"You know I hate monologuing..."
Sept 23, 2024 23:48:38 GMT -5
Derek Mobley and Zombie Marcus like this
Post by Mack O'Connor on Sept 23, 2024 23:48:38 GMT -5
He blinked his eyes. Once, twice, three times. The desert sunlight was way too bright, and Mack O’Connor covered his eyes with one of his hands.
…what the fuck…
Laying on his back, he rolled over to his stomach. His head was pounding, and he almost felt like he was going to throw up. Sweat began dripping off his forehead, his very expansive forehead.
What was he doing here? Why was he laying here in the sand? He didn’t remember anything. Anything, that is, except the hot desert sun beating down on him. That was ever so familiar.
Hey Mack. Mackaroni.
Mack closed his eyes. Who the fuck was talking to him…
He looked up. The green mask covering his face gave him away immediately.
The fucking Uber Man?
That’s me, bro-ham.
Why are you here... Wait, why do I feel like we've done this before?
Because we have. And we wouldn't do it again, except that someone didn't have time to rewrite this whole thing. Hopefully he picks the right room again.
Uber Man glances at the camera.
Who called you? I didn’t.
I can’t answer that, Mack Daddy. I just answer the ride request. Look... We can go down that road, but we don't have enough room based on the word limit. We know what's going on, so lets just go!
---------
Mack and the Uber Man stand at the beginning of a long hallway. The walls of this hallway are plain white, with a number of black doors lining both sides. Almost like a fancy storage unit. The hallway seems to go on forever.
How did we get here?
In cinema they call it a jump cut.
We’re still in Arizona though, right?
Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe we’re somewhere else entirely.
I… I really just want to know where we are.
There are lessons to be learned, Mackafee. And those lessons are more important than your stupid questions.
Is asking where we are a stupid question?
Yes. Who cares where we are?
I do. I need to know. So I can put together an escape strategy in case things get weird.
Why would things get weird?
I don’t know. Things are already weird. Why wouldn’t they get weirder?
Nothing is weird, Mack-N-Cheese. You’re just fighting your destiny. Stop fighting it. Give into it. Let it inside you.
Mack takes a deep breath.
Whatever. Let’s just do this.
Have you ever actually thought about your destiny, Mackdoodle? Have you ever thought about what may have come if you took a different path?
No.
I have. The universe has. Walk with me.
Uber Man starts walking down the hallway. He stops when he realizes Mack isn’t following him. He gives Mack a small wave of the hand, and Mack reluctantly starts walking with him.
Okay… We’re walking…
There are an infinite amount of choices you’ve made over the years. Choices that could have sent you on a number of very different paths. All these exist on different timelines that make up the vast expansive multiverse.
…what…
All these doors are windows for us to peak into those alternate universes. Mackiverses, if you will. The MCU. Mack Connor Universe.
O.
Yes, it’s a lot to take in.
No, I mean there’s an O in there. My name is O’Connor. So it doesn’t work.
Uber stops walking and turns to him, complete confusion and disbelief in his eyes.
Wait… Your name isn’t Mack Connor?
No. It’s Mack O’Connor. With an O.
Oh.
Yes, exactly.
They stand in silence for a moment as Uber takes in this new information.
Well… It works better if its Connor. So its Connor, okay?
No.
Uber ignores his protest.
As I was saying…
And if these doors are like windows, why aren’t they just windows?
Doors are easier to open and close. Can you be quiet? I’m trying to monologue.
You should know how I feel about those.
Speaking of… Let’s take this door here. Imagine if Mack Connor made a few different choices, and next think you know he’d go by Macky C, the Ripper.
The what now?
Uber opens the door, and they both look in.
They see a different version of Mack, with long flowing brown hair. The room is dark, and there’s a single window behind him. The window is open, and there’s rain pouring down outside.
This is a dramatic monologue. I’m monologuing so hard right now. No one monologues like me. Who needs a conversation when I can just…
Macky C takes a deep breath.
Monologue.
…the fuck…
What he actually is saying is meaningless, so I’ve enabled a device that translates it to what the readers will understand.
I’m ending my monologue now. Goodbye.
