Post by Kyzer on Jul 29, 2014 23:47:49 GMT -5
“Who the fuck do you think I am? Omar? I am not getting taken out by some preteen like that punkass bitch. I am going to survive to the end like Slim Charles.” – DMK
Snow-blind Midgets
Date: 7/24/2014
Lines of high end cocaine litter the table that occupies the center of the DMK’s living room. Currently the world’s tiniest hero is bent over snorting one of these lines up his wee nostril. He takes the line and leans back on his swanky leather couch. Ryan Brockie sits off to the side in a chair simply watching his client snort drugs. On the oversized, overpriced television DMK is playing an old episode of The Wire.
Ryan: For someone who watches a lot of shows like The Wire, you don’t really pick up on some of the smart things they do.
DMK gives him a cross look.
DMK: Meaning what?
Ryan: You don’t see the big guys getting high on their own supply. You may want to lay off the cocaine.
DMK waves off Ryan’s ludicrous notion with a tiny hand.
DMK: You never saw anything bad happen to Michael with his drug abuse. A little white here and there doesn’t hurt anything.
Ryan: I can point out plenty of examples where he would have been more successful if he wasn’t putting something up his nose or a needle in his arm.
It is quickly apparent to Ryan that this conversation isn’t going to endear himself to DMK as the typical angry midget face begins to appear.
Ryan: I will drop that for the moment. But I do have one question, by whose estimation is this considered a little cocaine. You have at least two eight balls spread across your table here. I have had enough of my own experiences back in the day to know that is definitely enough to kill someone.
Especially someone with a tiny heart, but that goes unsaid.
DMK: Fuck off with that talk.
Ryan shakes his head as he leans back in his chair.
Ryan: Fine. Do you want to talk about the upcoming show then?
DMK: Show?
Ryan: The next show that your client Tugarin is booked for.
DMK seems slightly confused. Snow-blind midgets.
Ryan: You said you are watching The Wire as a means of “studying”. We just had this conversation ten minutes ago.
DMK is out of it. The cocaine has turned his mind to mush.
Ryan: How long have you been up doing this stuff?
DMK: Ever since Zmey and me saw Michael’s wife.
Ryan: That was three days ago. You are going to kill yourself.
There is only slight concern in Ryan’s voice.
DMK: Fuck that! I am a fucking bull over here. Let’s talk about the show. We need to come up with a plan. Maybe have Chris ride by and blow out their windows with a shotgun if he catches wind that Avon is plotting something.
Ryan: What? Now you are just describing an episode of that stupid show.
DMK leaps to his feet in a cocaine rage.
DMK: There is nothing stupid about learning how to survive in America’s shittiest city. The Wire is an urban survival guide. It is important to learn what we can about the place before we invade. We can’t have that dyke and fucking preteen get the jump on us. That rug muncher may not be Snoop or even Griggs but she is still a fucking threat. Who the fuck do you think I am? Omar? I am not getting taken out by some preteen like that punkass bitch. I am going to survive to the end like Slim Charles.
Ryan has no response for the midget’s rant. DMK grabs a lamp from a nearby table and chucks as hard as he can across the room.
DMK: I rose to the top because I watch all the survival guides, The Wire, Justified, Sons of Anarchy, The Sopranos, Boardwalk Empire, Game of Thrones, Gang Related, Bates Motel. Don’t you fucking question my methods. I am a midget in a tall man’s world. I have to be scrappier than Scrappy Doo.
Ryan chooses to bite his tongue that Bates Motel is far from a gang crime show like the rest of the ones he listed. But he does feel compelled to ask one question.
Ryan: You do know those shows aren’t real?
DMK: Let me ask you a question mister suit, have you ever been to Baltimore? Jersey or LA? They are a fucking mess. Westeros isn’t any better.
Ryan: Westeros? The place in Game of Thrones?
DMK slams his fist on the table scattering cocaine everywhere.
DMK: You are not listening to me. The streets are the streets everywhere. They are full of thug trash like that bitch ACM who we merc’d. Everywhere you go, you have to be on your toes. The WFWF isn’t much different. You have your Prop Joes, Avons, and Marlos. Personally I see myself as Slim Charles. He was the one left standing at the end of this masterpiece you called trash. I will be the motherfucker standing on top of The Dragon after everyone is put down.
Ryan: And if you find Michael, where does he fit in? Do you really think his ego will let him play second fiddle to you or anyone else?
