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Date Posted: 20:27:34 11/16/01 Fri
Author: Thurston Edward Marshall III
Subject: A tour...

The scene opens to an outside façade of a mansion, seated far back in the countryside, surrounded by trees in many shades of autumn, reds, yellows, oranges, greens. In the middle of the circular driveway is a large white fountain, drained of water in preparation of the harsh winter to come. The front is pearly white, with large gothic pillars extending the full four floors from the ground to the roof of the house. Windows reflected the falling sunlight out around the house, creating a halo effect. The house is of classic pre-depression American architecture, much like the houses of the robber barons of old. At one time it was the home of such a man. Now, though, it is home to one of the new breed of robber barons, a much more devious and cunning breed, a more ruthless breed.

Voiceover: “Welcome to Marshall Manor, my family’s home. This home has been in the family for years, and it is most dear to us. It is my home, my father’s home, my father’s father’s home, and so on. And it shall remain in my family for many years to come. It is not just a house, it is an institution here on Martha’s Vineyard…”

The camera pulls back and reveals Thurston Edward Marshall III standing in front of an iron gate. He slides a card through the gate, which slowly opens. He walks through, the camera following.

Thurston: “You should be overjoyed, as you are stepping foot where very few commoners have set foot before… Come, let me show you a tour of the estate…”

Thurston walks over to a shed set off to the side of the drive and disappears into it. A moment later a whirring sound is heard, and soon after, Thurston emerges from the shed in a golf cart.

Thurston: “Well, I know that I could walk, but I severely doubt you have the physical build to walk around our vast lands while lugging that hulk of equipment…”

He points to the camera.

Cameraman: “Thank you sir…”

Thurston: “Do shut up… this is my time, not yours.”

The camera shakes as the cameraman climbs in the cart, and they proceed. As they wind through the trees, sounds float through and are picked up by the camera. You can hear dogs barking, water crashing into rocks in the far distance and, once in a while, some sharp, loud cracks.

Thurston: “We’ll start off around back… I’ll give you a tour of the house soon, don’t worry…”

The barking sound grows louder as they wander off farther away from the house. They soon pull up to a large barn, with a fenced in enclosure in which you can see dogs of various sizes running around.

Thurston: “These are the stables… We have a few horses, although we have sent them down to our Kentucky farm for wintering… Right now, all we have are the dogs over here… We have a good amount of hunting hounds for local pursuits, as well as a few of my favorites, Rhodesian Ridgebacks… do you know what that breed is?”

Cameraman: “Ummm….”

Thurston: “Don’t worry, I didn’t expect an uneducated lout such as yourself to know that… frankly I’m surprised you are even able to run that camera with your limited brain power… Well, the Rhodesian Ridgeback is a fairly docile dog, ours are imported directly from the most respected breeder, in Africa, where the dogs originated… Could you guess what they did over there…?

The cameraman does not respond.

Thurston: “Didn’t think so… well, Rhodesians were bred for one of the most dangerous pursuits that man participates in… they were bred to aid in the hunt of possibly the most dangerous type of prey in the world, next to only some bears and…humans. They were bred to hunt, attack and kill lions… They are one of the most wily dog breeds in the world, one of the most deceptive and cunning, one of the most ferocious. I rather enjoy their company… Shall we move along?”

Thurston and the cameraman climb in the golf cart and ride away. As they continue on, the cracking sound becomes louder. They stop once again, this time in front of rows and rows of wires strung up between posts. Thurston motions to the cameraman to stay in the cart.

Thurston: “I won’t even ask, as I am sure you don’t know what those are… those are for growing grapes. We produce some of the finest grapes in the world here on the island… and we make wines that are topped only by the Italians and some California wineries… Not much interesting here, let’s move on, shall we?”

The golf cart begins moving. The cracking sound grows nearer and nearer, until the cart reaches a clearing that stretches nearly a half-mile into the distance. There are plastic animals standing off to the side and large targets at various distances from a line of shooting benches. Far off in the distance is a large wall. The golf cart pulls up to the bench, where a young man of about 25 is tinkering with the telescopic sights on a rather large rifle. Thurston climbs out of the cart, the camera following. He walks up to the man.

Thurston: “What’s the matter, Ace?”

Ace: “Eh, nothing really… the sights are just so damn touchy on this thing… I finally get it sighted in at 300, but now it’s going right and up at two… Oh, hey, who’s that?”

