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Ursula Areano · (07-13-2013)

Terrestrial Trash
Satty, once so true...

Crush me, kill me, send me to the eye of the storm.
Let Hades cast me into the river,
Let your demons caress my skin and pierce it still,
With red hot pokers, skewers and chains,
And hot oil that peels and scalds my skin.
Let the acid burn my eyes, and the stroke of the succubi reveal them still.
Let the rancour of every foe and detractor wash over me and make me raw.
Let maggots feast on my flesh while ravens cry nevermore.
Break my back, don't let me crawl.
Do these things and hunger more.
Only then attainment scored;
Only now redemption bored.
You are fire, you are coal,
You are mine to puppet control.
Thecluesareallthere
- The writings of Cyn Jan Young

You know, Satty.

We enter the scene; Nero leaning back in his reclining chair, his right leg characteristically draped over his left knee. Before him a pine desk, atop it a packet of Maltesers and nought more. Behind him the bust of the Emperor Nero gazes timelessly, insanity in a gaze encompassed. Nero's mask still adorned, in fact, it appears tighter than usual, as if it is not meant for removal. It's always been a characteristic that 'on' means inane, 'off' means business time. Perhaps Nero, in his quest for self enlightenment, has realised that the mask is his true oeuvre.

I gotta say, holy shit. You’re rolling out promotional videos like a whore popping out bambinos. Worried? I mean I just listened to your most recent promotional material...I was expecting some extra-sensory, sublime, Earth-shattering out of body experience from the stars. And I will be honest, while I was scratching my head most the while, it wasn’t from any cosmic brilliance.

Nero makes a pouty face. He had legitimately expected something special and feels short changed.

For instance, where you referenced a recent trip to GameGenie’s house I had as ‘promotional material’...did you bug poor GameGenie’s house? Dubbing a voiceover...then calling that voiceover my voiceover...then retorting to that voiceover...now that was original. See, you mither about me being original – in other words you call me unoriginal – the English invented sarcasm so don’t think that flew over my head - and yet, as we will see, you are anything but original, or interesting, or at terms with historical accuracy despite your ‘long voyage to exist amongst us’. From your bizarre riff about the myth of the Face in the moon being the creation of the Mighty Boosh, to your dry wit exposition regarding the fact that I have two nationalities, as if I had ever hid the fact.

Nero takes a look around himself, scratching his chin.

Oh! I just realised, you do that old, totally original, ‘promo in the dark’ routine, when you actually have something to say. Is that because your words are so topped with shite that even you can’t stand the sight when you watch the footage back? Is it just provincial sloppiness? Or is it that you blew your production budget on those ridiculous ‘real life snippets’ you espouse and the cameraman fucked off big style when he realised there was no tip coming his way? Whatever the case, I grew tired of that faster than you will grow tired of this trash talk exchange, difference being I tire from boredom, and you will tire from anal rape. But let’s move on from your poor attempt at Earthly trash talk, perhaps you just haven’t learnt how to do it properly yet.

Nero readjusts his mask, so that his eyes are slightly more visible beneath the eye holes, and bright cyan eyes now burn their hue into the camera.

That was an interesting set I saw in your ‘Hitler’ promo – say nothing for the Anime promo, Christ knows what that was about. I have always wondered whether your promotional videos were perhaps real or not, and there was my answer. You see, your choice of venue was poorly chosen. You took a famous photo of dead bodies piled to the sky, and without thought for references, you produced that amazingly elaborate set so you could re-enact your favourite film 'Inglorious basterds'. Unfortunately, the famous photo you used to such devastating effect was actually taken at Bergen-Belsen, by the British military, at the end of the war, and shows the bodies of Typhus victims. Not exterminated Jews. A girl by the name of Anne Frank died of typhus at this very camp. By basely taking a famously misconceived photo and using it as a sympathy device, you shot yourself in the foot royally, my Sattyboo.

Nero chuckles to himself waving his hand at the camera.

