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bitter much?

NotorisSTD

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(CUTTO: black ‘n white footage of a slightly disheveled Felix Red standing slouched against a brick wall, leather jacket, faded “Leftover Crack” T-shirt and black dickies, puffing on a cigarette, making occasional glares at the camera as he speaks…)

FELIX RED: I lost everything that made me important. No title, no cum-dumpster with political power, no lackeys, no money, no vision, no sanity. And everyone still just wants to be me.

Something Chuck Klosterman wrote about the Hawaii season of the Real World….There was Ruthie, the pathetic, f(bleep)ed up alcoholic. And then there was the rest of the cast, which strove to be f(bleep)ed up, which was even more pathetic. They were just banking that the further they could fall, the more interesting their story would be, and the more screen time they would get. The more club-nights they’d be paid to hang out at after the show ended. The more autographs they’d have to sign. The more people would remember their names…

I’m not champion anymore, and I didn’t even make it to the Ultratitle finals. But I’m still the most famous person any of you could ever hope to touch. Even Kin Hiroshi, this company’s supposed figurehead, catches himself talking about my “fanbase,” and the “respect I garner.” As if he’s so imperceptive he genuinely believes I even quantity that sort of nonsense…The way he does.

Kin wanted to be me, and he almost was. He wanted my title. He got it. But he still isn’t me. He’s champion, but I’m still the “man to beat” as they say. I’m still the center of attention, and this doesn’t make Kin Hiroshi very happy. Tricky part is, and while this obviously hasn’t always been the case, I’d prefer to not be bell of this particular ball. My wings are growing, and I’d like a nurturing veil of shadow to nestle under, for a bit. I’d like a quiet place. But I…can’t conceive of how to find one, and even if I could, you sons of b(bleep)es wouldn’t let me go there…

It’s sort of one of those “be careful what you wish for” things…

But Kin will drop the belt, if not to me, than someone else, probably right around the time I decide I don’t want him to be champion anymore. I’ll be champion again, there’s no questioning that, and for all practical intents, I might as well be. Nobody would want to be the surrogate Kin Hiroshi, except that this would put them in closer proximity to me…

See kids? I really don’t need Kin Hiroshi as much as he needs me. In fact, the unsettling truth is, I don’t need Kin Hiroshi at all, except as someone to brutalize, but I have so, so many of those…

Like Maggot. Is anyone interested in knowing why there wasn’t a Felix/Maggot match last season? Because why would I waste time on something so brazenly mediocre, when I had so many interesting and challenging things to break? But something…shifted, somewhere buried under certain defensive mechanisms I once supported my self-image on. Something I realized…Maggot is a hopeless booze junkie of bellow average intellect, who would’ve died alone in a gutter years ago had he not somehow stumbled into pro wrestling, an industry that rewards arbitrary acts of excessive violence. There was a nano-second, when I looked past Maggot’s *****, bruised veneer and saw something to be afraid of. And so, I dealt with the situation the same, and possibly only way I know how to deal with anything.

That’s why I tried to kill someone I had ignored for months.

Maggot, predictably, now wants his revenge, wants to beat a submission out of me. Make a statement, show the world what happens when someone messes with him, blah blah, so on. The chances of this ever transpiring are quite negligible, but I wonder if pummeling Maggot until he begs for mercy will sooth me. Does proving I’m the superior thug make me more than just a thug? If I drive Maggot insane, convince him he is a squid, not a man, or get him off the sauce and convert him into a born against Christian, would even any of that make me anything more than a well trained sociopath? Do I care either way? We’ll find out, I’ll accept the challenge, give the baby his blood bath, but not just yet. Somebody beat Maggot to the first dance.

What I know about David Tui is his personal life plays like the sit-com Entourage, without Jeremy Pivin. In other words, Entourage, without a reason for anyone to care. But David Tui doesn’t realize this, because he thinks a high alcohol tolerance, an ability to take bigger bong rips than the next guy, the amount and quality of women he’s slept with, these things make him a tough cool guy, and someone we should all be impressed by. Like how when I started bumping lines on camera, everyone decided I was really special and important, and I should get the spotlight I had deserved for years. David Tui signed my open contract, because he suspects I can drink more than him, smoke more than him, and screw hotter women. But he can’t know for sure, and if he can beat me, he’ll prove that he’s even tougher and cooler than even he realized…

Tui’s right about the booze, the drugs, and the sex. But he doesn’t see the big picture. He doesn’t understand true hedonism, which is to revel in hate and madness and fear and pain. He doesn’t comprehend that self-entitled meatheads like him take ambulance rides, daily, because of me. Not so I can prove I’m tough or cooler. Because of, what I’m beginning to think is my innate nature. And yes…this is where I’ve known true joy.

