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Bleeding Retards
Topic Started: Apr 29 2010, 09:07 PM (171 Views)
CRAVE
Unregistered

The scene opens to Chelsea Rae-Aurora Van Eyck, or CRAVE to NEW audiences, which is also conveniently easier for you to read. You and your gnat-like attention span. Yeah, I'm even going to call you out, I'm talking to you and your little dick. Go ahead, look down, isn't that sad? Now sit up straight, you fucking slob. Jesus Christ, if you're going to read this shit in your sweat pants with your cereal box next to you surrounded by empty cans of diet sprite, you might as well sit up like you might have plans later on in the day. Are we paying attention now? Are we mildly annoyed and tempted to stop reading? I'm fucking with your mind. Now, there's shit to get to. Follow the bouncing ball.

You know who you're looking at. Everyone looks at her. They can't help it. She is untouchable. The fuse is lit and she's out looking for anything, anything at all, to bump into. Where there is patience, there is no explosiveness. Got that, fucky? She's not Lady Gaga lip gloss Madonna tits and ass sex bullshit silicone tongue and cheek. She's not Carmen Electra Pamela Anderson Hit Me Baby One More Time, in the one instance that all of these things could be considered uniformly white... she's black.

She is Hannibal Lector in a bird cage, shaken over an active volcano, reduced to the resounding epiphany that the greatest thing you can accomplish in this life is to inflict pain. Pain exists beyond death, where death is peace, pain is life. Life is pain, everything we do embarrasses ourselves until we die because we have experienced enough pain and we now lack purpose.

Are you sad? Are you depressed? Is life hard? What do you do about it. Well, you're here, for one. Good for you. How's that working out? Two, are you alone? If you aren't, does having people around mean you're not alone?

Do people understand you?

Do you feel it?

Asshole?

Do you feel that pain.

Ever cut yourself?

Do you know why people cut themselves?

It's to fucking feel something.

To feel alive.

Is there any more powerful reminder that you're alive than pain?

Do you know what adrenaline is?

It's the anticipation of pain.

Ever seen Jackass?

Do you know how rich those assholes are?

The world loves pain.

So here we are, on the streets, there she is, surrounded by a world full of pain.

A playground.

She smiles.

A beautiful woman cuts through the crowd towards her like she's a stunt woman doing her first live performance of the human torch, and the heat is beginning to slice through the suit and sink into her skin. But she's waiting. She's waiting a little bit longer. For the pain. But she's not on fire. She is a tank. She is a walking demolition derby, shouldering through the crowd like a horse trampling a junior high marching band. Obscenities flare in the air around her, a few people take a convincing step towards her as she passes them as though any of them would hit a beautiful woman. And not just prom queen beautiful. A raw smoldering mushroom cloud of potent sexuality. And she bites.

Her fist spears through the air and rips into CRAVE's face like a shotgun blast. A woman standing right behind C.R.A.V.E blindsides the female attacker with a hammer strike to the face, but it doesn't do much damage. The stunning attacker absorbs the blow like an errant beach ball at a concert and punches a twenty-something young black guy in the face. At the same time, C.R.A.V.E. delivers a back elbow to the face of the woman who came to her aid, and soon, the tornado begins to swirl. Confusion, fear, danger, unknown threat, panic, overwhelmed, dizzy, irrational thinking, survival instincts... from here the list kind of varies from person to person, but, needless to say, reason isn't exactly right around the corner.

And so the ripple effect. People fighting other people, complete strangers of all ages, both sexes, all sizes and shapes, and covering a wide margin of economic status. Old men biting teenagers. A young mother choking a mildly retarded giant who is slapping at her and squealing. Slowly, C.R.A.V.E. and her beautiful attacker find their way out of this storm, this orgy of senseless primitive violence. A few concerned on-lookers who clearly did not see how things started approach the two girls cautiously, their faces skewed with concern.

"Are you alright?"

C.R.A.V.E: "Are you fucking talking to me?"

"Hey, easy! We just want to help."

"Then what the fuck are you doing standing out here where it's safe? You want to help us? Now? You see anyone around me fucking punching me in the face or kneeing my sister in the pussy? No, we're fine now, it's all those poor fucks in there who could use a hero. Any fucking time. What, do you want to go home and change first? Thanks Spiderman. Appreciate the fucking rescue. Next time I need a babysitter I'll come back and see if you're still here waiting to make your next big save."

