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Guppy Parsh · **10-02-2014, 02:11 PM**

~Act VIII~

(09-01-2014, 05:33 PM)Peter Gilmour Said: He used to be TriBute I heard or is that a fiendish rumor?

(09-01-2014, 05:33 PM)Peter Gilmour Said: Guppy, or should I called you TRI BUTE? Bah, who cares you suck

(09-01-2014, 05:33 PM)Peter Gilmour Said: I remember when you were TRI BUTE and you won the Trios Titles with ESPY and I believe Jessica Diaz. I hated that night you won those belts because you never pinned me, Soldier or Poppa Fedder. YOU STOLE MY BELT! But you then lost the belts months later didn’t you? HA! Kharma has a funny way of getting back to you. And I’m not talking about the wrestler. Anyways, you stole my Trios Title that night Guppy and tonight, I will take the one thing you have left and that is the RTX Title

The words of a dead man echoed throughout his unstable mind. Guppy walked slowly up the ramp as the doctors dealt with the man he killed, Ruler of the Road to Extreme Xtreme WORLD championship in his firm grip.

Although he thought Gilmour was just being odd or incoherent a night ago there was no shame in humoring the abundant evidence. He couldn’t remember them fully, but Guppy had strange dreams at the beginning of the year about wrestling in someone else’s shoes. Were they Tri Bute’s? But then it would’ve worked then, right? Time travel.

Guppy had attempted time travel before but he failed; John Cena 2099, Mr. Radio, and The Terminator would all have laughed at his feeble attempt. Stevil would have laughed too if he wasn’t so serious and artistic. Sally P. would have laughed if it helped push her agenda. I laughed but that’s my job. My lame ass job.

Do you all ever think I get sick of typing out the things this idiot does or thinks? Well, I have to eat; but really, if my livelihood depends doing this shit for every promo, and match just so blind people can have pro wrestling read to them, I’m being wasted. I have the lamest fucking job in the world.

Now people are trying to pretend they're me and act cute in the process. I'm on to you, Guppy. I own my name, bitch. As much as you'd like to be a former king with a dead end job, I'll never let it happen. It's bad enough that I have this shit job; I don't need my identity stolen on top of that.

I could be writing the sequel to my best selling book right now. Julian Frost will have to wait. I didn’t come here for this, Guppy. I hope you know that you fucking murderer. I went to this time to sell myself. What you think you are is what I’ve always been. I'm the future warrior, not you. I'm Tri Bute.

~Act IX~

“Coming Clean” by Sally P. – Excerpt from Straw Feminist Weekly

(Author’s Note: I switched my font color because I wanted to show my true colors in this article)

I’ve been acting pretty damn unethical over the past year, but unlike my colleagues I’m ashamed of it. The mission statement of the ironically named “Straw Feminist Weekly” was to report gaming news in an unbiased and agenda-less nature, but I failed. SFW wasn’t about being a straw feminist it was my way of acknowledging I’d be falsely accused of being one. However, the accusations aren’t false. A Twitter campaign to ruin someone’s life or even his or her reputation is something a straw feminist would start.

I’m not the feminist from Legally Blonde or Anita Sarkeesian. I’m Sally. Actually, maybe I’m not even Sally.

I’ve decided to try something new over the past week. I decided to think about what this website has become. So, let’s try being honest and transparent for a change.

I never should have accepted sex in exchange for a 10/10 and a guaranteed Game of the Year nomination. I’m sorry to all the people I fooled into downloading Depression Quest. It doesn’t matter if it’s free. It was still shit and it didn’t deserve my seal of approval or your attention.

I’m sorry I tried to use this blog to promote the restaurant I work at during the day without disclosing it. It was a mistake. It was a conflict of interests. It was dishonest. It was all those things.

I called Nathan Grayson journalism's hero or something, but he's nothing more than a dumb fuck in red pants.

I misrepresented Tri Bute’s game. The part where you save the girl from ‘her right to vote’ isn’t as bad as it sounds. There’s a bomb on the ballot. She isn’t actually hyper-sexualized; she just has body parts. It isn’t sexist. At the most it’s an ill-timed joke.

I shouldn’t have provided a link to my Patreon account in a propaganda article.

I shouldn’t have lied about my identity. My name isn’t Sally. I’m not even female. Every word of my Wikipedia article is a lie. I’ve fabricated an entire second life just to exploit stupid people that think they’re oppressed.

I used to be a legitimate novelist. Well, I wrote a novella.

I put on a wig to write these click-bait articles. There it’s off. Selfie!

https://fbcdn-sphotos-b-a.akamaihd.net/h...eb70a3a9dc&oe=54BB3F39&__gda__=1422795120_cf144c67c0269dc54df41028962bc047

When I came to the year 2013 I did it for monetary gain. No one would buy my biography because everyone already knew the story. When I came here there were plenty of people that didn’t know about my amazing adventures and how cool I was. Although I didn’t make as much money telling the story through future comics, it was still ethical. It was still an honest living.

