Post by nbk on Jul 15, 2011 12:10:13 GMT -5
You had never understood the point of 'parties', you could never comprehend how they were meant to be a pleasurable way to spend your time, it wasn't a logical course of action. Why would anyone choose to feign interest in the ramblings of one inebriated stranger after another, pretending that you were sympathetic towards their latest relationship breakdown, or happy for them and any successes they felt the need to lie to you about. Even if there were people you actually wanted to socialise with without doubt they'd be speaking with other people, and when you did catch up with them you'd inevitably be stuck underneath a blaring sound system and wouldn't be able to hear a word each other was saying.
And then there was the earlier implied necessity to drink copious amounts of alcohol, as if it were an inescapable ingredient of a 'good time'. Drinking to the point that your a rambling mess, who no one can comprehend, screaming your inner most insecurities and grudges to the world was apparently the by product of a really good night. Of course other get incredibly happy, to the point that they palm their clammy hands all over you, and slobber that they love you, and you don't know how much you mean to them, just before turning and expressing the exact same sentiments to an unfortunately placed potted plant.
Given your personal confusion by each premise, it was a great shock to find yourself drunk and in the midst of a house party that would make David Bowie blush. You had a bottle in one arm, and the other was wrapped around the waist of a buxom Brazilian lady who just so happened to be gyrating rapidly around your crotch. Usually you''d be mortified by such a public display of lust, but given the goings on around the room what you were experiencing was frankly timid. Your partner had most of her clothes on for one thing...and she wasn't choking.
The problem came when you left what you would forever refer to as the room of Babylon, people started talking to you, and asking questions about your job. None of them understood, none of them got it! Despite how much you explained it to them, they either thought working for UGWC was cool, or an embarrassment. They didn't understand that you weren't doing it because you were a fan of Wrestling, it was because you were an artist. They didn't have any idea of the limbo you sat in, you were creating great canvas' week in week out, and the only people to experience them were the slobbering masses of wrestling fans and out of every million of them only a handful at best would have the ability to appreciate the stunning visuals he was brining them.
As the night went on you found less people would approach you to talk, and that was fine, you had a bottle of Malt and didn't need any of them, they had no idea, their feeble and weak minds just don't have it in them to understand. Why had you even tried to convince them? Even screaming in their faces hadn't worked, they were clearly of limited intellect. Why the hell had you even come here again? Something to do with college, someone from college is...what are they? A douche no doubt, but it was something else. It probably wasn't important. What was important was your bladder was fit to explode and luckily the bathroom wasn't far away.
You crashed through the door and leaned against the frame for a moment, keeping your balance, as you stand tall and the door swings closed behind you, you quickly fumble inside your pockets for your cell, struggling to unlock it and then staring at it for a few moments, looking for the video recording function.
You find it, and prop your cell on the sink to limit any wobble...
And then record...
And in front of the cell stands The Killer, he just stands staring at the phone for a few moments. Before, as ever he begins to speak.
Popular consensus...has defeated The Screams in a way...I shall never be able to. They tried so hard, with so much passion and fury to keep The Killer from contemplating Prince Rudo....only for the fans of this bizarre realm to offer up to The killer, exactly what they wished to avoid. The Killer...would find it highly amusing if they were not ferociously angry, they do not like being forced into a corner....you see they are used to getting what they want from me, because they can and will and do control The Natural Born Killers impulses...but they cannot control those of the entire world...wish as they may.
Such an opportunity...has been presented to me, but I fear they will not allow me to take it...for they fear what will become of them. Rudo is something we have never seen before...neither The Killer nor his Passengers can get...a read on this prey. He is not like the transparent Enigma's and Peterson's of this Universe....nor is he a complex web of insecurities and contradictions like Somers and Montgomery. He seems to be the essence...of an unburdened soul...
The Screams they are convinced this is a trick...a fallacy at best. The Killer does not fool himself into believing either way.,..but it is something that must be explored...examined, yet the Screams they are unconvinced, they do not want to risk what Rudo could possibly do to them if this is not some twisted misdirection.
It seems he draws power from his Circle...through loyalty possibly, but maybe it is something more than that, something that allows him to be unbridled of any Mind Squatters...everything about this Prince is intriguing, everything about him should excite them, but their fear is unlike anything I have experienced before. They do not tear into my mind....they quietly claw at it, a permanent numbing sensation runs throughout me...some might say they are petrified.
We have been forced to dance with a partner they have no purchase upon, one that could turn them from Hunter to prey. The Killer sees this coming Monday as an opportunity....a chance to learn....a small window that could lead to renewed hope....and that is what they fear the most. They are aware to avoid what they fear most....Prince Rudo must be destroyed...they will do everything they can to compel The Killer into a ravenous state in an effort to beat back this threat. As ever, the struggle in my conscience will bear heavily on proceedings in a few days...and it could eb another example of why The Natural Born Killer is the....Most Dangerous Rumour You've Never Heard.[/b]
And with that The Killer turns and heads back towards the party.
