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| Cannibal Animal and the Human Buffet | |
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| Topic Started: Feb 4 2010, 11:24 PM (117 Views) | |
| xShanex | Feb 4 2010, 11:24 PM Post #1 |
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Stay Down
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Static, cold, lifeless bits of black and white who’s sole purpose in life is to serve as a signal of distorted, or inactive connections on the electrical highway, and to annoy the hell out of you whenever your cable goes out. This electrical disposition remained on the thousands, maybe millions of televisions, monitors, handheld devices, or however the youth of the modern day get their media now, around the nation and around the world. It burned into the awe struck eyes of the unsuspecting viewers, drawing them in like a minimal fly to the electrical bug-zapper on a red neck’s porch. Was this it? Well, at any other moment, in any other place, to any other man, that would be the complete and utter truth, but the loyal Combat Zone Wrestling fans still staying intoned to the new show even with the second change of power, knew exactly what was going on. To them, this flurry of electrons was an introduction, like the ear piercing siren of the THX brand. The white noise from the storm pierced eardrums like needles into their cushion, but it was a welcome intrusion, a pain of pleasure. With this irritating attack came realization, and with that, words to match the man to which they have belonged to. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, that's a common phrase we grow up hearing over and over again. Perhaps it's a cliché line, but it's the true meaning of these words we are so blind to. These few words in meaning are that the definition of the word beauty is only judged by the individual, and not the collection. Society doesn't own your opinions, your drives, your reasons to be............but it's hard to have your own opinions in a nation, in a world where you just don't seem to matter, and your opinion is given to you." The static burned on for a few seconds, and then slowly faded away into the next scene. A single rose stood in the foreground of a pitch black backdrop. A single light from above shined down in a cone of illuminating energy, uncloaking the table that stood beneath said flower, the crystal of the vase it sat in glimmered like the morning in twilight, matched only by the glistening dew on the delicate petals of the rose. This crimson passion, paired by the similar colored table cloth below, stood tall in the light, belittling the darkness about it. It was a sign of triumph, justice and beauty defeating the evil and corruption that lurked in the shadows. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but does beauty matter when nothing is beautiful anymore? Yes, it's sad but true........." As suddenly as it appeared, the tips of the rose began to burn from an unseen ignition. As a crown of flames, this new emperor of the empty void on-screen suffered in silent agony. "...beauty is dead, it's been dead for quite some time, and you killed it. All of you have, you're all guilty, and should be tried as such. Our ancestors once walked through luscious forests, now we slump down our littered concrete sidewalks, mindless and hopeless like a pack of rotting zombies. The palaces of our ancient kingdoms, when art was new and appreciated, are now withered and buried under the unforgiving sands of time, and on top of them we erect skyscrapers which house ruthless organizations that, even though they are represented by individuals and have unique products, are united under on goal." The flames spread, now reaching half-way down the petals of the rose. The charred and blackened remains of the previously burned fell into the water below, floating like your pet goldfish when mommy and daddy sent him to the great beyond. Now this perfect design, a symbol of love and passion, laid with the ring of fire corroding its center away. "That goal is your total brainwashing and oppression. These million dollar Shepards are slowly herding this flock to the slaughter, and what scares me is that you seem to care less for your future as long as today you can get that high. You could have your head taken off by the farmer's axe, but you'll keep running around like those chickens that are displayed so comically to our eyes on a pop cultural level." The flames had reached the stem, the dead, incinerated flower laid to rest in an aquatic burial below, a few stray scorched petals hanging on dead hands to the green tower of thorns below. "I'm out to save this world, not matter how undeserving you are, because I see the silver lining on this blackened cloud. This generation may have been lost to its own vices, but that doesn't mean our children, or our children's children can't be in a free world! A pure world! A Straight Edge World! This is my dream, but unlike all of you, I won't just sit back and bitch about life not going my way, I'll take action! I will step up to the powers that be, and I'll throw up that X that's united this movement for so many years, and I'll scream at the top of my lungs: "I'M STRAIGHT EDGE!"" The flames burned down the stalk, crisping each thorn, until finally hitting the water below, snuffing out the flames in a cloud of steam, the light above shutting off soon after. The darkness stood in