Tens of thousands of times. Got to destroy what I created, so I can build something better in its place. The frathouse must be demolished, starting with the late-arrival. The um…party’s over?...(bites his lip. Awkward silence…)

Again, it’s one of those “be careful what you wish for,” things. You all wanna be like me, more f(bleep)ked up, because f(bleep)ked up is more interesting, and more deserving of attention, as it is certainly an aberration when compared to its opposite…not f(bleep)ked up.

So when what used to be the bridge of your nose cuts through the part of your brain that stored your ability to read and move your arms, you’ll be very f(bleep)ked up, and that’ll make you happy.

Really, I’m just here to give the people what they want. (fake smile, “peace” sign.)

(FTB)
 

King Bear

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(FADE IN: Felix Red is on TV, talking and waving a cigarette around.)

RED: "Really, I'm just here to give the people what they wa-"

(BOOP. The TV shuts off, forcing the camera to pan back and notice a less than impressed David Tui. His eyes are covered by sunglasses as he walks out onto the patio of his Honolulu home.)

TUI: Trust me, Felix. No matter how many times you build yourself up to be the demigod of wrestling, the NFW, and anybody, everywhere; you'll never be what the people want. Maybe the blind and deaf people, but not any of these people with even the slighest inkling of intelligence.

(SCENE: Tui leans his hands on the railing, looking out to the orange and red horizon as the sun is setting.)

TUI: What once was a finely tuned war machine has now turned into a deluded, one dimensional piece of crap. You've wandered around NFW for the past few months hoping, begging for another chance at glory; another way to steal the spotlight from those working hard for it.

TUI: So you come out and attack Hiroshi whenever you see he's getting bigger and better than you, which he always is; and try and screw him out of his title. Now, with all these new faces in the crowd, you're chance has finally come to get out there; get a match. Except this chance you've got won't end the way you're fairy tales usually do - Felix, on drugs, rolling in the dough, and smashing Kin's head open. This story ends with King Tui, on top of the mountain, posting your head on a pike for all to see and say - Felix Red, the first example of the new King's Regime.

(SCENE: Tui turns around, facing the camera straight on.)

TUI: I hope you bring your legacy, Felix. It wouldn't be the same if I didn't get to smash that to pieces, too.

(FTB)
 

DizzaHizza

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** A smirking Hiroshi sits before his now usual NFW backdrop. **

KIN HIROSHI: "See, now here's a guy who's got it together. David Tui, a guy from the Pacific Islands. Hey, Tui, ya' know what Fiji means? It means 'Almost Japanese', and I can respect that your people are trying to fit in with my people. What I respect even more is a man who can see talent, and acknowledge it. Now, normally, this is where I'd start making fun of your pineapple eatin' ass, but I'm not like that. Nah, not today.

"See, the fact that you rammed a samoan sized fist up Felix Red's ass is enough to put a grin on my face, but I'm gonna warn you, Tui, don't get pulled in to Felix's game. See, Felix will go on and on at the beginning of every speech and tell you he's lost everything that matters to him: his whore, his *****, and his title. Then he'll go on to tell you how I, Kin Hiroshi, am nothing without him and how I need him to somehow validate my existence.

"If anyone needs any sort of validation anymore, it's Felix. A man without anything will grasp to the smallest straws in order to stay alive. Felix, go ahead with your little 'I'm-So-Emo-I-Don't-Need-Anyone-But-I'm-So-Alone' and 'I'm-More-Famous-Than-Anyone-Here-And-It-Makes-Kin-Furious' attitudes. I really don't care who is more famous between us, Felix, because when I go to sleep I still have the NFW World Championship. What really makes me laugh, though, is that you go on-and-on about how you are the most famous person in NFW, and how you are getting a wonderful tan in the spotlights, but you turn around and say that your 'fanbase' isn't something that matter to you.

"Obviously, your fame matters if you keep trying to rub it in our less-than-caring faces, Felix. Ya' know what constitutes fame? A fanbase. They leave, and so do the spotlights. Get used to the middle of the road, because those fans will abandon you the minute they finally realize what a croc-of-s**t you are. You're not the big d**k around NFW anymore, Felix, I am. I'm the King C**k in the Clit-Fest now. Keep lying to yourself about 'giving Kin Hiroshi the title'. You never wanted me to have it in the first place, and my death at your hands only further proves that.

