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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Turning Point PPV
Straight Face.
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Polvo_Blanco Offline
The Pinhead



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(shemale)


#1
01-18-2015, 06:23 AM



Straight Face.





The kind that doesn't compete with the surroundings. You're just sort of there. Brushing the floor and imagining something you could be doing that is far more productive. I wish that people understood that it wasn't an enjoyment, standing here and cleaning. What was the purpose of cleaning? Perhaps we could delve further into the life of the man whose face was covered to prevent others from gazing upon him, Polvo Blanko, me. Cleaning. No qualifications that were impressive or relevant, just to do something that no one else wanted to do. Neither did I, but I had to for the sake of my addiction.

I am strangely addicted to these things that messed with your mind and made you feel relaxed and at home. Home is where the heart is? Unfortunately I was abandoned by that place many years ago. Strange how people are very likely in their lifetimes to abandon a home and it is rather odd for it to be the other way round. I, myself find it quite strange... but back to cleaning.

The dust particles hit the wood and were swiftly brushed off into the side, quite like how I was. There wasn't anything wrong with it, it's just I had no idea why what happened well... happened. Maybe it was because I was confronted with a glass and I was banished. It was time for me to find someone new. I apologise for speaking cryptically and going off track.


"WORK. I PAY YOU TO WORK. YOU SERVE NO OTHER GOD DAMN PURPOSE ON THIS EARTH AT THIS POINT IN TIME OTHER THAN TO CLEAN AND WORK FOR ME! UNDER FUCKING STOOD?"




Straight Face.





Confronted with another suit and tie, one of many I have encountered. I assume respect comes in the form of payment, but what I'm doing deserved more. Did he expect me to like him? I wouldn't have the slightest clue why. As for purpose, that is of what I made of it and this man blatantly thinks he's in charge of what I do and say. Ignorance at its finest, however I had to go along with it, this was the only way to keep my job.


"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?"



"Yep. Apologies, I'll get right back to it."


The reply of a grunting sound, one which could be heard in a pig sty was my only reassurance that I appeased him. He walked away pretty quickly and I got back to whatever I was doing, ah, yes, cleaning.




Straight Face.






Eyes glancing down at a candy wrapper on the floor, it was all crumpled up and what looked like the very bottom of a shoe printed over it. You know, there are many people in life, but I have discovered exactly three definitive people of whom there is or you have met.

Person number one. The person who takes everything that is given to him without asking questions. You know, these people hoard attention in every shape or form, crave personal identity and love the spotlight to shine on them, focusing on every bead of sweat that runs down their brow, to the vein that pops out of their biceps, to the single strand of hair of many in their greasy mop. They also expect everyone to believe exactly what they say, without objection. They could read a fiction book and force you to believe it’s real; they could make an entire group based on false promises.

However, these people are good at what they do. They could pick the most gullible out of a flock of sheep and make them into someone powerful due to their fixation and faith in what they believe in. Person number one could snap their fingers and believe that there is a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow and they could show you how to get there. Nope. Bullshit. You’ve used all your worth and your nothing, better kill you quickly. Better shut you up before you realise you’re being used.

Person number two. The person who rejects everything that is given to them without asking questions. The opposite. These people are cynical and usually like pissing people off. They are completely paranoid and don’t want to better themselves, no idea why. They tend to shy away from the spotlight and both have their fifteen minutes of fame. Striking from a distance. You know what I mean? Mmm. Let’s give an example.

A liar. You lie so much you start to realise that other people lie too. You spread rumours and you like the feeling that it always started from you, however you don’t want people to know that. It’s like getting away with murder. That’s a title from a song isn’t it? Papa Roach. Used to be famous with their song about suicide.

Final person. The person who thinks before making their choice. They don’t instantly go for the candy wrapper on the floor, they ponder for a few moments before making their choice. It seemed like a perfectly good opportunity to have a quick snack, however, it could be a trap. Don’t laugh at me, people are always looking to single you out. It’s like a fly falling into the spider trap, or the bee heading straight into the window.

This candy wrapper was no ordinary wrapper however. It was pink and had bright, bold text on the front, advertising the sweet. What if this is another trap? Another ploy? Am I being deceived merely by the text of a candy wrapper on the floor?

I loved how the shop was laid out. All the candy, some exactly like the wrapper on the floor was positioned right near the check out, so a kid could scream and shout at a stressed mom and she would get flustered and grab one of said candy. It was just like how I managed to get myself into the match. Got management last minute. A rookie, like everyone else said. No one gives a shit about you, they said.

