Post by King Incredible on Mar 19, 2014 20:07:57 GMT -5
It was a surprisingly cool day in Orlando, Florida when the clouds would block the sun and the wind hit you just right. Otherwise it was a perfect sixty-four degrees as I stepped out onto the veranda of my suite to take a cigarette. I stared down at the cedar made deck as I took out my lighter and produced a flame to the front of my cigarette. I take a puff that brings me with a lot of relief as I stare back up to look onto the Savannah at Disney’s Animal Kingdom but I am met with the eyes of a giraffe.
“Fuck!” I cried, taking a step back, “could you have maybe given me a warning you brown spotted fuck?”
The giraffe lets out an awkward cry as it lifts it head to look at the roof before coming back down and talks to me again like it wants something. I cock my eyebrow and laugh a bit.
“Look, I don’t have a lion cub to hold up in the air and shout baboon for you to kneel down to and praise as your future king,” I said sarcastically, “now run along over there and eat a leaf or something that giraffe’s do.”
Of course the giraffe doesn’t understand a word I’m saying because it doesn’t speak incredible so the giraffe bobs it head a bit before coming right close to me and taking a nibble of the cigarette in my head before shaking its head at the disgusting taste.
“Oh thanks a lot,” I barked, searching for another cigarette but fail, “that was my last one you dumb animal you!”
The giraffe cries out as I sit on one of the uncomfortable chairs and look out to see the sun rising at 7:30 this morning. I take my legs and have them sit on the railing of the veranda as the giraffe kneels down but due to its great height its head is still at level with me. I laugh and shake my head as I look at my injured hand and fiddle with the bandage, failing miserably. I take my phone out of pocket of my track pants I’m wearing and sit it on the table. The phone immediately rings as my fingers leave the device so I pick it back up staring at the ID. I smile and pick up the call.
“Silver!”
“How’s it going, bud?” Silver cheered, “I got that address you wanted… I’ll text you when I’m done talking to you.”
“Good work,” I exclaimed, “so… where are you setting up shop?”
“In my hometown of Chicago,” Silver explained, “in a gym. I know how boring and unoriginal a gym setting seems to some BUT, it’s in the BASEMENT of that gym. People think I am the manager… I just walk in with a badge that says manager and go behind the counter go downstairs… voila! Coke operation! Now that went from boring to original in about five nanoseconds didn’t it?”
“I like your style,” I laughed, but my gaze is broken by the giraffe coming over to look at me again, “when will the first batch come in?”
“As soon as your funds come through, when did you send them?” He asked.
“Last night,” I checked, quickly going through my bank records on my phone, “yes… yes. I did send them to you.”
“Great…” Silver beamed, “and hey, if you can stop by someday I’ll even show you how it works and how to make a batch… it’ll be like a school field trip!”
“I would love that,” I sincerely said, “anyways… I got some business matters to attend to so I shall chat with you later.”
“Cool man…” Silver concluded, “I’ll text you now!”
The chat ends abruptly with Silver hanging up the phone but what seemed like… five nanoseconds… there was a text in my inbox. I open up the text and it has an address for me I will have to track down by bus later.
“3306 Maggie Boulevard, Orlando, Florida, 32811.”
I nod my head in approval as I close my phone and place it back in my pocket. I wave to the giraffe who lets out a cry as I step back into my beautiful suite. It featured a king bed with African colorful sheets and lamps illuminated the dark room that the sunrise hadn’t caught yet. I crawl into bed and begin to kiss the neck of a naked brunette sleeping in my bed. She lets out a little giggle.
“Ooooh… you know how to get me going…”
“Don’t you know it baby…”
She turns around and bites her bottom lip as I take my good hand and grope her breast and begin to kiss her. We exchange tongues as she pushes me onto my back, rips off my pants and hops right on top of me as her wetness dripped onto my leg and dick. She inserted herself into me as she bounced up and down slowly at first but she quickly got into the whole idea and picked up the pace. She begins to moan wildly as I reach up and rub her nipples which makes her moan even louder and giggle a bit.
