Monday, May 28, 2007

The Meatlocker

Void, then the slow sound of deep breathing. A strong, unapologetic breath that is almost, almost vulgar. A harsh overhead pin of light accompanies every other inhalation, carving out MEATLOCKER'S back from the darkness, a mass of naked muscle in an uncomfortable hue of blue, pocked with purple bruises. It is his breathing that we hear, and as he exhales and his shoulders lower as the light slowly fades back to black to start over again. The second cycle of light reveals more ambience, we see that he is in a locker room. Barely lit are the other boxers he has to share the locker room with. They are shapes only and with the pulse of light they eventually disappear. The sound of their bouts seeps in counterpoint to the breathing. When MEAT is finally alone in the locker room, he cautionly looks around and is relieved. Now with no one watching he feels free to move, twisting his neck trying to get those cords of neck muscle to align, to obey. His arms slowly stretch up and then out. He spins around and we see more bruises down his chest and abdomen.

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