Post by Deleted on Jan 5, 2013 13:53:37 GMT -6
Space Pharaoh's Log
Space Egypt, California
Stardate: -309988.5
[Zortalk sat in his high rise apartment, it was a normal Saturday. He sat in front of his TV, eating a bowl of frosted wheat with beer, probably something hip like a PBR or Pliny the Elder, because that's what you've got to do to be cool. Next to him in a nice oak box, incenses were burning.]
[They burnt so he could hide the danky dank swag goodness from his pesky landlord, a fellow by the name of Bret.]
Bret: (Outside)
"BRET SMELLS DANKY DANK SWAG KUSH, LET ME IN"
[Zortalk kept quiet.]
Bret: (Outside)
"DUDE, BRET CAN SMELL THAT SHIT A MILE AWAY"
[The Space Pharaoh slurped up another bite of sugar, alcohol and multi-grains. He's got to keep his body amped, buzzed and jacked. Some people prefer the Taxi-Driver to get their nourishment, you know, two pieces of white bread, sugar, brandy and a splash of creamer.]
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Bret: (Outside)
"BRET HAS THE SAME AMOUNT OF LETTERS AS GREG"
[There were times, that you had to re-evaluate your tactics going into a match. Zortalk knew this quite well, he had spent the earlier part of his twenties bouncing around the Georgia state circuit, making cross-promotional appearances in a Minnesota based promotion before settling for independent bookings to invest in the space elevator.]
Bret: (Outside)
"BRET PROVIDE CHEAP LAUGHS FOR YOU?"
[Somewhere down the line, he realized that there were some people you just couldn't reach. They wouldn't understand the fine art of this business. I'm sure you know the type.]
[They go a different route, the path less traveled. More power to them.]
[But sometimes, the path less traveled isn't the most opportune. There's a good reason why the main road is the most traveled. The foot traffic keeps the vegetation from taking over, it's the more direct route or it provides a nice scenic journey on the way to.]
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Bret: (Outside)
"BRET ACT AS A DUES AXE MACHINE TO LET YOU DO STUFF?"
Zortalk:
"IT'S PRONOUNCED DEUS EX MACHINA, FUCK"
[Fuck it.]
-----------------
Landlord Bret
Space Egypt, California
Stardate: -309988.4
[No. I didn't own a floor heater. There's never such a thing as too much coffee. The ectoplasm, maybe? I'm sticky however, not gooey. I've been assured from friends and family that ghost sex leaves you feeling euphoric and slimy. Like boiled okra.]
[But that's more slimy and hairy.]
[Well, I am Italian. And I do have a tremendous amount of body hair.]
[I'm like a big sexy bear.]
[Grrrrr, baby, grrrrr.]
[It doesn't matter. It's Saturday, I'm a landlord, all I have to do is nap all day, pretend to fix things that my tenants think are broken, hassle a few people I should evict and answer the phone real angry like.]
[Just go back to sleep Bret. You're a hard worker. You deserve better than this. Reward yourself with a few more minutes of sleep. Give yourself another ten, maybe fifteen minutes. Then you can check your account on adultfriendfinder.com, you can see if any of the cougars hit you up.]
[Here's a thought for you, if they're cougars, what am I?]
[You're a good clean boy. No vice for you.]
[All you need is your bed, a woman and these four walls.]
[And maybe, maybe some Mellow Gold.]
[...]
[...]
[That's what it was... I smelt it.]
[And I know who uses Sagebrush essences to mask its odor.]
[So I get out of bed. I put on a pair of sweat pants and a bath robe.]
Bret:
"BRET SMELLS DANKY DANK SWAG KUSH, LET ME IN"
-----------------
Space Pharaoh's Log
Space Egypt, California
Stardate: -309988.6
Zortalk:
"You really fucked up, you know that right?"
[The Space Pharaoh stared into the mirror, blue and yellow headdress hiding his hair, double crown positioned slightly off center. He fixes it in the mirror as he stares forward.]
"Orange Octopus. Let me throw it down for you, let me make it rain, break it down so can understand."
[He averts his gaze to the camera.]
"I don't know who the fuck Kallie Karter. I don't give a flying fuck either. In fact, I could give two fucks less about any of the things you've rambled and rambled on about. You're the same old song a dance, I'm the Emperors New Groove.
"Not setting in yet? That's cool. I'll try to cut out the metaphors, I'll be blunt.
"You're a fucking joke.
"And that's not my opinion. That's a fact. Your punch lines consist of a mongoloid blurting out whenever a convenient non-sequitur can be made."
Bret: (Outside)
"SEVEN ELEVEN IS A CONVENIENT STORE"
Zortalk:
"And while you might have sent Tits McGee running so she could play with her sweet sweet double d's, I'm not Boobzilla, Breastenstein or The Abominable Mammary Monster.