“Oh my… no wonder they call you Mr. Incredible…”
Those words turned me off massively as I thrust my cock deep inside her and she lets out a scream and she clutches her own breast. All of a sudden my phone starts to go off as I look at the phone and it shows Roach.
“What the fuck…”
While the brunette is having the time of her life I pick up my phone as it doesn’t even bother her.
“Roach… what the fuck is so important that you’d have to call me now?”
“I kind of need a favor,” Roach hesitated.
“Fuck…” I exhaled heavily, “I got this beautiful brunette on me fucking my brains out and you need a favor… what is it man… they pay by the hour!”
“Shit my bad man,” Roach apologized, “how is she?”
“Meh… she’s alright. I’ve had better.”
The brunette stops at that comment and smacks me in my face as she gets off and begins to collect her things and grab money from my wallet. I just motion for her to take it all as she gets dressed as I sit up a bit in bed and sigh.
“What the fuck is up and what favor do you need?”
“Slater and I got into some trouble last night,” Roach began, “and we ended up in jail. I need you to swing by and bail me and Slater out.”
“Well why the fuck didn’t you say that from the beginning?” I laughed, getting up and putting pants back on trying to hide my large erection, “Yeah I’ll come get you… just let me finish myself off.”
“Fuck, thanks bud,” Roach exclaimed, “I’ll buy you some weed and coke later!”
Roach quickly hangs up the phone as I thought to myself that probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say at a police station. Nonetheless I go into the bathroom and about a minute later come back out totally relieved as I get dressed in a pair of jeans and a white dress shirt and grab my visa as I headed out of the room to go grab Roach and also collect item I was going to need tonight.
The moon beamed throughout the night as its light bounced off windows and car wind shields. You can barely make out the stars above from the pollution of the street lamps and lights from nearby houses and businesses. A light drizzle of rain began to form and mist around the area as I step off the metro transit bus going to the area wearing a black hooded sweater with the hood up and wearing dark navy blue jeans. I stumble a bit getting off the bus but I catch myself with a nearby light pole and adjust myself quickly. I was carrying a black duffle bag as I crossed Maggie Boulevard in Orlando, Florida. I hopped the tiny bushes as I quickly hid behind some cars as a police officer patrolling walked by. I waited a few moments to pass before darting it across the parking lot and onto the walkway in front of this business building. I grabbed my cell phone to confirm the address Silver Willard had texted me was right:
“3306 Maggie Boulevard, Orlando, Florida, 32811”
I look up on the door that is chained shut and of course in writing on the glass read “Central Florida Ballet” then a stock image of a woman performing a ballet move and the address I was texted. I zip open the duffle bag and pull out a lock cutter and snap the chain in half as it falls to the ground making a clank that echoed into the empty street. I quickly pick the chain up and stuff it into my bag as I open the door and enter locking the door behind me.
Inside my shoes squeaked as they scuffed on the tiled floor. I place my hand on the wall and begin to drag my palm against the painted brick as my hand finally finds a light switch. With a quick pop half of the LED lights come on to illuminate the dusty ballet studio but it still gives off an eerie glow. Railings could be seen collecting dirt and cobwebs along the wall and a mirror where your reflection could not been seen. I throw the duffle bag on the floor and grab cleaning supplies and begin the process of dusting the railings and making sure the mirror had a nice shine to it.
After about twenty minutes I throw out the wipes and cleaning sprays in a nearby trash can and go further into my duffle bag to reveal three items; a digital camera, a tripod for the camera and an bottle of Jamaican Appleton Estate Spice Rum, my personal favorite. I set up the tripod and place the camera on it for what will probably be a video I will upload to YouTube later on in the early morning. I open up the bottle of rum and take a giant swig of it before wiping the excess from my lip to my hooded sweater. I place the bottle on the ground and grab one final item from my duffle bag… a crowbar. I set the camera to HD and record before heading over towards the railing.
