NotorisSTD
League Member
(CUEUP: “Home for troubled boys” by The Chainletter...)
(CUTTO: Black and white footage of Felix Red, faded Rise Against T-shirt and dickies, casually sipping coffee at a diner. This was shot at 3AM, but there’s no way for you to know that unless someone told you...)
“The boy who destroyed the world”
So I guess I’ve gone out and let everyone down.
Yet another theme that’s been prevalent in my life. Did you guys know I was supposed to be a soccer player? Do you know how many people wasted their time and money, thinking they were going to help me start up that career? They send me hate mail, occasionally. I read these letters in the bathtub with incense candles buring nearby. It helps me relax.
My real life dad would probably be disappointed in me to, if he knew what I looked like. Probably he didn’t want me to be a grunt like him. Probably he wanted me to be a lawyer or something, so I could escape the cycle of violence that ruined him.
And this is the new problem Manson’s set himself up for. I signed the papers and sent them through, and now it’s official. I am Michael Manson’s adopted son...
Leaving me with no choice except to establish my own identity independent of his glowering, blustering shadow. He could’ve had another member of LOVE part 2. Instead he has an ungrateful brat to futilely try to control.
And like he said, and I already knew, the harder you try to not turn into a clone of your parents, the more likely you are to f#$k up all the same ways they did, and become everything you were supposed to hate. Now I really am doomed to become the new standard bearer of the fiend archetype.
But not until I’m done lashing out against it.
I was already doomed to be the new Anarky...that is, the new champion. And I will be champion. But there’s more before I get into that...
Rebelling against rebellion means joining up with the faces. I guess Larry Tact’s okay, even though I’ve ignored him up until now, because really, I don’t care very much. No one’s ever said he’s a bad wrestler, but no one seems to think he’s going to win this either. Which is weird, because now that I think about it, he did throw me out of the So Cal Rumble...Until I declared that he didn't.
Larry Tact is a good wrestler. Maybe a great wrestler. I can still undo him by thinking about it.
Copycat however...and I’d like to speak directly to Copycat for a moment...I’ve chosen to not associate with you. At all. In fact I think I’m just going to try really hard to hurt you.
You see, I’m not saying my promos are especially entertaining. I’ve been flogging the same few themes forever. Drugs, non-belief in linear time, drugs, non-belief in reality, non-belief in morals or ethics, drugs, precognition, video games, sex with criminally young girls, Austin O. Spare....and drugs. Tens of thousands of times. I have no new ideas. No good ones, anyway.
But I can kill you anyway. And if I can kill you, I can definitely pin you.
You’ve beaten Anarky and Manson. You probably beat me someways way back no one remembers. Probably I beat you when I was called something else, and I don't remember that either. Spend longer than a few months in the same circuit, and everybody’s beaten everybody else. It always goes back to where it began. Tens of thousands of chances to rewrite the past. There is no “what happened.” There is only “what is,” and “what will be,” which is one in the same...Do you understand?
Furthermore, your video parodies are gay. Really gay.
Anarky’s telling me I’m special, but he doesn’t think anyone’s special, only me ‘n him are special, cuz we know no one else is special...Or he’s saying I’d made some sort of profound socio-cultural statement when I started doing drugs on camera. It’s like I said before. Yes, the point is the sensory rush, and blood lust is a big part of that. But having the world title maximizes my sensory rush potential and options by making me more rich and famous. It’s one thing to realize people who grandstand for the sanctity of sportsmanship and traditions and technical ability and so forth are idiots. But I’m not going to sit here and pretend to be cynical about sex and drugs.
And I will be having lots more sex and doing lots more drugs, because, I am going to be world champion.
Manson thinks he’s a lock because Alex Wylde is his friend, and Alex Wylde is the referee. But that’s the other thing everyone’s forgotten about.
I’m still the president.
But, I must admit, the odds are stacked quite heavily against me here. Manson has a new lackey, who won’t have the staying power of a TUSK. Nonetheless, he could be a factor. He’s got the referee in his pocket, although I might be able to convince Wylde to switch sides or something, as I have lots of drugs and will share them if it will help me get more, better, drugs.
Meanwhile, Anarky knows my strengths and weaknesses better than anyone, and can probably summon Wells and Psycho to quell my insurrection. Copycat is larger and more annoying than I am, and Larry Tact has several qualities that make him a potentially difficult opponent that I don’t know what they are.
I realized I needed to a backup plan. I needed help. Shocking help. Famous help. Useless help.