I know, I know. Hitler also died in a bunker in Berlin, which is a different place entirely, where he was exiled and bravely remaining despite having the chance to flee. But why let facts get in the way of a good story, right Satty? He took the 'Captain goes down with his ship' approach. Some say that was insanity, but who knows. I’d say it takes some balls to stay in a city being overrun with Russian soldiers who’ve witnessed their friends and relatives shot down at your very order. At any rate, he shot himself. But these are different details, because it could also be said that 'a starborn time travelling emo girl's wet dream took it upon himself to morally judge a human war and the CIA covered it up.’ But you'd be a fool! The CIA was formed in 1947. Oh my, isn’t it easy to be a revisionist without checking facts first? Still, a very moving action scene, Sat-Norris. I wonder if, on some astral plane, Hitler’s other testicle and your other arm are chuckling away at your ineptitude and sharing fucked up embraces? Perhaps, now that I have imagined it, they really are. Reality is such.

We are looking at the room at an odd angle, the camera tilted maybe 30 degrees; enough to disconcert the eye, not enough to force a head tilt to understand the scene. Nero seems aware of this and occasionally tilts his head to accentuate the odd angle.

Satty, have you ever contemplated life? Not to underestimate you; I suppose an starfucker like yourself has to have contemplated life when you crossed such a distance. Speaking of which, I have serious reservations about that claim. What I truly see in you when you are referred to as an alien is just a foreigner. This great distance you crossed was just the border beneath Mexico right? Funny place that. There's a bridge that you have to pay to cross through, and deal with visas and shite. Or you can just swim across the river. They just don't give a shit. Anyway, Satty, I'm a foreigner too. It's okay. We are both aliens up in hurr. We should be compadres not foes, well if you ascribe to Satoshi Daiki logic. Which I don't.

Nero chuckles.

Oh, you don't remember him? That's because I broke his fucking back with the Torching of Rome...twice. He wont be back, Satty. And he's not the only one. See, when Nero crosses paths with guys, they tend to disappear. Whether its broken backs, broken egos or what, it's irrelevant. I've single handedly driven out, what, 4, 5 guys this year? I'm even happy to take credit for Jeff Hardy fucking off. I beat him on PPV, he stuck around a few weeks, but after that? Gone. Last week I disappeared Mark Flynn. Oh, you don't know? Mark Flynn aint going to be seen for quite a while. Reason? Ne-o-ner-o. Flynn and I have some history; and when I spoke of Apoptosis, Flynn knew the game was up. You don’t want to know what happened backstage after that episode of Warfare. Let's just say it didn't involve violence, sodomy or otherwise, but it wasn't nice. And we wont be seeing Mr. Flynn for some time. The reason I mention Flynn?

Nero shuffles his arse, his left cheek was going slightly numb. What? You gettin all dem details today.

Flynn was the guy who first held your trinket. Flynn, being a gold whore, really coveted that shit. Of course, he lost it, and straight after that loss he went on a losing streak that would make Manchester City proud. You wanna put it down straight? I lost that match too. I might have left of my own accord, but those records will have a little 'L' next to my name. And this is where me and Mark Flynn diverge. A loss for Flynn is embarrassment embodied, and he will either fuck the fuck fuck fuckeddy off, or he will stick around with his arse in the air and let roster members take turns. Me?

Nero stares into the camera now. He's not even trying to be threatening or deep. He's just looking.

I just don't give a damn. I've said this since day one. I do winning. I do losing. That end result is not what I seek. And yes, look at it with irony, because my attitude is completely alien to your ass. For someone supposedly on a higher level of evolution, your idée fixe with your pride belies an immature entity. Remember that movie, Predator? The Predators were basically warriors, searching the universe for the biggest mortal combat they could find. The toughest challenge. Their only code? Honour. When a Predator lost a fight, he would blow his own ass up. Just like the samurai. Seppuku. You could learn something from those cunts.

Nero swaps legs and relieves the pressure from his right arse cheek, feeling slowly returning to it as the opposite cheek sinks further into the chair with his weight.

See, I don't give a fuck. My pride doesn't operate on the same level yours does. Oh, Nero has spells away? True dat. New Year, after winning the European title, some bs with Paul Heyman went down and I had to...disappear a while. Where I went is my business, but this absence was unrelated to winning or losing. And the second absence was after Paul Heyman swindled the European title off me. Frankly, my reason for disappearing at that point was simple; boredom. Going in circles with Heyman was becoming tiresome. I had unlimited access to the man; it was too fucking easy. I tired of the show, I tired of him, I tired of that title. See, I know the best way to come and go. And Satty, the possibility lies before us, that you may beat me and regain your trinket.

Nero sniffs, disinterest clouding his eyes.