“Brianna… a variant of the name Briana… which is the female counterpart to Brian, where that masculine name means hill; or in a more matter-of-fact form; high or noble. I tried searching up what Casablancas was but funny thing, I couldn’t find anything. Almost like you made that up… so of course, I had to dig up some files and what did I come across…”
I bend down and pick up a brown file folder with some pieces of paper inside. I grab one and let the rest of them fall to the ground and scatter everywhere.
“Bianca Winifred… it’s nice to finally meet you. So you hide yourself behind a false identity… why is that? You get under my skin and call me a phoney, a nobody, a false, and here we are, exposing the true you! I will never know why you decided to change your name but all I know is this… Bianca, it shows me that with a part in your life you were scared and you were ashamed of the past. My name is Ian Bishop and I’ve done some fucked up shit in my life! Am I ashamed and scared of my past? No. You might as well where a mask and hide everything because I now know that smile of yours is a false happiness. That IS your mask. Deep down there is small girl who I don’t think was truly appreciated or actually loved for so she has come across the pond to make a new girl. Let me say this Bianca, those memories never go away. Those memories haunt you for the rest of your life. You either embrace them or you take the cowards way out and run from them. That’s what you did, you ran away from your problems and threw away your past.
Now… back to what I was trying to say earlier. Bianca… white and pure. Winifred… holy, blessed, joy and peace. We can now rule out joy and peace because we know that isn’t true. We can even take out pure; because if you know the definition of pure you’ll know that you are not free of a different, inferior or contaminating kind. Oh no. You definitely have extraneous matter within you my girl; just from some of things you’ve mentioned in your past… I’m not as stupid as you claim I am. It seems as though the past with your parents has left you with a bitter taste in your mouth and you run from it like you got hit in the head from the elementary bully. We can cross out holy and blessed because as far as I can tell you do not have any religious backgrounds… which leaves us with white. Free from color. I would have to highly disagree on this too.
Why? All I seen on you is the color green… what I mean is not fully developed, not perfected, not properly aged… and I think we all know what I am talking about. You’ve only been here for a mere two and half months, three months come Blackout 2 in a few days but within this lifestyle, with this identity of yours you are not developed and you are not aged. As for me, I’ve been Ian Bishop for almost thirty long years and I can tell you that I have done enough in my life and enough in the time I’ve been here to say that I am truly developed in the INCREDIBLE WARRIOR I am today. That is something you can’t say. Yes, you have made some big moves and have made some splashes in the small time you’ve been here but so have I. I’ve been doing this game a lot longer than you have Bianca and it’s time to face the facts… you’re green is going to ooze out for everyone to see come this Sunday. You think this a game of chess and all you have to do is make some strategic moves and you can claim check mate? It’s about predicting the unpredictable and being able to improvise at every stage of the game. You don’t know what life is going to throw at you. You could be stepped up to plate looking for a straight ball but the pitcher changes the package and throws you the curve ball and you strike out. On Sunday I am going to be that curve ball and YOU WILL strike out, my dear.”
I take another swig of my rum; a long one at that and the bottle is now half full. I make me way over to the mirror near one of the railings though I stumble a bit getting there suggesting I’ve been drinking a bit before getting here. During my stumble I grab the railing and chuckle a bit from the silliness but quench in pain. I hoist myself up with my good hand. I grip the crowbar and begin to drag it on the mirror surface which causes it to lightly scratch and send a chalk board scratch like sound throughout the ballet studio for about five minutes while I wait for the alcohol to go to my head. I begin to speak again but my words start to get a little slurred and my temper starts to rise.