"You want to threaten me and tell me that I will only hold the title until you want me to drop it? Felix, you said it yourself: you're all alone. You're nothing without someone else around to validate YOUR existence, and I'm done playing to role of life-support for you.

"From this moment on, Felix, I have nothing to do with you. I've stripped you of everything you had, and now I'm turning my back on you. Tui, feel free to keep Felix's co-depedency fueled by telling him to shut the hell up, but I think you'd get further ahead in wrestling, and in life, if you just followed my lead and forget that Felix Red ever existed.

"Goodbye, Felix. Your time ended when I became champion, and now, return to from whence you came. You'll never be anything more than 'The Man That Couldn't Destroy Kin Hiroshi.'"
 

King Bear

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(FADE IN: David Tui is standing against an NFW backdrop, shaking his head. He has been for a while now. His eyebrows are raised and his face wears a pathetic smile.)

TUI: Before you go off on that giant ego trip you usually get into, Champ; there's a few things I think you should hear.

TUI: First and foremost, you were the one who was manipulated by this guy from day one. You bowed down to Red the Douche, and you called him your 'mentor' and 'savior.' Then you let him 'screw your life up.' How that happens from a guy like that is beyond me. In fact; that right there makes me want to crawl through Marv's JVC here and pummel your ass back to Tokyo, myself. Unfortunately, I saw Felix's ugly mug first.

(SCENE: Tui adjusts his posture, moving his hands around to illustrate his points doing so.)

TUI: Second would be the fact that you don't know when to keep to yourself, Kin. The whole thing about Felix interjecting himself into the spotlight is in light of the fact that time and time again, you've come up short. Maybe he's doing it out of some sort of homosadistic passion that you two shared during all those years together, alone, off camera. I don't really care what it is, honestly; but it does piss me off. You two, trading shots at one another, over what? He helped you and now you're champion again?

(SCENE: Tui then points at the camera, almost out of characterlike.)

TUI: Oh yeah, and that Fiji comment may be true, however; Fijians would much rather be Almost DEAD than become the Japanese. Being called 'Almost Japanese' is, like, being called the wet sh*t on the bottom of a shoe. It is being called the scum of the Pacific. The Pussies who got NUKED.

(SCENE: Tui adjust, again; looking at the camera before continuing.)

TUI: All that Kin and Felix bull**** ends. It ends now. It ends in England. It ends when I dismantle Red, first and foremost, in front of the Queen's - both Lindsay Troy' and the old Brit' - very own eyes. It ends when Red is too weak to run down and save your precious golden belt, Kin. If I had things my way, I'd face Felix - then you - back to back. It'd be quite fitting, the new King coming in and wiping out the two misfits that have been hording the world championship picture with your torturing and cheap sneak attacks.

(SCENE: Tui takes a few deep breaths, looking off camera to collect himself. He gets excited easily.)

TUI: I can see it now; David Tui captures the world championship belt and snaps two legend's necks while he's at it! That'd be great! So great, wouldn't it, Marv? I'm sure Miles doesn't want that, though...(whispering) he's got to pay my contract somehow.

(SCENE: The camera moves up then down a few times. Marv is the camera man.)

TUI: Alas, it probably won't work out that way. Kin will have his defense against some pissant nobody who barely knows the first thing about being a true champion, and Felix - well Felix will soon remind us all of a Ford in Arizona. He'll still be sitting in that bright, bright 'spotlight - that's the sun in this analogy, Felix - on the side of the road, watching all of the others pass by on their way to the top. I'm sure you're asking why you're watching, aren't you Felix?

TUI: That's because your going to be in a wheelchair. Everything lost.

(FTB)
 

DizzaHizza

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** Kin Hiroshi. Seated. NFW Backdrop. NFW World Championship Belt. Shoulder. **

KIN HIROSHI: "MY ego trip, 'King'? MY ego trip, Mr. I-Will-Blow-Through-Everyone-Breaking-Their-Necks-Because-I-Am-Super-Strong-Grrrrrrrr? Please, in a sport based around a dominant alpha male leading the pack, you really shouldn't talk about people going on ego trips. Especially when you're putting yourself up on a pedestal before you've done jack s**t in NFW.

"But it doesn't suprise me that you haven't done anything yet. I mean, with you being a lazy, cane farming Fijian, I really could probably expect more out of a Mexican. But that's what you are, aren't you: a 'Pacific Island Mexian'? Now, you'll probably throw some crap my way about the Japanese, but at least we don't have a military coup every two or three years. Hell, Tui, you had one last year! Against, I'm, yet again, not suprised. With Fiji not even having a real military until about 20 years ago, the men with the power of the military want supreme power of the country.

