Post by LACKLAN on Sept 14, 2018 22:00:44 GMT -5
Squeaky wheel gets the grease. Children are crying and laughing and playing house.
“I WANT MY WAY OR ELSE I WILL QUIT”
Silly. Sad. Pathetic.
“GIMME WHAT I WANT OR I TAKE MY BALL HOME”
Squeaky wheel gets what they want. Why can’t I get what I want?
WHY DOESN’T SHE LOVE ME?!
I can squeak. I can be a loud and whiny wheel. I can get what I want. Why can’t I have what I want? Why can't I
WHY DOESN’T SHE LOVE ME?!
All I want is love. All I want is appreciation. All I want are my daughters...my dear daughters...so close they could be twins. Why doesn’t Angie tell Sarah? What is she afraid of? Is she afraid she won’t love her? Is she afraid that she will cast her to the side?
WHY DOESN’T SHE LOVE ME?!
That’s what it is, isn’t it? You won’t tell her...because you see how she is with me. You won’t tell her...because you now understand New York. You won’t tell her...because the Blood Princess...the Demon Child...hurts everything she loves. She loved me once.
SHE LOVED ME ONCE
WHY DOESN’T SHE LOVE ME?!
Love. Love. Oh, to love again. I miss you, husband. Vous êtes ressuscité. Your student helps. He takes away the cravings of the flesh. But what of the heart? Nothing takes away the cravings of the heart. When can I see you? When can I be with you?
When can I die?
**********
The printing press within the Maine religious community affectionately known as “Lacklanland” is busy this day. The Queen of Red, standing tall and firm in a gown of black and red, shining with flecks of silver, moves her arms in wide motions as she gives instructions.
“IT MUST BE PERFECT!”
The denizens, the people who followed her husband, the late founder of the compound, run, their heads bowed for fear of being punished, at her command. She had been there all day, a switch in her hand to both help her instructions and to whip those who moved too slowly, being the taskmaster to make sure her special project was done correctly.
“IF THERE IS EVEN ONE MISTAKE...EVEN ONE TYPO...OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!”
In another environment, someone might find it silly that a woman, dressed in a red gown, would cry out “Off with their heads!” Someone might even laugh and ask about Alice and the White Rabbit, perhaps wonder if a hooka-smoking caterpillar was there to wax philosophically. But everyone knew how deep the woman’s threats went. They all remembered when the Jew’s Cross had been brought out after its dormancy. Everyone remembered the boy hanging from it, beaten and bloody, with wounds caused by the Queen’s own hands. They knew well that her threat, “Off with your heads!” might well be literal.
“This night is special, Denizens! This night is important, dear children! We must celebrate greatness in the face of mediocrity!”
The Lacklanland Printing Press was accustomed to orders demanding perfection. Like most things, the press had been overseen by the Blood Princes for several year, and the girl had been demanding and taxing, due to her responsibilities as the head of the Lacklanland Tourism Authority. And while much of what she did was through social media under her old handles, “ShitFatherSez” and “fswprincess,” she still had many pamphlets about both the compound and the Path of the Light Church sent out. And while the Blood Princess had both fallen out of favor of, and seemingly love for, her homeland, the workers at the business were taxed by their new master, the Queen of Red.
“You must understand, dear children! This night will be about celebrating GREATNESS! Indeed, in a time where champion wrestlers, so recently ripped of their trinkets and trophies, SCOFF at the idea of being winners, CRY OUT at the philosophy of caring about their business, there are those who would stand tall and resolute! Yes, dear children! For every Wylde who believes that winning is unnecessary...there is a Lacklan! For every Lockheart that believes that caring is silly...there is a Lacklan! And...perhaps even more important...for every MacLean who believes that taking four months off yet deserves a chance at the World Championship...there is a Lacklan who fights every week!”
The Queen of Red slammed her heeled boot into the ground with every proclamation, making workers jump in fear of her wrath, each afraid of being hit by some emotional stray bullet. Each jump make them work harder, made them work faster, for fear of ending up on the Jew’s Cross.
