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~~Egyptian Snow Pharaoh~~ · (12-19-2013)

OOC: For those looking for Dr. Zero's 'manager rp' please direct your attention to the RP with his name in the title. Since he wrote 100% of his own scenes and speaking in that Joint RP, that is his way of assisting me this week and not a separate post of his own.

Me Make Weapon,
He Make His Grave

Present day and time,
continued from Me Make/He Make part 1

Welcome back... I'm surprised I'm still here but I'm doing my best to withstand this merciless barrage John Raide has been unleashing upon me this week. In case you missed it, here's the comment we left off with...

Quote:It's obvious that it snowed there because Santa (real Santa, not Eli James in the role of Meth Head Santa Claus) is coming to town!

Golly-gee-fucking-whiz guys!

...Wow. "Ah yes, and here we have one of the lines that got the most stunning reviews from other viewers. It would seem many knee slaps were had over this one, John..." I say in a completely monotone voice, very slowly smacking my own knee in a robotic like fashion for a few seconds. This laughter is just too much to contain. Blink.

Quote:Hang on, I'm getting a call from my sources, and they are telling me that She-Ra, code name Egyptian Snow Pharaoh, may in fact be the one responsible for the first snow fall in a century.

"Wait a second... what? Is he mocking me for claiming to have caused the snowfall in Egypt? Hold on a second," I say as I stand up and rush over to the full length mirror on the closet door. I point right at my own face in the mirror and say, "You fool! Did you claim to be responsible for the snowfall in Egypt?" ...but then I remember the obvious. No, I never said that. Much like John Raide can confuse one point with being a geography lesson, he has confused the same point with a supposed claiming of responsibility. What? I make my way back over to the laptop as I continue... "Again, John, you're seeing every nonexistent point and missing the only thing relevant here — time is my point, and the fact that I am not confined within its imaginary walls the way someone of your lower frequency is. I arrived here when I did, with the name I did because it was time that called up my role. You really do not understand this planetary change thing, do you? Those who elude to the coming winds are not necessarily the ones doing the blowing; insert Peter Gilmour joke here for John Raide's childish convenience," as I shake my head. I sure hope this gets better; oh wait, I already know it doesn't...

Quote:Sheee-it. And here I thought spending all that time drawing pentagrams on the back of school buses was going to prevent that. Fuck me, right?

"Who are you even referring to here? Yourself? Me? Some Satanist you met at last week's comedy convention? You've lost me, John. I guess this is why you have 'Logic' in your corner? To make up for the blatant lack of my need to finish this sentence? Looks like that failed too."

Quote:Side note, ever notice how women will be all like: "Hey, I'm a bad bitch." or "Don't fuck with me, I'm a bad bitch." But the minute you're like, "Hey, you're being kind of a bitch right now," the fucking claws come out?

Seriously, make up your goddamn mind.

"Sounds like some very pathetic excuses for women who should have their spinal cords snapped, ripped out, and shoved down your esophagus. I, on the other hand, came to the XWF with more than my claws drawn. Had you paid any attention to anything other than Eli Jame's scrotum wrinkles, you'd know that the very first thing I did in this land of extreme was draw blood from a wench who hadn't even known of my existence let alone had the time to provoke me. John, you finally managed to get my attention and it's now that you think my claws have been drawn? Oh, oh my, John..." I just sort of laugh and sigh as the same time, leaning back in my chair and trying to find the words. "My dear child, why would I have my claws drawn for you of all people? What you're seeing as somebody drawing their weapon for you, is in reality someone who has never put that weapon away since arriving and has gored and hacked their way through everyone she has encountered. Do not flatter yourself, John; my weapons weren't drawn for you."

Quote:But back to the topic at hand, please, send all the snow you want. Bring the storm of the century. I'm looking forward to it. Word to the wise though, just be sure in the mean time you don't give an Irishman a reason.

"Isn't that just the point though? The Irishman? Let me explain...

You just stood up that in front of the comedy club for a half hour running through homosexuality jokes, borderline racist jokes, misinterpreting any and everything that other people say or do around you, and talking about Santa Clause while telling me to bring storms with me.

You did all that; wasted all that time...

