Post by Logan on Sept 13, 2009 23:08:55 GMT -5
Eulogy
There are some people who spend their entire life's believing in truth that's false to another. It's considered a wool over the sheep's eyes, it's what you believe, it's what you see, it's the bible, it's a favorite album, it's a television show. To us, it's the WCF. As an individual, you are capable to believe in it, you and only you can see what you want to see. I see corruption in the brightest way, in the bright light.
I. The Shedding Sheep
Ron Lewis
It's Saturday, one day over and counting the next, two days off from Fuck You. Of course, that isn't the companies name I'm employed for, but if I was given the rights to so honorably dub, I'd simply call it.. Fuck You. Every week day in that agonized shit hole has became a daily ritual of living hell, well, just to begin.. Bob, my so-called superior, finds it necessary to dump late Friday (payday) reports on my desk. Keep in mind, these are reports of his own doing, these are reports he himself was paid to do. Why am I doing them? Why don't I just address this to the owner? I would if he wasn't too busy having a twenty-four seven orgy with Bob about the likes and dislikes of True Blood. Those two, I swear. They golf every Sunday, they do BBQ's at one another's house at least four times a month. I wouldn't be surprised if they were fucking each other.
Bob
[/i]My toes against the warm sand, the sun shining down on my feet, hey.. it's a Monday. What could be better? No worries. Me and
Beth Peach
[/i]What a thankless job. That's what I'm always thinking on Wednesdays. The start of my work week. I work my butt off, and for what? All those ungrateful customers who don't have anything better to do than bitch about the service. I didn't have to be here. I could be doing any number of other things. I have an education. I have hobbies. But I do this, week in and week out, for them. Every Monday, it's worth it, but the week leading up to it, well...it would be intolerable without guys like Bob. A lot of the other employees don't like Bob. Smilin' Bob, they call him. Dirty rumors. Guys like Ron Lewis, they're just bitter. Bitter, or annoying, but harmless. It's no problem to throw them a bone once in a while. But Bob's the money-maker. The other guys need to realize they're expendable. When they know that, they'll be a lot happier.
The Duo
Okay, look, I don't have that much of an ego, but can't they just respect my wishes?! Time and time again I've tried to make a point. I mean, it's only reasonable for any human being to voice their opinion, why can't they just see it as that and not a offensive threat? There is concrete behind my words. After all, me and my partner have thrown in six, yes, six successful eye popping reports on time. What else must I do to impress these higher ups? Ha, I know, go to one of Bob and Beth's week day getaways. Maybe kiss up more? Sure they'd accept me into their little 'circle' then. Ya' know what, I can almost guarantee, I can almost bet, that if Beth didn't have Bob licking his tush on a twenty four seven basis he might actually look at my partner and myself.
Stu Williams
I've always been the good soldier. Did my job, kept my mouth shut. I just can't do it anymore. I can't take all the bullshit. Every stupid little thing pisses me off now. I don't know what's happened to me. Or is it the world that's changed? But even if I've just gotten more sensitive to it, that doesn't mean that it wasn't wrong to begin with. Whenever someone gets to this point, there are three paths to take. You keep it all inside until you go nuts and shoot up the office. You resign quietly, just drop it all and leave. Or you go out kicking and screaming. Nobody likes the screamers. But at least then, you get to say what needs to be said. At least then, they'll know what they did to you. Even if they don't care.
Jackof Pete
Today, I awoke. I looked outside.. the world was still modern, things were still the same. I specially let Ron know this. However, in his stubborn way, he ignored any words of wisdom. Doesn't he realize once I've given up the fight he should as well? It's not the 'fight', exactly, that's worthless, it's the meaning.. which, is none. There is no meaning to any of this. Okay, say, you actually find it in your will to slam a inch thick wad of reports on Bob's desk. What will be the result of that? Will the other corner cubicles praise you? Will you be.. the hero? No. Don't waste your time. Give your time pleasure, have a drink, play some Wii, this isn't worth it. Yes, I know you admire my way, but, if you really admire me then you'll know...
You can have better things to do with your time.
Logan
Know what this is? It's the ass that sits on the golden throne, it's torture.. literally! Torture. Why is he here? Why doesn't someone kick his talentless ass off? I'll tell you why, it's because he's got a angel over each shoulder, and they're called Seth and Lerch. This isn't a fairy tale, this is it! This is one hundred percent truth! Why/how this happened? They've formed a bond that cannot be broken. WCF's front man, Torture, has the power to kick you out. How? Why? Easy. If you pose a threat, if you actually have an ounce of nut, you'll be on the 'hit list'. You'll be the next one to be heckled, you'll be the one to be exposed. And speaking of exposed, why the hell haven't we, the WCF, exposed Torture? I mean really, new or old, we've seen the shit, we have to smell it, we have to acknowledge it.