Macky C jumps out the window. Uber and Mack stare into the room blankly for a moment.
Anyway.
Uber shuts the door. They continue walking.
There’s also one where Valerie kills you instead you killing her.
Stop… What?
Yeah, the roles are flipped. Same scene, but she mercy kills you instead of the opposite. There’s also one where you never got into crime and the two of you live happily together.
Mack takes a deep breath, contemplating.
Can I see that one?
Are you sure? You seemed pretty upset after the last one.
Seeing me in domestic bliss is different than seeing me tugging it to my own daughter.
Uber looks appalled. He points back to the previous door.
Is that what was going on there? I thought you were watching someone having intercourse across the street.
I was. It was my daughter and one of my enemies.
You pleasured yourself to your daughter and your enemy having intercourse?
No, I didn’t. But that guy did. He was going through some tough shit, and he was having a dream. I’m not going to justify it. In fact, it was actually The Incredi-… It doesn’t fucking matter! I didn’t do that!
TOO did.
I’m not TOO!
Well, you are and you aren’t. That’s how the Mackiverse works.
Just show me Valerie. Please.
Uber nods.
Right this way…
Mack follows him down the hallway. Uber steps aside and gestures towards a door.
This is the one.
Mack takes another deep breath. He opens the door.
Inside this door, we see a breakfast table in a typical suburban household. At the table is a baby in a high chair, and a young boy in a regular chair eating cereal.
Wow.
After a moment, Valerie walks by. Valerie being Mack’s dead girlfriend in the current timeline. Some years ago, he was forced to mercy kill her to prevent her from suffering a torturous death by the hands of a crime lord he worked with. It’s a long story.
Valerie walked to the high chair and started spoon feeding the baby some flavor of Gerber. Another moment passed before this version of Mack O’Connor walks in. He’s wearing a nice suit, tie and all. And wouldn’t you know it, he has a full head of thick hair that is slicked back with some gel. Domestic Mack gives Valerie a quick kiss on the cheek before pouring himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen.
This actually happened?
Not here. But there’s an alternate timeline out there where it did.
Mack swallows hard, as small tears begin to form in his eyes. Uber looks over and notices.
It’s the hair, isn’t it?
Mack glares at him for a moment before looking back at the domestic scene.
All of these universes were created by you simply making a few different choices. Small choices that would change everything forever. Even the smallest choice can create a butterfly effect that changes everything. A few small choices and this would be you. Living with Valerie. With your son Greg and daughter Jade.
Mack raises an eyebrow, glancing at Uber again.
I named my son and daughter… Greg and Jade?
The names must have meant something to you.
Mack blinks his eyes in disbelief as he stares back at the scene.
That’s a way to put it.
Domestic Mack walks back up to Valerie and the kids.
I’m late for work. Guys at the office are definitely going to give me a hard time for being late.
No worries. I love you.
I love you too.
Domestic Mack gives her a quick kiss, then gives baby Jade a kiss, then pats young Greg on the head before grabbing a brief case and leaving the room.
Mack takes one more look at Valerie before rubbing his eyes and shutting the door.
Okay, that’s enough.
Mack stands silently with his eyes closed for a few moments.
Do you understand what this has been about now?
I don’t know, man. I still don’t know what the fuck is going on.
Your choices, however small, affect everything. They sway your life back and forth and the results can be chaotic. You needed to see the alternative realities to understand this.
What choices could I have made to get this? So that she would still be alive?
That’s not for me to determine. I am here simply to show you what could have been.
I understand… I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you of all people would be someone capable of deeper thinking.
You’d be surprised at how closely you and I are linked. Just ask Zybala. He’ll tell everyone.
Uber shoots the readers a wink.
There’s another door I wanted to show you. Just like this one, but its Josie Barnes instead of Valerie.
Oh fuck off, you motherfu---
----------
He blinked his eyes. Once, twice, three times. The desert sunlight was way too bright, and Mack O’Connor covered his eyes with one of his hands.
…what the fuck…
Laying on his back, he rolled over to his stomach. His head was pounding, and he almost felt like he was going to throw up. Sweat began dripping off his forehead, his very expansive forehead.
This seemed familiar. What was happening? What the fuck was going on?
