three.

He downs the shot with the group of men. And gives the camera a wink - falsely catching himself.

Brock Anderson: Oops, maybe that’s not politically correct given Rocky’s… disability?

The group laughs while Brock smirks and pushes the camera away and walking away. The cameraman stays back as the men get into the carts and drive off to carry on their golf match. The scene fades to black.