“MacLean is a FOOL if he believes that he will be ready to face the Queen of Red! Moi! Moi! Who have fought week in and out! Moi! Moi! Who has not let even the devastation of the Harvester keep her down. Moi! Moi! Who rises again and again, all in the name and brightness of the One Lord God, who shines as a pillar of Light for ALL to see! He will NOT be able to defeat me! He will NOT be able to shake off the rust of his time off! He will NOT be able to move past his utter and devastating defeat at No Holds Barred!
“He may well have partners of value and virtue, he may well have people standing next to him who embody all that is good and pristine in the world, but it is not enough! Non! Because I, the personification of what the Lord wishes for this world, will do anything and everything to shine brightest over the next two weeks. Because I, the person who speaks and works for Him in this world, will show, as I and I alone have done every week for this company, what TRUE dedication is like! Because I, the ONLY person to have fought, with claws and teeth barred, will step into a UGWC ring for the twenty-ninth time this year, and show the WORLD what TRUE valor is!”
Every person hunched over their work, each doing their part in laminating and cutting their project, afraid to meet the gaze of their ruler. But they needn’t meet her eyes to know what they would see: Dark green eyes blazing out from a pale face set underneath a beehive of platinum blonde hair, with cheeks turning rosy from the heated words.
“MacLean will NOT be enough, even with the virtuous and charitable pair standing next to him! No! Baal, in his altruism, will be launching himself at the Harvestor, and while I hope he does destroy the sinful beast, I pray to God above that he wait until AFTER outlast to finish the deed! Eden, in all her compassion and kindness, will be dealing with Fear himself, though we all know that Deimos can never be lost. Thus MacLean will have no choice, no other option, than to face me...the Queen of Red! And thus his fate will be sealed forevermore: Just another victim of the Champion of Chaos herself!”
The workers heard her fall into cackles, her mirth uncontrollable, as their continued their work. Finished examples of their project were whisked away to the Queen’s Outlast teammates, to Necron, Deimos, and Somers. Finished examples were sent to the guest of honor herself, Morgan, and her partner Baal. Finished examples were sent to all members of the UGWC roster, excluding those banished, and still the printing press pushed them out.
The gala being held in honor of Eden Morgan the night before Outlast would indeed be filled to the brim with guests.
“I WANT MY WAY OR ELSE I WILL QUIT”
Silly. Sad. Pathetic.
“GIMME WHAT I WANT OR I TAKE MY BALL HOME”
Squeaky wheel gets what they want. Why can’t I get what I want?
WHY DOESN’T SHE LOVE ME?!
I can squeak. I can be a loud and whiny wheel. I can get what I want. Why can’t I have what I want? Why can't I
WHY DOESN’T SHE LOVE ME?!
All I want is love. All I want is appreciation. All I want are my daughters...my dear daughters...so close they could be twins. Why doesn’t Angie tell Sarah? What is she afraid of? Is she afraid she won’t love her? Is she afraid that she will cast her to the side?
WHY DOESN’T SHE LOVE ME?!
That’s what it is, isn’t it? You won’t tell her...because you see how she is with me. You won’t tell her...because you now understand New York. You won’t tell her...because the Blood Princess...the Demon Child...hurts everything she loves. She loved me once.
SHE LOVED ME ONCE
WHY DOESN’T SHE LOVE ME?!
Love. Love. Oh, to love again. I miss you, husband. Vous êtes ressuscité. Your student helps. He takes away the cravings of the flesh. But what of the heart? Nothing takes away the cravings of the heart. When can I see you? When can I be with you?
When can I die?
**********
The printing press within the Maine religious community affectionately known as “Lacklanland” is busy this day. The Queen of Red, standing tall and firm in a gown of black and red, shining with flecks of silver, moves her arms in wide motions as she gives instructions.
“IT MUST BE PERFECT!”
The denizens, the people who followed her husband, the late founder of the compound, run, their heads bowed for fear of being punished, at her command. She had been there all day, a switch in her hand to both help her instructions and to whip those who moved too slowly, being the taskmaster to make sure her special project was done correctly.
“IF THERE IS EVEN ONE MISTAKE...EVEN ONE TYPO...OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!”