"Yet, even with your military strike force of 3,500, Fiji can't even brag about having a proper domestic plan! Hell, Fiji refused to change give women proper empowerment, I hope Lindsay Troy is listening, up until 1999. In 1995, Fiji claimed that by changing sexual and gender discrimination 'impinges on our cultural values and social norms of behaviour that are the mainstay of traditional societies like Fiji'.

"And here you stand, saying that the JAPANESE are s**t stains? At least we picked a side in Dubya-Dubya two, and were able to build up on of the strongest economies in the world after being 'nuked'. Damn, Pineapple, we completely disabled the strongest Navy in the world. Yup, we're pussies all right: taking tactical military action knowing full well what the consequences would be. Please, a REAL *****, like a Fijian would back away instead of raising arms against a tyrannical power, but I don't blame Fiji, you were still raping your women and bar-be-queing pineapples obvlivious to the world around you.

"Just like you, Tui, are oblivious to what has come to pass in NFW. You can watch all the tapes from Season Two that you want, but you'll never be able to get a full understanding of the animosity flowing from Felix Red to myself. 'Manipulated by Red from the beginning'? S**t, Doc Silver started the whole mess, not Felix Red. Even then, I wasn't manipulated by them, I just fought back and neither Silver or Red knew what the hell to do with me.

"Red says he dropped the title to me? Please, he wouldn't have fought so hard to destroy me if he was just going to drop it to someone. He didn't hand pick me for the NFW World Championship because I was chasing that title before he ever won it from Silver. Save me the trival disparities between your and Felix's version of history and what actually happened.

"Go ahead and beat up Felix Red in England. I don't care. Hell, I already beat him, but I, unlike you, walked away on top of NFW. You, on the other hand, will walk away the same place as before, with or without the win, bottom of the barrel with the rest of the fish.

"Just beware: Kin Hiroshi's outside that barrel with a nice big gun.

"Swim fishy, swim."
 

NotorisSTD

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Boston and other places.
"I hate kegs of PBR," she said (Felix responds, part 1)

(CUEUP: “Born to be beheaded” by Mindless Self Indulgence…)
(CUTTO: Black and white surveillance footage of ever-so menacing Felix, wearing a studded leather jacket, uncomfortably tight dickies, and a Psychic TV T-shirt, in the alley behind some Irish dive bar….)

FELIX RED: This is so typical, and I’m in no mood for it whatsoever…

The tragedy here, is I was once not so unlike you, fratboy. I realize you’re new, so I’ll forgive you for having no f(bleep)king idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t asked anyone for a rematch with Hiroshi, and actually, I screwed Mittens T. Cat out of the title, so Hiroshi could keep it.

And if you think my recent behavior is delusional, you’re in for a fright next time I get feisty…

But what difference does any of that make?

What prompted your little outburst, was your need to elucidate that you are, in fact, the next big thing, and I am yesterday’s news, yeah? Splendid. You want the spotlight I’m coveting from all these superior up-and-comers? Wonderful. I do so wish you take it, bask in it, and incubate yourself in its nourishing glow. The light at the end of the tunnel? The light you’re supposed to walk towards when you die? This is what that was really all about, you stupid bastard.

Tricky part is, it’s not up to me who the spotlight is on. Not anymore, apparently. Last season, I decided who was important and who wasn’t, who was the center of attention and who wasn’t. Now I’m hunted by half the locker room, and there’s not much I can do besides dispatch my shiny new adversaries one, by one, by one…

Can’t bio-engineer lackeys to handle them for me. Can’t send the Mrs. to turn them against each other. No options, but to just…keep…fighting….

You’re going to decapitate me and impale my skull on a stick, fratboy? Best of luck (winks, thumbs up). You’re going to smash my legacy? that’s another matter all together. If that’s your aim, here’s what you do. Bring back the old-time-religion wrestling aesthetic. Kill Kin Hiroshi. Kill Yori Yakamo. Kill Mittens the Cat. Kill Maggot. Destroy NFW. Then kill yourself.

Have fun.

And oh, plenty of blind and deaf people are very intelligent, you insensitive cretin. NFW will be fielding angry letters and lawsuits from the handicapable community for months thanks to that unfortunate attempt at humor. And Rocko Daymon was WAY uncool to drug his wife up on camera, especially after the Chris Benoit thing.

