Post by 'The Shine' Brent Alpine on May 21, 2016 23:00:09 GMT -5
You are behind the eyes of a very powerful man. You stride with conviction through the halls of an upscale but bleak psychiatric ward, your steps rhythmic and heavy. You're rolling a suitcase and its noise momentarily distracts you from the din up ahead.
Voice: I want Hershey bar! I want Hershey bar!
It's a gargantuan of a patient - a mid-40s balding giant in a gown smeared with vomit. His pupils are dilated and his ample frame is aggressively taut. A tiny young nurse half-heartedly attempts to restrain him while reaching for a syringe in her pocket.
Nurse: Please Royston, get back in your room. We'll order you a Hershey tomorrow.
Patient: NOW HERSHEY! NOW! I want... IT'S YOU.
The giant stops in his tracks and quivers at the sight of you. He submissively wilts and slithers back into his room like a feeble slug.
Nurse: Sir! Visiting hours are over.
You simply stand there. She registers who you are.
Nurse: My mistake sir. I'm sorry, please go on ahead.
You walk past her but she meekly continues alongside you, as if to make things right.
Nurse: He's better today. Still no memory of the last few years but he seems so much more lucid. Anyway, I'll do the necessary.
She pulls out the syringe and goes on ahead of you through the nearest door on the left. This is routine for her now.
Voice (off screen): Aw g'day Belinda. How ya goin? NO, NOT THAT BLOODY THING AGAI...(fades into unconsciousness)
Nurse Belinda: Sorry Brent.
She comes back out into the corridor.
Nurse Belinda: Can I just ask... what are you going to do with him this time?
Your hand raises to her like a stop sign. She immediately cowers and retreats back down the hallway like a scolded dog. You enter the room that she previously visited.
Inside, unconscious and strapped to the bed is the man once known as 'The Shine' Brent Alpine. You stand at his bedside and open the black suitcase. A panicked miniature pig waddles out and tries to flee but your mighty gloved hand clasps it round the throat. You lift it up onto Alpine's bed and attach a black collar gadget around the pig. On its forehead is a circular, 360 degree cam and a microphone sits beneath the snout. You let the pig roam free on Alpine's bed. Predictably, he scurries and delves like the wild animal he is. Just as he starts to snuffle around Brent's crotch area, you give him a whack to the back of his head and he stands upright and alert like a soldier acquiescing to a superior's command.
AN HOUR LATER
The micro pig is sleeping on Brent's chest. After stirring slightly, Alpine's eyes open in startled shock.
Brent Alpine: Bloody hell! A little pig! NURSE BELINDA!
The noise wakes the pig. Suddenly a red light shines from his collar. A robotic sounding voice emanates from it.
Voice: Greetings Mr. Alpine. I am Percy Micro.
Brent Alpine: STREWTH! I must be a whack job after all. A talking pig?!
Percy Micro: Of course I'm not a talking pig. It is merely a proxy.
Brent Alpine: A proxy for what? Or whom?
Percy Micro: For your escape. It is time to depart from here, Mr. Alpine. I have colossal plans for you.
Brent Alpine: They won't let me leave. I've tried repeatedly mate.
Percy Micro: They will now. All you need to do is to keep me close at all times. Then just walk out. Anyone who stops you is answerable to me.
Brent Alpine: And then what? Where do I go next?
Percy Micro: To the place you will fulfil your destiny. There is one condition, however. You must keep me... well, this pig... nearby every moment, unless instructed of course.
With a 'here goes nothing' mind-set, Alpine carries the micro pig and, with slight trepidation, leaves through the door.
We are now in an office marked 'WCF Creative'. A typical nerd type sits behind a production studio of many monitors and switches. Percy Micro is sat obediently on the wooden surface and Brent Alpine stands over the nerd, staring into the main screen.
Creative Nerd: This is gonna be unreal. We have cooked up a crazy hot video to promote you, Brent. The ratings for this Slam are gonna be SICK, sky high, off the MOFO hook.
Brent Alpine: Easy drongo. Just play the bloody video.
The nerd hits a switch and the vignette plays.
Creative Nerd: So... what do you think?
Brent Alpine: I love it mate. There's only one way it could be improved - more of me!
Percy Micro: Brent's being polite. Frankly, it was an abomination.
The nerd looks crushed.
Percy Micro: You're being paid? For THAT? It looked like a 5 year old scribbling on Microsoft Paint. And don't get me started on the annoying ditty.
Creative Nerd: Look, I'm new here. We had to scale back a lot after the company's recent... err, restructuring. This is the best we can get out with this budget and in a short space of time. I'm sorry.
Brent Alpine: I thought it was pretty damn bonzer for a debut promo.
Creative Nerd: Debut? Don't you mean return?
Percy Micro: HUSH! Mr. Alpine, could you please excuse us one minute? Feel free to get yourself a slurpee from the canteen.
