Post by Deleted on May 19, 2013 9:19:28 GMT -5
‘I have been talking to an angel for the last month’ The Man of Infinite Puzzles…He held himself like all fear and pride couldn’t pierce his life. He could disappear and leave you with nothing if he wished it, but he hardly cared enough about a single human being to waste his time doing so. We crossed paths…more we all eventually cross his path if I am being honest, but I did so four years ago when I was walking the streets of Cleveland and happened upon a man in a red leather Jacket standing over a groveling bum in dirty, torn clothes. It was at a street corner where I saw the bum yell obscenities at the calm, stone-like figure, then shortly after switching to pleas of forgiveness. The stranger was Hophni or as he called himself ‘Para-Pirutseo-Bal’ a secret of the universe that cared none for current events or political happenings. The bum was a once rich and powerful business owner that Hophni claimed was a spy sent from a greater power beyond the wall of reality. The true story was never revealed to me and I couldn’t bring myself to care because the moment he turned away from the rich-poor man, he looked to me and greeted me with a warm smile that seemed so unnatural at the time, considering the image I arrived at, and I knew that this was going to be a new chapter in my life as the infinitely awe inspiring man spoke to me with an air of control and concentration about him. He claimed he was born on a split in time and that he was gifted with an ability to see what he called the “True Skin”. He explained to me that fifty percent of the population was either dormant creatures from the ninth dimension, where the worlds were built of more than just molecules and energy, or their warrior gods that used the people as transmitters and this alone was the major cause of most claims of insanity. He told me that he saw a god of intellect and peace hiding within my soul, which I shrugged off at first until he continued talking about chaos and time as if it were the secret code that was always hiding under the nose of all the people and dormant demons. The intricate ‘natures’ and undeniable ‘pathways’ he spoke of seemed to unfold itself when I had time to ponder and watch the world. I noticed people reacting like he said and the world at large flowing in such patterns and paths that it all seemed so set up and mechanical. It was an ever moving puzzle of infinite structure and no one else seemed to notice. So, I returned to him with the want for more knowledge but he had disappeared without any trail to follow, which would be an all too repetitive event in my life. He would drop in months later and give me little tidbits of information that furthered what I began to consider an apprenticeship. He would tell me of his adventures from the times between and I would tell him my dilemmas in which he would just smile and nod his head. One month he would come in and out ten times with brilliant stories to follow…and another month, I wouldn’t see him at all and sometimes those were the darkest months I lived. We sat down outside the front of my house, each of us with a beer in our hand and minds filled with too much thought.
John Gable: Oh Really?
His stories could vary from the real world into whatever world he could imagine, most of the latter were more him watching the clashing of different galactic type beings or the fall of unfathomable destroyers as he always seemed on the edge of some great conquest that he admittedly never truly laid a finger on. He felt that there was still something deeper to see and that one day he would return to his place of birth and dive into the crack in time and space and become whatever it was his own chaotic would lead him to be. There was still a part of me that didn’t buy any of it but then there was another part of me that wanted to believe every word and if it weren’t for the previously rich bum that he ruined, I probably wouldn’t have bothered this long with his ramblings. I never personally met any of the people he spoke of, but his details were so fine and tedious that it was hard to believe that he would leave for such a time just to think of these wild stories.
‘Para-Pirutseo-Bal’: She is my red angel. The one thing I have connecting me to the other side now. She was abandoned by her Gods and has chosen me for her new one. But she is unstable, just pure energy…like she was unfinished…I fear that if I connect any further, she might be corrupted and fall apart, bringing me with her…But she says she is so lonely. I don’t know what to do…
Well that was new. In all the time I have known him; he always seemed in control and always had an answer for any question I presented. So, to see him struggling with whatever it was that was inside his head was somewhat discouraging. He sighed as if he wasn’t really expecting me to relate or answer with any sort of real merit to be considered. I felt like a confused child compared to him. Always calm and never a rushed thought to graze his decision making (though I have never actually seen him make a decision for the time that I have known him, he always seemed stuck in the suspended state of between actions or situations.) He stood to his feet and spread his arms like wings as if displaying the entire world to me.
‘Para-Pirutseo-Bal’: This existence is built on a tragic irony of never fully succeeding. We try and try at what we want and what we love but yet, not even the top tiers of us have succeeded in anything. I have been working all my life to understand why anything is and the more I understand, the farther the end gets away from me. I have been searching for so long that I don’t even remember what it was like before I left home.
John Gable: Maybe there is no end. Maybe the worlds are just circular logic and physics meant to stretch on forever and ever.
He let his arms drop to his side as he looked at me with a smile directed towards what I assumed he rendered as my naivety. He sat back down and picked up his beer.
‘Para-Pirutseo-Bal’: I wish I could believe that but I can only see an end coming and I feel as if it is going to be soon…But enough about me. You have been doing awfully well lately.
I gave a half-assed smirk as I forced my response to be agreeable, as I have not had reason to do so in a long time. It seemed funny to me that with his mind (and possible schizophrenia) that he would ever take interest into what in comparison seemed to be mundane life experiences.
