Login

bozzz · 08-17-2016, 08:10 AM

[A video starts up, quality indicating that it’s a cheap-o hand-held camcorder. There is a time stamp in the bottom left corner, and a watermark reading #RAIDERSTV at the top right at all times. On the screen as the auto-focus tries to regain control of the image is Georgette Pel. She looks tired, has on a knit Raiders beanie hat, and as the background behind her starts to become more clear, she’s sitting on a patterned fabric seat, a large window to her left showing teammates in a line, the blacktop of a parking lot, and bags of hockey gear piled up next to the line of hockey players slowly inching forwards. Many of them have on comfortable clothing, earphones, all of them look relatively apprehensive or exhausted.]

TIMESTAMP
PM 6:58
10 AUG 2016

PEL: [muffled] I think this thing’s recording — but they gave me a mic for this, and I can’t — Kaisey, c’mere a minute —

[A hand wraps around the edge of Georgette’s seat, and she looks up at someone off-screen.]

PEL: [muffled] Do you know how to switch this thing over to auxiliary audio, I have it plugged in, but —
KAISER: [off-screen] Yeah, gimme it for a second, I’ll show you —

[The camera swings up panning to a shot of Isaac Kaiser and the ceiling of what appears to now be a tour bus, overhead lights and AC vents clear now as Kaiser frowns thoughtfully, pressing a few buttons. Suddenly, the audio gains incredible depth and becomes a lot clearer. You can hear two people discussing the merits of crunchy peanut butter versus plain from somewhere else in the bus, you can hear Georgette’s cell phone key touch tones and she texts away off screen, you can someone outside yelling “hurry up, fatass, the bus is leaving in 15!” and various accompanied laughter. The camera swings back down, moving too much to show a clear image.]

KAISER: [off-screen] So it’s this right here behind the mode dial, you see —
PEL: [off-screen] Oh, that — the switch there?
KAISER: [off-screen] Yeah, just leave it on INP 1A/AUX 1 and you should be golden.
PEL: [off-screen] Sweet, thanks buddy.

[The camera stops moving and settles once again on a close-up of Georgette, who smiles.]

PEL: Welcome to my Roadie Diary.

[Her inflection and waggling eyebrows clearly capitalize the R and D of Roadie Diary.]

PEL: Our AV segments seem to be getting more traffic on the Raiders TV site, so publicity’s been having a brainstorming field day about ways for you guys out there to get a better idea of what life is like as a Halifax Raider, and I guess this is their newest brain-child. I promise you, bus life isn’t that glamorous, especially not after dry-land sprints and the 10 hour bus trip ahead of us, but! Let me show you, here, c’mon —

[Georgette shuffles to the side, so that she’s kneeling on her seat, and turns the camera around to peek between the seat-gap to show the pair of seats directly behind her. Kaiser is spread out over both of them, large penguin-patterned throw blanket covering him, and he appears to have glasses on which make him seem much younger than he actually is. Georgie snickers audibly, the noise causing Kaiser to look up.]

PEL: [horribly fake Australian accent] Now here we have a wild Kaisey, having found his shelter for the night, bundling up in an effort to make himself seem as harmless as possible to his fellow hockey player species who might be aggressively on the prowl for an easy target, hey!—

[Kaiser throws his travel pillow at the lens of the camcorder, obscuring its view.]

KAISER: You’re fucking obnoxious, you know that? Nah, nuh-uh, you’re not getting out of —

[Georgette makes an incoherent yelling noise.]

PEL: Fucking get off — are you trying to give me a goddamn noogie, what the fuck —
KAISER: You’ll take your licks and like ‘em, you shit —
PEL: IVERS HELP ME —

[The camera cuts out.]

[The camera cuts back in, and we’re watching an intense-looking poker game going on between Kip O’Callahan, Reed Laing, and Toivo Kosonen — with Jean-Luc Reflieux presiding as dealer. The game itself seems to be spanning over two rows, and while no money is visible, various knicknacks appear to be in the betting pot, including packs of gum, a roll of zebra-patterned athletic tape, several boxes of something labeled “Salmiakki,” hair-ties, a fifth of vodka, and exactly two packs of Gushers. The camera shakes slightly with the motion of the bus.]