And I say this not to save face, as you perhaps would. Believe me when I tell you Satty, I have every intention of crushing you. But I am a realist, everything is possible in this universe. And if you were to beat me, that universe would go on. My universe would not cease to exist just because my shoulders spent three seconds on a canvas mat. My consciousness long ago transcended such trivial pursuits. So, you may wonder why Nero is here at all.

A smirk.

Because I fucking love it. This is me. I enjoy this. Last year, I even hosted my own show. Nero's Games. In the stadium home to the English Premier League champions, the mighty Manchester United. I presided over one of the XWF's most deliberately undermined and underrated shows. Yan Yungsung had a throw down brawl with a man who you may remember, I’ll simply refer to him as ‘the Bouse’. He was a tough motherfucker and those two put on a classic. And the main event was witness to one of the XWF's biggest moments, the moment the 'mighty ego trip' was finally felled by Mark Flynn, effectively ending a run of dominance that had overrun XWF for the better part of a year. A HUGE moment in the XWF. Jaymz Dante hit one of the XWF's craziest ever moves, sending two men through a Pyramid of Hell from mid air. That shit is still in the prime position in the XWF highlight reels. Again, a HUGE moment in XWF history.

Nero chuckles now, his hand caressing his mask as if he could feel it beneath.

But of course, I am un-credited. It happened on Nero's show, so who cares? Nero does not care. Because these things exist extraneous to any outside 'promotion'. The whole politics, who's sleeping with who, nepotism rules the day bullshit? The last word sums it up. I don’t go in for the bullshit corporate world, nor the pride world, and why? Because it is the height of inane. And Nero does not do inane. For me, the accolades are nice, but it's about those highlight reel moments, that shit you will be talking about with your friends long after you remember who held what trinket at the time it happened. THAT is what I am here for. Not the letter W in some musty old book in a hundred years time. Of course, an exceptional title win is also highlight material. So who knows in what form it will come, but rest assured, my solar chum, a highlight reel moment is coming this Saturday, and it's going to be branded 'Nero'..

Grin.

So you see, I'm a man with nothing to lose. You see the list of names so far crossed off the GG NORE tour. There's a reason I don't promote that anymore. And I just described it for you. Memories. Highlight reels. Undeniable facts. Fucking fun. Making tossers hit the bricks. Are you getting it? Can you compute this in your higher plane brain? Did you like that rhyme? Does it bother you that I speak to you so trivially? Are you going to waggle your finger at me and tell me I should be taking you seriously, you're going to kick my ass, I'm going to regret underestimating you?

Nero leans forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees.

If so, you're more of a dolt than that Eli James IXLVIIth. That prick running around with his head in the air thinking he's achieved something great having a W over Nero and Flynn. Of course, everything looks good on paper, doesn't it? That clueless waste of air actually believes he achieved something. He's ignorant to Mark Flynn's demise. He didn't even pick up on how half-arsed my promos were. I had some temp in the XWF backrooms record the most ridiculous improv shit he could think of, dubbed it all deep and scary. That sick freak John Black hasn't stopped calling me since. My celly be blowing up. Messages from him asking if I will call him when he goes to bed so that my 'chocolate voice' can serenade him into the land of nod. He doesn't even realise what kind of exercise that was. His preoccupation with deep voices is interesting though. Maybe we should book him a trip to Bangkok. All the chicks there got that vibrato thing going on. What do you think, Satty?

Nero scoffs.

Oh, you're right. What a tangent. Please excuse my whimsy. The point I was coming to was that you're completely ignorant if you think I am not taking you seriously. Unlike trivial chaff like Elias, you are a real star here. And I say 'star' with no hint of irony. See, Satty, I am fully aware that you want to - and are capable of - battering me left right and center. I wish our match had been given some kind of fun stipulation, don't you? A straight match seems a waste of such an intriguing clash.

Nero sits back again, calm.

By the way, that girl you keep hanging around with - you know, the one with the saggy potatoes. Why does she have such a poor taste in clothing? I mean really. Did you find her rooting in the bins at Walmart?

Nero dismisses his words.

Ahh ignore me. That was Eli level trash talk. Purely an ironic device. Although you do need to watch her close, I was walking backstage recently and caught her tucked in a room alone, peeking through the door, what did I see? A Peter Gilmour promo! I'll be damned if she wasn't fiddling herself blind. For real. Get your time machine out and relive that shit.

A deep nasal inhalation; Nero sucks in all of his words

Homosexual potato orgy.

