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| CTF; Cheese. Toilet. Fear. In that order. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 16 2008, 11:12 AM (48 Views) | |
| Dangerous Dan | Apr 16 2008, 11:12 AM Post #1 |
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The camera films a black shot. Pio! Then black. Heh. Nah. But the screen really is black. Not in the verb sense. Like, the screen isn’t eating fried chicken, smoking menthols and listening to gangsta rap like my viewings of The Chapelle Show might suggest. I’m talking about the noun version. Is that clear? Yep? Everyone? We good? Great. Let’s move on. In the midst of the darkness we can hear the snap, crackle and pop of something sizzling and the blubberings of a child…or is it a man? Let’s see. Vinj: Whajid? Howba? OWwwuuhhh…! With pants scrunched down his ankles and a hand across his groin and one on his hunched tummy, Vinj frets about pivoting quickly toward the door to our right and the kitchen bench to our left. Leftover cuts of salami, ham and assorted cheese and vegetables on one side of bench indicate the workings of a culinary bazaar while a George foreman grill splutters fat at the other end. Confused and in despair, Vinj collapses onto his knees. His head bobs up and down, inhaling air and then spluttering it back out as he sobs. In the midst of his tears he lifts his head to the heavens to address...God? The ceiling? His forehead? Vinj: Why does it have to be so hard?! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!! The sizzling gains intensity and a lava flow of cheese spews down the grill and into the fat catchment – something that Vinj is well aware of and sends him even further into his depression spiral. Vinj: THAT’S IT! I don’t CARE if it’s wrong! Vinj pushes himself up off his knees and shuffles over to the grill behind the bench. As he lifts up the lid a gush of smoke comes out and hits him in the face, causing him to fall to the ground in pain. Vinj: AH!HH! My eyes!!! Man down, repeat, MAN DOWN!! Does anybody read me?!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOKU!!! Man DOWN!!!! Upon realizing there’s only the cameraman in the room Vinj starts to get to his feet. From behind the bench we see one arm jump up to the ledge. A head and then the second arm follows to help him up to his feet. Vinj quickly wipes away the tears from his blood shot eyes – a condition caused by the smoke and his frail tear ducts – grabs the cheesy grilled sandwich in his left hand. Vinj: Ahhhaa-HAAA. The heat of the golden-brown sandwich burns Vinj’s left hand causing him to juggles it from one hand to the next. Vinj: Hot-hot-hot-hot-hot! Vinjs scuffs his half dressed, grilled cheese tossing form across the room and back to the aforementioned doorway. Upon shifting to get a better view of where he’s headed we see a hallway and a shiny porcelain toilet enthroned at it’s end. Vinj: I’m COMING my white queen!! Vinj bustles along the wall using one hand to prop himself up and the other to handle the slowly cooling cheese sandwich. Once a foot away from the ‘throne room’, Vinj hooks his hand around the wood frame and swings himself onto the seat with sandwich in tow. As he looks up to close the door it’s only then he notices that there is in fact another human being in the room. Disdain and disappointment are written across his poor little forehead and quivering lip as he tries to understand why the cameraman wouldn’t have helped him in his time of need. Vinj: Why didn’t you help me? YOU MONSTER!!! And with that Vinj reaches forward and slams the door shut. What sounds like a hose bursts into our ears despite the closed door as well as the gas release that accompanys a urinary movement. What? You don’t fart when you pee? Yeah…probably too much information. Anyways, following this are the fluttering groans of relief. Vinj: Nnngggghhh-aahahaa!! Ohhh…oh yeah. That’s the good stuff. Vinj kicks the door open which allows us to see our toilet king slouched on his throne. His sandwich dangles in his left hand and his mouth is occupied with a mash of bread, cheese, meat and salad. Vinj places a hand on his heaving gut and speaks in a drawl between chews. Vinj: Aww…you have no…idea. Vinj gets to his feet and pulls up his black cargos up to his waist and buckles them together with his hand. After wedging the sandwich in his mouth Vinj uses his free hand to close the toilet seat and push down the flush button. Vinj: ‘efinitely a’ull ‘ush, that un. Vinj takes a bite from his sandwich before taking it from his mouth and exiting the water closet. The blue haired crusader then disappears into a neighboring doorway that remains mostly invisible because of the angle of the camera. From the sounds of it, it would seem Vinj is washing his hands. At least, we hope so. It doesn’t take long for him to return into view with his mostly-eaten sandwich back in his mouth. He wipes his hands down the sides of his fully zipped and buckled cargos and makes his way down the remainder of the hall to approach the lens in order to address the cameraman with a condemning finger. Vinj: You. Not happy, Jan. Says Vinj as he finishes off the grilled cheese. After gulping down the giant mouthful of carbohydrates, fat, protein and chloroplasts, Vinj sucks the grease off his middle finger and leaves it up for the cameraman to see. Vinj: See that? It’s my middle finger. It means Vinj is pissed off. Let’s not have this little guy come out again, ces-que ce? Vinj shakes his head, coercing the cameraman to do the same. Vinj: Good. I mean, honestly – where’s your sense of human decency? Says Vinj with a curly grin. Vinj: I know where mine is…Grant. Oh. Right. So apparently this is about Grant now. Better tune in. Vinj: It left when I stopped caring about what I was…or wanted to become. When I became the leaf in the wind – scattered across the footpath, hoisted by the currents of the season. The same winds that lead me to pummel poor Kitty into cat litter. I mean, everyone assumed I would, right? And apparently eeeeeeveryone other than The Rejects are…right. So you know what? For now, I’ll let popular opinion decide what’s on my agenda. And it seems that I’m getting one message particularly clear this week – that people are scared of me. That you, Grant, are scared of me. I’ve often made people…awkward…confused…nervous, even. But I don’t ever recall anyone ever admitting they were scared of me. I mean, out of all the people caught in the crossfire between the Un-Stable/Revolution War…out of all the people caught inbetween the chair duels with Chris Maclay…after all the shrapnel that’s been flung around, not one passer-by has ever admitted to that particular emotion. And suddenly after two weeks I have FIW employees giving out ‘warnings’ to each other. Approaching one another at the most precious of times to warn them of possible doom… What am I supposed to make of that? Why all the extra attention for Vinj? Surely I’m not THAT good…or bad, am I? Or maybe it’s because people are so intent on creating the appearance of evil that they’ll sink to fear in order to create it. A fear propagated by watchers. By you. Whatever The Rejects are, whatever I am was made possible by your reactions. Your losses. Your defeats. Your inadequacies. Your fallacies. And this week I offer myself as the one to show you what your own shortfalls have created. You want fear? Take it. There's no way out. This fade out. |
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2:33 PM Jul 11