John Gable: It would appear so, but it is starting to get worse every passing day.
‘Para-Pirutseo-Bal’: I can tell…it is the god in you.
John Gable: No…well, I can’t fully make heads or tails of it right now, but there is something happening inside my head, but it doesn’t feel like a God of peace or intellect. Not that I can tell what a God would feel like. But I mean for the last few months, it has been hell. I finally got offered a movie role…
I told him of my unfortunate events since joining WCF, the secret society and Nick Kaufman trying to rub me out, Alexis falling to their whim and how I felt she was distancing herself from me as well as Humphrey who had been my pal through thick and thin. I didn’t have to tell him much of my wrestling career, for he knew the whole ordeal with Morientes and Rebellion and he had already congratulated me on my title win, for he was an avid watcher of wrestling and was the one who suggested the damn sport to me in the first place. To my story of deceit and depression, he merely offered words of encouragement; that all things were meant to guide me to an ultimate goal (for that is what Chaos meant to him, an end to everything, like a book. As for myself, chaos was just an ever spinning clock.) and so he told me to stray from the antagonizers for he had a terrible feeling they were going to cause a great interruption in the stream of time (claiming they were a legion of a Devil-God that lived beneath the crust of the Earth and that their aim was to interrupt the universally arranged natural order by which all things operate, and to cause a hiccup in such a thing would send this delicate rhythm of a world into such a commotion, that the human existence may not be able to recover.) I asked him what I should do of my wrestling career.
John Gable: You are the one who told me to get into this. Saying it would help my career.
‘Para-Pirutseo-Bal’: No, I said I always thought you would make a good wrestler, it just happened to be after your flops. You have the Television title…what better way to remake a career for yourself?
John Gable: The World title.
P.P.B.: Be patient, a trainee does not simply wait a few years then become a smith; he travels a journey like anyone else and like anyone else, he must face the unrelated difficulties as well. But I want to know what is going on in here.
He pointed to my head.
John Gable: I have been growing more and more paranoid. I feel as if Alexis and Humphrey are turning away from me. She never looked at me the same since I beat up that bum.
He nodded as if to signify that he understood. He put his beer back down without even opening it and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small puzzle like he usually does and started fidgeting with it. It looked like a intricate piece of knick-knack machinery and it seemed to be giving him some trouble. Sometimes I felt that he did these puzzles to get the gears in his head to start turning and it seemed to work every time as I would talk and he would reply with almost an absurd perspective on things. So pointlessly absurd that it seemed right.
P.P.B.: That definitely made some interesting television. I know I was on the edge of my seat.
John Gable: It’s not just her distrust of me. I feel like whatever they did to her on that house on haunted hill is what is mainly turning her against me.
I sighed and pulled the cap of my bottle.
John Gable: I can’t help but feel like she might be right. I have had these dreams that leave me with a pit of emptiness and I feel like I have been filling it with potent hateful thoughts. My whole head has been filling up with nonsense and it is starting to affect my sleep.
P.P.B.: Again, it is the God in you try to make its way out. Don’t suppress it. It is darkest just before dawn and the dawn will be so beautiful for you. Just stay with it and try to indulge it if you can.
John Gable: I don’t think it is this God you keep talking about. I think I am just losing it.
He put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a reassuring shake.
P.P.B.: So how about this Scott Savage guy.
John Gable: I don’t know. He is kind of a shit stirrer which is fantastic in its own right, especially with getting noticed. But I am not sure if now is the time to be making alliances with such dangerous people. Rebellion is taking up enough time as it is.
P.P.B.: I think you should talk to him.
John Gable: Really?
P.P.B.: I would totally mark out for that.
John Gable: Mark what?
P.P.B.: Never mind, it is an alternate dimension thing…
I shrugged and took a swig from the bottle.
John Gable: Maybe it wouldn’t be a terrible idea. I mean he seems to understand where I am coming from and it would be nice to talk to someone who didn’t disagree with me all the time. Morientes questions every little thing I do.
P.P.B.: Morientes has one hell of a future in store for him. I see him going places.
I looked over to him with an unamused look on my face. He shrugged and tilted his head as if to say “A fan will be a fan”. With him proclaiming to be the kind of person he is, it is almost a challenge to disprove his prediction.
John Gable: Morientes has quite an event in store for him that is one thing that is for sure.
P.P.B.: You know what you need to do?
John Gable: What?
P.P.B.: You need to have fun again. I haven’t seen you do an actual promo in a while. Go do one of your big productions that you like to do. Show the world that John Gable can have a tangible thought still.
He placed the puzzle down next to me as if to offer me a chance at it. He was right. I have been silent for a while I haven’t had the urge to do anything extravagant in a while and with a match like this ahead of me, it would be a shame not to use it for my own purposes. It was time to remind people why John Gable is the only source of entertainment anyone should ever need.
*ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ* *Click*
It was a quality study with walls filled with books upon books, lowly lit by the burning fireplace located at the far end of the room. I stood at the hearth with my hand on the mantel staring into the flames with a urge to smash it all to pieces and let the crew and maintenance deal with it as I meditate in my dressing room waiting for everything to be reorganized and ready for my return. But alas, I had a busy schedule and too many people to despise. My attire for the scene was a tuxedo with a red floral vest and a novelty monocle with an ivory rim. The poison that flooded my mind at this particular moment was ‘The Channel Flipper’, the smallest minded of a small minded consciousness. Loving the stream of irrelevant nonsense as they pepper their days with the engaging je ne sais quoi of “Cops” (Sunday May 19 from 2 P.M. to 9:30 P.M.) and the powerfully disarming intellectual vestige of “Hardcore Pawn” (Sunday May 19 from 7 P.M. to 9 P.M.(So a person of their variety could just mindlessly sit and enjoy the impending brain enema and have just enough time when it is over to switch to Sunday Night Slam and watch me kick Morientes’ ass)) waiting for nothing particular to come running through their day and if nothing came rampaging into their humble abode then they could sleep soundly at least knowing they were safe for one day longer (for wasn’t that the greatest gift at all for the unmotivated masses?) and dream of “The Young and Reckless” as the hack job writers continued their charade, making you believe sentimentality is not dead and that the emotions you feel towards the man who died and came back to life fifteen hundred times were real and so was he. I am pretty sure I have mentioned them before, but it is never enough to address such a glaring problem in our dreams of a modern society.
John Gable: These people, these fake, undeserving people. They dine on wine and bread and speak on things they have no right to speak of. Their words are always light and fluffing, never to offend but always to embrace like a hug of familiarity to a friend that time has stolen for years when in all honesty, they couldn’t care less if you died that very day. Like having a real conversation would shatter their fragile boundaries made up of guilt and ignorance. They just talk like they sympathize without having the gull to have an opinion about it. They seem to focus on how inspiring or sad things are and never actually weighed the ideas out unless one would be willing to risk actually understanding the anger and resentment of those lower on the food chain.
My voice was raspy and low from all the yelling and screaming from earlier and I am not sure if my voice was going to hold out for all of filming. A man in a similar outfit stepped into the room. I whipped around with piercing, judgmental eyes as I was met with a nervous, perspiring man with a letter in his hand. I continued to stare with a look of disbelief as if a funeral precession had been interrupted by a parade of inappropriate joy. I slowly made my way to his side of the room. I could see his hands shake more and more violently the closer I got.
John Gable: How dare you…This is my place of profound thinking, of the utmost privacy and you think you can barge in here without even the slightest traces of even entertaining the idea of knocking! That’s how all of you are: Careless and ignorant as you tread where ever you feel like because your kind feels like the value of others is not nearly as admirable as the value of “a good talk”. You could care less how desensitizing the whole process is as long as you felt conformed and accepted. Because wasn’t that really the point of these soirees, to be accept. To analyze the eyes and body language of other fellow socialites as you repeat exactly what they want to hear? You are the worst kind of people. You take the most important of matters and use it like pawns to further yourself up a nonexistent ladder of brown nosing.
I stepped closer until I was right in his face with my eye twitching like mad and my teeth clenched to almost a dangerous pressure. The man stumbled to find words before I continued on with my speech with no real care of what he was saying.
John Gable: I shall remove this wretched scum from the earth and fill the minds to imitate me, at least in that application of brainwashing, they will be happier as they freely speak their mind and not live with the want of acceptance or conformity.
The man sheepishly handed over the letter. I ripped it out of his hands and tore it open. I moved towards the flame again to read the formidable doom.
Voice Over (female): Dear Poor Soul, you have complained to me for weeks on end about how these of mine bother you with their ‘superfluous talking’ and their ‘benign sense of reality’. Not only that but you have also gone to great lengths to insult me and my kindness to you (as I now know it was a mistake to ever befriend a monster like you). So, I leave you now to marinate in your own hatred like I know you like to do and then think on what you have become. Not everything in this world is the terror you make it out to be. The world won’t end because everything isn’t what you want it to be and if it does, then it is all for the better because I wouldn’t want to live in such a world where someone like you could prosper.
I dropped the letter in the fire and watched it burn as I could feel my soul turn as black as the burning parchment.
Pfffffft, boring. *Click*
*ZZZZZZZZZZZZ*
I now sat at a news desk with a navy blue suit and a gold and brown tie and a pair of glasses resting on the edge of my nose.
John Gable: Hello everyone and welcome back to Gable to Gable on cable…Tonight we bring you a heart wrenching story of a boy kidnapped and murdered not even five blocks from his home. But don’t worry, the boy was neither white nor from a rich family, so we won’t spend much time on him at all and you can go on feeling safe in your Beverly Hill houses…In other news, the zoo revealed a tiger they have trained to skate board in the attempts to save themselves from totally economic meltdown as the modern man couldn’t care less about animals unless they did some sort of trick. Here is Gable with more on the story. Hello Gable...