Brent Alpine: Fair dinkum mate.
Alpine leaves the room.
Percy Micro: As I told you, Brent doesn't remember the last three years. As far as he's concerned, this is his debut in the WCF. And that's the way it will remain. His delusion is... useful to me.
Creative Nerd: Hey sorry man, I forgot. Are you sure he's in fit state to return? Mentally I mean?
Percy Micro: He's in the best state possible. You see, Brent has always been a rather exquisite weapon. All weapons, however, need human direction. A gun cannot fire on its own. A sword not wielded might as well be blunt. Two and a half years ago, Brent was an indestructible weapon under my yielding. Sadly, he fell into wrong hands. He was commandeered by Sequitus. It was like giving a child an atom bomb. They pressed the destruct button too early. I have rebuilt Mr. Alpine at my institution and he is no longer capable of such self-sabotage as I rule him with an iron fist.
Creative Nerd: I'll level with you, Percy, the executives are concerned. We're obviously delighted to have a talent of his calibre back but not without a little more guidance and safeguarding.
Percy Micro: Those are also functions I fulfil more than adequately, thank you very much.
Creative Nerd: Sure, sure, I agree. But the bosses want more. They want a pastoral team to surround Brent. At least until he's back on track.
Percy Micro: NO! I am quite sufficient!
Creative Nerd: Look, I'm just the messenger. The execs have told me that Brent needs another two carers or his contract will be terminated effective immediately. We can't afford the lawsuit.
Percy Micro: HOW DARE YOU? DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!
Creative Nerd: Of course we do. Which is why we'll give you a concession. The WCF will recruit one member of this pastoral care team. It'll be someone with a medical background to maintain Brent's health. As a favour to you, we will let you hire the other member of the team. The job spec will be to your tailoring. Is that a deal?
Before Percy can answer, Alpine walks back in the room with a blue slurpee in hand and a huge childlike grin adorning his face.
Brent Alpine: G'DAY DRONGOS!
A familiar young blonde haired man sits in the lotus position with his eyes closed in reverence for the Universe. He is clad in a white tank top, wrapped by a giant purple scarf and his lower regions are framed way too tightly by a pair of light blue leggings. He opens his eyes for a moment to see that he is still alone in front of a grid of empty yoga mats. Dejected, he closes his eyes again and begins to 'OMMM'.
He is startled by the ringing of his cell phone. He immediately removes it from his pocket and hurriedly answers it. He speaks in a soft Australian accent with every word articulated with snobbish perfection.
Yoga Teacher: Namaste! This is Dallas Culture's Yoga Ashram. How can I be of service?
Female Voice (on phone): Hi Dallas. It's Marissa.
Dallas Culture: Marissa sweetie. Are you joining me for some yoga adventures?
Marissa (on phone): Well that's why I'm calling. Dallas, I just don't know. I wanted to come, I really did, but I've heard some unsettling rumours about you.
Dallas Culture: I did NOT suck Janine's toes! She was doing the Tittibhasana Firefly Pose and her form was so bad that her foot just happened to encroach my mouth. And because I was in a deep state of zen stillness, I didn't realise. It was an accident. Please don't leave the group!
Marissa (on phone): What? Eww! I didn't hear THAT rumour.
Dallas Culture (sighing in relief): Oh... what rumour did you hear?
Marissa (on phone): That you'd put your class prices up. So you have a thing about feet? That makes sense to me now! I thought you said all the foot massages were you just trying to balance my sacral energies.
Dallas Culture: Erm, ah... I haven't put the class prices up. In fact, it's now half price for you! Please come down. Remember, no socks or sneakers - they ruin my flooring.
Marissa (on phone): FREAK!
She hangs up. Dallas exhales nervously. Suddenly, his doorbell rings. He rushes to let in his guest. When he opens the door, he sees no one there. Upon further inspection, he finds a small note at his doorstep. It reads -
Need a job? Brent's back. He requires your 'spiritual guidance'. Call me. Percy.
Culture puts the note in his pocket and smiles contently.
We are now deep in the heart of a Sierra Leone jungle. A pretty young nurse is breathing into the mouth of an unresponsive baby. Its brown skin has an alarming blue tinge. The child's mother is in a mess of tears on the leafy terrain. The father is pacing angrily around the nurse.
Father: WHAT ARE YOU DOING? You need to bring our baby back!
The nurse withdraws and resorts to gentle CPR.
Mother: Lord have mercy on us! Where are you almighty one? We need you. Our baby needs you.
Nurse: Please Jesus. Please Jesus. Please...
The dimming light in the child's eyes fades out. It is dead. The nurse stops. She stares over the baby in immeasurable shock. The parents read her body language and do not need to be told what's happened. The mother wails and sobs and it's almost as if her heart audibly breaks.
Father: You useless woman. Where is your God? Where is your God now?!