You know what time it is, Mack?
Wait... This wasn't it... What changed...
What time is it?
Time for you to monologue.
No. That's stupid. Monologues are stupid.
You know you have to do it, so just do it.
Mack takes a deep breath. Perhaps one of the deepest breaths of his life. And his thoughts go to Italics...
…what the fuck…
Laying on his back, he rolled over to his stomach. His head was pounding, and he almost felt like he was going to throw up. Sweat began dripping off his forehead, his very expansive forehead.
What was he doing here? Why was he laying here in the sand? He didn’t remember anything. Anything, that is, except the hot desert sun beating down on him. That was ever so familiar.
Hey Mack. Mackaroni.
Mack closed his eyes. Who the fuck was talking to him…
He looked up. The green mask covering his face gave him away immediately.
The fucking Uber Man?
That’s me, bro-ham.
Why are you here... Wait, why do I feel like we've done this before?
Because we have. And we wouldn't do it again, except that someone didn't have time to rewrite this whole thing. Hopefully he picks the right room again.
Uber Man glances at the camera.
Who called you? I didn’t.
I can’t answer that, Mack Daddy. I just answer the ride request. Look... We can go down that road, but we don't have enough room based on the word limit. We know what's going on, so lets just go!
---------
Mack and the Uber Man stand at the beginning of a long hallway. The walls of this hallway are plain white, with a number of black doors lining both sides. Almost like a fancy storage unit. The hallway seems to go on forever.
How did we get here?
In cinema they call it a jump cut.
We’re still in Arizona though, right?
Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe we’re somewhere else entirely.
I… I really just want to know where we are.
There are lessons to be learned, Mackafee. And those lessons are more important than your stupid questions.
Is asking where we are a stupid question?
Yes. Who cares where we are?
I do. I need to know. So I can put together an escape strategy in case things get weird.
Why would things get weird?
I don’t know. Things are already weird. Why wouldn’t they get weirder?
Nothing is weird, Mack-N-Cheese. You’re just fighting your destiny. Stop fighting it. Give into it. Let it inside you.
Mack takes a deep breath.
Whatever. Let’s just do this.
Have you ever actually thought about your destiny, Mackdoodle? Have you ever thought about what may have come if you took a different path?
No.
I have. The universe has. Walk with me.
Uber Man starts walking down the hallway. He stops when he realizes Mack isn’t following him. He gives Mack a small wave of the hand, and Mack reluctantly starts walking with him.
Okay… We’re walking…
There are an infinite amount of choices you’ve made over the years. Choices that could have sent you on a number of very different paths. All these exist on different timelines that make up the vast expansive multiverse.
…what…
All these doors are windows for us to peak into those alternate universes. Mackiverses, if you will. The MCU. Mack Connor Universe.
O.
Yes, it’s a lot to take in.
No, I mean there’s an O in there. My name is O’Connor. So it doesn’t work.
Uber stops walking and turns to him, complete confusion and disbelief in his eyes.
Wait… Your name isn’t Mack Connor?
No. It’s Mack O’Connor. With an O.
Oh.
Yes, exactly.
They stand in silence for a moment as Uber takes in this new information.
Well… It works better if its Connor. So its Connor, okay?
No.
Uber ignores his protest.
As I was saying…
And if these doors are like windows, why aren’t they just windows?
Doors are easier to open and close. Can you be quiet? I’m trying to monologue.
You should know how I feel about those.
Speaking of… Let’s take this door here. Imagine if Mack Connor made a few different choices, and next think you know he’d go by Macky C, the Ripper.
The what now?
Uber opens the door, and they both look in.
They see a different version of Mack, with long flowing brown hair. The room is dark, and there’s a single window behind him. The window is open, and there’s rain pouring down outside.
This is a dramatic monologue. I’m monologuing so hard right now. No one monologues like me. Who needs a conversation when I can just…
Macky C takes a deep breath.
Monologue.
…the fuck…
What he actually is saying is meaningless, so I’ve enabled a device that translates it to what the readers will understand.
I’m ending my monologue now. Goodbye.
Macky C jumps out the window. Uber and Mack stare into the room blankly for a moment.
