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A Monument To Future Failures

Frozen Atlantic

League Member
Joined
Jul 4, 2007
Messages
202
Points
0
Age
38
*~*~*~*~*

"
Those who wish to appear wise among fools, among the wise seem foolish."


-Marcus Fabius Quintilianus


*~*~*~*~*

*A voice speaks from the darkness.*

Teresa:
Greetings, future lackeys. I must start by delivering my abject apologies to everybody unfortunate enough to watch the "wit" of the current... "champion"... in action. I'll get right to the point.

*Cut : This time we're in a movie theatre. The camera picks up the back of Teresa Q.'s head. On the screen is the infamous shower scene from the "Psycho".*

Teresa:
There's two kinds of failures in the world. Just two. I know most of you couldn't be bothered with looking at the Introduction to Billy Lovemuscule, but I urge you to check it out, if only for scientific reasons. Here, we have both types of failures on display. Like lab rats, or Big Brother contestants.

*The big screen fades out seconds before Janet Leighs untimely demise. We're transported to that run down bar where Billy Lovemuscle's telling the world about himself in a language bearing a faint resemblance to English. His lips move. No sound emerges.*

Teresa:
Failure. Category Number One. Billy Lovemuscle. He drinks horse piss. He not all that smart. He didn't exactly deliver thrilling moments of entertainment in his monolgue and he talks like he's blown the bottom of his jaw away with a double barreled shotgun. So... why not humiliate him, cast him into a roasty pit, the weak deserve their fate, all that good stuff?

The saving grace of the category one failure - humility. Very little in the way of promises of impending victory. Good. As I said earlier, I admire those who embrace the unknown. God isn't around to have mercy on fools, what with that whole "not existing" thing putting a wrench in his plans. So I do it for him. Best of luck in the future, Bill.

*The big screen freezes awkwardly,then cuts to a view of the PortaPotty from Joe the Plumber's promo.*


But then.... there's that infinietely more amusing variety of failure.

Teresa:
I have to say, I didn't do my research. I didn't know you were the television champion. When I saw an closeup of some jobber dropping a turd and howling homoerotic nonsense at the top of his lungs... I thought... ah, they're two friends with a long and storied history in Who Gives A Rats Ass Wrestling, perhaps a shortlived tag team inspired by Deliverance, conspiring to bring their American redneck freakshow to the not even slightly hallowed halls of NFW.

I got halfway through, and you suddenly start talking about... yourTelevision Title... nobody's managed to blink my third eye in months, and damned if you didn't do it with style and aplomb. Seriously... you can't do that to us newbies. Your promo should come with a warning card at the top :

*It appears and stays for a few seconds, white text on a black field.*

YES, I AM A CHAMPION
NO, ME SUCKING THIS MUCH IS NOT A GIMMICK
MAYBE I AM A MINION OF GREAT CTHULHU, HERE TO DRIVE YOU MAD FROM INANITY
PLEASE DO NOT BE ALARMED

*Then it dissapears.*



Teresa:
See what you did, ***** boy? Now I've gotta go look up Mittens and make sure he's not some jack rag / sock puppet with facial features drawn on. Or perhaps this is a master plan of yours. Ignore the field, concentrate of the freshest piece of meat you can find and convince us you're cool when you pound it around? See, the thing about being a champion (and this is your first time, I hope)... people do tend to watch. For the deeper meaning. What's funny here isn't that you have the same level of talent as the new guy who's walking through the door and keeping his head down... it's that you don't know it. Ignorance is the defining quality of the category two failure.

But I am a priestess. Education of the spirit is my specialty. Do you understand what I'm getting at, Joe?

That's not a rhetorical question. English, ***** boy, do you speak it?

*The big screen changes for the last time. We're watching Psycho again.*

Teresa:
I'm not here just to win titles. I'm here at the will of the Goddess, to spread a message, to alter minds, to change lives, to enlighten and transform. I believe the day is coming when our path's will collide, much, much sooner than you expect, and I think it's going to change you. Not from "guy who doesn't eat his meals from a tube" to "one that does", not yet, that depends on how much you annoy me in the process. But I think you'll be transformed, at my will, into a being deserving of mercy. Is is dawning on you, yet? I'm going to turn you... into Billy Lovemuscle. I'm going to teach you the virtue of humility, and thus... save your very life from... But not yet. When I'm ready, and when I've decided that you're ready. Focus, if you can. Win your matches. Hold your title as long as you can. Erect yourself a stunning monument to your future failure. See... the thing about being Illuminated... you have to die first.

*The shower opens. Cut to black. A voice speaks from the darkness.*

Teresa:
Hail Discordia!
 
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