Copycat wants something new and interesting? Fine. When everyone’s invincible, and everyone’s awesome...someone completely out of their element, someone with nothing but contempt and apathy for pro wrestling...Someone who hasn’t been in a fight since Junior High, if ever....these are the breed of humans who can bring this match to another level...
I now introduce, as mandated by the WFW president, to ensure Alex Wylde calls this one right down the middle...The Special Enforcers that destroyed this match.
Making their one night only WFW appearance...The biggest rock stars since KISS....MassArt’s gift to Amerika and the world....As seen on tour with Nine Inch Nails...”The Queen on Cambridge” Amanda Palmer and Brain The Sexually Ambiguous Drummer... Boston Massachusetts’ own....The Dresden Dolls.
(CUTTO: Amanda Palmer, her massive forearms have black streamers tied on, and Brian the drummer, both in full mime garb, sitting in a coke den which isn’t in Felix’s apartment...)
PALMER: AS I RECEIVED THE MESSAGE FROM THE HEAVENS ABOVE, IT IS TIME FOR THE DOLLS TO RUN UTTERLY F#$KING BAT**** ALL OVER THE WFW!!! LOAD THE SPACESHIP WITH THE ROCKET FUEL!!! LOAD IT WITH THE DRESDEN DOLLS!!! HEAR MY VOICE WHICH REEKS ONLY OF COMBAT, WHICH THE ORDINARY PEOPLE ON THE STREET DO NOT CARE TO UNDERSTAND BECAUSE THEY ARE AFRAID FOR THEIR VERY SOULS!!! WHEN ALEX WYLDE YIELDS TO THE FURY OF THE MIGHTY DRESDEN DOLLS HE WILL STAND COMPLETELY STILL FOR ALL ETERNITY AND THE GALAXY WILL LIE UNDER THE PILES OF BONES AND DISTENDED FLESH WHICH THE DRESDEN DOLLS WILL LEAVE IN THE WAKE OF THIS RAMPAGE. THE JUICE I WILL PERSONALLY RIP IN HALF AND DRINK HIS ORGANS LIKE THEY WERE REDBULL, AND I CAN DO THIS BECAUSE OF MY HUGE FOREARMS. ALSO FELIX RED IS A GENTLEMAN OF VIRTUE, AND WIN THIS MATCH IS WHAT WE PROCLAIM THAT HE WILL DO. (sssssnorts another line off the table)
BRIAN: F@#K yeah! (also does a line)
(CUTTO: Black and white footage of Felix Red, faded Rise Against T-shirt and dickies, casually sipping coffee at a diner. This was shot at 3AM, but there’s no way for you to know that unless someone told you...)
“The boy who destroyed the world”
So I guess I’ve gone out and let everyone down.
Yet another theme that’s been prevalent in my life. Did you guys know I was supposed to be a soccer player? Do you know how many people wasted their time and money, thinking they were going to help me start up that career? They send me hate mail, occasionally. I read these letters in the bathtub with incense candles buring nearby. It helps me relax.
My real life dad would probably be disappointed in me to, if he knew what I looked like. Probably he didn’t want me to be a grunt like him. Probably he wanted me to be a lawyer or something, so I could escape the cycle of violence that ruined him.
And this is the new problem Manson’s set himself up for. I signed the papers and sent them through, and now it’s official. I am Michael Manson’s adopted son...
Leaving me with no choice except to establish my own identity independent of his glowering, blustering shadow. He could’ve had another member of LOVE part 2. Instead he has an ungrateful brat to futilely try to control.
And like he said, and I already knew, the harder you try to not turn into a clone of your parents, the more likely you are to f#$k up all the same ways they did, and become everything you were supposed to hate. Now I really am doomed to become the new standard bearer of the fiend archetype.
But not until I’m done lashing out against it.
I was already doomed to be the new Anarky...that is, the new champion. And I will be champion. But there’s more before I get into that...
Rebelling against rebellion means joining up with the faces. I guess Larry Tact’s okay, even though I’ve ignored him up until now, because really, I don’t care very much. No one’s ever said he’s a bad wrestler, but no one seems to think he’s going to win this either. Which is weird, because now that I think about it, he did throw me out of the So Cal Rumble...Until I declared that he didn't.
Larry Tact is a good wrestler. Maybe a great wrestler. I can still undo him by thinking about it.
Copycat however...and I’d like to speak directly to Copycat for a moment...I’ve chosen to not associate with you. At all. In fact I think I’m just going to try really hard to hurt you.
You see, I’m not saying my promos are especially entertaining. I’ve been flogging the same few themes forever. Drugs, non-belief in linear time, drugs, non-belief in reality, non-belief in morals or ethics, drugs, precognition, video games, sex with criminally young girls, Austin O. Spare....and drugs. Tens of thousands of times. I have no new ideas. No good ones, anyway.
