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overexposing Felix


League Member
Jan 1, 2000
Boston and other places.
(CUTTO: Surveillance footage taken from the Nailbomb Nightclub, located in a back alley somewhere in Cambridge, Massachusetts. A thumping dance party remix of “Vicarious” by Tool thumps and cracks over images of tight, black leather, eyeliner, and creatively accessorized revelers grinding and writhing to the music, but the shot closes in on what is, at a glance, a black blob huddled under one of the tables…the shot gets blurrier with each zoom in, but it gradually becomes obvious that this is NOT a blob, but the former NFW world heavyweight champion, clutching his knees to his chest, twitching, glassy eyes fixed wide and wandering, teeth grinding…)

DISTORTED V/O: “Sometimes the party takes you places you didn’t plan on going,” as the song goes.

And how the mighty have fallen. Felix used to talk about “The end” a lot, specifically how it was going to end. The sun would blow up, someone would invent the time machine, it would end in ice, or blood, or whatever.

Felix only sort of watches TV, like, usually with the volume down, while he’s concentrating on something else. I think he likes how it lights up a room, but not very much. So he never paid close attention to Behind the Music. See, life isn’t like movies. It never ends in a big, dramatic bang or crunch. Felix always saw himself as one of the bad guys, y’know? Somebody the protagonist was gonna havta kill in some big gory, glorious way. He’d get thrown off a building and impaled on a gargoyle, or someone would crash a car into his helicopter, or God himself would swoop in at the last second to rip Felix’s black heart out and save the day. And regardless of how unhealthy you consider that aspect of his self-image to be, this unspoken presumption of his simply is not so…For people like Felix, there isn’t a big dramatic ending where all the loose ends are tied up. For people like Felix, the end looks a lot more like this; a series of ugly public meltdowns; a gradual downward spiral of financial liquidity and notoriety, suddenly people who used to brag that they knew you won’t even make eye contact when they see you down the street…And your grip on reality starts to slip.

To clarify, this is how the end looks. That doesn’t necessarily mean it is the end.

What I know, that the rest of you may not, is that Felix is lying when he says he spent all his money. Which makes me wonder how many other things he could be lying about. I guess, considering he’s not supposed to believe in objective truth ‘n all, maybe he thinks he’s always lying anyway.

(CUTTO: Following day. Black and white footage of Felix sitting in a diner, pale sunlight leaking through windowblinds. Our golden boy’s not wearing a shirt, got bloodshot eyes, chain smoking, with an untouched cup of coffee sitting on the table in front of him…)

FELIX: Cowboys versus vampires. And Maggots versus mes. Cowboys versus mes. Maggots versus vampires. I’m glad my life is once again starting to resemble a comic book. Superficially. On the inside, we’re all vampires, us. Must seek out life, acquire it, and drain its “real” life force, its “real” emotions. So Teresa’s a bit redundant, if slightly more self aware than most. The me of six months ago would be furious about teaming with a woman. Women are all whores, and their usefulness begins and ends with their capacity to amuse and breed. But enlightenment, or whatever it is I’ve transcended to, has changed my attitudes. I’ve become more socially progressive, and learned lessons about things. For example, I understand now that men are also all whores, and their usefulness begins and ends with their capacity to amuse and breed. Now where does that leave humanity? As one, big, wet, soulless daisy chain, yeah?

But vampires, like us, don’t breed the way ordinary organisms do. Our reproduction is a byproduct of our sustenance. Our need to kill. Of course just because you’re a whore doesn’t mean you can’t be a vampire, too….But I’m not going to let myself get too confused before I get to my point.

Billy Lovemuscle is a drunk and an idiot and a hick, but claims to be something else. Something better. Maggot is a drunk and an idiot and not ashamed of either. Teresa is a vampire, who dresses like a vampire, unlike us, the other vampires. I’m not sure what I am. But I know Maggot wishes me harm for that time I squished him with a dumpster, and I know I wish harm and inflict harm upon everybody, because that’s sort of my thing.

Maybe I can use this as an opportunity to decapitate Maggot, thus unburdening myself of at least one of my shiny new adversaries. Maybe it’d be safer to snuff out all three potential assassins at once, and save myself a lot of grief later. Maybe I’ll show up, do my thing, win, and get a paycheck. Maybe I’ll stay in the hotel room, drink some wine, listen to some Death Cab, and call an escort service…

All four scenarios unfold in different alternate dimensions, but here in this world, whoever will I be?…

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