Yeah, we have no idea either.

아름답다. I should make a list of all the guys I have driven out. JP Corino. Mark Flynn. Satoshi Daiki. Bane Williams. Jeff Hardy. It's such whimsical fun. I enjoy ruining careers. What's it like, facing someone who can't be polluted? Someone whose psychology you can never truly comprehend? I'd love to know, because I am so used to cookie cutter alpha male bullshit like you churn around that I've really forgotten what a real challenge looks like. You could say Flynn was that challenge once; he beat me once, I beat him once, we teamed eleventymillion times. But with every encounter I encouraged more and more decay on his fragile mind. You remember the trash talking, unpredictable bone snapping maniac. I remember the fragile ego. In a sick kind of way, I miss having him around to torture.

Nero's face was sullen for a moment there, but in a flash he's lightened up, smiling like someone just brought him a chicken dhansak with beer on the side.

Satty, do you think I should create some elaborate metaphor about black holes and singularities? No? Me neither. At this point I know what you're all wondering at home. What would Neonero do with a time machine? Go back and erase his losses? Nah. Go back and kill Hitler? Nah, Satty already filled that cliché.

Nero sighs and folds forwards, mincing with his right hand as he does so.

Odd that he chose to do it at the end of the war though, isn’t it? I mean that tells you something. He could've done it BEFORE the war and saved millions. But he chose not to. Satty, are you secretly in favour of mass genocide and the death of millions? Or did you land there by chance after having done no research about the conflict? Or did you live through the whole conflict and only decide at the end, once emaciated and smothered in typhus corpses, that you’d go murder some British generals who you decided looked like Hitler? Somehow I favour the former as the answer.

Nero looks at the camera quizzically.

I never had you down as a proponent of eugenics. You learn something new every day. But back to the time machine thing. I think I'd go back in time and tell Michael Jackson not to sign with $ony. Seriously, fuck $ony.

Nero is a little sick in his mouth.

Oh! I can guess what retort Satty would bring at this point. Why is Nero in favour of paedophilia? Why help a paedophile? My only response to that is, through necessity, in the language of anyone who asks that question: Baaaa.

Nero sounds like a sheep, if that wasn't obvious.

Ah sheeple. The masses will believe anything if their TV says so. Hell, I even saw a broadcast that said CM Punk is a former European champion. Pffft, like that ever happened.

Nero once again swallows a little sick. This line of conversation is most off-putting to his senses.

I grow weary of such talk. Satty, what more to say? I believe at a recent juncture you claimed I was a coward for not facing you in some contrived tournament for one of your trinkets. I don't even remember which one – the TV one I guess? I can answer this one of two ways. Firstly I could tell the truth as it was, which is that I heard about said tournament literally the same day as that tiny verbal exchange. And the second would be to tell you the truth as it could have been, that is to say, if I knew about it. If I had known about it...I would still not have entered. Know why? I think I expressed this enough times in the past, but here it is again; I deplore Shove It. The show is a shower of shite on every level. It’s like an unrated episode of Barney the dinosaur on acid.

[Image: evilbarney.jpg]

And Barney is like, the heart of my childhood – aha, nah I’m just playing here. I summed it up with the first review; shower of shite. So it follows that any tournament on that show would also be shite. So why speak on the subject at all?

Nero looks sullen, as if he’s suddenly been deflated.

I just wanted to suggest a new drycleaners for that poor young chap Archibald Lawson. And what did I get? Abuse from all corners. Even CM Punk tried to join in, like a newborn lion cub trying to rub his gums on a dying animal as his pack have already fed on it. Truthfully speaking I was hurt. I was deeply humiliated. The verbal barrage that I swatted off as inanely as I’d attracted it struck me to the core. In fact that shit had me sent to therapy.

Nero perks up again, waggling his finger as if to inform us without words that he’s bs-ing again.

So, Satty, unless I am expected to open your company biography on the XWF website and read about your unorthodox inspiration techniques, how you skilfully rotate around trees, like a satellite around a planet, until you are dizzy and daydream your next promo idea. Or that endorsement you have with the Brazilian show ‘Miss Bumbum’ – look it up guys - as the face of the moon, that shows up as a censorship logo each time the girls thongs ride the wrong way?

Nero makes the same kind of face that a guy makes when he’s caught the scent of his own faeces. It’s part grimace, part jazz musician, part Bill Cosby hiding a smile. You know the look I mean guys.