Thurston: “That’s a cameraman from the GWA…”

Ace: “The what??? Is that one of your new business acquisitions?”

Thurston: “No, no… it’s a wrestling federation… they just signed me to a rather large contract the other day… I was told it was more lucrative than any of the other wrestlers… Frankly, I think they undervalue me but… oh yes, where was I? Oh, yeah , the GWA. I think it stands for Generic Wrestling Association?

Cameraman: “I think you mean Gladiator Wrestling Association, sir…”

Thurston: “Yes, whatever… anyways, this is my brother, Alexander William Thurston, we call him Ace for short…” Ace goes back to tinkering with his rifle “That’s a new acquisition of ours, a handcrafted rifle of new design made specifically for large game, namely lions, tigers, bears, rhinos, even elephants. It shoots a .544 Night-Train load, capable of knocking an elephant down at nearly half a mile. We’re all rather efficient hunters in this family, you’ll see that when we tour the house… He’s preparing for a safari he is headed out on in a week, going down to middle Africa for a week or so, should be an interesting trip, pity my time is being taken up with people such as Chambers and Reims… Well, let’s head on inside now…”

They climb into the golf cart just as Ace looses another round down range. A few seconds after the thunderous report, there is a puff of dust from the wall nearly 600 yards downrange. Ace shrugs and pulls out his tools again as the golf cart motors off. It wanders along a path until it pulls up to the rear of the house, which is just as imposing as the front façade. The two climb out of the cart and go on up to the door.

Thurston: “I’m afraid I won’t be able to show you the entire house, as that could take quite a large amount of time… I’ll just show you the main rooms.”

They enter through the back door and come into a long hallway lined with portraits.

Thurston: “This is the family hallway… the portraits on the walls are of all the Marshall family patriarchs that have taken residence in this home… Mine is at the front, across from Ace’s, as we are but the latest generation to take residence here… Let’s proceed to the dining room, shall we?”

They turn into the room on the right closest to the front door, the cameras panning up to Thurston’s portrait as they walk through the entranceway. The dining room is of wooden splendor, with the heads of large animals lining the walls, looking down on the intruders with a glassy stare. At the far end is a large stone hearth. In between the doorway and the hearth is a long, glossy, polished oaken tables with regal chairs surrounding it. The room is lit softly with lamps sitting under each mounted animal head.

Thurston: “This is our formal dining area, where we eat when guests are here… normally we just eat in the dining area off of the kitchen. All the heads around here were taken by my father in his various hunts… As the house is passed from Marshall to Marshall, the heads are taken out to be replaced by the new inheritor… I already have a large number stocked away in one of our warehouse to be placed on these walls in the future.”

The camera follows him out of the dining room and into the den, which is also decorated with the heads of wild game, as well as having a few stuffed birds standing around. The room is dominated by a large case full of pictures and trophies, as well as an upright polar bear standing to the right of the entrance. Thurston’s cell phone rings and you can hear him murmuring as the camera pans around the room, taking it all in. Thurston finishes his phone call and hangs up, and turns around to face the camera.

Thurston: “I’m afraid I am going to have to cut this short… Some business has come up but, if you’d come over to the trophy case a moment, I have a few more short things to say.”

The cameraman walks over to the trophy case. He pans past many diplomas, trophies, pictures and other worthwhile things. He follows Thurston finger to two empty spots on a shelf… empty, that is, except for two white pieces of paper. The camera zooms in and is able to focus in on the words. The first reads: Reserved for GWA Falconers Title. The cameraman then pans to the second, which reads: Reserved for GWA Gladiator Title. The camera pans up to Thurston’s face.

Thurston: “See those two spots? It is inevitable that, within the next four months, those two spots will be filled. I have finally come to the GWA, and I come with a purpose. No Marshall has ever failed before, and I will not be the first one to do so. I have set out with a goal in mind, and that goal is well within my grasp. There are few out there that can compare to me in my intelligence and skills, and there are none that can exceed me. So, I am ready for the GWA… the question is, is the GWA ready for me, Thurston Edward Marshall the Third? We shall see, shan’t we?”

He ushers the cameraman to the front door.

Thurston: “I assume you know the way out… I suggest using that knowledge quickly, before I send the Rhody’s out after you…” He grins wickedly “Now good day to you…”

The camera fades to black as he walks away

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