Post by PH RECORDS on Nov 29, 2020 17:30:00 GMT -5
THE DIMITRI CHRONICLES: INTERMISSION // GENERIC
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“I hate Halloween.”
Seated at a patio table in an outdoor section of some random restaurant, Dickie Watson lifts a chicken wing into his overly barbequed fingers. His gaze seems to be focused on something else -- perhaps the multiple televisions that surround the eating area. Like the people around him, he refuses to remove his gaze, even if that means he doesn’t look like he’s giving his all for the promotional video in front of him.
Maybe because he isn’t. And he has a very valid reason for it, wouldn’t you think?
“Don’t get me wrong. We all enjoy dressing up as something we’re not, but in the end, it’s just a night in which we see generic costumes sold at Wal-Mart prancing about on the streets for bucketfuls of candy that will end up rotting teeth. I dunno. Just seems like an overall bad idea.”
He pauses for a second, swinging his tongue upwards against his teeth and pushing a remainder of the chicken out of his teeth.
“I mean, when Halloween first started, it was because people wanted to celebrate the beginning of the fall harvest, and then they’d tell creepy ass ghost stories. Then it just morphed into this really bad version of kids dress up games and we end up with people like Daniel Horror.
“This is just like when that one guy named himself after Jeffrey Dahmer, thinking that was edgy and cool. Well. I mean, it was a lot more edgier than someone labeling themselves after a horror film and thinking it’s cool, but you know what? I guess we all have our ideas and thoughts. We can put fake blood on our clothes, carry around a hatchet, act like a complete and utter psycho and still end up getting our asses beat by the very people we proclaim are forever going to be worse than we are. I mean. Colton Saint beat me last week, and what for -- Terrance refusing to pull his weight in the match? I wasn’t fine with it before, but I’ll save you from the commentary this week. For now.”
He set his hands down on the table, forearms resting neatly on it as he finally lowered his arms.
“But let’s look at it this way. Elijah Copeland completely destroyed this generic version of a horror show at the last Proving Ground, and this time, I’m gonna be going straight into this match with the intention of my hand being raised. See, Horror, there’s a lot more to being frightening as fuck than repeating AFI lyrics and catering to a crowd of slit-wristers. There’s more to being destructive than carrying a weapon and brandishing it at everyone in order to inflict some psychological damage. It comes down to the fact that you don’t frighten me. You keep floating the word ‘massacre’ like it means something, but do you wanna know what it means?”
Dickie’s eyebrow lifted inquisitively, before he lifted an eaten chicken wing and brandished it.
“A massacre is what happens when you realize that teeth tore the meat and muscle off of this dead chicken, masticated it and swallowed it to be dissolved in stomach acid. A massacre is what happened to men, women and children in World War II. A massacre is what happened to people in a movie theatre trying to watch the showing of The Dark Knight so many years ago. You coming in here and stating that me, the one person who beat everyone else’s time, the one person who, unlike the rest, has quite a few accolades to stand on, is going to be massacred? You don’t know the meaning.”
He leaned forward, the smile that’s always so prevalent on his face not there.
“I haven’t had a good couple of weeks, Horror, and I’m finding myself on the fighting edge right now. You talk about a massacre, you’re going to get one. Except, to be honest, it’s going to be you fighting for your fucking life in that ring because as much as I try to let it go, as much as I try to breathe in and out, I’m pissed. I’m pissed at the outcome of my previous match and now I’m going to take that out on you. I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I guess I’m just gonna hope you suffer enough to realize what a bad choice you’ve made.”
He shook his head, leaning back in his chair, before lifting his hand and saluting sarcastically.
“Generic Halloween never looked good on people, bruh.”