The shot switched to me standing outside of a cage as a tiger walked around behind me, maybe wanting to consume me as prey. I had half a mind to stick my head in. This time I wore a grey suit with a blue and green striped tie. My voice was more bouncy and animated than when it was in the newsroom.
John Gable: Thank you Gable. It has become the pride of the zoo to demean their precious animals into doing pointless, intelligence insulting tricks for the brain dead masses to keep their attention and their money. Thousands upon thousands of dollars were wasted on this expedition and three trainers were killed in the process, but I’ll be damned if that Tiger doesn’t just look absolutely adorable on his skate board. Back to you Gable.
We go back to the studio
John Gable: Thank you Gable and now we move on to sports with Benjamin Atreyu. Benjamin…
The shot switched to Benjamin as he smile with a shit eating grin on his face.
Benjamin Atreyu: I have no idea what I’m doing here.
John Gable: Thank you Benjamin…Ha, never know what laws those Vikings will break next. Have you ever wondered what it is they put in milk to…
Pffffft, no. *Click*
*ZZZZZZZZZZZ*
Now I stood at a store counter with a black button up shirt and beige pants with a badge that read “John Gable, Store Manager”. A man with a box and placed in upon the counter as he looked to still have some hope left in his being.
John Gable: Why hello there. What is it we have here?
Guy: Well, I was cleaning out my attic and I came across this. It is George Washington’s head.
The shot changed to the all too common reality show side chat where I stood in front of a background filled with items from the store.
John Gable: Wow, George Washington’s head. He would literally one of our founding fathers and probably the most important. If this thing is real, who knows how much it could be worth. I needed this piece and I wasn’t going to let him leave until it was in my possession.
The shot returned to the store counter.
John Gable: Soooo, how much did you want for something like this.
Guy: About ten thousand dollars.
I let out a sigh of discontent as I observed the box.
John Gable: Here’s the problem. I don’t know much about heads or how to check if it is the real thing. I’m going to have to bring in…
Before I could get out the full line, Seth Dominics stepped in, off queue.
Seth Dominics: Hello there. Let me see that.
He picks up the box, examines the outside very closely then shakes it next to his ear. He placed it back down on the table.
Seth Dominics: Yep…it’s a box alright.
John Gable: …No, I need you to check if it is actually George Washington’s head inside.
Seth picked up the box again and once again shook it next to his ear and place it on the counter.
Seth Dominics: Yep, definitely his head alright.
Without another word, he walked back out the door. I shook my head with disappointment as everything he did was not at all to the script, but alas, the show must go on.
John Gable: So what did you want for it again?
Guy: ummmm…five million for it…
I gave another sigh of displeasure.
John Gable: I would like to give you that for it. But you got to consider my job. It takes money to process it and it will to space on a shelf, not to mention I have to pay my employees and look at all these expensive cameras…Five bucks.
He gave a sharp in hale as his face displayed shock and drowning hopes.
Guy: Okay, I’ll go five hundred dollars.
John Gable: Six bucks…
Guy: Can you go a little higher? Maybe fifty bucks?
John Gable: seven bucks and that’s my final offer.
The man stared at the box for a minute or two as he battled in his head whether to try his luck out elsewhere or to take the money and run. After his contemplation, he stuck out his hand.
Guy: You got a deal…
John Gable: six bucks…
Pfffft, budge a little, you greedy asshole. *Click*
*ZZZZZZZZ*
Now it was just me wearing a “John Gable is God” T-shirt that I had the little Chinese kids make for my merchandise stand. It was all black behind me as I stared straight into the camera.
John Gable: Morientes, at Slam, you are going to be gunning for my title. Don’t think I haven’t taken notice of you with your appearances on Ellen and South Park and so on and so forth, trying to make yourself a face of the company and make yourself a staple for television (not that I am watching…I heard it through the grape vine). But the fact is this is my world and no one knows it better than me. You see, you’re content with how everything is right now and would love to be the T.V. champ just to be more a part of it. Where I want to improve it and turn it into something respectable like films. I want people to turn on the T.V. because they want to think, not turn off their minds. I want to get people into a golden age of thought as I fight to improve their observations and to break this façade of good and bad. They boo me because I constantly show them why they are wrong and anyone caught with their pants down is going to be angry at the ones that pointed it out even though all they intended of doing was help the other person not look like a fool. That is why they cheer you. Because you encourage them to stay the way they are, to walk around in life like a bunch of idiots. Why should I be a pariah when the real enemy is you. You know better, I have seen it in you. You know what the world is really like, but you keep smiling like the world is sunshine and rainbow farts.
I spat at the ground in anger as I could feel a violent rage start to build up in me again. I made my attempts to not let it show on my face, but all attempts proved pointless as I gritted my teeth.
