Post by Braddock on May 18, 2015 12:46:36 GMT -5
I was once a Titan, stomping across the land and slaying the Gods who stood before me. I took down the immortal Ethan Andrews. Slayed the great Alex Jay. Left the mountain man Vesuvius in a pile of rubble. All on my way to cementing my legacy in this business…..
dirty firefly is sitting in the room we saw him in before, on the back of a not-so-sturdy looking wooden chair with his mud caked, bare feet on the seat. His black Dickies are also caked in mud around the cuffs at the ankles and he is shirtless, allowing his plethora of tattoo’s to be seen. Demons, marijuana leaves, the word “Apostate” among many other patterns, characters, and designs adorn his chest, belly, and arms almost like a suit of armor. His hair looks dirty with sweat, his eyes red rimmed with marijuana and alcohol, but his voice is clear. Clean. With no punchiness to it at all.
I entered a number of Hall of Fames, starred in movies, endorsed products, and was even on a few magazine covers. I had it all in the palm of my hand. Like Icarus, I flew too close to the sun and plummeted back to Earth in as a flaming wreck. I’ve never recovered from losing her. She was my Bonnie and I let her down.
He climbs off the chair and with one fluid motion, grabs it by the top of the backrest and heaves it against the wall. It shatters into so many pieces and the big man wobbles a little as he turns around to face the fire. His face glows yellow and the shadows dance on his face from the flames in the pit at his feet.
My penance was my life. I died. I was wrapped in Death’s cold hands when I was ripped back into this World. Back into this life. But I had seen behind the curtain. Oz will never be the same. Saniti’s white rabbit has been slain and will be tonight’s main course. Hasenpfeffer. Never liked it much myself….
Last week I warned my opponents of the pain that was heading their way. They chose not to listen and took a beating. Tyrone, the crazy one for you keeping score at home, took it upon himself to hit me with a chair. Me. He hit me with a fucking chair. Listen up, you waste of skin, this week you are one of the several victims to face me this week, including my own partner and the Underground Champ. I won’t soon forget the chair being brought down across my back. You won’t be able to blend in with the others to avoid me. I may not focus all of my attention on you but, believe me fuckstick, I’m gonna ruin your night.
He fishes a small tin from his pocket and removes a joint and a match. He pops the match on his thumbnail and lights the fat spliff and inhales deeply. A plume of smoke billows out from his lungs and a slight grin curls the right side of his lips.
My partner, Bubba, happens to be in this match as well. We saw how well the pirate and his dumbass partner are getting along so I’m assuming they won’t be workin too well together this week. Me and Bubba, though, are workin like a Gnomish Clockwork. Smooth as greased owl shit. And we’ll work together to assure one of us leaves with that belt. Light doesn’t stand a chance….
He inhales deeply, again, and cackles suddenly without explanation. He stares at the cherry of the joint, intently, for just a moment before pitching it into the all-consuming flames at his feet. Smoke dances between him and the camera. He stares into the flames, grinning like the Cheshire cat for an instant while his eyes nearly bulge from their sockets. Just as quickly, though, his face is back to the cold, devious self. He strokes his beard as he continues his ranting.
Light, you are the current Champ, having beaten the Bear in a similar match. It might not have been a ladder but it was against numerous opponents. So you know the advantage that gives everyone… Except the Champ. And I wasn’t in that last match nor was my partner. It shows the depth of this companies roster when a masked pussy is running around with a belt. Now, granted, the Underground Championship is the bottom rung on the ladder to the top….but Light?
This company deserves a new breed of Monster roaming the halls. It needs real competition, even at the bottom, where the trash accumulates. I am the Avatar of Filth and I will be rising out of the muck at the bottom of this talent pool to wage my war on the landscape of this place. I don’t care who you are or what kind of status you got around here. Your notoriety…. Your stature… it means nothing to me; I will tear you down like the North tower and smile proudly while we do it.
Light, you’re polishing brass on the Titanic along with everyone else in this company. It’s going down. So it is written and so shall it be. Pray to your dog-Gods, plead for them to save you, beg for forgiveness. None of it will help you. “He” isn’t watching and doesn’t care for you. The sooner you realize that the sooner you’ll be free. It won’t save you….but you’ll be free…
There is always that…..
He cackles manically into the column of smoke as the scene fades out. Once the cameras are off, the gear stowed, and the cameramen gone, Frank fires up blunt and makes his way out to the front of Bubba’s home where he is relaxing on that old La-Z-Boy recliner. He offers Bubba a hit but is rebuffed and the big man simply shrugs and takes another hit himself.
Bubba: I never been big on da weed. Makes my head feel like it’s full of socks…
It’s full of somethin….alright…
Bubba grins as both of the men’s attention is turned to a pair of headlights as they turn into the driveway. A sleek, black, BMW M3 creeps to a stop and the engine cuts off along with the headlights, almost in unison. When the driver’s side door opens, a raven haired beauty emerges with a crooked grin on her lips.