"I'm a Man, I'm a Pharaoh, I'm Zortalk.
"That might mean nothing to you and that's fine, because I don't see what's particularly special about a man dressed in an octopus costume making gravity bongs out of old two liters of cola and jerking off to naked pictures in the bathroom."
Bret: (Outside)
"BRET LIKES NEKKED PICTURES."
Zortalk:
"... Hold on."
[The Space Pharaoh exits the bathroom, hops over his sofa and swings open the door. His landlord goes to speak but before he can even muster another third person rant, Zortalk grabs him by the throat. He doesn't hesitate in pushing him against the railing that separates the top floor to the bottom below.]
[Zortalk looks over the edge: concrete, grass, a few lawn chairs.]
[He looks to his landlord: balding, fat, covered in ectoplasm.]
[Fuck it.]
[And with a clean even shove, Bret took flight.]
Zortalk:
"Now... Where was I?
"RIGHT -- I don't see why I should respect you. Let me see if I have all my ducks in a row here. You beat a girl and then promptly lost to a girl in tag action. You throw dick in retaliation and you want props?
"What for? You have done jack shit. Absolutely nothing. You're on the fast track to being shit on the heel of my boot as I step on up to the tippy top of this organization. I'm ending your false sense of entitlement. Hell, I don't even know how you got to where you are right now.
"I mean, if anyone should be upset about this match. It should be me. I should be taking Justin Brooks from turnbuckle to turnbuckle, delivering the deep space pain to him like I did last week.
"Instead, I've got to slice and dice some tako like a five star sushi chef. You're going to feel that pain Orange Octopus. Your buddy Silver Squid, I've got some fucking eel sauce for him. And my buddy Donavon Torment, he's bringing the rice, the nori and the wasabi too."
[Zortalk walks back into the apartment, he sits back down at the couch.]
"I don't care about your respect, all I care about is breaking your back with the Curse of the Pharaoh until you scream for me to stop.
"But I'm not in charge of that department.
"The Space Gods will tell me what to do.
"and so mote it be."
-----------------
Landlord Bret
Space Egypt, California
Stardate: -309988.8
[So this is the way I'm going to go out?]
[Broken at the bottom of my own apartment complex.]
[At least I served some point, right? I mean this wasn't all in vain?]
[No, it absolutely was. I was completely shallow, hollow and meaningless.]
[Oh Well.]
Space Egypt, California
Stardate: -309988.5
[Zortalk sat in his high rise apartment, it was a normal Saturday. He sat in front of his TV, eating a bowl of frosted wheat with beer, probably something hip like a PBR or Pliny the Elder, because that's what you've got to do to be cool. Next to him in a nice oak box, incenses were burning.]
[They burnt so he could hide the danky dank swag goodness from his pesky landlord, a fellow by the name of Bret.]
Bret: (Outside)
"BRET SMELLS DANKY DANK SWAG KUSH, LET ME IN"
[Zortalk kept quiet.]
Bret: (Outside)
"DUDE, BRET CAN SMELL THAT SHIT A MILE AWAY"
[The Space Pharaoh slurped up another bite of sugar, alcohol and multi-grains. He's got to keep his body amped, buzzed and jacked. Some people prefer the Taxi-Driver to get their nourishment, you know, two pieces of white bread, sugar, brandy and a splash of creamer.]
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Bret: (Outside)
"BRET HAS THE SAME AMOUNT OF LETTERS AS GREG"
[There were times, that you had to re-evaluate your tactics going into a match. Zortalk knew this quite well, he had spent the earlier part of his twenties bouncing around the Georgia state circuit, making cross-promotional appearances in a Minnesota based promotion before settling for independent bookings to invest in the space elevator.]
Bret: (Outside)
"BRET PROVIDE CHEAP LAUGHS FOR YOU?"
[Somewhere down the line, he realized that there were some people you just couldn't reach. They wouldn't understand the fine art of this business. I'm sure you know the type.]
[They go a different route, the path less traveled. More power to them.]
[But sometimes, the path less traveled isn't the most opportune. There's a good reason why the main road is the most traveled. The foot traffic keeps the vegetation from taking over, it's the more direct route or it provides a nice scenic journey on the way to.]
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Bret: (Outside)
"BRET ACT AS A DUES AXE MACHINE TO LET YOU DO STUFF?"
Zortalk:
"IT'S PRONOUNCED DEUS EX MACHINA, FUCK"
[Fuck it.]
-----------------
Landlord Bret
Space Egypt, California
Stardate: -309988.4
[No. I didn't own a floor heater. There's never such a thing as too much coffee. The ectoplasm, maybe? I'm sticky however, not gooey. I've been assured from friends and family that ghost sex leaves you feeling euphoric and slimy. Like boiled okra.]
