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Alexander Beckwald

He's a simple guy, liking very little more than to do his own thing in life - namely rock 'n' roll, road trippin', and whatever he fancies.

0 · 360 views · located in The United States

a character in “A Trip to Remember, a Trip to Never Forget”, as played by Cypher


((Very obviously, I'm not done with this yet. So give me a little while longer to work on it and it'll be done, I promise. Reserve me a seat. Also, I can change the car thing if you want.))

Image <-- He's the guy on the right! ~Cy
The Person Pulling My Strings: Cypher, The God of All Things Badass, Metal and Hardcore
Name: Alexander Beckwald
Nickname(s): Alex, Beck (like the band), God of Metal, "That Guy" (said with a sneer, scowl and angry head-turn)
Number of Candles on My Last Cake: 18

Height: 6'1"
Weight: 140 lbs. (rounded)
Eye color: Brown. There isn't much else to it.
Hair color: Brown. I keep it shoulder length for optimal headbangosity. Yes, I just made that word up.

Am I “Normal“?: Well hell no, I'm not normal. Do you think I'd be going on this road trip if I wa- oh. Psychic abilities? Umm... If I can get back to you on that one after I've finished looking into it, I'll tell you, but I don't think so. Pretty sure I don't.

What’s Behind the Smile: I'm loud, proud, and... What's another adjective that ends in "oud"? Eh, whatever. I like to be out there in the middle of things. Some people call me an attention hog. Some people call me an ass. Most people just don't give a shit, which I like in a person. I don't give a shit, either. It's my philosophy, my outlook on life, if you will. If something comes my way that I don't like, I don't get out of the way or force through it, I let life just wind on through it. People who don't like me? They can go ahead and not like me. People who do like me? Well hell, they like me, big deal. Friends are cool, but they're just other people.

Consumerism annoys me. It's polluted everything I like in life - music, movies, cars - everything, man. If there's one thing that pisses me off, it's when I see some rich, prissy dickcheese walking down the street in Prada heels with a Hollister top and American Eagle jeans carrying a Dolce handbag listening to Lady fucking Gaga and dragging a yippy little chihuaua dog by the neck. Damned if that never did rub my hackles the wrong way.

I like all rock and roll. Not partial to Springsteen, but I'll listen to him if I have to. Mostly I listen to classic rock, heavy metal and other stuff from the 1960s on forwards. Back when music had important things in it - like, you know, talent?

A Little Stroll Down Memory Lane: I was born and raised in this podunk-ass little town, and my folks have been telling me that since the day I could crawl I've been trying to get out.

And they'd be right. I hate this place like the damned plague. I didn't blow up the chem lab, but I sure as hell would have someday if somebody didn't. That don't make me a terrorist, though - even though I hate it, I was brought up in this place and it's, like, home. You know? Anyways, I guess my life's been pretty normal. Cop dad, stay at home mom, younger sister into that materialistic, Hannah Montana, Jonas Brothers, Twilight bullshit. I never bought into it, which is part of the reason why I want out.

I volunteered to drive a tail car for Alexis' little convoy, and it's my pride and joy. But I'll get into that a bit later.

So enough story time. Let's get on with it.

Rain Drops on Roses:
- One. My car. I love this car like the newborn child I haven't had yet and don't plan on having for a bit longer. 1956 Ford Fairlane, custom rebuild, with my own two bare hands. Red and black dual-tone paint scheme, chromed steel bumpers, 16-inch vintage alloy hubcaps with big, chunky whitewalls, all-leather interior, with a customised 440 cubic-inch, 305-horse engine. Does zero-to-60 in four point five and erases it in 122 feet with nice ceramic brake pads. It's cost me every last red cent I ever made in the last five years of my life, and it's worth every penny. I even got a nice little picture the other day. Ain't she purdy? I know she is - she's running chaser for Alexis and that goddamned rolling roadblock of hers.

- Two. My tunes. I have a sixty-four gig iPod Touch with every last bit of music I ever got loaded onto it by hand. You know how long that took? A long fucking time. I have every studio album ever cut by The Rolling Stones on this goddamn thing; you know how long it took me to get it loaded onto this thing? Two goddamn days. Besides this thing, I have a backlog of CDs, LPs, 8-tracks and what-have-you back at the "Ranch" (the loft of my garage) that is even more comprehensive than this. Because 64 gigs isn't a lot of space to fit forty years of music onto.