DMK: Michael Kyzer is my best friend and the only man I would take a bullet for, I am sure he and I can come to some arrangement. If anything, he can only help my cause.
Ryan: I don’t disagree if it is also in line with his interests. You know him, his ego is immeasurable. He only does what he wants and he has always been that way.
DMK laughs. A laughing, angry, coked-out midget with a shorter temper than his height; Ryan feels a shiver at the creepy image.
DMK: I ain’t no suit wearing businessman like you. I’m just a gangsta, I suppose. And I want my corners.
Ryan just shakes his head.
DMK: I got the shotgun. You got the briefcase. It’s all in the game though, right?
Ryan: Do you know where you are right now?
DMK smiles, lets out a chuckle and starts making a manageable line out of the scattered drugs.
Ryan: That is what you need, more cocaine.
DMK only puts up one finger quickly silencing Ryan. He finishes making the line and grabs the rolled up dollar. Within an instant, it disappears up his midget nostril. After wiping his nose he sits back down on the edge of the couch and looks over at Ryan.
DMK: This match Zmey has, I don’t care about it. It features a little pissant Kyle whatever the fuck, and some fucking clam diver. It is a tag match at that. That isn’t how I want to show off The Monster I rode in on.
Ryan: Every match showcases Zmey, even tag matches. It might even be good for him to get involved in a tag team; it would take some of the pressure off of you while you look for Michael.
DMK leans back as it appears he has hit a moment of clarity among the coke addled thoughts swimming in his head.
DMK: That might actually be an idea. But not with this Devilkiller character. If he can get his ass handed to him like a rape victim by Kyle XY then I won’t be able to look at him any differently. He will always be a little beaten up bitch. We see one we like; we take care of his situation. Take him in, school him, make him family. That is what we do.
Ryan: Well you did say you were doing open interviews for anyone wanting to join you in “The KKK”. Another thing I wanted to talk to you about, maybe a name change there.
DMK slams his fist on the table again, again sending cocaine everywhere.
DMK: Fuck that. I already talked to my lawyer about that. I am going with The KoKaine Konspiracy. I don’t give a shit if there are some rednecks hanging out in white sheets or something claiming the same initials. I am suing them over it as we speak. It is catchy.
DMK calms briefly.
DMK: I completely forgot about the open interviews. Allies are a good thing. I could use some new ones. Make it happen.
Ryan: I will get right on that.
DMK doesn’t notice the sarcasm. Ryan takes the chance to change the subject.
Ryan: So I guess things didn’t go well when you saw Ashley?
The look DMK gives him is all Ryan needs to know to figure out what happened. It is one similar to the kid who opens his Christmas presents only to find a bunny suit. You don’t get the reference, go kill yourself.
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So I stand before the door of Michael Kyzer’s ex-wife with the little master…We stand for several minutes…We don’t knock…We don’t ring the doorbell…We just stand…He looks nervous…Never have I seen him like this…He is always in control…Well some control…He is always confident…Not right now though…He raises his hand to knock…But can’t bring himself to do it…I have no clue what is going through his mind…I don’t know the history here…But I don’t ask…I stand silent…Silently, like I always do…I watch…
People take my silence for weakness…They see me as slow…As nothing but a mental weakling trapped in a giant’s body…Slow isn’t a way I would describe myself…I watch…And I learn…I don’t know why I bother…But things just stick in my mind…Little things…Perception is reality…Ian Clarke told me that once…He said it doesn’t matter if you are poor if you can give off the idea you are rich…People will do much more for someone who is rich…They will do even more for someone who rich and dangerous…Ian Clarke, respectable business man…Ian Clarke, Irish gangster…The little guy calls him The Hun…I don’t know why…They hate each other…But money trumps hate I guess…Perception of Tugarin Zmey…Perception of Subutai Khagan…A monster maybe…A Dragon as the little one calls me…Mongolian Death Worm…
I met with Ian…He took great interest in my wrestling…Legitimate occupation...Nice cover he said…What he means is lost on me…Perception…It doesn’t mean as much to me…Maybe that is because I have nothing to care about anymore…Delilah…Gone…Sarangerel…Gone…Borchu…Gone…What do I have left…No family…No people to call my own…Exiled…I am nothing but a weapon…A weapon of mass destruction…That is what Ian said…Why I am still here I can’t figure out…I just can’t seem to let go from this world…Even as lonely as I am in it…I cling to it…Why?...