John Gable: The fact that we of all people were tag-team partners just goes to show how much of this world is based on the rating we make. They put two people who hate each other together like it is some fucking stupid reality show and send us on our merry way. To be honest, I am happy that we are able to finally duke it out and see who the better man is because I would love nothing more than to smash your face in and prove once and for all who was carrying who through our history. I am the attraction, I am the ratings popper, I AM TELEVISION and anyone who cares to contradict me needs to do no more than lay their eyes on my gold to understand. Now, people have been speculating that this might be the end of Rebellion if we go through with this match, but personally, to me it will just weed out another chink in the armor which I will more than happily take out myself. Rebellion needs to survive and it can’t when someone as pathetic as you keeps holding us back with your baby face chivalry and your overbearing naivety to the world around you. I will admit that you have done a lot for getting Rebellion’s foot in the door, but that is where your usefulness ends. I will be taking over the rest of the operation from here on out. And yes maybe they won’t kick you out after you lose to me, but it will certainly set a president for how things are going to change. Because when I step into something, I am not just putting my name to it, I am putting a guarantee to it that people will enjoy it. Whether it be a film, a wrestling program or a faction, I am not going to sit by and watch my name get dragged through the mud of another flop. A lot of people say I am turning into a nervous wreck and maybe I am, but this nervous wreck knows how to keep his spot. So when we both step out into that ring, I want you to know that I would sooner take us both out than let you step above me in any shape or form. It is my first main event and I’ll be damned if it will be ruined by a Spaniard without a cause. So pray that I make it a quick end, for this week will be the damnation of your American dream.
*Click*
(fin)
John Gable: Oh Really?
His stories could vary from the real world into whatever world he could imagine, most of the latter were more him watching the clashing of different galactic type beings or the fall of unfathomable destroyers as he always seemed on the edge of some great conquest that he admittedly never truly laid a finger on. He felt that there was still something deeper to see and that one day he would return to his place of birth and dive into the crack in time and space and become whatever it was his own chaotic would lead him to be. There was still a part of me that didn’t buy any of it but then there was another part of me that wanted to believe every word and if it weren’t for the previously rich bum that he ruined, I probably wouldn’t have bothered this long with his ramblings. I never personally met any of the people he spoke of, but his details were so fine and tedious that it was hard to believe that he would leave for such a time just to think of these wild stories.
‘Para-Pirutseo-Bal’: She is my red angel. The one thing I have connecting me to the other side now. She was abandoned by her Gods and has chosen me for her new one. But she is unstable, just pure energy…like she was unfinished…I fear that if I connect any further, she might be corrupted and fall apart, bringing me with her…But she says she is so lonely. I don’t know what to do…
Well that was new. In all the time I have known him; he always seemed in control and always had an answer for any question I presented. So, to see him struggling with whatever it was that was inside his head was somewhat discouraging. He sighed as if he wasn’t really expecting me to relate or answer with any sort of real merit to be considered. I felt like a confused child compared to him. Always calm and never a rushed thought to graze his decision making (though I have never actually seen him make a decision for the time that I have known him, he always seemed stuck in the suspended state of between actions or situations.) He stood to his feet and spread his arms like wings as if displaying the entire world to me.
‘Para-Pirutseo-Bal’: This existence is built on a tragic irony of never fully succeeding. We try and try at what we want and what we love but yet, not even the top tiers of us have succeeded in anything. I have been working all my life to understand why anything is and the more I understand, the farther the end gets away from me. I have been searching for so long that I don’t even remember what it was like before I left home.
John Gable: Maybe there is no end. Maybe the worlds are just circular logic and physics meant to stretch on forever and ever.
He let his arms drop to his side as he looked at me with a smile directed towards what I assumed he rendered as my naivety. He sat back down and picked up his beer.
‘Para-Pirutseo-Bal’: I wish I could believe that but I can only see an end coming and I feel as if it is going to be soon…But enough about me. You have been doing awfully well lately.
I gave a half-assed smirk as I forced my response to be agreeable, as I have not had reason to do so in a long time. It seemed funny to me that with his mind (and possible schizophrenia) that he would ever take interest into what in comparison seemed to be mundane life experiences.
John Gable: It would appear so, but it is starting to get worse every passing day.
‘Para-Pirutseo-Bal’: I can tell…it is the god in you.
John Gable: No…well, I can’t fully make heads or tails of it right now, but there is something happening inside my head, but it doesn’t feel like a God of peace or intellect. Not that I can tell what a God would feel like. But I mean for the last few months, it has been hell. I finally got offered a movie role…
I told him of my unfortunate events since joining WCF, the secret society and Nick Kaufman trying to rub me out, Alexis falling to their whim and how I felt she was distancing herself from me as well as Humphrey who had been my pal through thick and thin. I didn’t have to tell him much of my wrestling career, for he knew the whole ordeal with Morientes and Rebellion and he had already congratulated me on my title win, for he was an avid watcher of wrestling and was the one who suggested the damn sport to me in the first place. To my story of deceit and depression, he merely offered words of encouragement; that all things were meant to guide me to an ultimate goal (for that is what Chaos meant to him, an end to everything, like a book. As for myself, chaos was just an ever spinning clock.) and so he told me to stray from the antagonizers for he had a terrible feeling they were going to cause a great interruption in the stream of time (claiming they were a legion of a Devil-God that lived beneath the crust of the Earth and that their aim was to interrupt the universally arranged natural order by which all things operate, and to cause a hiccup in such a thing would send this delicate rhythm of a world into such a commotion, that the human existence may not be able to recover.) I asked him what I should do of my wrestling career.