[But that's more slimy and hairy.]
[Well, I am Italian. And I do have a tremendous amount of body hair.]
[I'm like a big sexy bear.]
[Grrrrr, baby, grrrrr.]
[It doesn't matter. It's Saturday, I'm a landlord, all I have to do is nap all day, pretend to fix things that my tenants think are broken, hassle a few people I should evict and answer the phone real angry like.]
[Just go back to sleep Bret. You're a hard worker. You deserve better than this. Reward yourself with a few more minutes of sleep. Give yourself another ten, maybe fifteen minutes. Then you can check your account on adultfriendfinder.com, you can see if any of the cougars hit you up.]
[Here's a thought for you, if they're cougars, what am I?]
[You're a good clean boy. No vice for you.]
[All you need is your bed, a woman and these four walls.]
[And maybe, maybe some Mellow Gold.]
[...]
[...]
[That's what it was... I smelt it.]
[And I know who uses Sagebrush essences to mask its odor.]
[So I get out of bed. I put on a pair of sweat pants and a bath robe.]
Bret:
"BRET SMELLS DANKY DANK SWAG KUSH, LET ME IN"
-----------------
Space Pharaoh's Log
Space Egypt, California
Stardate: -309988.6
Zortalk:
"You really fucked up, you know that right?"
[The Space Pharaoh stared into the mirror, blue and yellow headdress hiding his hair, double crown positioned slightly off center. He fixes it in the mirror as he stares forward.]
"Orange Octopus. Let me throw it down for you, let me make it rain, break it down so can understand."
[He averts his gaze to the camera.]
"I don't know who the fuck Kallie Karter. I don't give a flying fuck either. In fact, I could give two fucks less about any of the things you've rambled and rambled on about. You're the same old song a dance, I'm the Emperors New Groove.
"Not setting in yet? That's cool. I'll try to cut out the metaphors, I'll be blunt.
"You're a fucking joke.
"And that's not my opinion. That's a fact. Your punch lines consist of a mongoloid blurting out whenever a convenient non-sequitur can be made."
Bret: (Outside)
"SEVEN ELEVEN IS A CONVENIENT STORE"
Zortalk:
"And while you might have sent Tits McGee running so she could play with her sweet sweet double d's, I'm not Boobzilla, Breastenstein or The Abominable Mammary Monster.
"I'm a Man, I'm a Pharaoh, I'm Zortalk.
"That might mean nothing to you and that's fine, because I don't see what's particularly special about a man dressed in an octopus costume making gravity bongs out of old two liters of cola and jerking off to naked pictures in the bathroom."
Bret: (Outside)
"BRET LIKES NEKKED PICTURES."
Zortalk:
"... Hold on."
[The Space Pharaoh exits the bathroom, hops over his sofa and swings open the door. His landlord goes to speak but before he can even muster another third person rant, Zortalk grabs him by the throat. He doesn't hesitate in pushing him against the railing that separates the top floor to the bottom below.]
[Zortalk looks over the edge: concrete, grass, a few lawn chairs.]
[He looks to his landlord: balding, fat, covered in ectoplasm.]
[Fuck it.]
[And with a clean even shove, Bret took flight.]
Zortalk:
"Now... Where was I?
"RIGHT -- I don't see why I should respect you. Let me see if I have all my ducks in a row here. You beat a girl and then promptly lost to a girl in tag action. You throw dick in retaliation and you want props?
"What for? You have done jack shit. Absolutely nothing. You're on the fast track to being shit on the heel of my boot as I step on up to the tippy top of this organization. I'm ending your false sense of entitlement. Hell, I don't even know how you got to where you are right now.
"I mean, if anyone should be upset about this match. It should be me. I should be taking Justin Brooks from turnbuckle to turnbuckle, delivering the deep space pain to him like I did last week.
"Instead, I've got to slice and dice some tako like a five star sushi chef. You're going to feel that pain Orange Octopus. Your buddy Silver Squid, I've got some fucking eel sauce for him. And my buddy Donavon Torment, he's bringing the rice, the nori and the wasabi too."
[Zortalk walks back into the apartment, he sits back down at the couch.]
"I don't care about your respect, all I care about is breaking your back with the Curse of the Pharaoh until you scream for me to stop.
"But I'm not in charge of that department.
"The Space Gods will tell me what to do.
"and so mote it be."
-----------------
Landlord Bret
Space Egypt, California
Stardate: -309988.8
[So this is the way I'm going to go out?]
[Broken at the bottom of my own apartment complex.]
[At least I served some point, right? I mean this wasn't all in vain?]
[No, it absolutely was. I was completely shallow, hollow and meaningless.]
[Oh Well.]