Frozen Atlantic
League Member
- Joined
- Jul 4, 2007
- Messages
- 202
- Points
- 0
- Age
- 38
*~*~*~*~*
“Failure is not a single, cataclysmic event. You don't fail overnight. Instead, failure is a few errors in judgement, repeated every day.”
- Jim Rohn
*~*~*~*~*
"Greetings, future lackeys. Regretfully, I appear before you in a spirit of embarassment and irritation."
We cut away from the black screen to see a scene completely devoid of the air of intrigue and mystery the last couple segements have had : it's a mall food court, and our heroine (?) looks more prepared for panhandling than verbal destruction. Dirty, loose white shirt, hair sagging into her eyes, and a very prominent zit above her right eyelid that no one's even attempted to hide.
It's Europe, and although St. Enoch is crafted with tourists in mind with many of the usual eateries, it's still distressingly... foreign. The roof is windowed, light spills in, things just have that weird overly stylized look foreign places to. Teresa waves a hand in front of her eyes as if shooing the lights away. Some half-eaten pizza is on the side. "I am not to blame for this sorry state of affairs. A beating was laid onto Maggot and his doppelganger, and I won. Oh, speaking of which, before I get sidetracked - Billy? Our affairs are closed. I wish you the best with your future endeavors. Remember that names have power - don't use your lips to form the syllables that summon me unless you want to congratulate me on being better than you, in which case management will give you my voicemail and you will keep it freakin' brief."
Had Billy done anything (besides being painfully mediocre) to deserve such dismissive treatment? Probably not, but Chaos had its demands... Teresa leans back and drapes her arms against the sides of the chair. "When your dog drops a load onto the floor in front of company, one can't help but feel somewhat responsible. You may not have... squeezed out the link, but he IS at your leash - it's embarrassment via proxy. So, I've been sitting here all day, stuffing my face, because I chose last month to cast my lot with a company who's world champion is a heretofore unprecedented ****up."
She leans into a cup of soda, takes a lazy drag of the straw, and stifles a belch. "The flight of whimsy that brought me here has crashed, so pardon me for not dolling myself up for this squad of ****wits masquerading as co-workers. So far, Felix and this absolutely whipped dude Rocko have been the only people here brave enough to reach out for that glorious brass ring of competence."
Finally, she looks squarely into the camera, eyes sharper than ever. "Hiroshi! What's wrong with you, Muffins? If you need some flunkie to do your run-ins between hits of your special sake, strap on your big girl panties and WRITE A CHECK! David Tui's big and dumb, and you did like him before he overreacted to that little jab you made at him last week. Think of it as the part of every romantic comedy when you (played by Hugh Grant, you lovable failure you) and Tui (Sandra Bullock, natch, that perfect combination of butch overcompensation and constant, girlish whining) talk out that tragic misunderstanding in the first act and embrace the love that was meant for you all along.
It's not so bad that your inability to keep out of my business made my win less decisive - I mean, it's Billy Lovemuscule at a house show, not going on my resume regardless of whether I make him cry or not. But to see you, flailing around not one but two nights in a row, tripping over your own shoelaces and ruining two matches in your haste to show everyone what a groupie you are a week after your long ass 'I've stripped you of everything, and I've turned my back on you' speech? Pathetic. Ridiculously."
She takes a deep breath, as if to say more, but snatches the pizza and takes a big bite. She waves her hand around for a while, slumped over, and then swallows. "Your constant failure brings shame upon the entire roster. I mean, between you and ***** Boy... I mean, I never thought I'd ever work for a company where a guy in a giant cat suit would be the upholder of dignity around here. Then again, I never expected to be here, filming a promo in a food court, pepperoni burn on the roof of my mouth, appearing before the world in a state of embarassment and humility, its borders growing vast and tiresome like an outdated meme. Stirring the beakers, jotting notes on this failed experiment known as life, comforted in the knowledge that I am not to blame for this sorry state of affairs."
Cut to black. A voice sighs from the darkness.
"Hail Discordia."