Post by drknss on Jan 26, 2008 23:19:00 GMT -5
I sit on my bed, and I listen, listen to his sweet and kind, but unasserted voice. I begin to get wet, listening to him, and thinking of all the ways I could…. Violate him. He was saying something about our match, and apologizing for hurting me, but I drifted out…
“Ayn?”
“Yes.” I use my chipper voice.
“I am so sorry about everything that happened at the house show.”
“You should be!” My lungs hurt from the force of my scream. The line falls silent, and for a moment I feel like I’ve accidentally mind warped myself into one of those cheesy cell commercials.
“I will not bother you again.” I can’t help but titter, and the line does not disconnect, I know he heard it.
“You are so silly. That was your job, and hence you did it, better than I did, but you want to apologize.”
“Look…”
I cut him off. “No, you will speak when you are given the command to do so. Right now is my time to talk. You will go no where in this business with regret and wishy-washyness. We need to learn that the inner squishiness is your enemy Tristan. You must take all of those feelings that hold you back, hold you back from hurting, maiming, and killing, because it does not matter. There is nothing… I repeat NOTHING in this life that matters. If you look at it, what is life? Life is merely a random string of molecules through which electric energy flows through, causing twitching and unexplained nausea… and when that electrical spark slowly dims due to the short shelf life of a human battery, tiny filthy disgusting creatures break aprt those molecules for more electricity, eventually culminating with the reformation of said molecules into a new little squishy vulnerable infant… be it human or otherwise… so you see, nothing matters.”
I pause to take a breath, that is a mouthful that I just spouted, but I think I shocked myself be being accurate.
“I am not sure if…”
“Do you not listen, you will speak when commanded to. You are nothing but a boy, A boy trapped inside of a man’s body. And as so, you will not be taken seriously, and you will be squished under the mighty boots of… unseriousness!”
.
“Believe me Tristan when I tell you that the little rotting worm inside you, who compels you to do evil, it is not your enemy, it is merely trying to ensure that the electricity continues to run through it, sustaining its ever growing pointlessness, and you need that. Speak.”
It took him a moment.
“I think you may be right.”
“That’s a good boy.” I find it hard to contain my smile. “If you need any pointers, I cordially invite you to the bloodbath that will be the returning Meg Warner, and the little fruit-loop with the sock puppet. Sounds to me like the fairy had a little too much dust. You see, someone like Meg, she should be revered. Cherished. She is a pioneer for female wrestlers, as she inserted herself into the giant cockfight that is the men’s division, and without a rooster carved a little piece of it for herself. A former TV champion, or something like that.”
I smiled. Though the ice water running through my veins does not frequently give way to admiration or affection, it is rare for me to have any sort of affinity.
“But she will not meet with that reverence or respect. Her welcoming party will not cake and ice cream, but pain and agony, as I fracture her tibia and lacerate her larynx. My partner may not even have to come into this match, because my only fear against Kronik is that if I get too violent, it may be considered a hate crime.”
I can hear him laugh.
“Does that amuse you, my tasty treat? Does violence make you feel all warm and fuzzy? Because if so, my work may be done before it ever begins.”
There was silence... I could sense him contemplating.
"Well, have a wonderful time destroying Yukio, and I will try not to disappoint in my match."
I hung up before he could respond. He is putty in my hands.
Meg, Kronik, Morgan... if I were you... which trust me I could never be that promiscuous or flamboyant.... but if I were you I would get used to one very simple neurological impulse.... pain.
“Ayn?”
“Yes.” I use my chipper voice.
“I am so sorry about everything that happened at the house show.”
“You should be!” My lungs hurt from the force of my scream. The line falls silent, and for a moment I feel like I’ve accidentally mind warped myself into one of those cheesy cell commercials.
“I will not bother you again.” I can’t help but titter, and the line does not disconnect, I know he heard it.
“You are so silly. That was your job, and hence you did it, better than I did, but you want to apologize.”
“Look…”
I cut him off. “No, you will speak when you are given the command to do so. Right now is my time to talk. You will go no where in this business with regret and wishy-washyness. We need to learn that the inner squishiness is your enemy Tristan. You must take all of those feelings that hold you back, hold you back from hurting, maiming, and killing, because it does not matter. There is nothing… I repeat NOTHING in this life that matters. If you look at it, what is life? Life is merely a random string of molecules through which electric energy flows through, causing twitching and unexplained nausea… and when that electrical spark slowly dims due to the short shelf life of a human battery, tiny filthy disgusting creatures break aprt those molecules for more electricity, eventually culminating with the reformation of said molecules into a new little squishy vulnerable infant… be it human or otherwise… so you see, nothing matters.”
I pause to take a breath, that is a mouthful that I just spouted, but I think I shocked myself be being accurate.
“I am not sure if…”
“Do you not listen, you will speak when commanded to. You are nothing but a boy, A boy trapped inside of a man’s body. And as so, you will not be taken seriously, and you will be squished under the mighty boots of… unseriousness!”
.“Believe me Tristan when I tell you that the little rotting worm inside you, who compels you to do evil, it is not your enemy, it is merely trying to ensure that the electricity continues to run through it, sustaining its ever growing pointlessness, and you need that. Speak.”
It took him a moment.
“I think you may be right.”
“That’s a good boy.” I find it hard to contain my smile. “If you need any pointers, I cordially invite you to the bloodbath that will be the returning Meg Warner, and the little fruit-loop with the sock puppet. Sounds to me like the fairy had a little too much dust. You see, someone like Meg, she should be revered. Cherished. She is a pioneer for female wrestlers, as she inserted herself into the giant cockfight that is the men’s division, and without a rooster carved a little piece of it for herself. A former TV champion, or something like that.”
I smiled. Though the ice water running through my veins does not frequently give way to admiration or affection, it is rare for me to have any sort of affinity.
“But she will not meet with that reverence or respect. Her welcoming party will not cake and ice cream, but pain and agony, as I fracture her tibia and lacerate her larynx. My partner may not even have to come into this match, because my only fear against Kronik is that if I get too violent, it may be considered a hate crime.”
I can hear him laugh.
“Does that amuse you, my tasty treat? Does violence make you feel all warm and fuzzy? Because if so, my work may be done before it ever begins.”
There was silence... I could sense him contemplating.
"Well, have a wonderful time destroying Yukio, and I will try not to disappoint in my match."
I hung up before he could respond. He is putty in my hands.
Meg, Kronik, Morgan... if I were you... which trust me I could never be that promiscuous or flamboyant.... but if I were you I would get used to one very simple neurological impulse.... pain.
