Post by Dackle on Jan 10, 2018 3:46:22 GMT -5
The camera is zoomed in on the fireplace. A roaring fire is cracking, sending soft light out into the room. The camera pans back to see Dackle. It pans from his black fuzzy slippers, up his pajama covered legs, up his silk robe and onto his face. He is sipping his drink. He sets it on the table beside his chair. He folds his fingers in front of his chin.
Mr. Maverick. Let me ask you a question. Are you proud of yourself? Sitting in front of a camera, cussing, making death threats, doing self harm? Does that make you feel good? Does it make you feel (he uses quotation marks with his fingers) hardcore?
By doing exactly that, you proved my point. You have to try. You have to try to be like myself and Mr. Black. You have to sit in front of a camera and use such coarse language and violate your own body to try and prove you can compete with Mr. Black and myself.
Dackle chuckles. He takes another drink.
Ya see, the difference between you and I, I have nothing to prove. I have nothing to show these people. You have to sit there and talk like common gutter trash, then mutilate yourself in such a manner that there is no way you can step into my asylum at 100%. You have made my job easier.
Dackle rises from his chair and grabs his drink. The camera follows him over to the wet bar in the corner. Dackle reaches under the bar and pulls out a decanter. He pours a
brown liquid into his glass. He takes a sip before setting the glass back down on the bar.
Maverick, dear boy, you claim to be this hardcore dude. You claim to be something you are not. You don’t wanna be like the Darkness, and yet, your weapon of choice looks oddly like Bertha or Crimson. You claim you don’t wanna be us, and yet you are a plain and simple knock off of Mr. Black.
Dackle takes another sip and examines the glass. He smiles and sets it back down.
I am going to give you some advice kid. Leave. Go get yourself some help. I would do it now. It is your only chance to survive. While I won’t kill you, the Darkness will. It will envelope you. It will suck you down such a deep pit, everything you love and hold dear will be gone. Once you leave my Asylum, you will not be the same.
So why don’t you quit. Just stop what you’re doing. We can all see through this wanna-be dark persona you have cooked up. Go back to London or wherever the hell you are from. Go call your mum and make sure her insurance will still cover you, and go get help. Stop being the petchulant little punk you are, and go live a normal life. We all know this isn’t you. You are trying to hard.
Dackle tops off his drink. He goes back to his chair and sits down. He sets the drink down on his table and crosses his legs.
Maverick, you do not know who or what you are messing with. This is your last chance. You can curse and make all the phony death threats you want. You can stab yourself as many times as you see fit and you can even pretend like you do not idolize Mr. Black and myself, but be 100% sure you know what you are doing. There is no coming back from the Aslyum, and that, you can take to the bank.
The camera pans back over to the fire. Before it cuts out a groan can be heard the camera falls. It falls in such a way that part of the camera man’s face can be seen. Blood is beginning to puddle underneath his unconscious head. Glass is sticking out from his forehead. Dackle’s voice can be heard.
Give that message to that wanna-be jackass.
The camera cuts away to static.
Mr. Maverick. Let me ask you a question. Are you proud of yourself? Sitting in front of a camera, cussing, making death threats, doing self harm? Does that make you feel good? Does it make you feel (he uses quotation marks with his fingers) hardcore?
By doing exactly that, you proved my point. You have to try. You have to try to be like myself and Mr. Black. You have to sit in front of a camera and use such coarse language and violate your own body to try and prove you can compete with Mr. Black and myself.
Dackle chuckles. He takes another drink.
Ya see, the difference between you and I, I have nothing to prove. I have nothing to show these people. You have to sit there and talk like common gutter trash, then mutilate yourself in such a manner that there is no way you can step into my asylum at 100%. You have made my job easier.
Dackle rises from his chair and grabs his drink. The camera follows him over to the wet bar in the corner. Dackle reaches under the bar and pulls out a decanter. He pours a
brown liquid into his glass. He takes a sip before setting the glass back down on the bar.
Maverick, dear boy, you claim to be this hardcore dude. You claim to be something you are not. You don’t wanna be like the Darkness, and yet, your weapon of choice looks oddly like Bertha or Crimson. You claim you don’t wanna be us, and yet you are a plain and simple knock off of Mr. Black.
Dackle takes another sip and examines the glass. He smiles and sets it back down.
I am going to give you some advice kid. Leave. Go get yourself some help. I would do it now. It is your only chance to survive. While I won’t kill you, the Darkness will. It will envelope you. It will suck you down such a deep pit, everything you love and hold dear will be gone. Once you leave my Asylum, you will not be the same.
So why don’t you quit. Just stop what you’re doing. We can all see through this wanna-be dark persona you have cooked up. Go back to London or wherever the hell you are from. Go call your mum and make sure her insurance will still cover you, and go get help. Stop being the petchulant little punk you are, and go live a normal life. We all know this isn’t you. You are trying to hard.
Dackle tops off his drink. He goes back to his chair and sits down. He sets the drink down on his table and crosses his legs.
Maverick, you do not know who or what you are messing with. This is your last chance. You can curse and make all the phony death threats you want. You can stab yourself as many times as you see fit and you can even pretend like you do not idolize Mr. Black and myself, but be 100% sure you know what you are doing. There is no coming back from the Aslyum, and that, you can take to the bank.
The camera pans back over to the fire. Before it cuts out a groan can be heard the camera falls. It falls in such a way that part of the camera man’s face can be seen. Blood is beginning to puddle underneath his unconscious head. Glass is sticking out from his forehead. Dackle’s voice can be heard.
Give that message to that wanna-be jackass.
The camera cuts away to static.