“How about we explore unpredictability and improvisation a bit more shall we? Look at this. My FUCKING HAND BIANCA! My… fucking… left hand! I know what you did… you sent that new lover boy of yours, Danny B to have it done didn’t you? That would be unpredictability on your part but what I don’t understand is why you got some tag team reject to do your dirty work for you! If he can’t beat a member of the Family he can’t beat ANY member of the Family. THAT! IS! A! FACT! So yes… my hand got fucked, unpredictable. No big deal kiddo cause that is when we bring in our pal IMPROVISATION! Hell yes improvisation! I may be down one hand but thank fuck it’s the hand I never use for anything. I am a right handed man and just because my left one is currently not giving any fucks right now my right hand will just work overtime and make sure YOUR SCRAWNY ASS… gets fucked up. You see? I bet you weren’t expecting that, huh? You thought because I have some tiny little coward and a fake phoney I would back out of this match over a little boo-boo WELL YOU’RE FUCKING WRONG!
I think I am going to conclude this little session here Bianca… I am going to make one final little pledge to you… this is NOT a game, as you so think it is. You can make your little calculated moves and think you have control of the board… but let me tell you about MY name. Ian… Scottish form of John… gracious and highly revered… Bishop… overseer. So to put that in plain English for you SWEETHEART I am the man that oversees this entire thing we got going on and I am on top of my pedestal… my INCREDIBLE throne. As you know I do not try to hide that because it is the truth. What do I always say? I SPEAK THE… FUCKING! TRUTH! So don’t try your little moves and your plans because it won’t work… surprise me and come in with some unpredictability and some improvisation because dear I sure as hell am going to keep you on your little ballet toes all night long! Show me who you REALLY ARE! Don’t be the false bitch Brianna Casablancas I’ve exposed you to be! Bring me the emotional and torn apart Bianca Winifred you have no desire to be because until you embrace it… you will BE NOTHING MORE than a green little wrestler who is going to schooled…”
At that point I take the crowbar and smash up the mirror as it shatters into many pieces and they fall to the floor, which cause them to shatter further. I throw the crowbar to the ground and furiously scream.
“BECAUSE I AM THIS DAMN FUCKING INCREDIBLE!”
At this point very exhausted I drop to my knees and some of the glasses cuts through my skin but it does not faze me. I am breathing heavily as I just stare at the camera as it continues to roll. I quickly get up and grab the camera but leave everything else… except I turn around and grab the rum. I chug almost what is left maybe leaving a mouthful and chuck it in the trash bin before leaving the premises of total disaster for the staff the next morning. I cross the street and wait for the bus to come back around. I sit down on the ground and cross my legs as I closed my eyes and thought about Sunday… where my victory would be.
“Fuck!” I cried, taking a step back, “could you have maybe given me a warning you brown spotted fuck?”
The giraffe lets out an awkward cry as it lifts it head to look at the roof before coming back down and talks to me again like it wants something. I cock my eyebrow and laugh a bit.
“Look, I don’t have a lion cub to hold up in the air and shout baboon for you to kneel down to and praise as your future king,” I said sarcastically, “now run along over there and eat a leaf or something that giraffe’s do.”
Of course the giraffe doesn’t understand a word I’m saying because it doesn’t speak incredible so the giraffe bobs it head a bit before coming right close to me and taking a nibble of the cigarette in my head before shaking its head at the disgusting taste.
“Oh thanks a lot,” I barked, searching for another cigarette but fail, “that was my last one you dumb animal you!”
The giraffe cries out as I sit on one of the uncomfortable chairs and look out to see the sun rising at 7:30 this morning. I take my legs and have them sit on the railing of the veranda as the giraffe kneels down but due to its great height its head is still at level with me. I laugh and shake my head as I look at my injured hand and fiddle with the bandage, failing miserably. I take my phone out of pocket of my track pants I’m wearing and sit it on the table. The phone immediately rings as my fingers leave the device so I pick it back up staring at the ID. I smile and pick up the call.
“Silver!”
“How’s it going, bud?” Silver cheered, “I got that address you wanted… I’ll text you when I’m done talking to you.”
“Good work,” I exclaimed, “so… where are you setting up shop?”
“In my hometown of Chicago,” Silver explained, “in a gym. I know how boring and unoriginal a gym setting seems to some BUT, it’s in the BASEMENT of that gym. People think I am the manager… I just walk in with a badge that says manager and go behind the counter go downstairs… voila! Coke operation! Now that went from boring to original in about five nanoseconds didn’t it?”