Steve Lunch
All the little ants scurry about the office. But this ant hill office doesn't run smoothly like the other ant hills. No, these ants squabble over the smallest things. Who gets the biggest bit of food, which ant can carry the most weight, those kinds of things. And I sit up here on my throne, watching them, and I can't help but wait for the moment when they see things for the way they are. Their pointless little arguments, their egos, their rivalries, all getting in the way of the ant hill's success and growth. Maybe I just resent them because they don't respect me; I hear them make gay jokes amongst each other about "going out to Lunch," hell, most of the jokes about me are right to my face. And maybe I detest them because maybe, maybe every morning I wake up and look at myself and see not a man, but an ant myself. I detest them because I realize I've become one of them, ensnared in the hill, not an onlooker anymore but an active participant. Intellectually I know I'm the power around this office, I'm the one that makes the calls and picks my shots, but somehow I can't help but feel like I've been blinded just like they have, and I hate them all for it, every single one.
II. Unbreakable Chain
Edger Rich. A aged man and artist of an unknown century. He lived the life of a man's man, he couldn't be bullied or broken. Strong morals, wise speaker, rough, skin of sandpaper. A real man's man. He had the emotional equivalents of a stone. No woman could break his heart, no betrayal of friend could turn his smile. However, Edger was getting old in years, his dark brown hair now sliver white, his once tree trunk hands now gentle and wrinkle. His appearance had change, it was only natural, what hadn't changed was his iron will. He wasn't stubborn, he tried to keep an open mind for other cultures or just people who came off as 'different' in general. There was a liking he embraced that fueled his interest in others that weren't raised as him, or weren't regionally taught the same. It's what he believed separated every individual and that was a respect he held close to his heart. Over the decades he learned to love others, appreciate a different point of view, and it made him want more out of a long life already lived. For once, all Edger wanted to do, was live a life forgetting of war, politics, who said who and what fault should be blamed. It was very regretting to himself when he finally found that light, when he finally opened his eyes. He thought he knew the way of life long ago, but each and every day he would ultimately discover that life.. is full of learning.
Edger Rich: Just a minute.
The painting glowed in front of his eyes, he couldn't wait to finish the last touch ups of the golden bridge hanging over the peaceful lake. It was a place that reminded him of a time long ago, back when things seemed simple. He placed his thin brush neatly back into his painters arsenal before giving his work a long adoring glance. The interruption that brought him to pause sounded off louder than before, the knock at his front door. Breaking his stone glaze away from the painting he finally attended to the door, unlatching the locks, swinging the thick oak open to reveal a steel armor plated knight attired head to toe.
Edger Rich: Yes--?
The man spoke after Edger bringing a paper to his face and reading the words clearly.
Enforcement: Edger Rich. By the King, you've been ordered to be barred in fifthly rusty chains in front of the villagers viewing. There, you will endure your punishment for the town of Torland to see. If you fail to cooperate in the Kings arrangements you will be executed and butchered for the nourishment of the towns dogs.
Edger Rich: My God--
Enforcement: Do you comply?
Edger Rich: I-- Wha--?
The knight readied a hand over his side weapon. Edger could see he was ready to draw and said execution would occur on his very door step. He had no choice.
Edger Rich: Yes. I'll receive my punishment.
The knight pushed forward in a commanding tone.
Enforcement: For the King.
He swallowed hard and answered.
Edger Rich: --for the King.
Just ten, maybe five years ago Edger would've laughed at that knights face and drew a dagger to his lengthy sword. However, now, that act felt foolish to him. He seen defeat and victory or standing up for yourself in a much greater light, a light that was easy to blind one. Edger Rich was soon marched off to the top of a water well and bound by rusty old chains for all of Torland to witness. Many of the townsfolk knew of Edger, he was a special member of their society. So, seeing him forced like this seemed humiliating to not only Edger himself, but the people as well. They wouldn't expose their feelings, just as Edger wouldn't, this town lived in fear of doing so from the iron fist who so wrongly ruled it.. the King. His punishment was very biased, he had painted a portrait of the King smiling, which, the King didn't approve of. In the Kings tempers he demanded the painting be burned, and it did. That was it, then. Edger had no idea the King would feel dedicated to punish him later on. So, this was his punishment, and it horribly suited a man like Edger. The King ordered easy worn rusty chains, ones that could be easily broken, he only called for such a disgrace because he knew it'd be just that. The King knew of Edger's reputation, he knew he'd the one to break the chains and raise above. He also knew, that with circumstances Edger couldn't break the chains, and instead he'd be bound and forced to wither away in his own unescapable humiliation. The town people gathered at the bottom of the well with sorrow and pity for the once beloved hero. The chains twined around his body, chains he could break, but couldn't for the political threat the King held. People were forced to watch the enduring pathetic death of Edger Rich. People were forced to watch.. in silence.
Writing Credits:
Steve Carr/Mikami
Seth Lerch
Logan