It was quite funny how the promos about me differed. One guy who seemed to not have anything going for him took out his inner pre pubescence on me with a verbal paragraph. I haven’t even stepped foot in the XWF yet. Another guy said claimed that I haven’t done shit. Good point. Does that mean I’m easy? Nope. You didn’t do shit a couple of months ago. Everyone had to start somewhere.

Cash Register.

Good idea. Money. This could easily turn my life around. Imagine all the money in there, I could buy fuck loads of coke. I could also get a hotel near Denver. I think I just hit the motherload. Why didn’t I think of this before?

Green paper. I loved the feel of it in my hands. It was like rubbing your thumbs together with nothing but powder between them and feeling alive and knowing that the only person who can help you is yourself. The ads on buses around town said otherwise, but you always know the truth yourself. Counsellors and therapists don’t help you, you do. The only person who you need is yourself and I have abided by that rule since I was born.

I guess that was one skill I had. Survival. I’ve been able to lie and worm my way out of situations all my life. Some say being a good liar is a bad thing, you can sometimes get choked up in your own bullshit, but that’s not true. All good salesman are good liars.

I was surprised at how much money was inside the cash register. Today must’ve been a good day for this gas station. They got a lot of customers because it was the only real shop in the heart of the suburb and it was also a stopping place for the next major city. Combine the two and it actually makes me appreciate how smart it was.

Placement is everything. After all, just like I said about the candy being near the check out, it can turn a nice profit. My placement in the match could also be profitable. People tend to undermine me. I get it. It’s all part of the gimmick to attempt to verbally bash the other competitors to make yourself feel stronger.


“AND EXACTLY WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”


Straight Face.






One hand placed on my throat, I was pushed back into an ugly cream coloured wall. I felt it almost cushion my impact, so It was very likely that I had made a dent. It made me wonder about the choice of wallpaper, almost peeling off. How could they get everything right, but get something so simple wrong? Colours are very important in stores, causing certain customers to be forced into different moves. The hand retracted and the man stepped backwards.

Suit and tie man was back, with his little bald shiny head and red face. He was the type of guy who you always wanted to punch but couldn’t because he was above everyone else. Not literally of course. I’d say he’s about five foot seven, which is pretty small. He stopped his shouting and held back for a moment. He breathed heavily and stared at the ground, wondering what to do. Anger would surely cloud his judgement, so I de-


“You know what? You’ve pissed me off on more than one occasion tonight. You’re fired. Get out before I call the cops.”


Straight Face.






Slowly turning into a frown. Expressions can set the scene and atmosphere, which had immediately become tense. It was like a dagger in the stomach. It reminded me of a Buddhist creature called Pretas, who were the result of being a false, corrupted, compulsive, deceitful, jealous or greedy person in a previous life. Was I? I was caught up in the situation and doing what I always do, thinking of other thoughts and getting side tracked to escape the truth.


Hold on. “You’re fired?”


Those two words were all I picked up. I took a risk, what could I say? I paid for it, most dearly.


“I said-“



Most dearly.



“-get the fuck out of my shop.”



Risks.



What determines a risk? In a state of anger, lifting up the broom and striking bald suit and tie over the head, does that count as a risk? It became increasingly apparent that I had to decide exactly what a mistake was and what a risk was when the body became groggy and landed on one knee. The atmosphere changed dramatically yet again and I found it very interesting. I decided to hit again.



Again.




Again.




And again.


Crimson paint was now all over the brush of the broom. It wouldn’t serve any use while cleaning now. I think that my shift is well and truly over. The paint spread quite quickly down the white shirt. It was paint. Wasn’t it? May I indulge you in the various arts of lying to yourself? It makes things easier on you if you truly think that things aren’t true. It’s like when a relative dies and it doesn’t hit you because you’re lying to yourself. They are dead.


No they’re not.


Please.


I grabbed one of the plastic bags from the side of the counter and emptied the contents of the cash register into it. It made a delightful sound as it hit the bottom of the plastic. It was like dropping a pebble into the ocean.

Once the bag was full I stepped over the paint-covered-sleeping-man and decided to take one last evaluation of the place I had become acquainted to in so little time. It was a nice little shop. The bright light of the moon shone in through the automatic doors until I stepped forward and the opened for me.

Straight Face.






For once the corners of my mouth turning into a little smile as I was proud at a day’s work. I thought that my input was valued as I looked for the last time to find that they had listened to my thoughts about the wallpaper.

They
started
to paint it RED

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