“I like your style,” I laughed, but my gaze is broken by the giraffe coming over to look at me again, “when will the first batch come in?”
“As soon as your funds come through, when did you send them?” He asked.
“Last night,” I checked, quickly going through my bank records on my phone, “yes… yes. I did send them to you.”
“Great…” Silver beamed, “and hey, if you can stop by someday I’ll even show you how it works and how to make a batch… it’ll be like a school field trip!”
“I would love that,” I sincerely said, “anyways… I got some business matters to attend to so I shall chat with you later.”
“Cool man…” Silver concluded, “I’ll text you now!”
The chat ends abruptly with Silver hanging up the phone but what seemed like… five nanoseconds… there was a text in my inbox. I open up the text and it has an address for me I will have to track down by bus later.
“3306 Maggie Boulevard, Orlando, Florida, 32811.”
I nod my head in approval as I close my phone and place it back in my pocket. I wave to the giraffe who lets out a cry as I step back into my beautiful suite. It featured a king bed with African colorful sheets and lamps illuminated the dark room that the sunrise hadn’t caught yet. I crawl into bed and begin to kiss the neck of a naked brunette sleeping in my bed. She lets out a little giggle.
“Ooooh… you know how to get me going…”
“Don’t you know it baby…”
She turns around and bites her bottom lip as I take my good hand and grope her breast and begin to kiss her. We exchange tongues as she pushes me onto my back, rips off my pants and hops right on top of me as her wetness dripped onto my leg and dick. She inserted herself into me as she bounced up and down slowly at first but she quickly got into the whole idea and picked up the pace. She begins to moan wildly as I reach up and rub her nipples which makes her moan even louder and giggle a bit.
“Oh my… no wonder they call you Mr. Incredible…”
Those words turned me off massively as I thrust my cock deep inside her and she lets out a scream and she clutches her own breast. All of a sudden my phone starts to go off as I look at the phone and it shows Roach.
“What the fuck…”
While the brunette is having the time of her life I pick up my phone as it doesn’t even bother her.
“Roach… what the fuck is so important that you’d have to call me now?”
“I kind of need a favor,” Roach hesitated.
“Fuck…” I exhaled heavily, “I got this beautiful brunette on me fucking my brains out and you need a favor… what is it man… they pay by the hour!”
“Shit my bad man,” Roach apologized, “how is she?”
“Meh… she’s alright. I’ve had better.”
The brunette stops at that comment and smacks me in my face as she gets off and begins to collect her things and grab money from my wallet. I just motion for her to take it all as she gets dressed as I sit up a bit in bed and sigh.
“What the fuck is up and what favor do you need?”
“Slater and I got into some trouble last night,” Roach began, “and we ended up in jail. I need you to swing by and bail me and Slater out.”
“Well why the fuck didn’t you say that from the beginning?” I laughed, getting up and putting pants back on trying to hide my large erection, “Yeah I’ll come get you… just let me finish myself off.”
“Fuck, thanks bud,” Roach exclaimed, “I’ll buy you some weed and coke later!”
Roach quickly hangs up the phone as I thought to myself that probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say at a police station. Nonetheless I go into the bathroom and about a minute later come back out totally relieved as I get dressed in a pair of jeans and a white dress shirt and grab my visa as I headed out of the room to go grab Roach and also collect item I was going to need tonight.