Penny Shannon…DMK called her a dyke…I don’t know the meaning of that word…I don’t understand the concept of intergender competition…She won’t be the first woman I have put my hands on though…I don’t have restraints when it comes to that…I come from a world where women must be just as ready as the men to fight for survival…But for a woman half my size to succeed in fighting me…I don’t know how that is possible…Ryan said she had experience…Experience…Experience…That is all I hear…Experience in a wrestling ring may be something that I am lacking…But I bring one thing to the table she doesn’t…Something no one does…A singular purpose with a singular drive…I have no life distractions…I have nothing to focus on but this…I am a weapon…A hunter…A monster…A Dragon…I have only the goals dictated to me from DMK…Nothing pulls my focus…I am committed fully to leaving a path of destruction wherever I am told…I am the Mongolian Death Worm…
I don’t want to hurt this young girl…I don’t want to mangle her as DMK instructed…I simply have no choice…Kyle Matthews…I don’t want to do this to you…But you stood up to DMK…You brought this upon yourself I suppose…My master is offended…I am told to take up arms in defense of his honor…This I will do…Your blood will be payment…But I am not going to collect it all here in this match…It will be paid in the spotlight that DMK yearns for…You will be made into a Blood Angel for the world to see…And the world will shed a tear for you…Kyle Matthews…Fallen son…Blood Angel…Sacrificed for the honor of The Little Master…I am sorry Kyle…You will have to live with the impending doom…The doom I will inflict on Penny will be a message…A sign of the future…A glimpse at what awaits you…You will serve as an example to control people’s perception of me…They will see me as the nightmare that haunts them…They will pay witness when I consume your soul and leave you with nothing…Then I will be perceived as The Dragon…As the nuclear bomb in the hands of DMK….
This life I lead is one I didn’t choose…It was thrust upon me when I couldn’t protect the ones I loved…I walk through it as if I have no control…I don’t…I am only a thrall…I wonder what things could have been…But the past is haunting…It is my nightmare…I miss them…All of them…I disappointed them…Maybe that is why I do the things I do…Maybe enough blood…Maybe enough pain…Maybe enough destruction, I can forget…I am can blind it out…I can become someone new…Someone more like Michael Kyzer…I haven’t met the man…But the way people talk about him…It is either with love…Or with hate…But everyone knows him…Everyone respects him through one means or another…He has everything I had…But has thrown it away…Swallowed by his own ego I hear...Hidden from the world…Somewhere underground…But if he is in Irkalla, how do we get him out?….
Snow-blind Midgets
Date: 7/24/2014
Lines of high end cocaine litter the table that occupies the center of the DMK’s living room. Currently the world’s tiniest hero is bent over snorting one of these lines up his wee nostril. He takes the line and leans back on his swanky leather couch. Ryan Brockie sits off to the side in a chair simply watching his client snort drugs. On the oversized, overpriced television DMK is playing an old episode of The Wire.
Ryan: For someone who watches a lot of shows like The Wire, you don’t really pick up on some of the smart things they do.
DMK gives him a cross look.
DMK: Meaning what?
Ryan: You don’t see the big guys getting high on their own supply. You may want to lay off the cocaine.
DMK waves off Ryan’s ludicrous notion with a tiny hand.
DMK: You never saw anything bad happen to Michael with his drug abuse. A little white here and there doesn’t hurt anything.
Ryan: I can point out plenty of examples where he would have been more successful if he wasn’t putting something up his nose or a needle in his arm.
It is quickly apparent to Ryan that this conversation isn’t going to endear himself to DMK as the typical angry midget face begins to appear.
Ryan: I will drop that for the moment. But I do have one question, by whose estimation is this considered a little cocaine. You have at least two eight balls spread across your table here. I have had enough of my own experiences back in the day to know that is definitely enough to kill someone.
Especially someone with a tiny heart, but that goes unsaid.
DMK: Fuck off with that talk.
Ryan shakes his head as he leans back in his chair.
Ryan: Fine. Do you want to talk about the upcoming show then?
DMK: Show?
Ryan: The next show that your client Tugarin is booked for.
DMK seems slightly confused. Snow-blind midgets.
Ryan: You said you are watching The Wire as a means of “studying”. We just had this conversation ten minutes ago.
DMK is out of it. The cocaine has turned his mind to mush.
Ryan: How long have you been up doing this stuff?
DMK: Ever since Zmey and me saw Michael’s wife.
Ryan: That was three days ago. You are going to kill yourself.
There is only slight concern in Ryan’s voice.