Anyway.
Uber shuts the door. They continue walking.
There’s also one where Valerie kills you instead you killing her.
Stop… What?
Yeah, the roles are flipped. Same scene, but she mercy kills you instead of the opposite. There’s also one where you never got into crime and the two of you live happily together.
Mack takes a deep breath, contemplating.
Can I see that one?
Are you sure? You seemed pretty upset after the last one.
Seeing me in domestic bliss is different than seeing me tugging it to my own daughter.
Uber looks appalled. He points back to the previous door.
Is that what was going on there? I thought you were watching someone having intercourse across the street.
I was. It was my daughter and one of my enemies.
You pleasured yourself to your daughter and your enemy having intercourse?
No, I didn’t. But that guy did. He was going through some tough shit, and he was having a dream. I’m not going to justify it. In fact, it was actually The Incredi-… It doesn’t fucking matter! I didn’t do that!
TOO did.
I’m not TOO!
Well, you are and you aren’t. That’s how the Mackiverse works.
Just show me Valerie. Please.
Uber nods.
Right this way…
Mack follows him down the hallway. Uber steps aside and gestures towards a door.
This is the one.
Mack takes another deep breath. He opens the door.
Inside this door, we see a breakfast table in a typical suburban household. At the table is a baby in a high chair, and a young boy in a regular chair eating cereal.
Wow.
After a moment, Valerie walks by. Valerie being Mack’s dead girlfriend in the current timeline. Some years ago, he was forced to mercy kill her to prevent her from suffering a torturous death by the hands of a crime lord he worked with. It’s a long story.
Valerie walked to the high chair and started spoon feeding the baby some flavor of Gerber. Another moment passed before this version of Mack O’Connor walks in. He’s wearing a nice suit, tie and all. And wouldn’t you know it, he has a full head of thick hair that is slicked back with some gel. Domestic Mack gives Valerie a quick kiss on the cheek before pouring himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen.
This actually happened?
Not here. But there’s an alternate timeline out there where it did.
Mack swallows hard, as small tears begin to form in his eyes. Uber looks over and notices.
It’s the hair, isn’t it?
Mack glares at him for a moment before looking back at the domestic scene.
All of these universes were created by you simply making a few different choices. Small choices that would change everything forever. Even the smallest choice can create a butterfly effect that changes everything. A few small choices and this would be you. Living with Valerie. With your son Greg and daughter Jade.
Mack raises an eyebrow, glancing at Uber again.
I named my son and daughter… Greg and Jade?
The names must have meant something to you.
Mack blinks his eyes in disbelief as he stares back at the scene.
That’s a way to put it.
Domestic Mack walks back up to Valerie and the kids.
I’m late for work. Guys at the office are definitely going to give me a hard time for being late.
No worries. I love you.
I love you too.
Domestic Mack gives her a quick kiss, then gives baby Jade a kiss, then pats young Greg on the head before grabbing a brief case and leaving the room.
Mack takes one more look at Valerie before rubbing his eyes and shutting the door.
Okay, that’s enough.
Mack stands silently with his eyes closed for a few moments.
Do you understand what this has been about now?
I don’t know, man. I still don’t know what the fuck is going on.
Your choices, however small, affect everything. They sway your life back and forth and the results can be chaotic. You needed to see the alternative realities to understand this.
What choices could I have made to get this? So that she would still be alive?
That’s not for me to determine. I am here simply to show you what could have been.
I understand… I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you of all people would be someone capable of deeper thinking.
You’d be surprised at how closely you and I are linked. Just ask Zybala. He’ll tell everyone.
Uber shoots the readers a wink.
There’s another door I wanted to show you. Just like this one, but its Josie Barnes instead of Valerie.
Oh fuck off, you motherfu---
----------
He blinked his eyes. Once, twice, three times. The desert sunlight was way too bright, and Mack O’Connor covered his eyes with one of his hands.
…what the fuck…
Laying on his back, he rolled over to his stomach. His head was pounding, and he almost felt like he was going to throw up. Sweat began dripping off his forehead, his very expansive forehead.
This seemed familiar. What was happening? What the fuck was going on?
You know what time it is, Mack?