TIMESTAMP
PM 8:32
10 AUG 2016

LAING: Call.
O’CALLAHAN: You can’t fucking call, you’re out of things to bet.
LAING: Objectively speaking, my athletic tape is worth at least twenty packs of goddamn gum —
O’CALLAHAN: It’s Trident Layers, though, everyone wishes they were paid in —
LAING: Fuck off!
KOSONEN: Olet molemmat menossa menettää toisessa —
O’CALLAHAN: Unless that’s you agreeing to put up her bet, I don’t wanna hear it you Finnish fuck.

[Toivo sighs, compiles his cards and places them face down for long enough to turn around and rummage through his bag. He produces two more boxes of “Salmiakki,” and gestures meaningfully to Reed with one before placing it in the pot.]

KOSONEN: For her bet.

[Toivo then deposits the second box and picks his cards back up.]

KOSONEN: For mine — also call.
REFLIEUX: Time to show them what you’ve got, Kippers.
O’CALLAHAN: Yeah, yeah.

[The camera briefly zooms into where, next to the betting pile, five face-up playing cards are sitting; the zoom’s not great and it’s a little hard to see in the low light provided by the over-head seat lamps that are facilitating this night-time game.]

PEL: [off-camera, stage-whisper] For those of you just tuning in, Reflieux’s already turned the river, and the cards are as follows: ace of spades, two of hearts, eight of spades, three of spades, eight of clubs.

O’CALLAHAN: Am I good to show my hand now?
LAING: Buddy, ain’t no time like the present.
O’CALLAHAN: You sure? I wouldn’t want to ruin Peller’s shot there —
REFLIEUX: Kip. Show your hand.
O’CALLAHAN: Alright, alright —

[Kip puts down his cards with a big show of reluctance. The first card is the ace of hearts, and the second card is the ace of diamonds. Reed throws her cards across the aisle.]

LAING: FUCK.
O’CALLAHAN: I know, my incredible, card-sharp-like affinity for Hold ‘Em hands is disconcerting, but I promise you the betting will all work itself out in the wash. Just gotta keep playing through the slump.
LAING: If I find out with the slightest hint of legitimate confirmation that you’re cheating at cards, dude, you’ll wish you’d fucking walked to Montreal —
O’CALLAHAN: Aww, you wound me Reedy. Don’t worry, I’m generous, you can still use your lucky tape for tomorrow’s game.

[Kip goes to collect the pot with both hands, when a firm hand on his forearm stops him. Toivo looks at him calmly while fanning himself with the two cards still left in his other hand.]

KOSONEN: Overconfident. I still have hand.
REFLIEUX: Toivs, you can beat three pair?

[In lieu of a response, Toivo shrugs and presents his cards face up. They are the eight of diamonds and the ace of clubs, respectively, creating with the community cards a winning full house. Kip looks stunned. Reed lets out a triumphant cackle, and even Jean-Luc looks mildly impressed.]

PEL: [off-camera] Oh shit, Toivs.
LAING: Oh shit is right!

[Toivo collects the pot, tosses Reed’s tape to her without a second glance, and starts to pack the rest of it away into his bag. An annoyed Kip swipes one box of “Salmiakki” away from Toivo before he can protest, and pops it open, fishing out some sort of black candy and popping into his mouth.]

REFLIEUX: Hey man, what did I say about respecting the winner’s rights to the pot?
O’CALLAHAN: He always bets with these stupid things, and no one ever gets to eat them — oh god —

[Kip’s face is slowly morphing into a rictus of disgust. The camera closes in on him as he scrambles around looking for something, evidently, to spit the candy out into. In the midst of his panic, Toivo calmly reclaims the offending box of “Salmiakki” and puts it back into his bag.]

