Episode 7: Say My Name

"What do you mean 'dick move'?" asks the ever so socially conscious Lazarus as the camera powers on, still pointed at the ground. You can tell it's Lazarus due to the fact that his voice is muffled by a fucking mask and distorted beyond belief thanks to the voice processor that amplifies his voice beyond the fabric covering his mouth. After a few seconds of providing a grade A quality shot of two pairs of feet walking on yellow tile, the camera finally swings up to show his mask covered face staring into the lens.

"Come on, Mr. Supernova's had such a hard time as of late-"

"You mean to tell me, that a queermofuckin'sexual has fallen on hard times? Oh fuck, stop the fucking presses!"

"Ugh, I walked right into that."

"Damn right you did."

"What I meant to say was, he's fallen on troubled - that's the right word, right? - yeah, troubled times. Going after him now is like going after a fucking husk. A shell of his former glory, if you will."

"Your point being... ?"

"It's a dick move."

"Fuck yeah it was, and don't you forget it!"

"You're a dick."

"Fuck yeah I am, and don't you forget it!"

"Ugh."

With that, the camerawoman takes off down the hall, speeding up to seemingly get away from the masked man she's been associating with since prior to World War X. Lazarus laughs and matches her speed, getting as close as he previously was to her in a matter of seconds. Luckily for him, he has the gift of longer legs. That, and movie magic. And cookies. Don't ask how those last two actually help. It isn't worth it. Not one bit. Back to banter please.

"What was that about?" Thank you!

"What was what about?"

"Don't bullshit me. You think you could get away from me by slightly speeding up?"

"I was hoping you'd take a hint and fuck off."

"That's even dumber than what I suggested. What's the matter, did I trash one of your little favorites?"

"No! Not at all! I fucking hate Nova-"

"Because he's a and isn't into you?"

"No! Well, okay just a little."

"Typical."

"Fuck you."

"While the camera's rolling, I might as well mention that fucking promo our good old friend Mr. Supernova aired practically all about me. Fuck, I'll go through not only that but even the little conversation bit beforehand where he and his girl? Ah, fuck! Looks like he isn't a homo and I'm so in the wrong here...

Oh, wait. I don't fucking care.

But, this entire little back and forth is so brilliantly done. I was literally driven to tears by the outstanding performance of the spaceman. I was almost convinced that he had me all figured out when I ducked the fuck out after stabbing him. I coulda fuckin' sworn he got it, but I should've been thinking. Of course he doesn't know who I am! How could he? Oh, right. His outlandish explanation for why he couldn't just read my mind or something. I'll get there soon.

Let's start from the beginning though. I already spoiled something that you all should've saw coming anyway."

"Shouldn't it be - seen?"

"Should I care?"

"Not necessarily..."

"Good, 'cuz I don't."

"Right."

"But yeah, anyway: the first thing wrong with the Nova scenario. His girl's a dyke. No way around it, she prefers his effeminate as fuck 'real' appearance even though he's gone through about seventeen different looks in the last five minutes alone. Come on, he looks like a fuckin' girl, I can't be the only one who sees that shit."

"You're right, he does look like he embraced his inner goddess a little too much."

"But the real star of this exchange is what he fuckin' says after she professes her undyking love for his real appearance, which if you listen to her raving, apparently has the largest fucking twat imaginable. Get this, he gets fuckin' existential on her ass. He turns the light, revelationous comment into something so deep, I'm sure a couple fuckin' ants drowned in it. He goes on some rant about how humans hide behind costumes, not unlike aliens and that not knowing shit scares the glitter outta him. Yet, the best part of this whole deal isn't his fucking rant in the slightest.

She gives him the fuckin' 'K treatment."

Cue hysterical laughter.

"I don't see why that's so funny."

"Yeah, well you're a woman."

"And you're a misogynistic pig."

"Misogynistic? That's a big word. Where'd you learn it; Tumblr?"

"Tumblr is not a fucking thing. Stop trying to make it one."

"Oh shit it isn't? Thank Christ."

"Anyway, care to get back to the point, or are you just going to be an ass?"

"You say that like I can't do both."

"Ugh, whatever. Just get back on task."

"Fine!

Okay, where was I?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"Do you not see how fucking serious I am right now?"

The camera, being pointed at Laz and all, doesn't pick up a pixel of what's she's doing, but it's assumed she's staring super intensely at him. Also, from the prolonged silence, it can also be assumed that she's having a hard time deciphering the look on his mask.

"No, I don't."

"I'm so fucking serious right now. So serious. Like, super serious."

"Ugh, fine. You were talking about the 'K treatment."

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Fuck everything."

"Okay, back on track. She then elaborated on her fuckin' 'K and ruined all the fun. Some emotional, romance soap opera bullshit that bored me half to death. No, seriously. I think my fucking heart stopped in anticipation for the punchline to this shitty joke. All I got was a self induced Rickroll and my dick stuck in an industrial fan. Yeah, chopping my fucking dick off with a fan was much more interesting than this shit. Then it all built up to some shit he thought was somewhat funny but no one else did. But he'll then say he isn't trying to be funny.

Right?

Fuck you and fuck that.

Oh shit, that's when I found someone worth paying attention to. That dyke points out how much of a fucking asshat he's been throughout this whole ordeal by calling him on everything. Then she drags the symbolism in that Freudian fucknuggetry out and stomps it into the asphalt, letting the "I'm really talking about Lazarus" juice spill onto the ground and pool up around your feet.

Thanks, Violin."

"Finally, we get to the relevant part."

"Everything was relevant. Did you not catch that obvious symbolism?"

"Can't say I was paying attention to it."

"Haha, reminds me of me."

"What-"

"-ever. Learn more words.

Seriously, Cello over there is saying everything I need to say in regards to his long ass, wordy as fuck, ultimately meaningless blabber. So in response, Nova says three words that once again shocked me:

'I don't know.'

That's fucking hilarious.

He then brings up a buzzword I'm surprised hasn't been a trending thing here: Helichrysum Reflexum. In layman's terms, it's a plant that block mind reading attempts.

Then he goes on and on about my possible intentions. Yeah, the guy who has no idea who I am is trying to fucking figure out why I did it. Spoiler alert: you're a fucking moron for thinking you could find one without the other. And no, I'm not revealing either until I feel like it, so your attempts at figuring out the latter on your own isn't going to work.

Oh, and for your attempts to rip my mask off midmatch?

Try it. See where it gets you.

Come on, I dare you.

I double dog dare you, motherfucker.

Try it."

"Are you sure that's a wise decision?"

"I don't do wise."

"Obviously."

"Fuck you."

The scene fades to a blood red!

Haha! Just kidding, Lazarus isn't a fucking homo.

It fades to a standard black, like a normal scene.