In another environment, someone might find it silly that a woman, dressed in a red gown, would cry out “Off with their heads!” Someone might even laugh and ask about Alice and the White Rabbit, perhaps wonder if a hooka-smoking caterpillar was there to wax philosophically. But everyone knew how deep the woman’s threats went. They all remembered when the Jew’s Cross had been brought out after its dormancy. Everyone remembered the boy hanging from it, beaten and bloody, with wounds caused by the Queen’s own hands. They knew well that her threat, “Off with your heads!” might well be literal.
“This night is special, Denizens! This night is important, dear children! We must celebrate greatness in the face of mediocrity!”
The Lacklanland Printing Press was accustomed to orders demanding perfection. Like most things, the press had been overseen by the Blood Princes for several year, and the girl had been demanding and taxing, due to her responsibilities as the head of the Lacklanland Tourism Authority. And while much of what she did was through social media under her old handles, “ShitFatherSez” and “fswprincess,” she still had many pamphlets about both the compound and the Path of the Light Church sent out. And while the Blood Princess had both fallen out of favor of, and seemingly love for, her homeland, the workers at the business were taxed by their new master, the Queen of Red.
“You must understand, dear children! This night will be about celebrating GREATNESS! Indeed, in a time where champion wrestlers, so recently ripped of their trinkets and trophies, SCOFF at the idea of being winners, CRY OUT at the philosophy of caring about their business, there are those who would stand tall and resolute! Yes, dear children! For every Wylde who believes that winning is unnecessary...there is a Lacklan! For every Lockheart that believes that caring is silly...there is a Lacklan! And...perhaps even more important...for every MacLean who believes that taking four months off yet deserves a chance at the World Championship...there is a Lacklan who fights every week!”
The Queen of Red slammed her heeled boot into the ground with every proclamation, making workers jump in fear of her wrath, each afraid of being hit by some emotional stray bullet. Each jump make them work harder, made them work faster, for fear of ending up on the Jew’s Cross.
“MacLean is a FOOL if he believes that he will be ready to face the Queen of Red! Moi! Moi! Who have fought week in and out! Moi! Moi! Who has not let even the devastation of the Harvester keep her down. Moi! Moi! Who rises again and again, all in the name and brightness of the One Lord God, who shines as a pillar of Light for ALL to see! He will NOT be able to defeat me! He will NOT be able to shake off the rust of his time off! He will NOT be able to move past his utter and devastating defeat at No Holds Barred!
“He may well have partners of value and virtue, he may well have people standing next to him who embody all that is good and pristine in the world, but it is not enough! Non! Because I, the personification of what the Lord wishes for this world, will do anything and everything to shine brightest over the next two weeks. Because I, the person who speaks and works for Him in this world, will show, as I and I alone have done every week for this company, what TRUE dedication is like! Because I, the ONLY person to have fought, with claws and teeth barred, will step into a UGWC ring for the twenty-ninth time this year, and show the WORLD what TRUE valor is!”
Every person hunched over their work, each doing their part in laminating and cutting their project, afraid to meet the gaze of their ruler. But they needn’t meet her eyes to know what they would see: Dark green eyes blazing out from a pale face set underneath a beehive of platinum blonde hair, with cheeks turning rosy from the heated words.
“MacLean will NOT be enough, even with the virtuous and charitable pair standing next to him! No! Baal, in his altruism, will be launching himself at the Harvestor, and while I hope he does destroy the sinful beast, I pray to God above that he wait until AFTER outlast to finish the deed! Eden, in all her compassion and kindness, will be dealing with Fear himself, though we all know that Deimos can never be lost. Thus MacLean will have no choice, no other option, than to face me...the Queen of Red! And thus his fate will be sealed forevermore: Just another victim of the Champion of Chaos herself!”
The workers heard her fall into cackles, her mirth uncontrollable, as their continued their work. Finished examples of their project were whisked away to the Queen’s Outlast teammates, to Necron, Deimos, and Somers. Finished examples were sent to the guest of honor herself, Morgan, and her partner Baal. Finished examples were sent to all members of the UGWC roster, excluding those banished, and still the printing press pushed them out.
The gala being held in honor of Eden Morgan the night before Outlast would indeed be filled to the brim with guests.
x2