And the recording ends.
And not soon enough either, if he'd have gone on much longer you'd have pissed yourse...Shit! You really do hate parties.
And then there was the earlier implied necessity to drink copious amounts of alcohol, as if it were an inescapable ingredient of a 'good time'. Drinking to the point that your a rambling mess, who no one can comprehend, screaming your inner most insecurities and grudges to the world was apparently the by product of a really good night. Of course other get incredibly happy, to the point that they palm their clammy hands all over you, and slobber that they love you, and you don't know how much you mean to them, just before turning and expressing the exact same sentiments to an unfortunately placed potted plant.
Given your personal confusion by each premise, it was a great shock to find yourself drunk and in the midst of a house party that would make David Bowie blush. You had a bottle in one arm, and the other was wrapped around the waist of a buxom Brazilian lady who just so happened to be gyrating rapidly around your crotch. Usually you''d be mortified by such a public display of lust, but given the goings on around the room what you were experiencing was frankly timid. Your partner had most of her clothes on for one thing...and she wasn't choking.
The problem came when you left what you would forever refer to as the room of Babylon, people started talking to you, and asking questions about your job. None of them understood, none of them got it! Despite how much you explained it to them, they either thought working for UGWC was cool, or an embarrassment. They didn't understand that you weren't doing it because you were a fan of Wrestling, it was because you were an artist. They didn't have any idea of the limbo you sat in, you were creating great canvas' week in week out, and the only people to experience them were the slobbering masses of wrestling fans and out of every million of them only a handful at best would have the ability to appreciate the stunning visuals he was brining them.
As the night went on you found less people would approach you to talk, and that was fine, you had a bottle of Malt and didn't need any of them, they had no idea, their feeble and weak minds just don't have it in them to understand. Why had you even tried to convince them? Even screaming in their faces hadn't worked, they were clearly of limited intellect. Why the hell had you even come here again? Something to do with college, someone from college is...what are they? A douche no doubt, but it was something else. It probably wasn't important. What was important was your bladder was fit to explode and luckily the bathroom wasn't far away.
You crashed through the door and leaned against the frame for a moment, keeping your balance, as you stand tall and the door swings closed behind you, you quickly fumble inside your pockets for your cell, struggling to unlock it and then staring at it for a few moments, looking for the video recording function.
You find it, and prop your cell on the sink to limit any wobble...
And then record...
And in front of the cell stands The Killer, he just stands staring at the phone for a few moments. Before, as ever he begins to speak.
Popular consensus...has defeated The Screams in a way...I shall never be able to. They tried so hard, with so much passion and fury to keep The Killer from contemplating Prince Rudo....only for the fans of this bizarre realm to offer up to The killer, exactly what they wished to avoid. The Killer...would find it highly amusing if they were not ferociously angry, they do not like being forced into a corner....you see they are used to getting what they want from me, because they can and will and do control The Natural Born Killers impulses...but they cannot control those of the entire world...wish as they may.
Such an opportunity...has been presented to me, but I fear they will not allow me to take it...for they fear what will become of them. Rudo is something we have never seen before...neither The Killer nor his Passengers can get...a read on this prey. He is not like the transparent Enigma's and Peterson's of this Universe....nor is he a complex web of insecurities and contradictions like Somers and Montgomery. He seems to be the essence...of an unburdened soul...
The Screams they are convinced this is a trick...a fallacy at best. The Killer does not fool himself into believing either way.,..but it is something that must be explored...examined, yet the Screams they are unconvinced, they do not want to risk what Rudo could possibly do to them if this is not some twisted misdirection.
It seems he draws power from his Circle...through loyalty possibly, but maybe it is something more than that, something that allows him to be unbridled of any Mind Squatters...everything about this Prince is intriguing, everything about him should excite them, but their fear is unlike anything I have experienced before. They do not tear into my mind....they quietly claw at it, a permanent numbing sensation runs throughout me...some might say they are petrified.
We have been forced to dance with a partner they have no purchase upon, one that could turn them from Hunter to prey. The Killer sees this coming Monday as an opportunity....a chance to learn....a small window that could lead to renewed hope....and that is what they fear the most. They are aware to avoid what they fear most....Prince Rudo must be destroyed...they will do everything they can to compel The Killer into a ravenous state in an effort to beat back this threat. As ever, the struggle in my conscience will bear heavily on proceedings in a few days...and it could eb another example of why The Natural Born Killer is the....Most Dangerous Rumour You've Never Heard.[/b]
And with that The Killer turns and heads back towards the party.
And the recording ends.
And not soon enough either, if he'd have gone on much longer you'd have pissed yourse...Shit! You really do hate parties.
