Wait. Worry. Who cares?
(CUEUP: “Through Fire and Flames” by Dragonforce…)
(CUTTO: M…W…G…sitting in his living room in his boxer shorts, watching Gilmore Girls and burning himself with cigarettes…)
LORELAI GILMORE (From the TV): I can’t decide between Luke and Chris!! And it’s all kinda pointless fussing over it, when I’m obviously going to end up with Luke when the show ends, but who knows when that will be? One more season? Two more seasons?! It’s like, my whole life is a dark room, or something.
RORY: Wow mom, your love life is even more convoluted than Madonna Wayne Grossard’s sexual orientation.
LORELIA: No sweetie, it’s just “Em, Dubbayou, Gee,” now.
RORY: Why?
LORELIA: I think because Marilyn Manson isn’t selling as many records as he did in the late 90s.
RORY: Ooooh, right.
“the hardcore legend”
“the surreal”
“the IT boy”
“the American Idol”
EMDUBBYAGEE: YES!! I’M AN OBSCURE POP CULTURE REFERENCE ON GILMORE GIRLS!! I feel so…validated!! This is even better when I won “most unorthodox wrestler of the year” in FWF, six...I mean, last year. ‘Cuz I’M YOUNG. I’m not OLD. I never turned 30!! I’M STILL PRETTY, even though I’m still not married. And I will get married. Oh yes. Even if the bloodless, bigoted Christian fundamentalist types succeed in f(bleep)ing the gay community out of their equal rights in the like, two or whatever states they can get married, IT DOESN’T MATTER TO ME!! I just wanna marry somebody rich and famous!! I’ll turn my dick inside out and become a woman!! I’ll marry a woman, if she’s famous enough!! I DON’T GIVE A F(bleep)!!
(puts another cigarette out on the tender side of his forearm, then lights another one) Ew, sorry. Got carried away for a second there. I think I was trying to make a political point, like, I’m the exact sort of person conservatives want to stop from getting married, but I’m such a freak I can do whatever I want even if it’s illegal or just clearly a bad idea. Normal rules don’t apply, not because I think there’s something philosophically or intellectually wrong with normal rules, I just don’t give a f(bleep).
And that, my darlings, is how I was able to beat up Mr. “My name is the opposite of order, so I must be really scary,” last time. He can actually tell the difference between normal, acceptable behavior, and inappropriate, destructive behavior. He just proactively chooses destruction, entropic, behavior. Hence the name, “Chaos.” Now, most of the time, when someone makes a conscious choice to make the wrong decision, that person is thought to be absurdly stupid. (burns himself with another cigarette) Ow. See? Like that. That wasn’t a good choice. But I don’t care what’s a good idea and what isn’t. I just want attention. I wanna be a spectacle. I wanna prove I exist. I don’t care about anything besides that. I’d save a flaming bus full of nuns and toddlers from falling off a cliff. Then I’d rape them all.
The stipulation I’m naming for this match, is it’s the first official “MWG wins no matter what, sex toys soaked in lemon juice death match.” And the winner gets to give a German tattoo to the loser. That means, no matter what, I get to smack Chaos in the face with my dong. With my dong, to the tune of faggot…
(FTB)