guard for that which hid in its shadowy veil. From the void came the voice of Ryan Shane, but unlike the booming battle roar before, a subtle whisper emerged. "And I'm better than you." The scene faded in again from the darkness, to a sight that could almost meet the opposite of the previous scene to perfection. City streets, displayed from and overhead vision, were presented. Each man or woman making their way in and off of the sidewalks to place themselves into some worthless aspect of their meaningless lives seemed to merge together, acting as if a machine, or if the city itself was a living, breathing creature. A balding man in a cheap brown suit sat on a bench, tarnished and battered, reading his daily newspaper. In his hand was the pick of the day coffee brand, probably Starbucks, but in reality, it's all the same. Finishing his dose of daily bullshit and propaganda, the man folded his paper, and finished off his coffee. He threw it in the direction of the green-rubber laced trashcan, but just like any other American, the poisons coursing through his veins had prevented him from hitting his goal, and the cup hit the already littered sidewalk. The man walked off, joining the machine of american society, known today as Lexington, Kentucky. As his image entirely morphed and combined with the crowd, the camera began to zoom out. When it reached the perfect distance required, the star player of this tragedy called life, and the recently revealed new blood of the Youthful Aggression and the Youth Crew, "The Straight Edge Curse" Ryan Shane. Ryan stood atop these rooftops, gazing down at the small, ant-sized men and women below, and their appearance fit. that's exactly what they were, insects. Worthless bugs that deserved nothing more than to be crushed under the heel of their superiors. From underneath his black sunglasses, Ryan gazed down, analyzing every last member of this damaged society. Adjusting the leather jacket over his new Youthful Aggression T-shirt, Ryan then ran his right hand through his hair, then taking a deep breath. "I'm got better things to do, than sit around and f**k my head, and hang out with the living dead. Snort white shit up my nose, passing out at all the shows. I don't even think about speed. That's something I just don't need. I've got the Straight Edge. I'm a person just like you, but I've got better things to do, than sit around and smoke dope, 'cause I know I can cope. Laugh at the thought of eating ludes. Laugh at the thought of sniffing glue. Always gonna keep in touch. Never want to use a crutch. I've got the Straight Edge." Ryan smirked, then turned his head to the camera. His usual sense of self-righteousness and his "I am holier than thou" attitude now evolved to a whole nother level. His arrogance was palpable, and his motions spoke louder than any words one could say. More than the undying words of Julius Caesar, more than those of this country’s founding Fathers, or even the Ten Commandments. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he began his address of the week. "These words have inspired a nation. No, not the United States of America, that body doesn’t deserves the right to acknowledge itself as a country. No, this nation is the drug free youth of the Straight Edge Movement. These were the words of Minor Threat, which started a movement, a family, an army in this nation's capital on a fateful night years ago. A slip of the tongue and some catchy lyrics, and the biggest group of men and women demanding change since woodstock, but unlike woodstock, we're actually doing something about the problem." Ryan's smirk grew wider, but for the wrong reasons. What was brewing in the deepest depths of his mind would churn the stomach and reduce one to tears, but to him, the words and events he was about to recall were nothing but a thing of beauty, and art form. "Salt lake City, Utah. A group of about forty Straight Edge members were spending their night yelling what the authorities called "taunts", I call it the truth, at passers by. One car, containing about five gang members, took offense. They stopped, they left their car, and they confronted the family head on. Bad mistake, because we protect our own. We're brothers and sisters, and won't just stand by as another is attacked. One punch was thrown, just one, and it set off a war. Five gang members against seventeen some odd Straight Edgers, and surprise, surprise, the gang members lost, and boy did they lose more than just the fight. The youngest member, age fifteen, stabbed a member of the movement, and for his trouble had his head bashed in with a baseball bat, hit with a sling billy, and stabbed to death. Hahaha, just deserts." Ryan reached up onto his face, removing his sunglasses. With his eyes exposed, the pure intensity that lived in his very soul now boiling over, and flowing like a ravenous flood out of his eyes. Ryan hooked his shades on the collar of his YA shirt, never breaking eye contact with the camera and the thousands of fans watching him. "Now the reason that I bring this up is because in a few cities these days, not here in the backwoods incest state Kentucky, but in Utah or Nevada, Straight Edge is considered a gang. It's considered a crime to be Straight Edge. What kind of a world do we live in that punishes those who live clean? Who are pure? I'm not the only one who believes this is an offense on rights. My brothers and sisters, who dawn their bodies