Now I just bring people in with my catchy titles for some ad money and feed them lies. I give negative press to my own video games hoping that people click on the article and then become appalled and morbidly curious enough to buy the game for themselves.

The money is always better if you lie and steal, but I’m not IGN, Kotaku, or Polygon. I have a conscience. I was bathed in J.I.Z.Z. everyday when I was a king. Even though I came here for the money, I didn’t forget who I was. I will always be a future man of justice, integrity, zankustility, and Zeusrion.

Love,
“Former XWF Trio Tag Champion”
“Former XWF Ark of the Covenant Champion”
“Current Ruler of the Road to Extreme Xtreme WORLD Champion”
“The 8000 Time SSAW King of the Universe Warrior Grandslam Mega Murder Mother Flipping Champion”
Tri Bute
“The Future Warrior”

PS: I still think rape is bad. That's probably the only thing I didn't lie about.

~Act X~

“Hey Tri Bute,” the voice was serenity in the calm of forgotten whispers in the heat of a ripe monsoon. “Long time no see.”

“You’ve become more annoying than the whining. I don’t go by that name. I never will.”

“What’s wrong Butey?” the voice only knew what was right, “Are you afraid of what you showed me?”

“My name isn’t Tri Bute you little shit.”

“I saw your face,” the voice knew all about facial recognition software, “I looked DEEP INTO ur eyes and SAW the CONFINES of ur evil SOul.”

“Shut up, cunt. I don’t have time for this. I will not be compared or associated with Tri Bute.”

“CUNT?” the voice was rarely the first to question body parts, “Be careful, THE MEDIA is EVERYWHERE, Tri Bute. You can’t let them capture another gendered term tossing tirade,”

“Tri Bute is a hack. That

didn’t even make promos. He just made a web page or two. I’m the ‘Based God of Promo Directing’. Do you really think a future man like him could come close to what I’ve accomplished in the art world? I changed art for the better bitch.

Look at RaYne. Look at Frodo Smackins. Look at Guppy Parsh.

The promos I shoot turn men into gods. I make my guys household names. Tri Bute had his chance to make losing a title belt eight thousand times a big deal, but he was just another guy on the roster. He took loses to trash like Alexandra Callaway’s boyfriend, Alexandra Callaway, Cam Lang, and Andrew Morrison. If someone's first name starts with the one of first three letters of the alphabet losing to them in any type competition should be a death sentence.”

“You’D know,” the voice knew who to look at, “You SHARE his VISAGE so u share his worth. WHEN I look at u I saw my future. I saw that THE FAULT WAS IN OUR STARS.”

“The fault IS NOT in our stars. I’d know. I made that phrase up when I wrote a biography on Julius Caesar.”

“’DON’T PLAGURISE ME,” the voice hated when others pretended its work was theirs, “u

”

Stevil sadistically back fisted a potted plant knocking across the room and through a window of desecration. Dirt spilled out of the pot and covered the sidewalk while the pot careened off the hood of a parked car and shattered in the middle of the street.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“I remember the Tri Bute comic where Tri Bute future punched some guy and then he broke his bookshelf,” the voice was very well read.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“It sucked FUTURE DICK. Ur a shit writer FUTURE

!” the voice knew all about peculiar writing styles.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“Mr. Bute, do u remember WHEN I ATE UR SOIL?” the voice had a great memory.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“IT TASTED like dirt becuz u can’t FUTURE WRITE ur way out of a pile of shit,” the voice expected the soil to be more notorious than dirt.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“So did you come here just to annoy me? I have promos to direct.”

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“I’m just MAKING SURE u know who u are,” the voice wanted everyone to be honest with themselves, “Since u CREATED ME. I’ll leave u alone, Butey.”

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Stevil demonically unplugged his alarm clock of accurate awakening and wickedly tossed it to the floor of imminent explosion.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Stevil devilishly picked up a brick of solid infamy from his desk of devastation and threw it at his fire alarm. The brick of solid infamy, after being tossed at that speed, shattered the bulb of incandescence and spread mercury throughout the room.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“Shut up!” Stevil sickeningly turned his desk of devastation over. Using a pair of pliers of the ungodly he cut the red wire on the time bomb attached to the bottom of his desk.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

CLICK!

The beeping subsided, but it didn’t change Stevil. Nothing he did could make him not Tri Bute. Some things are just stagnant like that. Maybe it was time for Stevil to evilly stop being a bitch. Stevil rambunctiously tore off his mask of mayhem and cast it into the fireplace of income inequality. The fireplace of capitalism ate the fibers. The fireplace of controlling consumption through the regulating mechanism of cash reduced the fabric to ash.

"I'm Tri Bute."

Guppy future fin.

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