***
The moon beamed throughout the night as its light bounced off windows and car wind shields. You can barely make out the stars above from the pollution of the street lamps and lights from nearby houses and businesses. A light drizzle of rain began to form and mist around the area as I step off the metro transit bus going to the area wearing a black hooded sweater with the hood up and wearing dark navy blue jeans. I stumble a bit getting off the bus but I catch myself with a nearby light pole and adjust myself quickly. I was carrying a black duffle bag as I crossed Maggie Boulevard in Orlando, Florida. I hopped the tiny bushes as I quickly hid behind some cars as a police officer patrolling walked by. I waited a few moments to pass before darting it across the parking lot and onto the walkway in front of this business building. I grabbed my cell phone to confirm the address Silver Willard had texted me was right:
“3306 Maggie Boulevard, Orlando, Florida, 32811”
I look up on the door that is chained shut and of course in writing on the glass read “Central Florida Ballet” then a stock image of a woman performing a ballet move and the address I was texted. I zip open the duffle bag and pull out a lock cutter and snap the chain in half as it falls to the ground making a clank that echoed into the empty street. I quickly pick the chain up and stuff it into my bag as I open the door and enter locking the door behind me.
Inside my shoes squeaked as they scuffed on the tiled floor. I place my hand on the wall and begin to drag my palm against the painted brick as my hand finally finds a light switch. With a quick pop half of the LED lights come on to illuminate the dusty ballet studio but it still gives off an eerie glow. Railings could be seen collecting dirt and cobwebs along the wall and a mirror where your reflection could not been seen. I throw the duffle bag on the floor and grab cleaning supplies and begin the process of dusting the railings and making sure the mirror had a nice shine to it.
After about twenty minutes I throw out the wipes and cleaning sprays in a nearby trash can and go further into my duffle bag to reveal three items; a digital camera, a tripod for the camera and an bottle of Jamaican Appleton Estate Spice Rum, my personal favorite. I set up the tripod and place the camera on it for what will probably be a video I will upload to YouTube later on in the early morning. I open up the bottle of rum and take a giant swig of it before wiping the excess from my lip to my hooded sweater. I place the bottle on the ground and grab one final item from my duffle bag… a crowbar. I set the camera to HD and record before heading over towards the railing.
“Brianna… a variant of the name Briana… which is the female counterpart to Brian, where that masculine name means hill; or in a more matter-of-fact form; high or noble. I tried searching up what Casablancas was but funny thing, I couldn’t find anything. Almost like you made that up… so of course, I had to dig up some files and what did I come across…”
I bend down and pick up a brown file folder with some pieces of paper inside. I grab one and let the rest of them fall to the ground and scatter everywhere.
“Bianca Winifred… it’s nice to finally meet you. So you hide yourself behind a false identity… why is that? You get under my skin and call me a phoney, a nobody, a false, and here we are, exposing the true you! I will never know why you decided to change your name but all I know is this… Bianca, it shows me that with a part in your life you were scared and you were ashamed of the past. My name is Ian Bishop and I’ve done some fucked up shit in my life! Am I ashamed and scared of my past? No. You might as well where a mask and hide everything because I now know that smile of yours is a false happiness. That IS your mask. Deep down there is small girl who I don’t think was truly appreciated or actually loved for so she has come across the pond to make a new girl. Let me say this Bianca, those memories never go away. Those memories haunt you for the rest of your life. You either embrace them or you take the cowards way out and run from them. That’s what you did, you ran away from your problems and threw away your past.
Now… back to what I was trying to say earlier. Bianca… white and pure. Winifred… holy, blessed, joy and peace. We can now rule out joy and peace because we know that isn’t true. We can even take out pure; because if you know the definition of pure you’ll know that you are not free of a different, inferior or contaminating kind. Oh no. You definitely have extraneous matter within you my girl; just from some of things you’ve mentioned in your past… I’m not as stupid as you claim I am. It seems as though the past with your parents has left you with a bitter taste in your mouth and you run from it like you got hit in the head from the elementary bully. We can cross out holy and blessed because as far as I can tell you do not have any religious backgrounds… which leaves us with white. Free from color. I would have to highly disagree on this too.