- Three. My friends. When I said people are people earlier, I don't mean all people. My friends might as well be a separate goddamn species. I'll do anything to protect them, if only because they've put up with my BS for so long.

- ... What comes after three? Fuck it. Freedom. I love being able to go where-ever, when-ever, and do what-ever I want.

- Number. Food. I'm a rabid carnivore, and if it smells like it's been grilled, you can bet that it might just be gone before it even makes it to the table.

- Other stuff. Thrill-seeking, my guitar, open road, good friends, drinkies (you know what I mean), and anything new I may come across.

- One. Annoying people piss me off. I can put up with your voice for a while, but if you keep jawing at me for too long I might try to punch you in the throat. Just saying. Nothing personal, just that you pissed me off.

- Two. Dishonesty. I'm not afraid to admit I'm a liar, but I don't like being lied to. And that's the truth.

- Three. Mainstream media. You'd better keep the radio off rap stations and the TV away from MTV or VH1 if you want to keep me in a positive temper.

- Four. People making up excuses for something they didn't do/forgot to do/don't want to be blamed for. There's only one excuse that works in that event - I'm an idiot and I'll do it right next time.

- Five (YES, I COUNTED THAT HIGH! FINALLY!). My own mortality. Knowing I'm gonna die is a pain in the ass; it feels like I've got a big clock counting down over my head and I need to do everything I want to before it runs out.

Fears/Flaws: Outwardly I'm afraid of nothing. In reality, I really don't like bees. Ever since one stung me in a rather private area as a child (it's a long story), I've not been fond of them at all. Other fears include being away from all other people for a long period of time. It's terrifying for me to be isolated in a really foreboding, apparently empty building. Especially in a rainstorm, thunderstorm or windstorm.

Flaws? I believe I'm a perfect individual, and there's nothing wrong with me. Others have called me obscene and offensive. I also curse a lot, which pisses people off if they don't appreciate my language enhancement skills. My temper is on a fuse totalling about half an inch long that burns at the speed of light, and that fuse is connected to a 60-megaton warhead. I'm also a hard drinker when I drink at all; I'm not an alcoholic though - I can quit whenever I want.

Skills/Passion: I love to work on cars. Any car that I have around at the time. Mine, the van, a stranger's vehicle - if I get to tinker with it, I'll tinker with it, by God. I play a little guitar, too. Not well but well enough to please my own ears.

Don't you Dare Tell Them, But I...: I believe I'm allowed to keep that to myself for now. Ahem. Uhm. Uhh. Err... Can we move on now?


- One all-weather coat (green Cherokee jacket)
- Four black band t-shirts (1 Rolling Stones shirt, 1 Iron Maiden shirt, 1 The Who shirt, 1 Jimi Hendrix shirt)
- Two other t-shirts (1 brown t-shirt with "Mopar" on the front, 1 red t-shirt with no logos)
- Four pairs of boxers (various colors)
- Six pairs of socks
- Three pairs of blue jeans
- Two pairs of sneakers (1 pair of red Converse, one pair of Nike sneakers)
- One pair of hiking boots (Timberland, brown, steel caps)
- Hygiene supplies (Toothbrush, toothpaste, 2 sticks of deodorant, shaving kit)
- iPod Touch, 64GB

Travel Bag:
- One three-piece suit (electric blue w/ red pinstripes)
- White silk dress shirt
- Red tie
- Belt
- Black wingtip dress shoes

Duffel Bag:
- Video camera (for "documentation purposes")
- Emergency tool set (contains all tools necessary for emergency vehicle maintenance)
- 1 sealed bottle of Jack Daniel's No. 16 whiskey
- 1 quart of Captain Morgan's Parrot Bay Rum
- 1 six pack of Labatt Blue Ribbon beer
- Emergency CD collection (contains a variety of CDs)

Gig Bag:
- Fender Jaguar vintage electric guitar (wine red finish)
- 4' lead cord
- Box of spare strings
- Finger slide (really just a brass tube)
- Spare picks of varying thickness and material

- Marshall amp stack (in the back of the van)
- "Special Box" (a foot-long wooden box containing a Colt Woodsman pistol, an eleven-inch Bowie knife and a box of .22 rimfires for the Woodsman (30 bullets inside), used for roadside target shooting and/or self defense)

Anything Else?: {Anything else you want to say about your character?}

So begins...

Alexander Beckwald's Story