Dinner

[Stu]

*** A fine restaurant, dimly lit, soft piano music playing. Although there is the sound of utensils clinking around, there is but one table, set for one, on which the camera focuses. Here is Bartholomew Beckett, dressed in a fine three-piece suit, enjoying filet mignon, a well-stocked potato, greens, and a glass of red wine. The should-be-a-champion looks as dapper as he thinks he is.***

BARTHOLOMEW “BRAWLER” BECKETT: “Ah, hullo. Pray pardon. I simply couldn’t wait for your arrival to order because, well, you are simply not worth it. I have summoned you here because I wanted to tell you something.

“I am right again.

“To be expected, I know, but I want to … how to put it delicately … rub your mongrel nose in it. You see,” *** sets down knife and fork, wipes mouth with napkin *** “... one thing that my being constantly overlooked and circumvented by the powers that be allows me is time, time to observe and consider, to exercise my superior insight as concerns human nature, and seeing my predictions come to inevitable fruition is …”

*** picks up the wine glass, swirls it a bit, inhales deeply, and sips, his eyes closed, ending with a satisfied sigh ***

“... delicious.”

“You see, human nature is just that … nature. Something is dropped, it falls. A predator hunts and consumes prey. When a man fasts … he hungers.

“One man in particular. He is returning to his natural state. A competitor, a champion, just like me. Oh, he has been gone from this state for some time for reasons that seemed good to him at the time, but has reclaimed his true nature of late. And like me, his is ready to reclaim his championship, his state of natural superiority over his peers. He, like myself, is ready to get back into the ring and tear through the competition, to cripple those who think themselves my equal, to put such men in their place and to cripple those who do not belong. Anything less …

“... would be uncivilized.”