08-20-2020, 06:52 AM
08-25-2020, 08:04 PM
OOC: Doug told me he wasn't rping. I decided that I'm going to post a shoot and save my material for another day. Hope you get things worked out, Doug.
What can I say?
Huh?
Same old song and dance, same old fucking song and dance, stuck on repeat, creaking its tired tune until we want to blow our brains out at the bar. You all think I’m finished? Look with your eyes, not with your lullabies. Do you think I’m past my prime? Listen to the screams, regardless of your beliefs, there the destruction lies in my wake. Take your eyes off the record book for a just moment, the win columns don’t matter, what does it my body count. It keeps on growing. Week in, week out, look now, there’s a lot of corpses in my basement.
But that’s not half of it. I’m sure some rather be dead than to survived me and my hell.
Look at the scars that I’ve itched in your heroes’ psyche. The courageous infected with paranoia, injected by my syringe. They’re keeping one eye open at night. They’re looking over their shoulder constantly. Your heroes, they know they didn’t vanquish the monster under the bed. No, here I still stand. Here I still threaten. And I’m more deadly than ever. Maybe I smartened up, keep my hands to myself when the cameras are rolling, but who says that I’m not going to be there in a dark alleyway, and who says it’s you not one of your loved ones. My limitations are superficial, surface deep, so don’t get confused.
It’s only a matter of time.
Keep jawing, we all know the verdict. We all saw with our own eyes how I rocked your world, knocked you side to side, became my favorite ragdoll on the biggest stage. Clyde, if you want people to start treating you with some respect or seriousness, maybe you’ll keep your promises. All you do is talk shit and then get wrecked. Ain’t nobody scared of you! The only truth that spills from your body is the piss in your pants when I knocked you down real good. No one’s afraid of you. You’re an annoyance, a rash that will go away someday.
So stop mentioning me as some lifeline to relevance.
You’re a knock-off, a poor-quality counterfeit. Give it up. You’ll never be me. You’ll never replace me. You’ll never best me. We all know it, except for you. It’s a cruel joke at your expense, and they’re all loving laughing at you. I don’t feel any sympathy. You bring it on yourself.
But I’m going to do something, you couldn’t a month or so ago.
Propped up before me is our favorite comedian, Ace Marshall. The same man whose standup defeated my number one fan, Clyde Stutter, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves and glorify that achievement. No, Ace made his name doing a lot bigger and greater things than punking a wannabe badass. Ace Marshall used to treat this company like his personal playground, wheeling, and dealing, all while conning top talent out of the dignity and championship belts. He made fools out of the best. I admit, he made a fool out of me. And that is something that I can’t get out of my mind. While he gave me a golden ticket to punch Clyde Stutter out, he did so while laughing, trying to cast me in the role of a dope. Like he tricked me!
Now, I’ve taken a lot of licks to the head. But I will tell you this, I’m nobody’s fool.
Now the joke’s dead in the water now, isn’t it, Ace? There was little be amused at the big dance. I won the shot that you really wanted. The shot you thought you had in the bag. The same shot that your own wife almost cucked you out of. Rise to Greatness, the brawl wasn’t a walk in the park, wasn’t a party that you enjoyed, now was it? And it’s all my fault. Part of my revenge. I’m glad that I could have stiffened your comedy. See, I don’t get much entertainment from you and your games, but if you think I’m satisfied, I’m not. I haven’t had my full of your suffering just yet. Because you’re still there, in the back of my head, still there, gnawing me with that sense of intellectual superiority. Yes, I admit it, Ace. You got into my head. You’re still there. Still laughing at me. It’s on repeat.
And I have no clue how to shut you up, so I’m going do what I always do, destroy. It’s time to exorcise this demon. Time to finish what I started. Time to shut you up… permanently.
What can I say?
Huh?
Same old song and dance, same old fucking song and dance, stuck on repeat, creaking its tired tune until we want to blow our brains out at the bar. You all think I’m finished? Look with your eyes, not with your lullabies. Do you think I’m past my prime? Listen to the screams, regardless of your beliefs, there the destruction lies in my wake. Take your eyes off the record book for a just moment, the win columns don’t matter, what does it my body count. It keeps on growing. Week in, week out, look now, there’s a lot of corpses in my basement.
But that’s not half of it. I’m sure some rather be dead than to survived me and my hell.
Look at the scars that I’ve itched in your heroes’ psyche. The courageous infected with paranoia, injected by my syringe. They’re keeping one eye open at night. They’re looking over their shoulder constantly. Your heroes, they know they didn’t vanquish the monster under the bed. No, here I still stand. Here I still threaten. And I’m more deadly than ever. Maybe I smartened up, keep my hands to myself when the cameras are rolling, but who says that I’m not going to be there in a dark alleyway, and who says it’s you not one of your loved ones. My limitations are superficial, surface deep, so don’t get confused.
It’s only a matter of time.
Keep jawing, we all know the verdict. We all saw with our own eyes how I rocked your world, knocked you side to side, became my favorite ragdoll on the biggest stage. Clyde, if you want people to start treating you with some respect or seriousness, maybe you’ll keep your promises. All you do is talk shit and then get wrecked. Ain’t nobody scared of you! The only truth that spills from your body is the piss in your pants when I knocked you down real good. No one’s afraid of you. You’re an annoyance, a rash that will go away someday.
So stop mentioning me as some lifeline to relevance.
You’re a knock-off, a poor-quality counterfeit. Give it up. You’ll never be me. You’ll never replace me. You’ll never best me. We all know it, except for you. It’s a cruel joke at your expense, and they’re all loving laughing at you. I don’t feel any sympathy. You bring it on yourself.
But I’m going to do something, you couldn’t a month or so ago.
Propped up before me is our favorite comedian, Ace Marshall. The same man whose standup defeated my number one fan, Clyde Stutter, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves and glorify that achievement. No, Ace made his name doing a lot bigger and greater things than punking a wannabe badass. Ace Marshall used to treat this company like his personal playground, wheeling, and dealing, all while conning top talent out of the dignity and championship belts. He made fools out of the best. I admit, he made a fool out of me. And that is something that I can’t get out of my mind. While he gave me a golden ticket to punch Clyde Stutter out, he did so while laughing, trying to cast me in the role of a dope. Like he tricked me!
Now, I’ve taken a lot of licks to the head. But I will tell you this, I’m nobody’s fool.
Now the joke’s dead in the water now, isn’t it, Ace? There was little be amused at the big dance. I won the shot that you really wanted. The shot you thought you had in the bag. The same shot that your own wife almost cucked you out of. Rise to Greatness, the brawl wasn’t a walk in the park, wasn’t a party that you enjoyed, now was it? And it’s all my fault. Part of my revenge. I’m glad that I could have stiffened your comedy. See, I don’t get much entertainment from you and your games, but if you think I’m satisfied, I’m not. I haven’t had my full of your suffering just yet. Because you’re still there, in the back of my head, still there, gnawing me with that sense of intellectual superiority. Yes, I admit it, Ace. You got into my head. You’re still there. Still laughing at me. It’s on repeat.
And I have no clue how to shut you up, so I’m going do what I always do, destroy. It’s time to exorcise this demon. Time to finish what I started. Time to shut you up… permanently.