DMK: Fuck that! I am a fucking bull over here. Let’s talk about the show. We need to come up with a plan. Maybe have Chris ride by and blow out their windows with a shotgun if he catches wind that Avon is plotting something.
Ryan: What? Now you are just describing an episode of that stupid show.
DMK leaps to his feet in a cocaine rage.
DMK: There is nothing stupid about learning how to survive in America’s shittiest city. The Wire is an urban survival guide. It is important to learn what we can about the place before we invade. We can’t have that dyke and fucking preteen get the jump on us. That rug muncher may not be Snoop or even Griggs but she is still a fucking threat. Who the fuck do you think I am? Omar? I am not getting taken out by some preteen like that punkass bitch. I am going to survive to the end like Slim Charles.
Ryan has no response for the midget’s rant. DMK grabs a lamp from a nearby table and chucks as hard as he can across the room.
DMK: I rose to the top because I watch all the survival guides, The Wire, Justified, Sons of Anarchy, The Sopranos, Boardwalk Empire, Game of Thrones, Gang Related, Bates Motel. Don’t you fucking question my methods. I am a midget in a tall man’s world. I have to be scrappier than Scrappy Doo.
Ryan chooses to bite his tongue that Bates Motel is far from a gang crime show like the rest of the ones he listed. But he does feel compelled to ask one question.
Ryan: You do know those shows aren’t real?
DMK: Let me ask you a question mister suit, have you ever been to Baltimore? Jersey or LA? They are a fucking mess. Westeros isn’t any better.
Ryan: Westeros? The place in Game of Thrones?
DMK slams his fist on the table scattering cocaine everywhere.
DMK: You are not listening to me. The streets are the streets everywhere. They are full of thug trash like that bitch ACM who we merc’d. Everywhere you go, you have to be on your toes. The WFWF isn’t much different. You have your Prop Joes, Avons, and Marlos. Personally I see myself as Slim Charles. He was the one left standing at the end of this masterpiece you called trash. I will be the motherfucker standing on top of The Dragon after everyone is put down.
Ryan: And if you find Michael, where does he fit in? Do you really think his ego will let him play second fiddle to you or anyone else?
DMK: Michael Kyzer is my best friend and the only man I would take a bullet for, I am sure he and I can come to some arrangement. If anything, he can only help my cause.
Ryan: I don’t disagree if it is also in line with his interests. You know him, his ego is immeasurable. He only does what he wants and he has always been that way.
DMK laughs. A laughing, angry, coked-out midget with a shorter temper than his height; Ryan feels a shiver at the creepy image.
DMK: I ain’t no suit wearing businessman like you. I’m just a gangsta, I suppose. And I want my corners.
Ryan just shakes his head.
DMK: I got the shotgun. You got the briefcase. It’s all in the game though, right?
Ryan: Do you know where you are right now?
DMK smiles, lets out a chuckle and starts making a manageable line out of the scattered drugs.
Ryan: That is what you need, more cocaine.
DMK only puts up one finger quickly silencing Ryan. He finishes making the line and grabs the rolled up dollar. Within an instant, it disappears up his midget nostril. After wiping his nose he sits back down on the edge of the couch and looks over at Ryan.
DMK: This match Zmey has, I don’t care about it. It features a little pissant Kyle whatever the fuck, and some fucking clam diver. It is a tag match at that. That isn’t how I want to show off The Monster I rode in on.
Ryan: Every match showcases Zmey, even tag matches. It might even be good for him to get involved in a tag team; it would take some of the pressure off of you while you look for Michael.
DMK leans back as it appears he has hit a moment of clarity among the coke addled thoughts swimming in his head.
DMK: That might actually be an idea. But not with this Devilkiller character. If he can get his ass handed to him like a rape victim by Kyle XY then I won’t be able to look at him any differently. He will always be a little beaten up bitch. We see one we like; we take care of his situation. Take him in, school him, make him family. That is what we do.
Ryan: Well you did say you were doing open interviews for anyone wanting to join you in “The KKK”. Another thing I wanted to talk to you about, maybe a name change there.
DMK slams his fist on the table again, again sending cocaine everywhere.
DMK: Fuck that. I already talked to my lawyer about that. I am going with The KoKaine Konspiracy. I don’t give a shit if there are some rednecks hanging out in white sheets or something claiming the same initials. I am suing them over it as we speak. It is catchy.
DMK calms briefly.
DMK: I completely forgot about the open interviews. Allies are a good thing. I could use some new ones. Make it happen.
Ryan: I will get right on that.
DMK doesn’t notice the sarcasm. Ryan takes the chance to change the subject.