O’CALLAHAN: [muffled] What the fuck? What the fuck, man? These taste like raw salt, like seaweed and — and licorice-flavored asshole!
KOSONEN: Molopää.

[Kip has spat out the offending candy and is fishing out his toothbrush from his bag. Toothbrush now in hand, he is trying to scrub his tongue with the dry bristles. He’s also making helpless gagging noises. Laing is doubled over laughing next to him.

The camera goes black.]

[The camera cuts back in on Pietra Volkova and Greta Iversen sitting in two adjacent seats, Pietra with her feet up and crossed Indian-style, Greta with her feet propped up on the seat in front of her. They’re both deeply involved in their phones and typing away at rapid paces.]

TIMESTAMP
PM 9:04
10 AUG 2016

[The camera just maintains a lazy shot of them typing for a minute or so.]

PEL: [off-screen] Are you guys texting each other?
IVERSEN: No.
[simultaneously]
VOLKOVA: Maybe.

[They both stop and look at each other for a second, before going right back to texting.]

PEL: [off-screen] ‘Kay, just checking.

[The camera goes black.]

[The camera cuts back in, oddly stationary, trying to focus on a can of Molson that is too close for it’s auto-focus to properly scan. There is raucous singing in the background.]

TIMESTAMP
AM 12:36
11 AUG 2016

???: [singing] — een gone for a week, I’ve been drunk since I left —

[The beer is lifted out of view of the camera, and the camera itself is suddenly moving again, too fast to focus on anything in particular. When it settles back down, in the view screen is Georgette with her arm flung around Niklas Flower’s shoulders, they’re both grinning and pink-cheeked. Georgie takes a sloppy sip of beer.]

???: SHUT THE FUCK UP — Jesus, fucking, shut up! Do you not understand the meaning of beauty sleep? Do any of you fucking hooligans understand the importance of a good night’s rest?

[The camera abruptly spins around to show Dick C. Hocolate coming down the main aisle in navy silk pajamas and a sleep mask covering his eyes. He appears to be navigating the bus without the use of his sight. In an effort to punctuate his rant, once he gets close enough to the camera, he pulls back his mask to reveal a cooling pad over his eyes, which makes him look vaguely like a cartoon character. The bus has fallen silent. He snatches the pad away from his face to reveal his eyes — his crazy goalie eyes.]

DICK CHOCOLATE: Some of us have to win fucking games! Some of us have an entire team’s worth of rookies to carry on their fucking backs! Some of us have the GM of the goddamn Dragons counting their juniors stats with a
goddamned abacus —

[Hocolate suddenly stops mid rant, staring somewhere just off camera to the left.]

DICK CHOCOLATE: Is that Honey Jack?

[A hand, probably Georgie’s, extends a mostly-full liter bottle of Tennessee Honey Jack Daniels towards the intensely interested starting goalie.]

[The camera goes black.]

[The camera cuts back in to Georgette, Niklas, and Hocolate rocking back in forth, in time with the singing in the background which has now resumed full force. All three are significantly more red in the face than they were just a few seconds ago.]

TIMESTAMP
AM 12:59
11 AUG 2016

PEL, FLOWER, & DICK CHOCOLATE: [singing] These so-called vacations will soon be my death, I’m so sick from the drink, I need home for a rest —

[The camera goes black.]

[The camera cuts back in on Georgette, her figure barely discernible in low light, steadily making her way down the center aisle to the back of the bus. Someone acting as equally unsteady cameraman is following her, and lets out a loud burp. It’s got enough force behind it to cause Georgie to pause and turn.]

TIMESTAMP
AM 3:01
11 AUG 2016

PEL: [slurring, slightly] Bless you.
REFLIEUX: [off-screen] Two-minute time limit on dares, Peller!
PEL: [slurring, slightly] Just don’t drop the camera down the hole, dude. They’ll prob— probably take it outta my check.
???: PUT UP OR SHUT-UP PELLER.
PEL: [slurring, slightly] Jesus Christmas tree Christ, will you give a woman a second to get her pants off, for fuck’s sake — not like I can fuckin’ whip it out.

