Post by freakke on Aug 1, 2021 17:48:47 GMT -5
Charlie Smiles sits in a simple dark room. He’s filmed in black and white. A small table next to him. He sits there as the Freakke provides a voice over. The wrestler behind the clown does nothing but stare straight forward.
“Ladies, Gentlemen, boys, girls, cretins of all shapes sizes and sorts. Today I have to complain about something. A few things. Things I have talked about before. Things I can’t really get all out in the short time I have with you today. I have to talk about Donzig again.”
The pale man reaches for the table. A washcloth, a bar of soap, and an old school wash basin sit there. He slides it closer and looks down at it.
“My dude, I’m here. I’m ready to settle this. We’re about to have our little spat after you spit in my face and turned your back on what could have been great for cheap victory and thugworks. We worked well together despite our differences. You and I should have been topping the tag charts and making the KGB shit their pants wondering when we were coming for them. The brute force of Donzig and the madness of the Freakke.”
The soap and washcloth go into the basin. His hands began to rub them together.
“And of course, we’ve had that go round already. We’ve been picking at each other. You came after me. We scrapped. Well, this time we’re ready to go the full nine yards on this. Full pleats on that kilt mate. You’re about to see why trading in the old Clown Car model for the Russian Piece of Shit was such a bad FREAKKING Idea.”
The soapy water was all bubbly and ready to go as Charlie scooped up a handful of the water and splashed it into his face. The Carnival king continued, he sounds a little apprehensive, like he wishes he didn’t have to say what he was saying.
“You’ve betrayed me. You betrayed Takaru. But worst of all, you’ve betrayed the Cretins. You’ve denied them something exciting and wonderful by blending into a group of thugs and jagoffs that you won’t be able to stand out in. You’ve made yourself one among a crowd. Where we might have been something brilliant and contrasted each other well, now you’ve got to fight just to not be one of the guys. I’m gutted. I really am man.”
The washcloth came out and he began to scrub his face. The cloth began to really dig in and wash away a layer of something that was on the wrestler’s face. The black and white began to be broken up by flecks and flashes of a brilliant shiny green. The Freakke’s voice was beginning to raise in intensity and a touch of anger.
“So here we are. You, me, the dreaded math question every student fears. We’re on the same track, hurtling towards each other. At August on the Atlantic, that is our point of contact. Donzig, that is the answer on the test. August on the Atlantic, Stellarton, Nova Scotia on August 5th. THAT IS GROUND ZERO FOR THE CLASH OF THE MADMAN AND THE MOTHERLOVING DONZIG!”
It seems like Charlie is washing off his face. Except beneath it is the Freakke’s paint. The Carnival King is revealing himself. The green around his eyes and mouth vibrant, breaking through the black and white broadcast as he gropes around for a water bottle.
“Oh yes. I stand before you all, I was wounded and betrayed. I am hurt and angry.”
The fresh water splashes his face to rinse away the soap. Then his hands as he wipes away the soap on his eyes.
“And despite that there’s something coming Donzig. Something I know might be able to make up for your bullshit. Do you know what it is?”
Freakke opened his eyes. Like the green paint, the green of his eyes showed through the black and white.
“It’s you. That spectacular train wreck thats coming needs two to go at it. I was ecstatic to work with you and I still am. Just now we’re at it bass ackwards. Now we’re carreening towards each other full tilt. THAT! That is what the Cretins want now. They can’t have the two of us fighting the world so now they get us tearing it up against each other. It’s the only way for us to make this right. So my friend. You and I have a job to do. We’re going to fight. Oh yes, we’re going to fight. We’re going to have a match worthy of DONKKE! We have to cram everything we promised them into one night.”
Freakke slicked his hair back and tossed the water bottle. The Carnival King standing and glaring at the camera.
“It is the only way.”
The camera fades out. In the darkness, only the green remains before the feed cuts completely.
“Ladies, Gentlemen, boys, girls, cretins of all shapes sizes and sorts. Today I have to complain about something. A few things. Things I have talked about before. Things I can’t really get all out in the short time I have with you today. I have to talk about Donzig again.”
The pale man reaches for the table. A washcloth, a bar of soap, and an old school wash basin sit there. He slides it closer and looks down at it.
“My dude, I’m here. I’m ready to settle this. We’re about to have our little spat after you spit in my face and turned your back on what could have been great for cheap victory and thugworks. We worked well together despite our differences. You and I should have been topping the tag charts and making the KGB shit their pants wondering when we were coming for them. The brute force of Donzig and the madness of the Freakke.”
The soap and washcloth go into the basin. His hands began to rub them together.
“And of course, we’ve had that go round already. We’ve been picking at each other. You came after me. We scrapped. Well, this time we’re ready to go the full nine yards on this. Full pleats on that kilt mate. You’re about to see why trading in the old Clown Car model for the Russian Piece of Shit was such a bad FREAKKING Idea.”
The soapy water was all bubbly and ready to go as Charlie scooped up a handful of the water and splashed it into his face. The Carnival king continued, he sounds a little apprehensive, like he wishes he didn’t have to say what he was saying.
“You’ve betrayed me. You betrayed Takaru. But worst of all, you’ve betrayed the Cretins. You’ve denied them something exciting and wonderful by blending into a group of thugs and jagoffs that you won’t be able to stand out in. You’ve made yourself one among a crowd. Where we might have been something brilliant and contrasted each other well, now you’ve got to fight just to not be one of the guys. I’m gutted. I really am man.”
The washcloth came out and he began to scrub his face. The cloth began to really dig in and wash away a layer of something that was on the wrestler’s face. The black and white began to be broken up by flecks and flashes of a brilliant shiny green. The Freakke’s voice was beginning to raise in intensity and a touch of anger.
“So here we are. You, me, the dreaded math question every student fears. We’re on the same track, hurtling towards each other. At August on the Atlantic, that is our point of contact. Donzig, that is the answer on the test. August on the Atlantic, Stellarton, Nova Scotia on August 5th. THAT IS GROUND ZERO FOR THE CLASH OF THE MADMAN AND THE MOTHERLOVING DONZIG!”
It seems like Charlie is washing off his face. Except beneath it is the Freakke’s paint. The Carnival King is revealing himself. The green around his eyes and mouth vibrant, breaking through the black and white broadcast as he gropes around for a water bottle.
“Oh yes. I stand before you all, I was wounded and betrayed. I am hurt and angry.”
The fresh water splashes his face to rinse away the soap. Then his hands as he wipes away the soap on his eyes.
“And despite that there’s something coming Donzig. Something I know might be able to make up for your bullshit. Do you know what it is?”
Freakke opened his eyes. Like the green paint, the green of his eyes showed through the black and white.
“It’s you. That spectacular train wreck thats coming needs two to go at it. I was ecstatic to work with you and I still am. Just now we’re at it bass ackwards. Now we’re carreening towards each other full tilt. THAT! That is what the Cretins want now. They can’t have the two of us fighting the world so now they get us tearing it up against each other. It’s the only way for us to make this right. So my friend. You and I have a job to do. We’re going to fight. Oh yes, we’re going to fight. We’re going to have a match worthy of DONKKE! We have to cram everything we promised them into one night.”
Freakke slicked his hair back and tossed the water bottle. The Carnival King standing and glaring at the camera.
“It is the only way.”
The camera fades out. In the darkness, only the green remains before the feed cuts completely.