Woman: Baby?
Frank grin’s, truly happy…
Bubba: Who’s dat?
Tessa…
dirty firefly is sitting in the room we saw him in before, on the back of a not-so-sturdy looking wooden chair with his mud caked, bare feet on the seat. His black Dickies are also caked in mud around the cuffs at the ankles and he is shirtless, allowing his plethora of tattoo’s to be seen. Demons, marijuana leaves, the word “Apostate” among many other patterns, characters, and designs adorn his chest, belly, and arms almost like a suit of armor. His hair looks dirty with sweat, his eyes red rimmed with marijuana and alcohol, but his voice is clear. Clean. With no punchiness to it at all.
I entered a number of Hall of Fames, starred in movies, endorsed products, and was even on a few magazine covers. I had it all in the palm of my hand. Like Icarus, I flew too close to the sun and plummeted back to Earth in as a flaming wreck. I’ve never recovered from losing her. She was my Bonnie and I let her down.
He climbs off the chair and with one fluid motion, grabs it by the top of the backrest and heaves it against the wall. It shatters into so many pieces and the big man wobbles a little as he turns around to face the fire. His face glows yellow and the shadows dance on his face from the flames in the pit at his feet.
My penance was my life. I died. I was wrapped in Death’s cold hands when I was ripped back into this World. Back into this life. But I had seen behind the curtain. Oz will never be the same. Saniti’s white rabbit has been slain and will be tonight’s main course. Hasenpfeffer. Never liked it much myself….
Last week I warned my opponents of the pain that was heading their way. They chose not to listen and took a beating. Tyrone, the crazy one for you keeping score at home, took it upon himself to hit me with a chair. Me. He hit me with a fucking chair. Listen up, you waste of skin, this week you are one of the several victims to face me this week, including my own partner and the Underground Champ. I won’t soon forget the chair being brought down across my back. You won’t be able to blend in with the others to avoid me. I may not focus all of my attention on you but, believe me fuckstick, I’m gonna ruin your night.
He fishes a small tin from his pocket and removes a joint and a match. He pops the match on his thumbnail and lights the fat spliff and inhales deeply. A plume of smoke billows out from his lungs and a slight grin curls the right side of his lips.
My partner, Bubba, happens to be in this match as well. We saw how well the pirate and his dumbass partner are getting along so I’m assuming they won’t be workin too well together this week. Me and Bubba, though, are workin like a Gnomish Clockwork. Smooth as greased owl shit. And we’ll work together to assure one of us leaves with that belt. Light doesn’t stand a chance….
He inhales deeply, again, and cackles suddenly without explanation. He stares at the cherry of the joint, intently, for just a moment before pitching it into the all-consuming flames at his feet. Smoke dances between him and the camera. He stares into the flames, grinning like the Cheshire cat for an instant while his eyes nearly bulge from their sockets. Just as quickly, though, his face is back to the cold, devious self. He strokes his beard as he continues his ranting.
Light, you are the current Champ, having beaten the Bear in a similar match. It might not have been a ladder but it was against numerous opponents. So you know the advantage that gives everyone… Except the Champ. And I wasn’t in that last match nor was my partner. It shows the depth of this companies roster when a masked pussy is running around with a belt. Now, granted, the Underground Championship is the bottom rung on the ladder to the top….but Light?
This company deserves a new breed of Monster roaming the halls. It needs real competition, even at the bottom, where the trash accumulates. I am the Avatar of Filth and I will be rising out of the muck at the bottom of this talent pool to wage my war on the landscape of this place. I don’t care who you are or what kind of status you got around here. Your notoriety…. Your stature… it means nothing to me; I will tear you down like the North tower and smile proudly while we do it.
Light, you’re polishing brass on the Titanic along with everyone else in this company. It’s going down. So it is written and so shall it be. Pray to your dog-Gods, plead for them to save you, beg for forgiveness. None of it will help you. “He” isn’t watching and doesn’t care for you. The sooner you realize that the sooner you’ll be free. It won’t save you….but you’ll be free…
There is always that…..
He cackles manically into the column of smoke as the scene fades out. Once the cameras are off, the gear stowed, and the cameramen gone, Frank fires up blunt and makes his way out to the front of Bubba’s home where he is relaxing on that old La-Z-Boy recliner. He offers Bubba a hit but is rebuffed and the big man simply shrugs and takes another hit himself.
Bubba: I never been big on da weed. Makes my head feel like it’s full of socks…
It’s full of somethin….alright…
Bubba grins as both of the men’s attention is turned to a pair of headlights as they turn into the driveway. A sleek, black, BMW M3 creeps to a stop and the engine cuts off along with the headlights, almost in unison. When the driver’s side door opens, a raven haired beauty emerges with a crooked grin on her lips.
Woman: Baby?
Frank grin’s, truly happy…
Bubba: Who’s dat?
Tessa…
