NotorisSTD
League Member
(CUTTO: Dank, scummy, gross basement. Felix Red sits Indian style on the ground, illuminated by a single lightbulb hanging in front of him, staring blankly up at the camera, dreads tied into a pair of ridiculous pigtails. Dude’s got no shirt on “MIDCARDER” smeared on his chest with black body paint, and black gi pants…)
FELIX: We’ve gone so far, and learned so much, and been so many different people…only to come back to the source.
When you stare into the abyss, it stares back, and laughs in your face…
My contract’s almost up, and with the money I require, the reputation as locker room poison I’ve deliberately engendered, plus however much Dan Ryan has foolishly squandered on Copycat…who is not locker room poison, but is box office poison….I don’t think I’m much longer for this world.
Every prophecy is self-fulfilling. So turns out, yeah, I really won’t be helping Doc out with his big stupid retirement match. His vengeance, and a chunk of his precious legacy shall be denied, and only for my amusement.
Unless I get my f(bleep)king money. Hear that Danmus? You still want a spotfest to keep the plebians entertained during the midcard? Then pony the f(bleep) up. I might be a mess and a waste, but at least I’m over, which is more than I can say about Copycat…
So the Gothopotamus let me down. I should’ve known better than to misplace my faith in someone whose whole life is one big self-nullifying failure. So the First bailed on me…left me to chase hollow glory I thought he understood was a waste of time. That’s spiffy. F(bleep) the First…never been anything but the cuddly, family friendly, non-threatening Tiger Beat version of me. Which is, of course, why he’ll never crash through the glass ceiling here on his own.
He too, will realize he should’ve known better.
Anthology’s already a bloated, amorphous blob of an organization that will crumble immediately once everyone gets tired of taking marching orders from Cameron Cruise. Given the number of raging egos involved, shouldn’t be too much longer. Until they realize 1997 has come and gone. Until they realize they’ve all been reduced to a T-shirt. Until they realize tens of thousands of bogus clusterf(bleep) wins don’t amount to anything when no one cares.
I came to EPW to extract my revenge. And it’s the only thing motivating me to stay.
Well, that, and greed.
On the positive side, (grins) now I've got rationalizations for making eeeeverybody super dead.
(FTB)
FELIX: We’ve gone so far, and learned so much, and been so many different people…only to come back to the source.
When you stare into the abyss, it stares back, and laughs in your face…
My contract’s almost up, and with the money I require, the reputation as locker room poison I’ve deliberately engendered, plus however much Dan Ryan has foolishly squandered on Copycat…who is not locker room poison, but is box office poison….I don’t think I’m much longer for this world.
Every prophecy is self-fulfilling. So turns out, yeah, I really won’t be helping Doc out with his big stupid retirement match. His vengeance, and a chunk of his precious legacy shall be denied, and only for my amusement.
Unless I get my f(bleep)king money. Hear that Danmus? You still want a spotfest to keep the plebians entertained during the midcard? Then pony the f(bleep) up. I might be a mess and a waste, but at least I’m over, which is more than I can say about Copycat…
So the Gothopotamus let me down. I should’ve known better than to misplace my faith in someone whose whole life is one big self-nullifying failure. So the First bailed on me…left me to chase hollow glory I thought he understood was a waste of time. That’s spiffy. F(bleep) the First…never been anything but the cuddly, family friendly, non-threatening Tiger Beat version of me. Which is, of course, why he’ll never crash through the glass ceiling here on his own.
He too, will realize he should’ve known better.
Anthology’s already a bloated, amorphous blob of an organization that will crumble immediately once everyone gets tired of taking marching orders from Cameron Cruise. Given the number of raging egos involved, shouldn’t be too much longer. Until they realize 1997 has come and gone. Until they realize they’ve all been reduced to a T-shirt. Until they realize tens of thousands of bogus clusterf(bleep) wins don’t amount to anything when no one cares.
I came to EPW to extract my revenge. And it’s the only thing motivating me to stay.
Well, that, and greed.
On the positive side, (grins) now I've got rationalizations for making eeeeverybody super dead.
(FTB)