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The Art Project - 2 - 12-06-2015
*A voice breaks through darkness*
I've been creeping around this place for a little bit. Watching and waiting. Getting the lay of the land.
What I see here, is a bunch of weak fuckups using buzz words to try and scare people into believing they are a real threat.Â
But it doesn't work that way in the real world. What really gets people's attention, is violence, the golden ticket. And I just happen to be an artist who speaks in rainbow arrays of violence. Destruction is my language, my soap box from which I scream "I am the best.....ever" from. I owe every title I've ever won, to violence.Â
This place just happens to the next place I'm going to have an art exhibit.
*an image begins to appear, Like awakening eyes trying to blink away the stickiness of sleep, on the screen. A room of only blank canvases on easels. 5 or so facing the direction of the camera. A man walks into view in front of them.*
You can call me "The King of Agony" you can call me "2", you can call me "The Best". Â "Dangerous". "Psychotic." Â Whichever I don't care. What you won't call me, is an easy fight. I strive to be better then second.Â
Anyone who thinks they are on the top of some mountain. Claiming first in any division. Your all on the list. I refuse to be second best to anyone. Despite my name, I am number 1.Â
And soon I'll be leaving your broken selves in a pile behind me, as I climb my way to the top of all your hills. And claim them for myself.Â
Who wants to be the first one scratched off the list? The first to have their blood stain my canvas, and begin my master piece.
*2 smiles sardonically and puts his hand out towards the camera.*
Let me show you what the real world looks like. Take my hand. I'll show you my world. And then you will understand.
*Fade to outness*