Wait... This wasn't it... What changed...
What time is it?
Time for you to monologue.
No. That's stupid. Monologues are stupid.
You know you have to do it, so just do it.
Mack takes a deep breath. Perhaps one of the deepest breaths of his life. And his thoughts go to Italics...
Listen. If you know me, you know I hate monologuing. It's stupid. It doesn't make sense. People don't talk to themselves out loud like this. Maybe if someone is watching, but how do we know if someone is truly watching?
Mack glances at the camera.
But I know it's what I have to do... So I'll do it...
Another deep breath.
Where do I begin... The four opponents left for me... That is, if I even fight them. My experience so far in this challenge has been napping and having existential dreams.
Another breath.
But still... I must face them. I have a long, storied history here at OCW. Maybe not like some of my predecessors. Maybe not like TIO or Danny B. Perhaps I'm not a fake ladies man like CJ or a soap opera actress like Josie Barnes. But I'm a fighter. So I'm now looking at you: Toussaint, Pinkston, Black, and apparently a fucking zombie? What was this place devolved into?
What am I fighting for here? What's my purpose? At some point, I felt a sense of pride. Now, it feels like a chore. I don't even know you people. I can't come up with anything clever to say because I don't even fuckin' know you. Welsh just pulls me out of prison whenever he feels like it. Doesn't matter what I'm doing... He just comes and yanks me out. Him, or Mobley, or the survivor guy, or Treat, or anyone else. You know who you are: You're all generic white guys who act as the villain. Fuck all of you.
But realism is realism. I'm here. I'm stuck in this competition. And the numbers are dwindling. I don't know any of you, but you know definitely know me. How? I've been watching Twitter.
Look, I know I'm a relic of OCW's past. And I support moving on to newer talent. But if Welsh or Mobley or whoever is going to pull me out of prison to fight here, then I'm here to fight. I'm not one to back down. Not to a fucking zombie, not to Black, not to the Frenchman, and definitely not to Pinkston. Fuck the lot of you. I've appreciated you guys allowing me to nap in the haunted house, but it's actually time to nut up or shut up. So how do we do this... Pinkston is a fucking nerd, Toussaint is French (it's own insult), and Zombie Marcus is well.. A zombie. How he made it this far? Who knows? No one had a knife? No one had a stake? What's happening here?
The chaos of OCW is too much for any normal man to handle. I'm not normal, but I'm trying to be. So, OCW, next time, let me rot in prison. I won a fluffy pillow off of a midwestern convict, so I'm comfortable. Just let me be.
What am I fighting for here? What's my purpose? At some point, I felt a sense of pride. Now, it feels like a chore. I don't even know you people. I can't come up with anything clever to say because I don't even fuckin' know you. Welsh just pulls me out of prison whenever he feels like it. Doesn't matter what I'm doing... He just comes and yanks me out. Him, or Mobley, or the survivor guy, or Treat, or anyone else. You know who you are: You're all generic white guys who act as the villain. Fuck all of you.
But realism is realism. I'm here. I'm stuck in this competition. And the numbers are dwindling. I don't know any of you, but you know definitely know me. How? I've been watching Twitter.
Look, I know I'm a relic of OCW's past. And I support moving on to newer talent. But if Welsh or Mobley or whoever is going to pull me out of prison to fight here, then I'm here to fight. I'm not one to back down. Not to a fucking zombie, not to Black, not to the Frenchman, and definitely not to Pinkston. Fuck the lot of you. I've appreciated you guys allowing me to nap in the haunted house, but it's actually time to nut up or shut up. So how do we do this... Pinkston is a fucking nerd, Toussaint is French (it's own insult), and Zombie Marcus is well.. A zombie. How he made it this far? Who knows? No one had a knife? No one had a stake? What's happening here?
The chaos of OCW is too much for any normal man to handle. I'm not normal, but I'm trying to be. So, OCW, next time, let me rot in prison. I won a fluffy pillow off of a midwestern convict, so I'm comfortable. Just let me be.
Another deep breath.
I'm so sorry, I wasn't recording... Can you say all that again?
I'm so sorry, I wasn't recording... Can you say all that again?