Why? All I seen on you is the color green… what I mean is not fully developed, not perfected, not properly aged… and I think we all know what I am talking about. You’ve only been here for a mere two and half months, three months come Blackout 2 in a few days but within this lifestyle, with this identity of yours you are not developed and you are not aged. As for me, I’ve been Ian Bishop for almost thirty long years and I can tell you that I have done enough in my life and enough in the time I’ve been here to say that I am truly developed in the INCREDIBLE WARRIOR I am today. That is something you can’t say. Yes, you have made some big moves and have made some splashes in the small time you’ve been here but so have I. I’ve been doing this game a lot longer than you have Bianca and it’s time to face the facts… you’re green is going to ooze out for everyone to see come this Sunday. You think this a game of chess and all you have to do is make some strategic moves and you can claim check mate? It’s about predicting the unpredictable and being able to improvise at every stage of the game. You don’t know what life is going to throw at you. You could be stepped up to plate looking for a straight ball but the pitcher changes the package and throws you the curve ball and you strike out. On Sunday I am going to be that curve ball and YOU WILL strike out, my dear.”
I take another swig of my rum; a long one at that and the bottle is now half full. I make me way over to the mirror near one of the railings though I stumble a bit getting there suggesting I’ve been drinking a bit before getting here. During my stumble I grab the railing and chuckle a bit from the silliness but quench in pain. I hoist myself up with my good hand. I grip the crowbar and begin to drag it on the mirror surface which causes it to lightly scratch and send a chalk board scratch like sound throughout the ballet studio for about five minutes while I wait for the alcohol to go to my head. I begin to speak again but my words start to get a little slurred and my temper starts to rise.
“How about we explore unpredictability and improvisation a bit more shall we? Look at this. My FUCKING HAND BIANCA! My… fucking… left hand! I know what you did… you sent that new lover boy of yours, Danny B to have it done didn’t you? That would be unpredictability on your part but what I don’t understand is why you got some tag team reject to do your dirty work for you! If he can’t beat a member of the Family he can’t beat ANY member of the Family. THAT! IS! A! FACT! So yes… my hand got fucked, unpredictable. No big deal kiddo cause that is when we bring in our pal IMPROVISATION! Hell yes improvisation! I may be down one hand but thank fuck it’s the hand I never use for anything. I am a right handed man and just because my left one is currently not giving any fucks right now my right hand will just work overtime and make sure YOUR SCRAWNY ASS… gets fucked up. You see? I bet you weren’t expecting that, huh? You thought because I have some tiny little coward and a fake phoney I would back out of this match over a little boo-boo WELL YOU’RE FUCKING WRONG!
I think I am going to conclude this little session here Bianca… I am going to make one final little pledge to you… this is NOT a game, as you so think it is. You can make your little calculated moves and think you have control of the board… but let me tell you about MY name. Ian… Scottish form of John… gracious and highly revered… Bishop… overseer. So to put that in plain English for you SWEETHEART I am the man that oversees this entire thing we got going on and I am on top of my pedestal… my INCREDIBLE throne. As you know I do not try to hide that because it is the truth. What do I always say? I SPEAK THE… FUCKING! TRUTH! So don’t try your little moves and your plans because it won’t work… surprise me and come in with some unpredictability and some improvisation because dear I sure as hell am going to keep you on your little ballet toes all night long! Show me who you REALLY ARE! Don’t be the false bitch Brianna Casablancas I’ve exposed you to be! Bring me the emotional and torn apart Bianca Winifred you have no desire to be because until you embrace it… you will BE NOTHING MORE than a green little wrestler who is going to schooled…”
At that point I take the crowbar and smash up the mirror as it shatters into many pieces and they fall to the floor, which cause them to shatter further. I throw the crowbar to the ground and furiously scream.
“BECAUSE I AM THIS DAMN FUCKING INCREDIBLE!”
At this point very exhausted I drop to my knees and some of the glasses cuts through my skin but it does not faze me. I am breathing heavily as I just stare at the camera as it continues to roll. I quickly get up and grab the camera but leave everything else… except I turn around and grab the rum. I chug almost what is left maybe leaving a mouthful and chuck it in the trash bin before leaving the premises of total disaster for the staff the next morning. I cross the street and wait for the bus to come back around. I sit down on the ground and cross my legs as I closed my eyes and thought about Sunday… where my victory would be.
