Post by nick on Nov 20, 2021 16:45:57 GMT -5
Sitting on a step in a pool of light from a nearby street lamp, Wicked stare dispassionately into the camera. Between them sits the mammoth figure of Paz. The dog’s jaws are bloody. There’s a single shoe at his feet and a lot of blood.
Vile: Well, possessing gold clearly doesn’t improve your thinking. Not if ANYTHING that Rated M utter is anything to go by. Come o, Guys, at least PRETEND you’re actually brighter than ….(she looks down)...an old shoe. Seriously, a candle, under a bucket, at the bottom of a well is brighter than you two put together,
What was that shit you said? Something about YOU dictating things because you “WON” a crappy piece of leather and metal? And somehow that legitimises your argument. Here’s a very brief history lesson. World War Two. Germany lost, but it fucking won the peace! Won and became THE dominant economy in Europe. Oh, but wait – didn’t Germany ‘lose’? Ha. Way too difficult a question for you pair of numb nuts.
But look; I’ll spell it out. Again. We really don’t give a flying FUCK about your crappy gold. It means as much to us as your uninteresting promos. No, we’re coming for the same thing that we always come for: to bring the pain. We ARE going to hurt you. Both of you. Badly. And there’s NOTHING you can do about it. Well, nothing except sit back and pretend that you’ve somehow achieved something of note. Yawn. As if. But hey, it’s not all bad news. After all, you get to keep your precious straps.
Vicious: Yeah, that’s all true, but I wish – I just WISH that you two fuckers were actually INTERESTING. Then it would be way more fun tearing you apart. As it is, well, it’s just for the money. I really can’t think of anything remotely interesting to say about you two. You won some shitty prize because everyone else was shitter than you. And somehow that makes you ‘special’. Oh that’s priceless. Look, we are NOT fucking interested in your belts. We are not fucking interested in playing by the rules: any rules. We are simply coming to hurt you and that’s what’s going to happen. Hey, you never know, we might even be able to hammer some sense into those empty heads of yours.
Vile: And there you have. You’re screwed whichever way you look at it. Sucks to be Rated M.
Vicious: Always.
Vile: True. You can put a crown on a turd. It’s still a stinking pile of shit.
(She winks at the camera and smirks as the scene ends.)
FIN.
Vile: Well, possessing gold clearly doesn’t improve your thinking. Not if ANYTHING that Rated M utter is anything to go by. Come o, Guys, at least PRETEND you’re actually brighter than ….(she looks down)...an old shoe. Seriously, a candle, under a bucket, at the bottom of a well is brighter than you two put together,
What was that shit you said? Something about YOU dictating things because you “WON” a crappy piece of leather and metal? And somehow that legitimises your argument. Here’s a very brief history lesson. World War Two. Germany lost, but it fucking won the peace! Won and became THE dominant economy in Europe. Oh, but wait – didn’t Germany ‘lose’? Ha. Way too difficult a question for you pair of numb nuts.
But look; I’ll spell it out. Again. We really don’t give a flying FUCK about your crappy gold. It means as much to us as your uninteresting promos. No, we’re coming for the same thing that we always come for: to bring the pain. We ARE going to hurt you. Both of you. Badly. And there’s NOTHING you can do about it. Well, nothing except sit back and pretend that you’ve somehow achieved something of note. Yawn. As if. But hey, it’s not all bad news. After all, you get to keep your precious straps.
Vicious: Yeah, that’s all true, but I wish – I just WISH that you two fuckers were actually INTERESTING. Then it would be way more fun tearing you apart. As it is, well, it’s just for the money. I really can’t think of anything remotely interesting to say about you two. You won some shitty prize because everyone else was shitter than you. And somehow that makes you ‘special’. Oh that’s priceless. Look, we are NOT fucking interested in your belts. We are not fucking interested in playing by the rules: any rules. We are simply coming to hurt you and that’s what’s going to happen. Hey, you never know, we might even be able to hammer some sense into those empty heads of yours.
Vile: And there you have. You’re screwed whichever way you look at it. Sucks to be Rated M.
Vicious: Always.
Vile: True. You can put a crown on a turd. It’s still a stinking pile of shit.
(She winks at the camera and smirks as the scene ends.)
FIN.