"Oh bitch I know you are not going to talk to my husband that way, cuz you know what bitch, I go to church every Sunday, I sing in the choir, I run the bake sale, so Jesus aint gon' not love me jus' for beatin a bitch ass, you hear me? It aint even Sunday, I can beat yo skank ass and not even have to say an extra prayer. God works in mysterious ways and I KNOW you seen Pulp Fiction. Uh-huh, that's right, Ezekiel 25:17. The path of the righteous WOMAN is beset on-."

C.R.A.V.E: "It's amazing the police aren't here yet."

"We are in Detroit."

C.R.A.V.E: "Thank God for the Original Murder City. We may not always have the most, but by God, anything less than a murder and the police don't give a shit as long as it's not drugs."

"You think NEW is going to be like that?"

C.R.A.V.E: "We're here, aren't we?"

"Yeah, we are. C.R.A.V.E. and D.I.E"

C.R.A.V.E: "That reminds me, we need to make your formal introduction, and we're pissing away such lovely scenery while it's still.... fresh?

"Is the retard bleeding?"

C.R.A.V.E: "I think so. What happened to the chainsaw from church?

"Initially I was thinking panic attack but now I'm leaning more towards seizure or stroke."

C.R.A.V.E: "She looks so mad. Should we poke her?

"As a general rule, yes, you always poke. But do we really have time for a thurough poking and an introduction?"

The two girls turn in opposite directions, scanning the crowd. C.R.A.V.E's eyes lock on someone. She points to him and begins walking towards him. He is holding his camera phone, obviously recording the chaos unfurling. C.R.A.V.E grabs her female companion and they approach him like two predators.

"Oh my God... the retard is bleeding."

C.R.A.V.E: "Yeah, well, if you have an aversion to bleeding retards, imagine how it feels having to face the Brooklyn Bad Boys.

D.I.E.: "I don't care if you get run over by a train ten years from now and I'm the only one who can grab your arteries hosing down the tracks with your blood, your ass is going to die. I'll even the score with the universe and take Thomas the Tank Engine out with a car bomb or something, but, you are not touching me ever again after you put your hands on those two fucking idiots. I swear to God, if they bleed on you and give you AIDS, you're not even my sister anymore. You can be bald all by yourself. Do you understand me? These guys are on so many drugs that they pass out jacking each other off and end up cock glued to the carpetting. It's like Jersey Shore fucked Beavis and Butthead and the baby killed Corey Haim and wore his skin. I don't know which one is Pauly Shore trying to be cool and which one is Brendan Fraser trying to act like he is an action hero, and apparently, you two little cupcake shits don't know which one of you is which either."

D.I.E: "This week you learned a valuable lesson, didn't you, boys? Even when you're on top, you're always going to end up beneath Femme Mafiosa. And no, that doesn't mean we're going to fuck you, because we're not zoo animals you chained up in your basement wearing your mother's wedding dress. It means that when we say we're going to hurt you, we're going to fucking hurt you, and it doesn't matter who you are. But who are you? No really, who the fuck do you think you are? You think you're going to be heroes? You think you're going to be legends? Do you honestly think you're going to be dominant? You're so lost you look like Bambi after the hunter shot her mom, stole her from the zoo, chained her up in your basement, made her wear your mothers wedding dress... you stick your tongue in their butt, don't you? That's who you are. That's why you have been chosen for execution."

D.I.E: "My name is Daisy Isabella van Eyck. D.I.E. I'll leave you on that note, but before I do, I want you to think about something. What does winning mean to you? Did you win last week? Is it winning if you're getting your ass kicked in the end? Because if you're definition of winning allows for you to get your ass kicked in the end, then you ARE going to be very successful here. By your terms, you will be dominant, especially against Femme Mafiosa. Because this week, and then again at Bloodlust, while sugar plum visions of victory dance in your head, and you entertain the thought of tag team championship gold, you are going to get the shit beaten out of you like a dog that's been hit by a car in the street, because that is Femme Mafiosa's definition of success. And when you look back after it's all over, you will have gotten your ass kicked by Femme Mafiosa every week, in the end, like a dog that's been hit by a car in the middle of the cold, hard, unforgiving street that doesn't give a fuck about you. We like blood, and when it comes to retards, we have a rule: They should probably be dead anyway."

C.R.A.V.E: "Die..."

D.I.E: "What?! It's a rule!

C.R.A.V.E. shakes her head and covers the camera phone with her hand.

C.R.A.V.E: "Always leave them wanting more..."

The scene fades
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