Why am I the one explaining these things to you people? I thought I was the f(bleep)king nihilist…
 

NotorisSTD

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the horrible glory (Felix responds, part 2)

(CUEUP: “Acoustic Fence” by Mahi Mahi…)
(More black and white footage of Felix. Same night. This time he’s inside the pub, which is empty, except for him sitting at a table, and some guy screaming Bon Jovi karaoke to no music on the stage….)

FELIX: “At least we picked a side in world war two,” Kin?

So now that you’re champion, you think it’s safe to come out of the closet as a Nazi sympathizer?

But if you really would be something other than nothing if not for me, and if I’m really so worthless to you now, then why can’t you go 20 seconds without reminding everyone that we had a match once, and you happened to be the victor? I beat you, what, two or three times before that? And I haven’t mentioned it yet. Why? Because it’s not important to me, Kin. Of course I beat you. Of course I can do it again. I can beat anyone. I can do anything I want.

Really, you didn’t take all that much from me. Just the title. Everything else left under different, sometimes frightening, sometimes hilarious circumstances, none of which had anything directly to do with you, or even wrestling.

You got me wrong, Kin. You thought this was personal. Sure, I beat you to death. But I beat a lot of people to death. If memory serves, for a while there, you were obsessed with me, and in your sad little way, still are. You’ve started accusing me of the same things I accuse you of, right after I do it, which is going to confuse the dickens out of people..

I think I’m more famous than you, because no one on this show can go 10 minutes without talking about me. I’m Paris f(bleep)king Hilton in a jail cell. And everyone, you, Tui, Mittens, Maggot, everyone thinks they’re going to knock my block off and claim the notoriety and respect they’ve decided they’re oh-so deserving of. But, let’s be realistic, for once. Everyone isn’t going to do that.

Particularly not you, Davey Tui. I’m from America, and I don’t necessarily like it there, so I’ve already lost the patriotism debate…But really, fratboy, you’re facing me because you were in the right place at the right time, or the wrong place at the wrong time. Mostly the right kind, I think. I’m going to slap you around and defeat you without exerting myself much, but it’ll be on national television, it will be great exposure for you, and you should be grateful for it. But you’re in an awfully dubious position to be telling the likes of Hiroshi and myself our business. You’re not perceptive enough to notice, but you’ve jumped in quite over your head, and you’re going to have flap your arms awfully fast or, well, you won’t be the next big thing for very long.

Nobody likes an attention whore.

(FTB)
 

Rook Black

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Re: the horrible glory (Felix responds, part 2)

Trying to count individual folicles of stubble on his day one beard through touch alone, Rook Black renumerates, indavertantly broadcasting his thoughts across the Ether.

My memories tell me that Felix and I wrestled once.

He kicked my ass.

What I'm trying to remember is how I felt about it. Not necessary the ass kicking part, though that is included, but all of it. What did I think of Felix? How did I feel about competing against him? How did I feel about losing?

And I make suppositions. I don't think I disliked Felix, because I can't remember being angry with Felix. I don't think Felix really cared about anything at the time. I am sure that I ought to have felt dissapointed in myself for losing, but that I don't think that I could have stooped to complaining about how Felix fought.

But none of these are evidence. And these memories are suspect for their incompleteness. I remember rising a hill and saying.

"Namu Amidu Butsu."

Did that matter?

I have to conclude that it didn't. That all the things that I did and said at the time were esentially pointless and without significance or merit. In any aspect other than my failure to attain victory, the match is likewise without significance or merit.

And that the memory itself, apart from what rises from it that stinks of suspicion, basically doesn't matter either.

Since then Felix has changed. Since then I must've changed too.

An interlude of internal quiet passes. Rook can hear the stubble scratching against the skin of his index finger.

I am subvocalizing too loudly.
 

NotorisSTD

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Messages
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Age
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Location
Boston and other places.
(CUTTO: Felix standing at a bus station, “Candy Spooky Theater” T-shirt, same pants…)

FELIX: According to a very dead zen philosopher named Dogen, there is no past and no future. Firewood is firewood, and ash is ash. Firewood is not future ash, and ash is not former firewood.

I’m not so sure, when memories and dreams have as much ability to shape reality as what we think of as “the present.” Time just isn’t so linear…a prism seems a more apt physical comparison…light shines through, exits altered, but we only see the shadows…

I kicked Rook Black’s ass once. But I’ve done all kinds of things, and I don’t know which, if any, are more relevant than the others…

All I can see are the shadows…
 

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