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John Raide · (12-11-2013)

1. Tool

One who lacks the mental capacity to know he is being used. A fool. A cretin. Characterized by low intelligence and/or self-esteem.

Example: See John Austin

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Blackness. Then the sound of a door opening and the clacking of footsteps drawing closer into focus. A light turns on overhead in a very sparse room. A slim figure takes a seat in a lone metallic chair.

"Good evening. For the uninitiated my name is John Raide. For your viewing pleasure tonight I have chosen a short video that will take us on a journey into one man's dementia, ignorance and downright stupidity. I'd tell you that the purpose of this viewing was not to mock such an individual, but of course I'd be lying."

He reaches over to a small table on his left where a singular remote sits. Raide takes it and presses a button.

On the other side of the room a large projector screen lowers. Raide presses another button and a video begins to play as it shoots bright images across him.

Flash frame on screen -- John Austin, eyes closed, sitting cross-legged deep in the mountain region of Arizona.

"Ah, very Jim Morrison. That's a nice touch. Still not sure about the red face paint thing. Perhaps he's identifying himself as a Blood. The guy looks like if a punch in the face could get up and walk around and wear clothing."

"...John Raide, I caught your little promo the other day and couldn't help but to laugh. You see, you called me a sheep and said I shop at Ace Hardware for my face paint..."

John tilts his head back and laughs.

"I'm sorry, that still cracks me up. You seriously look like a fucking idiot with that shit on your face. Also, last I checked the score you were still a sheep. What was the point of that comment anyway? You basically just repeated what I said to you and tried to make it sound like you were insulting me."

"...shows me that you have to resort to catchy phrases and putdowns because we all know down deep you are a low man on the totem pole..."

"I don't have to resort to anything. I insult you because you are so fucking blind to what a pawn you are that I take great amusement in what a sycophant you've revealed yourself to be. Also, we don't need to know deep down that I'm low man on the totem pole. I'll tell you that myself. The ink probably isn't dry on my XWF contract, but I could be the fucking janitor and I'd still know that ninety-nine point nine percent of that locker room has more talent than you."

"...I told I give you credit for taking on a tyrant but that is where my kindness ends and my self hatred for you begins..."

"John-boy, this is where that GED of yours fails you. You do realize that self hatred is a strong dislike for ONEself, one's OWN actions, or a strong dislike or hatred of one's OWN race, gender, nationality, or sexual orientation? You can't have self hatred for someone else. Seriously, get off your fucking mountain and stop being such a dumbfounded dip shit and get a library card or something."

"...see Raide, If it wasn't for that man, I would still be floundering in the lower ranks but now I sit atop of the mountain with the likes of Feder and our faithful King Pryce..."

"Here's the thing, I wouldn't necessarily classify the likes of Feder and King Theo Huxtable as being the top of the mountain. Sure, logistically they have gold, but one's got blonde jheri curls and daddy issues and let's be honest the dumbwaiter doesn't stop at every floor. The other is a smiley, glad-handing, plastic megalomaniac who can go suck on a tailpipe for all I'm concerned before he drowns under his own self importance."

"My dark lord helped me reached these ranks I speak of and now I am a king to the darkness. I sit with the undead army and the father and watch all those souls burn for a eternity..."

"Here we go again with this horse shit. So, just so I understand, you're king to the darkness? Right... What's that make your dark lord who apparently guides and tells you to harvest souls? Y'know, the one giving all the orders. It sounds based on that logic that you're the queen of the darkness to your dark king there. Side note, where's this so called undead army? Where are these burning souls? Because I sure as hell (pun not intended) can't see a damn thing. But please, keep enjoying your imaginary world, Austin."

"The only puppet in this company is you Mr. Raide and I am the puppet master. Come Wednesday, I will be cutting the strings off and watching you fall slowly into the pit of despair, just like Eli James..."

"Wait, you're the puppet master now? I thought you were the Frog Prince, I mean, the King to the Darkness? Which is it? And please, do tell me how I'm a puppet, this from the guy who apparently practices the dark arts and listens to a mysterious omnipotent being that tells him to burn things and torture souls. It sounds like you take that 'one for the road' mantra of yours a little too much to heart or you hurt your head falling off the back of Pa Austin's pickle truck. My suggestion, lay off the moonshine and stop trying to live in an Iron Maiden album cover."

"Fall in line like a good little solider John and await your turn at my gold because after this Wednesday, Steve Sayors will have a shot at my gold before you ever get a chance to..."

"I wish it was that simple. Problem is I don't like falling in line. I'm quite the contrarian that way. So, I don't think I'll wait my turn either. You can flash your title around all you want, but here's the thing, if I want your title I'll just come and take it from you and there's not a damn thing you, your 'dark lord' or your deadites can do about it."

"Also, don't be scared of the undead that you may meet when I drag your lifeless corpse all the way down below. I want you to embrace them John because once I place you on the cold altar for the father, that will be the last thing you will remember before he rips into your cold hard flesh ... when that bell rings and you look into my eyes, you will know that being aligned with the only true God in this universe is something you should have done along time ago. Fear me not for who I am but fear me for what I can do to you."

"Back to this again. I want to make this clear to you so it sinks into that thick fucking skull of yours. There's as much of an undead army, and a harvest feast or whatever bullshit you keep running your mouth about as there is beach front property in Arizona. There is no one true God. You and this father of yours can return back to your tomb or coffin or sarlacc pit or wherever it is you came from and get fucking bent. I fear no man and I sure as hell don't fear you. When I look into your eyes, Austin, I'll see a disillusioned man who very clearly can't see the forest for the trees. But you keep trucking like your boy, Eli, and keep spinning your tales. I'll see you down in Arizona Bay."

John smirks, shuts the film off and stares off into an abstract point on the wall.

End of transmission.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode John Austin is a tool. Let me count the ways. (RP:3)
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