Ryan: So I guess things didn’t go well when you saw Ashley?
The look DMK gives him is all Ryan needs to know to figure out what happened. It is one similar to the kid who opens his Christmas presents only to find a bunny suit. You don’t get the reference, go kill yourself.
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So I stand before the door of Michael Kyzer’s ex-wife with the little master…We stand for several minutes…We don’t knock…We don’t ring the doorbell…We just stand…He looks nervous…Never have I seen him like this…He is always in control…Well some control…He is always confident…Not right now though…He raises his hand to knock…But can’t bring himself to do it…I have no clue what is going through his mind…I don’t know the history here…But I don’t ask…I stand silent…Silently, like I always do…I watch…
People take my silence for weakness…They see me as slow…As nothing but a mental weakling trapped in a giant’s body…Slow isn’t a way I would describe myself…I watch…And I learn…I don’t know why I bother…But things just stick in my mind…Little things…Perception is reality…Ian Clarke told me that once…He said it doesn’t matter if you are poor if you can give off the idea you are rich…People will do much more for someone who is rich…They will do even more for someone who rich and dangerous…Ian Clarke, respectable business man…Ian Clarke, Irish gangster…The little guy calls him The Hun…I don’t know why…They hate each other…But money trumps hate I guess…Perception of Tugarin Zmey…Perception of Subutai Khagan…A monster maybe…A Dragon as the little one calls me…Mongolian Death Worm…
I met with Ian…He took great interest in my wrestling…Legitimate occupation...Nice cover he said…What he means is lost on me…Perception…It doesn’t mean as much to me…Maybe that is because I have nothing to care about anymore…Delilah…Gone…Sarangerel…Gone…Borchu…Gone…What do I have left…No family…No people to call my own…Exiled…I am nothing but a weapon…A weapon of mass destruction…That is what Ian said…Why I am still here I can’t figure out…I just can’t seem to let go from this world…Even as lonely as I am in it…I cling to it…Why?...
Penny Shannon…DMK called her a dyke…I don’t know the meaning of that word…I don’t understand the concept of intergender competition…She won’t be the first woman I have put my hands on though…I don’t have restraints when it comes to that…I come from a world where women must be just as ready as the men to fight for survival…But for a woman half my size to succeed in fighting me…I don’t know how that is possible…Ryan said she had experience…Experience…Experience…That is all I hear…Experience in a wrestling ring may be something that I am lacking…But I bring one thing to the table she doesn’t…Something no one does…A singular purpose with a singular drive…I have no life distractions…I have nothing to focus on but this…I am a weapon…A hunter…A monster…A Dragon…I have only the goals dictated to me from DMK…Nothing pulls my focus…I am committed fully to leaving a path of destruction wherever I am told…I am the Mongolian Death Worm…
I don’t want to hurt this young girl…I don’t want to mangle her as DMK instructed…I simply have no choice…Kyle Matthews…I don’t want to do this to you…But you stood up to DMK…You brought this upon yourself I suppose…My master is offended…I am told to take up arms in defense of his honor…This I will do…Your blood will be payment…But I am not going to collect it all here in this match…It will be paid in the spotlight that DMK yearns for…You will be made into a Blood Angel for the world to see…And the world will shed a tear for you…Kyle Matthews…Fallen son…Blood Angel…Sacrificed for the honor of The Little Master…I am sorry Kyle…You will have to live with the impending doom…The doom I will inflict on Penny will be a message…A sign of the future…A glimpse at what awaits you…You will serve as an example to control people’s perception of me…They will see me as the nightmare that haunts them…They will pay witness when I consume your soul and leave you with nothing…Then I will be perceived as The Dragon…As the nuclear bomb in the hands of DMK….
This life I lead is one I didn’t choose…It was thrust upon me when I couldn’t protect the ones I loved…I walk through it as if I have no control…I don’t…I am only a thrall…I wonder what things could have been…But the past is haunting…It is my nightmare…I miss them…All of them…I disappointed them…Maybe that is why I do the things I do…Maybe enough blood…Maybe enough pain…Maybe enough destruction, I can forget…I am can blind it out…I can become someone new…Someone more like Michael Kyzer…I haven’t met the man…But the way people talk about him…It is either with love…Or with hate…But everyone knows him…Everyone respects him through one means or another…He has everything I had…But has thrown it away…Swallowed by his own ego I hear...Hidden from the world…Somewhere underground…But if he is in Irkalla, how do we get him out?….