...And yet right in front of the world I was busy taking Michael McBride and changing him into a weapon of mass destruction; one I aim to very soon control and could very well send after you — that is, if you somehow are still around after tonight. You just spent all of your focus on weather and other irrelevancies when in reality I've actually done something you should have taken notice to. You do realize that if Michael McBride blows a gasket in our match, it's you who will be at risk, correct? That is obvious to you, right John? He was being crafted to be my weapon, and I myself am already one. How is there not one single, solitary mention of this viable threat in your recent slew of trash? Are you trying to simply bury yourself just in case I am taking it easy on you this week? Nothing should be of greater concern to you than my meddling with McBride's wires. Even if I cannot get him to obey a direct command tonight and snap your neck for me, do you honestly think I'll have any trouble disarming him and, should I decide, ending his existence? Michael just became ten times the threat he originally was to you, while effectively becoming 0.0% threat to me. Have you spent any time at all, John, preparing for our match by actually paying attention to the things that matter? No, you've spent all week being distracted by my brief reference of snow in Egypt. What a shame you are so easily misdirected by something I put about thirty seconds of effort into announcing at the start of the week. What do you have to say for yourself, John? And it better be good..."

Quote:I have a bowl of lucky charms calling my name back in my hotel room.

...I remain silent. Try again, John...

Quote:I'd tell you to pray if you were into that sort of thing, but it wouldn't do any good.

I close my eyes and press my fingers into my forehead to ease the mental anguish. "Alright, fair enough... and John? I'd tell you to pay attention if you were into th– eh, forget it. You'll just come back and accuse me of making it snow in Syria. Do us both a favor and continue not paying attention. After this week you can go back to pestering Eli James and Mystica all you want." I get a little more comfortable and cross my legs as I look deep into the camera, almost peering through it as I move my head as if I'm trying to locate someone in a crowd of people. I squint and ask, "Are you there, Michael?" The smile can't be held back as I begin...

"Michael McBride... I know you're out there and I know you can hear me. In fact, I know you can feel me — not in the borderline

manner certain others would take that sentiment, but as something much more pure and whole. You know what I'm referring to, Michael. You've been a part of this all along, haven't you? Tell me, Weapon; how does it feel to once again be real? To once again serve purpose? To once again know true feelings? Not those weak, distracting feelings of love and happiness but the raw and natural cravings for human consumption. Your past existence has absorbed many others into itself; you might as well be a rabid beast among men and literally tear into their flesh with your teeth... it would be no different than your calling as a human on this Earth. Earlier, John Raide made a foolish reference about women drawing their claws when you provoke them... and all the while, I have actually forced someone to once again draw the weapons they so ignorantly tucked away long ago. While John Raide was fantasizing about my nails digging into his chest, neck and face; I was creating a Weapon that will have no objection to gouging chunks of flesh from Raide's chest, neck and face.

All in all, Michael, wouldn't you agree that while John Raide is a man of comedy, fantasy and misunderstanding... I have proven to be a woman of action? What's that? You're confused by the fact that you thought you heard John Raide's voice in that laboratory before you escaped? What could that mean, Michael? Is this all one sick, twisted mind game? Is any of this really happening, you failure of a man and disgrace of a father? Or is this all just your own inner strife finally swallowing you whole? Think, Michael... clear your thoughts and rationalize. Does it make sense to think that an Egyptian woman and a chicken headed scientist tried turning you into something you already are? Or was that all just your mind's own way of finally bringing you back — bringing the real you back...? The powers of the physically untapped mind can often times confuse our limited conscious states. What if none of it was real, Michael? What if you're just... meant for me? What if this is your calling? My slave. Is that really harder to believe than the alternative? Could it just be that it's time for you to mean something?

Accept yourself, Michael, and everything will be so much easier... For you have already accepted me. When you hear yourself speak of torturing Charlotte with my assistance, know that I am indeed 'turned on' by this thought the real you brought forth. When you see yourself looking back at your own eyes in disgust of what you've become these recent years, know that I and everyone else around you are just as disgusted with you. Why even go on the way you were? Failing to the left, failing to the right and failing to even stand up on your own? Why embrace your shell of an existence any longer? Release yourself from the restraints, accept who you have once again become, and realize it's not the mirror you want to strike... it's all of them... it's all of us. Unleash it, Michael. Return to your blissful, intoxicating innocence and meet me tonight when we bury John Raide just deep enough to keep him from touching me but not too deep for Eli James to reach when he comes to collect the remains.

Oh, my mistake... I forgot Eli doesn't care about John Raide either. I suppose we'll just bury Raide for the sake of burying him, then. This will be good practice for you, Michael." I turn away from the camera and look back toward the mirror across the room. I can't wait to see Michael's true reflection of self in action.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode The "Me Make/He Make" series, part 2
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