I have to give you credit for that one. Your face on every bubble butt on Brazilian television, even the ones who are ex-males. You know, the ones that make John Black leap from his sofa and scream ‘That’s my shit!’ It’s classless but you gotta get paid if you’re going to keep creating these elaborate sets each week. More power to ya.

Nero sucks in a gust of air and expels it, its called breathing.

You know, Nero didn’t really burn down Rome. In fact he wasn’t even in Rome when the fire started. So you might wonder why I, after espousing historical inaccuracies, would name my biggest move ‘The Torching of Rome’. Perhaps its because that event led to the persecution of Christians, which led to xyz, then 123...and so on? Nero blamed the Christians for the fire, and they were treated like animals in the street afterwards. Think the tales Holocaust survivors spin are bad? The Christians in Rome were impaled and used as human torches in the Domus Aurea. It’s that kind of beautiful, yet forgotten highlight reel moment in history that I want to bring back to the public eye. The ‘torching’ doesn't refer to setting Rome on fire. It refers to setting Christians on fire.

Nero leaps backwards as if he was a fearful pussycat.

Oh no! Now the Christians will come and get me! Actually, I would hope that any Christians watching also appreciate this gesture since they can use it for empowerment. I like to think every little Goth kid wearing 666 is an unwitting disciple of Nero. Remember Charles Manson? He tattooed a swastika into his head. Was he a Nazi? NO! But he knew the power of symbology. Look too at the Night Stalker, Richard Ramirez. He drew pentagrams on his hand in court and told the world that demons were at work, his murders were satanic.

[Image: Ramirez.gif]

Of course, papers relished this in the same way they relished Manson. Whereas Manson killed no one, though, Ramirez routinely enjoyed breaking into homes, killing or tying up husbands and raping their wives, before killing both. He also once did the same to a 12 year old. These aren’t the antics of a Satanist. These are the acts of a psychopath; the pentagram is just the convenient scapegoat to sell to the public, so they can sleep easier at night. Satanists don't even worship Satan and evil. Satanism is just a lot of common sense with sprinkles of selfishness on top. It’s nowhere close to true Thelema. My point here is that by using such a horrific thing as my ‘trademark’ if you like, I am not doing so because I want to endorse impalement. It’s because it evokes such a strong reaction when you know what it really is.

Sniff.

You know, the reaction you tried and failed to evoke with your contrived concentration camp production, Satty.

Grin. The sniff grin combo, oh yes.

And perhaps it falls short, perhaps it doesn't, only the public can answer that, but at least my attempts are based on historical accuracy rather than taking stock photographs and popular misconceptions and making attempts at bad Tarantino skits out of them.

Nero feigns being told the promo was real, and his faux shock is nothing short of obtuse in its execution. It almost looks like he’s laughing while in shock, but surely not.

Oh, it wasn’t a skit? Well, I’ll believe that when you display some of that bad ass psychic ability in a public setting. If you have the power to make men commit suicide with your eyes, I wont say ‘why don't you win your matches this way’ because you will say ‘I prefer the challenge of having male bodies pressing against me in the fury of war’ or something to that sentiment. No, My challenge is quite simple. Make it possible for me to cut a promo without a tangent in sight. Help me achieve what willpower alone cannot.

Nero chuckles to himself and motions his flat hand over his neck as if to say ‘cut it’.

That’s enough Satty. I’ll be pulling stuff out of my arse at this rate, as if I haven’t been already. I didn’t even get into the whole ‘Starchild’ saga that you have coming up, I mean wonder how many tentacles your offspring will be born with. Will you be preparing it for a life in Japanese porn once it reaches alien maturity?

Nero pooh-poohs his own words.

Problems, Satty. Try not to get disoriented out in the ring, those flashbulbs aren’t stars coming to reclaim you in the depths of space. They’re cameras desperate to catch the very moment I snap your spine over my knee and become the US Champion. Imagine that, Nero representing the United States. I wouldn't be surprised if secret service are at ringside, or there's polonium-210 in my next breakfast. But, just supposing I make it past the snipers and the death squads, I will see you Saturday, dearest Satty. This has been Nero, talking with the light on. For now, I bid you good day.

I said good day.

As the camera fades out, we hear Nero singing to himself in the background ‘Starfucker...just like my Satty, yeah...’. And then we...

Fade

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