[Georgie turns back to shuffling towards the back of the bus, the camera following her. There’s the sound of a zipper being undone, clothes rustling. The camera dutifully does not dip downwards, but instead keeps its unsteady aim at her face. She grimaces slightly as the sound of pee falling down a long pipe is audible enough for the mic to pick up.]

PEL: [slurring, slightly] This, ladies and gentleman, is why you never play Truth or Dare on a tour bus with a piss-hole.
???: [different voice] Don’t fucking talk and aim at same time, Georgie. Bad for you if pee on shoes.
PEL: [slurring, slightly] Screw you, Azarov, I c’n multitask just fine.

[After a few seconds, Georgie straightens up, zips up and turns around. She kicks open the bathroom door, and steals a few pumps of hand sanitizer before letting it shut and turning back to address the camera.]

PEL: [slurring, slightly] Verified and documented, Pel: 1 Banning: 0; hope Cap’s ready to fucking get down and dirty.
BANNING: [off-screen] I hope you know I’m picking truth.

[A slightly terrifying grin splits Georgie’s face wide.]

PEL: [slurring, slightly] Oh yeah? I can work with that.

[The camera goes black.]

[The camera cuts back on to a very startled looking Colin Banning, who is clearly blushing on top of whatever alcohol flush he might have going on. There are bodies pressed in on either side of him, and people are chattering and laughing in loud whispers.]

TIMESTAMP
AM 3:12
11 AUG 2016

PEL: [off-screen] — problem if you need me to repeat the question, who — not playing for Halifax — have you had sexual relations with that currently plays for the SMJHL? I’m also invoking the yes/no follow-up rule because you declared for Truth before the question “truth or dare” was actually asked, as per the roadie games bylaws.

[Focus and fervor seem to have made Georgie’s speaking clearer. Banning looks embarrassed, there are poorly hushed cat-calls heard all around.]

BANNING: I call bullshit on that rule.
REFLIEUX: Actually, no, she’s right — it was established as a roadie games rule on our last trip to Detroit —
BANNING: What the fuck! Don’t fucking support her, you fucking support me! I’m the goddamn captain!
REFLIEUX: I support the rules.

[Banning groans and covers his face with his hands. A quiet but crescendoing chant of “pussy” has started up among the bystanders. It finally gets to the point where Banning plops his hands back down in his lap, curls them into fists, and glares directly at the camera.]

BANNING: Fine. I’ll answer, but not on camera.
PEL: [off-screen] Alright. Done.

[The camera goes black.]

[The camera cuts back on at an awkward angle, capturing the curve of Banning’s jaw and the ceiling consoles of the bus. The overhead reading light that’s illuminating the clutch of bodies causes an awkward lens-flare on the screen.]

TIMESTAMP
AM 3:13
11 AUG 2016

[Absolutely no one is talking.]

PEL: [abruptly, off-screen] Wait, but how many times?
BANNING: That’s not a yes or no question.
PEL: [off-screen] OK, but —
BANNING: And I thought I said turn the camera off, I can see the red recording light from here.

[Georgie sighs, the camera shakes in a few minute but violent jerks before going black.]

[The camera cuts on to the grainy, low-light recording setting, as all the overhead lights appear to be off, the only source of brightness from the eerie gray pre-dawn light spilling over the sky outside. Someone is carrying the camera, checking row to row for sleepers. As the camera darts around the corner, someone’s sleeping figure is completely covered by a comforter — the lens sweeps down to the player’s feet, which are socked, but devoid of shoes.]

TIMESTAMP
AM 6:50
11 AUG 2016

???: [off-screen] Hocolate’s safe.

[The camera scuttles over to the next row. Iversen is ass-up across two seats, drool pooling on the seat beneath her face; she, as the camera discovers, is also barefoot.]

???: [off-screen] The Goon’s safe.

