Felix is angry!!! Can you believe it?!
(CUTTO: grainy black and white footage of Felix Red: hands plunged into denim jacket pockets, WFW title strap around his waist, black leather bondage pants, veeerrrry irritated scowl….)
FELIX: I think of “plagues” and I think of things like Ebola…maybe more contemporary examples like AIDS, and less scary flavors of plague like swine flu, bird flu, or SARS...Things that kill lots of people, or make lots of people sick, versus you, Gamma-O, who’s only interested in killing me. Not a whole civilizations. Not a few pockets of humanity. Not even two people. Just one. Me.
Weird choice of metaphor….don’t you think?
To the multiple choice question you posed, the correct answer was A: Fantasy. As in, a figment of your own imagination and a parody of yourself.
I really hate to be such a jerk and blow your entire masked-avenger of the night Batman routine, and maybe your indignation is righteous, maybe I did something really really mean to you and everyone should feel bad for you. Maybe you deserve a biiiiig hug.
But do you have any idea how many people want me maimed, crippled, destitute, eradicated, and forgotten from wrestling? From the world? Do you know why none of those people have made those things happen?
Because a lot of them are scared of me, and a lot of them….Well, hey, hypothetically it’s Mike Manson under the hood. It was either several years ago, or a few months ago, when last Manson and myself crossed paths. Didn’t go so hot for the one time Anti-Christ of wrestling. No...so...hot...at...all. Hypothetically it’s Doc Silver. F(bleep)king ditto. And now I get to tell people I’m the one who put Mike Manson and Doc Silver out of wrestling. I’m the one who made them ghosts. They used to be gods. Now I use them as an ice-breaker at parties. I use them to impress rats.
The worst case scenario of your story ends exactly back where it begins. Me, standing here, talking about you in the past tense. Tens of thousands of times, over and over, this ends badly for you, much better for me.
It’s called lucid dreaming, Gamma-O. You see reality for the joke it is, and then reality is at the mercy of your whimsy. And your whimsy has chosen…. me. And whatever empathy I might’ve had for your plight went out the window when you tied me up and punched me in the head.
You can’t shut me down, because no one can, because this dream is my world, and I decide when it ends. You can’t rest until I’m erased? That sucks, man. Sure hope things work out alright for you….(cackles) Well, no, actually I’ll see to it personally that things do NOT work out alright for you.
Meanwhile, there’s you, Jared’ums...Who’s sending me the mother of mixed signals. You hate me forever, then rescue me from the two masks, and we’re as good as drinking buddies again, but it’s only because when somebody takes the big shiny from me it’s got to be you and blah blah. New plan! Nobody waxes sentimental, I point you in the direction of the Yaoi Anime across the ring, I say “Kill, Rage, Kill!” and you do thusly. We’re copacetic?
(winks, throws up the “V,” and stamps off. FTB)