John Gable: You are the one who told me to get into this. Saying it would help my career.
‘Para-Pirutseo-Bal’: No, I said I always thought you would make a good wrestler, it just happened to be after your flops. You have the Television title…what better way to remake a career for yourself?
John Gable: The World title.
P.P.B.: Be patient, a trainee does not simply wait a few years then become a smith; he travels a journey like anyone else and like anyone else, he must face the unrelated difficulties as well. But I want to know what is going on in here.
He pointed to my head.
John Gable: I have been growing more and more paranoid. I feel as if Alexis and Humphrey are turning away from me. She never looked at me the same since I beat up that bum.
He nodded as if to signify that he understood. He put his beer back down without even opening it and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small puzzle like he usually does and started fidgeting with it. It looked like a intricate piece of knick-knack machinery and it seemed to be giving him some trouble. Sometimes I felt that he did these puzzles to get the gears in his head to start turning and it seemed to work every time as I would talk and he would reply with almost an absurd perspective on things. So pointlessly absurd that it seemed right.
P.P.B.: That definitely made some interesting television. I know I was on the edge of my seat.
John Gable: It’s not just her distrust of me. I feel like whatever they did to her on that house on haunted hill is what is mainly turning her against me.
I sighed and pulled the cap of my bottle.
John Gable: I can’t help but feel like she might be right. I have had these dreams that leave me with a pit of emptiness and I feel like I have been filling it with potent hateful thoughts. My whole head has been filling up with nonsense and it is starting to affect my sleep.
P.P.B.: Again, it is the God in you try to make its way out. Don’t suppress it. It is darkest just before dawn and the dawn will be so beautiful for you. Just stay with it and try to indulge it if you can.
John Gable: I don’t think it is this God you keep talking about. I think I am just losing it.
He put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a reassuring shake.
P.P.B.: So how about this Scott Savage guy.
John Gable: I don’t know. He is kind of a shit stirrer which is fantastic in its own right, especially with getting noticed. But I am not sure if now is the time to be making alliances with such dangerous people. Rebellion is taking up enough time as it is.
P.P.B.: I think you should talk to him.
John Gable: Really?
P.P.B.: I would totally mark out for that.
John Gable: Mark what?
P.P.B.: Never mind, it is an alternate dimension thing…
I shrugged and took a swig from the bottle.
John Gable: Maybe it wouldn’t be a terrible idea. I mean he seems to understand where I am coming from and it would be nice to talk to someone who didn’t disagree with me all the time. Morientes questions every little thing I do.
P.P.B.: Morientes has one hell of a future in store for him. I see him going places.
I looked over to him with an unamused look on my face. He shrugged and tilted his head as if to say “A fan will be a fan”. With him proclaiming to be the kind of person he is, it is almost a challenge to disprove his prediction.
John Gable: Morientes has quite an event in store for him that is one thing that is for sure.
P.P.B.: You know what you need to do?
John Gable: What?
P.P.B.: You need to have fun again. I haven’t seen you do an actual promo in a while. Go do one of your big productions that you like to do. Show the world that John Gable can have a tangible thought still.
He placed the puzzle down next to me as if to offer me a chance at it. He was right. I have been silent for a while I haven’t had the urge to do anything extravagant in a while and with a match like this ahead of me, it would be a shame not to use it for my own purposes. It was time to remind people why John Gable is the only source of entertainment anyone should ever need.
*ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ* *Click*
It was a quality study with walls filled with books upon books, lowly lit by the burning fireplace located at the far end of the room. I stood at the hearth with my hand on the mantel staring into the flames with a urge to smash it all to pieces and let the crew and maintenance deal with it as I meditate in my dressing room waiting for everything to be reorganized and ready for my return. But alas, I had a busy schedule and too many people to despise. My attire for the scene was a tuxedo with a red floral vest and a novelty monocle with an ivory rim. The poison that flooded my mind at this particular moment was ‘The Channel Flipper’, the smallest minded of a small minded consciousness. Loving the stream of irrelevant nonsense as they pepper their days with the engaging je ne sais quoi of “Cops” (Sunday May 19 from 2 P.M. to 9:30 P.M.) and the powerfully disarming intellectual vestige of “Hardcore Pawn” (Sunday May 19 from 7 P.M. to 9 P.M.(So a person of their variety could just mindlessly sit and enjoy the impending brain enema and have just enough time when it is over to switch to Sunday Night Slam and watch me kick Morientes’ ass)) waiting for nothing particular to come running through their day and if nothing came rampaging into their humble abode then they could sleep soundly at least knowing they were safe for one day longer (for wasn’t that the greatest gift at all for the unmotivated masses?) and dream of “The Young and Reckless” as the hack job writers continued their charade, making you believe sentimentality is not dead and that the emotions you feel towards the man who died and came back to life fifteen hundred times were real and so was he. I am pretty sure I have mentioned them before, but it is never enough to address such a glaring problem in our dreams of a modern society.