[The next row: someone pretzeled against the windows, their hockey sweater tied like a blindfold around their face. The back name patch reading “Shea” is conveniently visible for the camera to see. The player’s feet are also socked and devoid of shoes.]

???: [off-screen] Goddamn it, Shea’s good too — you sure we can’t just draw on his face anyway?
???: [off-screen, different voice] Nah, rules is rules.

[The next row: Volkova is lying with her head propped up on the seat-back food tray of the seat in front of her, ass in the seat of the chair, legs up against the seat-back pointing towards the ceiling. The position looks both uncomfortable and ridiculously awkward. The camera pans up to find her feet... in pool shoes.]

???: [off-screen] YES. Dickface!
???: [off-screen, different voice] Here dude.

[A hand extends forwards with the camera as an un-capped black Sharpie pops into view. It lightly begins to draw what appears to be a crude approximation of a penis and testicles onto the side of her face. Every time she twitches or snores at a slightly different pitch, the hand yanks away, and the two voices try to smother their giggles. Once their graffiti is complete, there is a soft “snick” noise as the pen is recapped, and then the camera is on to the next row. Here, Georgette is curled into a ball across two seats, headphones on, head resting on what appears to be the travel pillow belonging to Kaiser featured earlier in the video log. The camera pans to her feet, and finds one barefoot, the other with a flip-flop barely hanging on to the big toe.]

???: [off-screen] Hmmm. Verdict?
???: [off-screen, different voice] I mean. Shit. I don’t know. Do we draw half a dickface?
???: [off-screen] I guess we could? But it’s not even all the way on her foot.
???: [off-screen, different voice] True. Wait — I have an idea.

[A hand once again extends forwards with the camera as an un-capped black Sharpie drifts into view. Instead of male genitalia, however, this time the hand beings to lightly draw a smiley face on Georgie’s face, with the words “next time” written in big block letters underneath it. The recapping of the pen can be heard upon completion of the art, and the camera moves back to observe Georgie’s still slumbering form.]

???: [off-screen] Whaddya think?
???: [off-screen, different voice] It’s a beaut.

[The camera goes black.]

[The camera cuts in on Georgette, eyes bloodshot, checking out her new cheek ink with a weary sigh. The camera is no longer shaking in a way that indicates the bus is moving, and there’s the noise of people gathering up their belongings and groggily starting to disembark from the bus. The camera and Georgie suddenly both lurch forward in a way that indicates Georgie is walking, and we see from the background around her that she is part of the single file of people that is stepping down off the coach bus and back out into the fresh Canadian air.]

TIMESTAMP
AM 7:50
11 AUG 2016

PEL: Well. We’re here.

[Georgie pans the camera over across what appears to be a mostly vacant parking lot to show the exterior of instantly recognizable Stade Olympique, home and arena of the Montreal Milita.]

PEL: We drove a total of 1,151 km to play at this eyesore, and I think I got maybe three hours of sleep total? So yeah —

[Georgie turns the camera back on herself, and grins with a delirious kind of mania.]

PEL: Morning skate’s gonna be g-reat! But hey, I probably won’t have to play today, if all goes well. And besides, it could totally be worse.

[Georgie leans into the camera, and then raises her eyebrows and pans slightly to her left to include Volkova, who looks even worse for wear than she does, dickface clear as the stadium is ugly, even from this weird stealth angle. She smirks once, brightly, before pulling back out to a reasonable distance.]

PEL: I’ll catch-up with you guys at skate, but yeah. Now you know how we get down on the road. Use the information wisely, young Raiders fans. Its distribution is now in your hands.

[Georgie leans in and begins to fiddle with the camera, clearly groping for the off switch.]

PEL: Peller out.

To be continued.... maybe? ONLY TIME WILL TELL.

Code:
3,782 words -- ready for grading

bozzz · 08-17-2016, 08:13 AM

:facepalm: if someone with the ability to edit the topic title could please erase everything after "Halifax Roadie Diaries" I would really appreciate it. I didn't realize I fucked up the copy/paste of the main text.