with the X and other marks of their lifestyle, just as I do........" Ryan raised his fists up, turning them to show the world his marks of self-obtained glory, the thick black X's tattooed on them. ".......and have had their lives destroyed, gang profiles placed on their names, just to stay righteous and true until death do they leave this sickened world and live again. These men and women realize that Straight Edge is more than just a choice, more than just a name or a fad. It's a revolution against a system which rewards the guilty and punishes the clean and innocent. We live by our choice, and will die by it if need be, because we are proud of what we really are. What does this have to do with anything, you may be asking? It's simple; I'm addressing my opponent for this week's edition of Overdrive, "Rated E for Everyone" Eddie Rowan. Rated E, cute nickname there Edward, shows your creativity, but I'm not going to insult you on such trivial things as an alias. What really annoys me, of the two offenses that I must remove you for, is just a small line from your last video. You said that Straight-Edge isn't a revolution, but a philosophical choice." Ryan shook his head, and in a rare occurrence, exploded in his anger in front of the masses. "You god damn scene kid! Posi bastard! It's people like you that ruin the reputation of what we've worked so hard to become! You're not part of the revolution because you're not Edge, you're a poser! Do you even know who Minor Threat is, or what the X actually stands for? I think not. I believe Eddie, that you saw a certain wrestler who will not be named on television one day, thought that he was cool, drew an X on your hands and said to your three friends that you were Straight Edge! There's a difference between being drug and alcohol free, and being Straight Edge. Show your pride, Rowan! Where's the X? Where's the devotion? How many shows have you been too? It's a family event, Rowan, so join in or f**k off!" Ryan roared out in frustration, turning his back to the camera. He thrusted his hand down, pointing at the civilians down below. "You're just like all of them! Each and every inferior wretch that walks these streets are your equals, Rowan! Take your pick; it's like choosing your favorite picks in a buffet or a salad bar! We have the generic upright suit on his way to help fuel a government that will never appreciate him as much in return! You can pick the Mother of five who's off just running errands, or so her family believes, because in reality, "running errands" means Mommy needs to get out of the house for a bit and fill her.......her "empty space" with something new to keep her from post-partum homicide. It's all different in terms of flavor and appearance, but in reality, you'll regret the choice in the end no matter what you select. You can try and take your fill of humanity, but it'll only give you food poisoning, bringing you to your knees and ruining you. Of course, I mean this figuratively." Ryan began to release a disturbing and sinister cackle, reaching into his jacket pocket; he gripped and removed an item which had created a bulge for some time. It flashed as it was brought into the sun. Ryan rose the item up to his eye-level, showing us all that it was the fork from his assault on Monrowan on the previous episode with Knox Harper. The discoloration on the prongs showed that Ryan hadn't even cleaned it after plunging the sharpened ends into the body of Eddie Rowan. "I like to do things a bit more....literal. Last week I stabbed this fork into Eddie Rowan more times than cake at a Lane Bryant sale. Over and over again! Ripping, tearing, and puncturing! I haven't had that much fun in a long time! You may have thought that the torture, the suffering was over......you'd be mistaken. It's only just begun, because I have my own mission come Overdrive. This isn't about my affiliations with Youthful Aggression, and trying to off a Beautiful Agony member. It's about proving that a true Straight Edge follower can obliterate any who stand in their path, and I'm going to finally bring Eddie Rowan into the family. Yes Eddie, your body too will bear an X after our match is through, but unlike my own, ink will be unnecessary. I plan to do this a more natural way." Ryan chuckled as he spun the fork between his fingers like a drum stick. "Dwayne Campbell was only the first sacrifice, and this week, YA's Youth Crew adds the Global Tag-Team champions Monrowan to the list. Youthful aggression is back in it's greatest formation since it's founding, and I'll be damned if I let a scene kid ruin our message and movement. Eddie Rowan, you've been cursed, and the curse comes for you at Overdrive, and the last words you'll ever hear will be......Drugs......End....All.....Dreams, but in your case, the drug is overconfidence." Ryan placed the fork back in his pocket, and then turned back to the camera, bringing his arms up in the infamous Straight Edge X. The pressure form his gripping fists shook his arms, but the slight pain seemed like nothing to Ryan, as his smirk remained. The camera began to reduce to a black, Ryan's image being taken over by the dark, until finally disappearing. In the darkness, we are met by only one voice. "See you soon Eddie." The last thing we were met with was the fading laughter of "The Straight Edge Curse", as silence slowly seeped in. |
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12:52 AM Jul 11