John Gable: These people, these fake, undeserving people. They dine on wine and bread and speak on things they have no right to speak of. Their words are always light and fluffing, never to offend but always to embrace like a hug of familiarity to a friend that time has stolen for years when in all honesty, they couldn’t care less if you died that very day. Like having a real conversation would shatter their fragile boundaries made up of guilt and ignorance. They just talk like they sympathize without having the gull to have an opinion about it. They seem to focus on how inspiring or sad things are and never actually weighed the ideas out unless one would be willing to risk actually understanding the anger and resentment of those lower on the food chain.
My voice was raspy and low from all the yelling and screaming from earlier and I am not sure if my voice was going to hold out for all of filming. A man in a similar outfit stepped into the room. I whipped around with piercing, judgmental eyes as I was met with a nervous, perspiring man with a letter in his hand. I continued to stare with a look of disbelief as if a funeral precession had been interrupted by a parade of inappropriate joy. I slowly made my way to his side of the room. I could see his hands shake more and more violently the closer I got.
John Gable: How dare you…This is my place of profound thinking, of the utmost privacy and you think you can barge in here without even the slightest traces of even entertaining the idea of knocking! That’s how all of you are: Careless and ignorant as you tread where ever you feel like because your kind feels like the value of others is not nearly as admirable as the value of “a good talk”. You could care less how desensitizing the whole process is as long as you felt conformed and accepted. Because wasn’t that really the point of these soirees, to be accept. To analyze the eyes and body language of other fellow socialites as you repeat exactly what they want to hear? You are the worst kind of people. You take the most important of matters and use it like pawns to further yourself up a nonexistent ladder of brown nosing.
I stepped closer until I was right in his face with my eye twitching like mad and my teeth clenched to almost a dangerous pressure. The man stumbled to find words before I continued on with my speech with no real care of what he was saying.
John Gable: I shall remove this wretched scum from the earth and fill the minds to imitate me, at least in that application of brainwashing, they will be happier as they freely speak their mind and not live with the want of acceptance or conformity.
The man sheepishly handed over the letter. I ripped it out of his hands and tore it open. I moved towards the flame again to read the formidable doom.
Voice Over (female): Dear Poor Soul, you have complained to me for weeks on end about how these of mine bother you with their ‘superfluous talking’ and their ‘benign sense of reality’. Not only that but you have also gone to great lengths to insult me and my kindness to you (as I now know it was a mistake to ever befriend a monster like you). So, I leave you now to marinate in your own hatred like I know you like to do and then think on what you have become. Not everything in this world is the terror you make it out to be. The world won’t end because everything isn’t what you want it to be and if it does, then it is all for the better because I wouldn’t want to live in such a world where someone like you could prosper.
I dropped the letter in the fire and watched it burn as I could feel my soul turn as black as the burning parchment.
Pfffffft, boring. *Click*
*ZZZZZZZZZZZZ*
I now sat at a news desk with a navy blue suit and a gold and brown tie and a pair of glasses resting on the edge of my nose.
John Gable: Hello everyone and welcome back to Gable to Gable on cable…Tonight we bring you a heart wrenching story of a boy kidnapped and murdered not even five blocks from his home. But don’t worry, the boy was neither white nor from a rich family, so we won’t spend much time on him at all and you can go on feeling safe in your Beverly Hill houses…In other news, the zoo revealed a tiger they have trained to skate board in the attempts to save themselves from totally economic meltdown as the modern man couldn’t care less about animals unless they did some sort of trick. Here is Gable with more on the story. Hello Gable...
The shot switched to me standing outside of a cage as a tiger walked around behind me, maybe wanting to consume me as prey. I had half a mind to stick my head in. This time I wore a grey suit with a blue and green striped tie. My voice was more bouncy and animated than when it was in the newsroom.
John Gable: Thank you Gable. It has become the pride of the zoo to demean their precious animals into doing pointless, intelligence insulting tricks for the brain dead masses to keep their attention and their money. Thousands upon thousands of dollars were wasted on this expedition and three trainers were killed in the process, but I’ll be damned if that Tiger doesn’t just look absolutely adorable on his skate board. Back to you Gable.
We go back to the studio
John Gable: Thank you Gable and now we move on to sports with Benjamin Atreyu. Benjamin…
The shot switched to Benjamin as he smile with a shit eating grin on his face.
Benjamin Atreyu: I have no idea what I’m doing here.
John Gable: Thank you Benjamin…Ha, never know what laws those Vikings will break next. Have you ever wondered what it is they put in milk to…
Pffffft, no. *Click*
*ZZZZZZZZZZZ*
Now I stood at a store counter with a black button up shirt and beige pants with a badge that read “John Gable, Store Manager”. A man with a box and placed in upon the counter as he looked to still have some hope left in his being.
John Gable: Why hello there. What is it we have here?
