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+--- Thread: Of Monsters and Men (/showthread.php?tid=21379)
Of Monsters and Men - Iris Oppenheimer - 08-18-2015
Hello Peter.
Hello Freddy. May I call you Freddy? I mean, we're all playing this game anyway, the one where we ask each other if it's okay to call them something and then just do it anyway without waiting for any kind of response, so either way it's going to happen but I just wanted to be a little considerate.
How are you two?
I would hope you're doing fine, if only so you can't complain about not being one hundred percent when Game Girl and I beat you and yes I do mean when and not if, because there isn't an if in this little inequality. Game Girl + Iris Oppenheimer > Peter Gilmour + Freddy Fontanna.
I hope that doesn't discourage you. Knowing just how utterly screwed you two are beforehand, that is. Again, I'd hate for you to say "well we didn't try" as an excuse. Not that I think so lowly of you two that I think you'd fall back on excuses to get around being beaten by two girls, which in the year 2015 should only be an insult in the minds of those stuck in the past.
Bit ironic of word choice for someone teaming with a sentient 16-bit video game character, I'm well aware. But, Game Girl can speak for herself, she doesn't need me to say anything about her so instead let's talk about something else. Something a little more fun than just the cliched "I'm better than you and I'm going to crush you" shtick, huh? Doesn't that sound like an adventure?
Let's talk about monsters. I have a few stories about those.
When I was a kid I thought there was a monster under my bed. Of course, who hasn't? I also had what my mom described as an "overactive imagination," which I guess I still have. I pictured this beast in my head; not the typical monster fare of big and furry with long claws and sharp teeth no, something else. An amorphous black blob, it'd pulsate and grow these long, boneless appendages that wriggled around and contorted like earthworms on the pavement. It had one eye, in the center of the thing, stretched and misshapened like a clock in a Salvador Dali painting. It held the universe in its eye I thought. I thought it was waiting to absorb me, and then everyone and everything.
Then one night my little brother put Play-Doh on my pillow. I didn't take that very well.
The point is, that thing didn't exist.
It never existed.
Monsters aren't real.
Monsters are symbols.
Monsters are a way for the mind to put the face of a tangible threat on a fear of the intangible. We were never afraid of the monsters. We were afraid of the dark that let us imagine the horrors that lurked inside it.
So, if you and Peter are monsters Freddy, then what are you symbolizing? And to whom?
Could Peter's constant suggestions that the entire world "suck his dick" be an exaggeration reflection on my own views on society being over-sexualized? Is his inability to talk to people without bursting into insults an attempt by my own mind to make me feel better about my poor social skills? What do you two represent?
Or, do you symbolize nothing at all? Are you not even monsters?
When I look at either of you, I'm not brought back to my childhood, it's not like I'm staring face to face with my little abomination. I don't feel the need to turn and run and hide and cry and scream and beg to god to save me. I just nod, glad that I haven't let go of my mind too much and that I can still associate names with faces. Maybe that's the point. That monsters can change their skin. When we start fearing things and start fearing people, the line between man and monster is blurred. They look the same but their intentions differ drastically. But does it create our paranoia, our distrust, our contempt for our fellow man or does that already established fear, mistrust, and hatred create the monsters we perceive?
Either way, the principle is the same. Monsters are symbols, even when they wear the skin of people. Especially when they wear the skin of people. You can tell so much about your thoughts on humanity by how often you assume the worst of a stranger on the street.
So, the question. Are they monsters?
No.
Not in the slightest.
They're people. Just people. Angry people yes. Violent people yes but this is wrestling, we're all violent but monsters? No. Never.
But tell me, either of you, if you are still holding tightly to the claim of being monsters, am I speaking clear enough for you now? Freddy's been vocal that he hasn't quite understood much of what I've said in promos prior like his inability to follow my train of thought is somehow my problem because from where I'm sitting if the harshest claim you can make about someone is that you don't quite understand them, that's on you. But you're so monstrous that you have no concept of Talent Relations, is that it? No need for it. Doesn't mean it doesn't exist, no matter how little sense it makes to you.
You're not the brightest bulb, are you?
Nor are you the most original with your critiques of me.
Not even a mention of my current predicament, of my mental state, no snide remarks about my mental instability or what have you.
Just the bare bones attacks on me for being a woman. Seriously?
Maybe in "Monster" World it's a couple centuries earlier but here in reality, it's 2015. All that sexist nonsense is, sorry to say, outdated but you don't believe me hell, I doubt you even understand the words coming out of my mouth so let me break things down for you as slowly as I possibly can. Fair warning, I talk fast even when I talk slow so please try and keep up.
It's cute I think I'm equal to the men around here? In the company whose current Intercontinental Champion is a woman? That has a history of female champions? While you, a man, hasn't accomplished anything? How does that feel? I bet you have an inflated ego, all things considered. Does it make you mad? Are you upset? Is that why you're lashing out with such inane, juvenile remarks? I don't mean to go all psychoanalyst on you but I am very curious.
I'm not on the level of Ginger?
...Okay. Neither are you. She won a title her first night as a wrestler.
You're a punchline.
Blood stains do not come out of my clothes easily, believe you me.
Two bit whore? Sorry to put a dent in your little fantasy, seeing as you do think I'm pretty and all, but I'm a virgin. I bet you say that to all the ladies though, you charmer you.
Call me when you learn how to make a point that doesn't crumble under pressure, honey.