But I can kill you anyway. And if I can kill you, I can definitely pin you.
You’ve beaten Anarky and Manson. You probably beat me someways way back no one remembers. Probably I beat you when I was called something else, and I don't remember that either. Spend longer than a few months in the same circuit, and everybody’s beaten everybody else. It always goes back to where it began. Tens of thousands of chances to rewrite the past. There is no “what happened.” There is only “what is,” and “what will be,” which is one in the same...Do you understand?
Furthermore, your video parodies are gay. Really gay.
Anarky’s telling me I’m special, but he doesn’t think anyone’s special, only me ‘n him are special, cuz we know no one else is special...Or he’s saying I’d made some sort of profound socio-cultural statement when I started doing drugs on camera. It’s like I said before. Yes, the point is the sensory rush, and blood lust is a big part of that. But having the world title maximizes my sensory rush potential and options by making me more rich and famous. It’s one thing to realize people who grandstand for the sanctity of sportsmanship and traditions and technical ability and so forth are idiots. But I’m not going to sit here and pretend to be cynical about sex and drugs.
And I will be having lots more sex and doing lots more drugs, because, I am going to be world champion.
Manson thinks he’s a lock because Alex Wylde is his friend, and Alex Wylde is the referee. But that’s the other thing everyone’s forgotten about.
I’m still the president.
But, I must admit, the odds are stacked quite heavily against me here. Manson has a new lackey, who won’t have the staying power of a TUSK. Nonetheless, he could be a factor. He’s got the referee in his pocket, although I might be able to convince Wylde to switch sides or something, as I have lots of drugs and will share them if it will help me get more, better, drugs.
Meanwhile, Anarky knows my strengths and weaknesses better than anyone, and can probably summon Wells and Psycho to quell my insurrection. Copycat is larger and more annoying than I am, and Larry Tact has several qualities that make him a potentially difficult opponent that I don’t know what they are.
I realized I needed to a backup plan. I needed help. Shocking help. Famous help. Useless help.
Copycat wants something new and interesting? Fine. When everyone’s invincible, and everyone’s awesome...someone completely out of their element, someone with nothing but contempt and apathy for pro wrestling...Someone who hasn’t been in a fight since Junior High, if ever....these are the breed of humans who can bring this match to another level...
I now introduce, as mandated by the WFW president, to ensure Alex Wylde calls this one right down the middle...The Special Enforcers that destroyed this match.
Making their one night only WFW appearance...The biggest rock stars since KISS....MassArt’s gift to Amerika and the world....As seen on tour with Nine Inch Nails...”The Queen on Cambridge” Amanda Palmer and Brain The Sexually Ambiguous Drummer... Boston Massachusetts’ own....The Dresden Dolls.
(CUTTO: Amanda Palmer, her massive forearms have black streamers tied on, and Brian the drummer, both in full mime garb, sitting in a coke den which isn’t in Felix’s apartment...)
PALMER: AS I RECEIVED THE MESSAGE FROM THE HEAVENS ABOVE, IT IS TIME FOR THE DOLLS TO RUN UTTERLY F#$KING BAT**** ALL OVER THE WFW!!! LOAD THE SPACESHIP WITH THE ROCKET FUEL!!! LOAD IT WITH THE DRESDEN DOLLS!!! HEAR MY VOICE WHICH REEKS ONLY OF COMBAT, WHICH THE ORDINARY PEOPLE ON THE STREET DO NOT CARE TO UNDERSTAND BECAUSE THEY ARE AFRAID FOR THEIR VERY SOULS!!! WHEN ALEX WYLDE YIELDS TO THE FURY OF THE MIGHTY DRESDEN DOLLS HE WILL STAND COMPLETELY STILL FOR ALL ETERNITY AND THE GALAXY WILL LIE UNDER THE PILES OF BONES AND DISTENDED FLESH WHICH THE DRESDEN DOLLS WILL LEAVE IN THE WAKE OF THIS RAMPAGE. THE JUICE I WILL PERSONALLY RIP IN HALF AND DRINK HIS ORGANS LIKE THEY WERE REDBULL, AND I CAN DO THIS BECAUSE OF MY HUGE FOREARMS. ALSO FELIX RED IS A GENTLEMAN OF VIRTUE, AND WIN THIS MATCH IS WHAT WE PROCLAIM THAT HE WILL DO. (sssssnorts another line off the table)
BRIAN: F@#K yeah! (also does a line)