“No new horror can be more terrible than the daily torture of the commonplace.”
― H.P. Lovecraft
They open their mouths and they show their hands, and I’m left gawking. Mouth agape, staring blankly ahead pondering the lowest known point on the human intelligence spectrum and whether or not Cain and/or Lucius Fyre have surpassed that milestone. Then, as a tertiary thought, whether or not either of them would consider it an accomplishment and the answer I came up with was a resounding yes, they both would. Why, you ask? Because Cain is so eager to have some accolade that he can pin to his name. And as for Lucius, well frankly I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t know any better.
Alas, I’m getting off track, aren’t I? Yes, I ought to just get to the point and stop all of this unnecessary pondering, and let the evidence speak for itself.
Allow me to reintroduce myself. Cain, Lucius, I am Patrick Kissinger, née irrelevant. I feel the need to introduce the little tidbit that I was born with a name very much different from the one I wear as a label currently now, to assure you both of one fact. Truly, the only real fact you will ever know about me. The only one you’ll ever need to know.
I am unpredictable. Not in the sense that I’m addled with a mental disability that renders me incapable of self control. No, nothing that simple or cliched. I am unpredictable in the sense that I’m a blank slate. Everything about me is a fabrication created to fit my current situation. I will say and do anything to guarantee myself an edge and I’m proud of the fact.
It’s
evolution, really.
Evolving, something you both simply refuse to do.
You say you’re two thousand years old, Cain? So why, oh why, do you still retain the mental capacities of a fourteen year old boy? “Suck my two thousand year old balls”? I’m sorry, you’ll have to step away from the swings before you open your mouth. Two thousand year old demons, sheesh. It’s like you’re in the wrong for expecting a little more, je ne sais quoi. Oh well.
It’s funny, you keep arguing the point of whether or not Iris Oppenheimer beat you. Yet, the fact of the matter is that she did but since you want to focus on how you beat yourself with your thinking. Which begs the question; because she took advantage of your underestimation, how did she not beat you? She used your thinking against you and tossed all those words back in your face. Now, after the fact, you hide behind how you beat yourself because you’re too prideful to accept the facts. It’s sad. It really is, and if you weren’t such an imbecile, I’d almost feel sorry for you.
Okay, no I wouldn’t. Nice thought, but Christmas has passed.
Too bad puberty hasn’t quite passed through your head, yet. Patricia Kissincocks? Cute. Really, it is. Unbecoming of a demon of such self proclaimed magnitude but cute nevertheless. Oh, was I supposed to be offended? How could I? You’re adorable, Cain. You really are. Flip flopping over whether you’re supposed to be a frightening monster and when you’re a joke cracking wise-ass. It’s almost as if it was actually me, well a much more vulgar me, playing you. Because make no mistake about it, Cain.
I am a hypocrite.
I am a liar.
But I’m not lying when I say that on the list of things that matters to anyone with half a functioning brain; the timing with which my promos air on XWF television isn’t important. Much like your legion of fans, what do you call them again? Cainaanites? Yes, them. You made a claim about how I actually thought I could sway them to my side? Why would I want the drooling monkeys who flock to you?
Haven’t I made it a point to discredit you and verbally dismantle you to the best of my abilities?
Oh, right. I have.
Oooh, lookie here everyone! Cain’s cracked the code! I’m so very proud of him-- alright no I’m not but dammit, he needed a hope spot. He finally put two and two together and called me out on being a hypocrite.
But, I do have something on my side, Cain.
History. Lucius has made a career of failing. Oh, and I’m aware I say this with an 0-1 record, however, as history has shown it doesn’t take much to beat Lucius Fyre. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, after all.
And how do I know that little factoid, you may ask?
Well, did you fucking listen to him try to speak? Cringe comedy at its cringiest.
I mean, watch him dance around anything that logic would consider a point! Hell, allow me to offer a rebuttal to his points against me.
Ahem.
Point 1: My hair is stupid looking.
Well, I guess I have to start with this petty little jab by telling ol’ Lucius here he better look in the mirror himself because his mullet/spiky flat top ‘do looks like it was sculpted by a chimpanzee with Parkinson’s. Though, how this is relevant to the world of wrestling is completely beyond me. What’s next, is he going to talk about my face or something?
Oh, right. Point 2: I have a punchable face.
Good thing you can’t pack too big a punch with those limp wrists, princess.
Point 3: I look like the guy who’d shit next to a toilet because I can.
Alright stop the crazy train. Is this a wrestling promo or am I watching an edition of Mean Tweets?
Point 4: I act like hot shit, and I should prove that I am.
Ooh, tough talk from a toothpick. So scared.
At this rate I’m just going to get to the meat of what he’s saying with these points. Point 5: He’s run out of steam so he’s talking about my theme music because again, that’s important. If I was a praying man, I’d consider praying God to grant him even the slightest form of talent in any area. Sure, I’d ultimately not go through with it but I’d consider it pretty hard.
Point 6: He thinks my moveset is generic because he cares too much about doing crazy shit than winning matches. Yawn.
Point 7: My personal favorite one of the bunch. He really ran out of ideas so he flat out calls me a Ric Flair rip-off.
Which is kinda funny coming from the guy who follows an archetype so generic it’s not even ripping off someone in particular. You’re dark and edgy, Cain’s dark and edgy. Everyone’s so god damn dark and edgy. I get it.
Too bad all that darkness and all that edginess doesn’t make you any more talented.
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