Things That Suck

[Frozen Atlantic]

*~*~*~*~*​

“Céu é embaixo. Inferno é em cima. Isso é provado pelo fato de que planetas e estrelas são ordeiros em seus movimentos, enquanto abaixo na terra nos chegamos perto do caos primordial. Há mais quatro outras provas, mas Eu as esqueço.”
- Josh The Dill, Cabala King Kong

*~*~*~*~*​

"Yes! My plan is one step closer to completion!"

The card fades out, and we enter another fuzzy "hidden camera" perspective, the camera stashed in the back. Teresa's in the passenger's seat, and Minion #1 is driving. Ahead, we can see a line of cars at a fast food drive-thru.

"Nothing can stand against the will of the Goddess, Minion #1! First, I dispatched the opposition in my debut, then I humiliated the NFW Champion! Then... then the most amazing thing of all - I got a paycheck! It's a truly amazing sum, it's... it's enough to eat and stuff!"

Minion #1 leans over and whispers something.

"No, you cannot have health insurance! The impudence! The audacity! The proliferation! I am trying to save NFW! I am trying to lead the fans to enlightenment! And you know what? Enlightenment is freakin' expensive! You think you can just sit under a tree and just have it happen to you? Oh no! My rise to dominance has requirements! I require... a lair."

Minion #1 leans over and whispers something. Else.

"No, I can't be creepy and foreboding to my enemies without it! I need a place to plot my schemes, and scheme my shenanigans... and put my things - AND NO, a locker room won't do it! I have a lot of stuff!"

A muffled female voice comes over the speaker. "Welcome to McDonalds, can I take your -"

"Filthy hamburger slave! You will produce two of your so called 'Big Mac Extra Value Meals', and Goddess help you if I don't find extra Value in each sandwich! And no pickles! For every pickle I find, I shall kill you."

Minion #1 leans over and whispers something. Else.

"But what if she's one of the three people who hasn't seen that episode of Family Guy?"

The girl behind the speaker gives the total, and the line moves forward.

"My filming locales have been lackluster at best! A high school gym with the lights down! A mall, rubbing elbows with the fermenting cesspool of modern culture! The cinema was nice, but... I had to do unspeakable things with vanilla pudding to get that placed closed for my exclusive use! Clearly, I won't be able to bend NFW to my will unless I have a creepy black robe AND a foreboding lair!"

They pull up to the window, and a couple of bags get pulled into the car.

"Wait. You remember that contract? You can destroy stuff as long as I haven't been provoked, correct? Imagine this - in the front, a terrifying palace of despair and eternal lament, and in the back, all the chocolate milkshakes and low-quality American beef cuisine I can consume! Yes! It's perfect!"

She points through the drive-thru window. "Minion #1! DESTROY!"

Minion #1 shrugs, unbuckles his seat, and jumps through the window. We hear some screams, muffled punches, and the sound of Teresa's applause between pauses for fries as the scene fades to black.

When it reopens, we're obviously in the McDonalds, but all the furniture and stuff has been removed.

"Yes... finally... it is complete! All of NFW shall tremble before me, for -"

More whispering from Minion #1.

"Of course I know NFW is a touring show, but I...I..." She looks around for a few seconds... and buries her head in her hands, sobbing. "I suck at this so much."

Minion #1 shrugs and reaches for the bag they ordered.

"Those are both for me," Teresa sniffles.

Minion #1 clears his throat and speaks for the first time.

"I hate you."

***
​

"Greetings, future minions! A few matters before I start."

The location is, of couse, an abandoned McDonalds. Use it while you can, right?

"I'd like to thank everyone in the UK for coming out to see us. Longest plane ride of my life - I've never been further aawy from home than Philadelphia, so seeing a new country in person - quite the experience. I hope you'll come to see us the next time we're in the area. With that out of the way... I've been weird and snarky and PO'ed and depressed and stuff since I got here. I mean, first I get stuck making my debut against two hard drinkin' American stereotypes. Then Hiroshi embarasses everybody by being a screw up, and then I get left off the Crash TV card. Sucks."

"Now, I'm on the other side of Canada, fighting The Sailor Man, and all I could figure out is that he's got some love/hate relationship with ***** Boy. A little intelligent inference tells me that all the wrestlers were taken this week, so I've gotta fight plumbers and sailors and whatever Maggot thinks he is - I'll probabably have a handicap match against Captain Construction and Bob The Indian Chief next week. Boring. I don't have the patience to turn jobbers into bags of leaky meat until Christmas."

"And thus, since it would be amiss for me to neglect the duties of my job, allow me to close with a brief address to this week's victim. Sailor Person. I am going to kill you. To death. Perhaps beyond death. You may think it an oxymoron, but I assure you it isn't. I'm going to slowly, gradually cave in all your vital bits like a sledgehammer dropping on a watermelon. I'm going to preforate the canvas with your face and cripple so many bits of you that you're liable to enter your next life crippled, and I will do this, not to satisfy some elaborate personal vendetta, but because I fear collateral damage is the only language this company's management will understand. Eventually, NFW will be forced to deliver ***** Boy kicking and screaming into a ring with me for the sake of preserving the rest of the roster.

I wish there was another way, but I'm really, really too good to wait. Sucks, I guess... to be you."

Cut to black. A voice speaks from the darkness.

"Hail Discordia!"​