Guy: Well, I was cleaning out my attic and I came across this. It is George Washington’s head.
The shot changed to the all too common reality show side chat where I stood in front of a background filled with items from the store.
John Gable: Wow, George Washington’s head. He would literally one of our founding fathers and probably the most important. If this thing is real, who knows how much it could be worth. I needed this piece and I wasn’t going to let him leave until it was in my possession.
The shot returned to the store counter.
John Gable: Soooo, how much did you want for something like this.
Guy: About ten thousand dollars.
I let out a sigh of discontent as I observed the box.
John Gable: Here’s the problem. I don’t know much about heads or how to check if it is the real thing. I’m going to have to bring in…
Before I could get out the full line, Seth Dominics stepped in, off queue.
Seth Dominics: Hello there. Let me see that.
He picks up the box, examines the outside very closely then shakes it next to his ear. He placed it back down on the table.
Seth Dominics: Yep…it’s a box alright.
John Gable: …No, I need you to check if it is actually George Washington’s head inside.
Seth picked up the box again and once again shook it next to his ear and place it on the counter.
Seth Dominics: Yep, definitely his head alright.
Without another word, he walked back out the door. I shook my head with disappointment as everything he did was not at all to the script, but alas, the show must go on.
John Gable: So what did you want for it again?
Guy: ummmm…five million for it…
I gave another sigh of displeasure.
John Gable: I would like to give you that for it. But you got to consider my job. It takes money to process it and it will to space on a shelf, not to mention I have to pay my employees and look at all these expensive cameras…Five bucks.
He gave a sharp in hale as his face displayed shock and drowning hopes.
Guy: Okay, I’ll go five hundred dollars.
John Gable: Six bucks…
Guy: Can you go a little higher? Maybe fifty bucks?
John Gable: seven bucks and that’s my final offer.
The man stared at the box for a minute or two as he battled in his head whether to try his luck out elsewhere or to take the money and run. After his contemplation, he stuck out his hand.
Guy: You got a deal…
John Gable: six bucks…
Pfffft, budge a little, you greedy asshole. *Click*
*ZZZZZZZZ*
Now it was just me wearing a “John Gable is God” T-shirt that I had the little Chinese kids make for my merchandise stand. It was all black behind me as I stared straight into the camera.
John Gable: Morientes, at Slam, you are going to be gunning for my title. Don’t think I haven’t taken notice of you with your appearances on Ellen and South Park and so on and so forth, trying to make yourself a face of the company and make yourself a staple for television (not that I am watching…I heard it through the grape vine). But the fact is this is my world and no one knows it better than me. You see, you’re content with how everything is right now and would love to be the T.V. champ just to be more a part of it. Where I want to improve it and turn it into something respectable like films. I want people to turn on the T.V. because they want to think, not turn off their minds. I want to get people into a golden age of thought as I fight to improve their observations and to break this façade of good and bad. They boo me because I constantly show them why they are wrong and anyone caught with their pants down is going to be angry at the ones that pointed it out even though all they intended of doing was help the other person not look like a fool. That is why they cheer you. Because you encourage them to stay the way they are, to walk around in life like a bunch of idiots. Why should I be a pariah when the real enemy is you. You know better, I have seen it in you. You know what the world is really like, but you keep smiling like the world is sunshine and rainbow farts.
I spat at the ground in anger as I could feel a violent rage start to build up in me again. I made my attempts to not let it show on my face, but all attempts proved pointless as I gritted my teeth.
John Gable: The fact that we of all people were tag-team partners just goes to show how much of this world is based on the rating we make. They put two people who hate each other together like it is some fucking stupid reality show and send us on our merry way. To be honest, I am happy that we are able to finally duke it out and see who the better man is because I would love nothing more than to smash your face in and prove once and for all who was carrying who through our history. I am the attraction, I am the ratings popper, I AM TELEVISION and anyone who cares to contradict me needs to do no more than lay their eyes on my gold to understand. Now, people have been speculating that this might be the end of Rebellion if we go through with this match, but personally, to me it will just weed out another chink in the armor which I will more than happily take out myself. Rebellion needs to survive and it can’t when someone as pathetic as you keeps holding us back with your baby face chivalry and your overbearing naivety to the world around you. I will admit that you have done a lot for getting Rebellion’s foot in the door, but that is where your usefulness ends. I will be taking over the rest of the operation from here on out. And yes maybe they won’t kick you out after you lose to me, but it will certainly set a president for how things are going to change. Because when I step into something, I am not just putting my name to it, I am putting a guarantee to it that people will enjoy it. Whether it be a film, a wrestling program or a faction, I am not going to sit by and watch my name get dragged through the mud of another flop. A lot of people say I am turning into a nervous wreck and maybe I am, but this nervous wreck knows how to keep his spot. So when we both step out into that ring, I want you to know that I would sooner take us both out than let you step above me in any shape or form. It is my first main event and I’ll be damned if it will be ruined by a Spaniard without a cause. So pray that I make it a quick end, for this week will be the damnation of your American dream.
*Click*
(fin)