The sky is black with dread. The nurse is crossing the jungle, stumbling through high reeds and brushing past coarse leaves. Bitter tears obscure her vision and her breath is rough and rapid.
Nurse: Where were you God? You said you'd never leave nor forsake me but I can't see you Lord. How is that just?! I need to get out of here.
She stops and gazes up at the charcoal sky.
Nurse: Where ARE you?
A brilliant radiance seeps out through the clouds. BLEEP! Her pager goes off. It reads -
Esther, come back to base. We've had a call from America. You're wanted on an assignment.
Our latest location is a room within a skyscraper hotel. Brent Alpine stares out at the sights of New York City below. Meanwhile, watching the TV, 'The Vulture' Dallas Culture sits next to Esther who is stroking Percy Micro on her lap. On the screen, they are watching Caleb Ronan's WCF match with Freezer Burn.
Esther: The guy's a piece of work but I have to admit, he's good for a rookie.
Dallas Culture: I still can't believe he accused me of toe sucking without consent! I could sue him for such inflammatory accusations... yet I have compassion and unconditional love which prevents me from sinking to such low vibing behaviour.
Esther: I wouldn't listen to him. He said I'm from the Westboro Baptist Church. For someone who preaches nonjudgement and tolerance, he's way too quick to insinuate I'm a fundamentalist loonie just because I'm a Christian. What a hypocrite!
Alpine walks towards the TV.
Brent Alpine: Come on dingos, why ya watching this? I've got the match in the bag. There's no way I'm losing my debut against that little child.
Percy Micro: Mr. Alpine, if I may, this team strategy meeting is all about the marginal gains. It's as clear as day to us that you will utterly annihilate this Caleb Ronan individual. However, as this is your... err, first match, we wish to ensure that you win as comprehensively as possible. If you can get in Ronan's psyche, you can not only defeat him, you can obliterate him from the inside out. That is why you need to listen to my analysis - just me, not these two fruit loops.
Esther: Hey! The WCF obviously think I have something to offer Brent.
Percy Micro: Heaven knows what! In fact, heaven doesn't know what because it ISN'T REAL. It's a fairy tale, just like the rest of your antiquated beliefs. You are Brent's nurse and solely his nurse. He doesn't need to know Jesus as his 'personal Lord and saviour'. If anyone is his Lord, it might as well be the Flying Spaghetti Monster because he's just as plausible!
Esther: Richard Dawkins called - he wants his material back. Heh. I think it's ironic that you're so opposed to the concept of a creator when you are a puppet master for this poor little pig. Maybe I should turn his collar off and see if he can still talk... or maybe a big bang will 'accidentally' happen and bring you back into existence.
Percy Micro: You do that and you'll be straight on a plane back to Sierra Leone trying to bring infants back from the dead!
Dallas Culture: Yeah Esther, don't. You don't know what he's capable of.
Esther: Hmm. Am I going crazy or is everyone fearing a voice? Of who? Some sort of mafia boss or something? Why does he need to hide behind a pig?
Dallas Culture: ESTHER! Keep quiet!
Culture gets up from the couch and stands over a laptop which is resting on the kitchenette work surface.
Brent Alpine: Aw cuz, you aint hunting down fetish porn again, are ya drongo?
Dallas Culture: I have felt an urging from the Universe that, to really KNOW Caleb Ronan, we need to go to the place he most considers home.
Brent Alpine: Twitter?
Dallas Culture: No, his college campus!
Percy Micro: And how would we find that, you esoteric ignoramus?
Dallas Culture: Google is my friend! See - 'Caleb, Ronan - Nassau Community College alumni 2015'.
Brent Alpine: To Nassau!
Alpine and his E.M.S. (Earth Moon Son) entourage enter a bar close to campus. Alpine is walking Percy Micro on a lead to numerous jibes from drunk students. A few of them try to touch the pig but Alpine pushes them out the way. Esther immediately receives catcalls and flirtatious comments from a group of partying jocks but Alpine steps in between her and them. The jocks retreat fearfully.
Dallas Culture: Hey, how about we ask her? She looks like she might know Caleb.
He points to a leggy blonde who just so happens to be wearing glitzy open toe heels.
Brent Alpine: No way mate! That flamin' galah has probably never even been in the same area code as a good lookin' Sheila like that. We should ask a loser type... like him.
Alpine approaches a typical internet keyboard warrior troll type - morbidly overweight, greasy, spotty and covered with more body hair than Chewbacca.
Brent Alpine: G'day drongo! Do you happen to know a bloke by the name of Caleb Ronan? He studied here last year.
KY Chewbacca: Can't say I do. Cool story though bro. LOL you suck.
With this, Alpine clasps him around the throat and lifts him off the ground.
KY Chewbacca: OK, OK. Ask the barman. He knows everyone on campus.
They approach the barman. He's a mixed race hipster, busy astounding his clients with a plethora of cocktail mixing chicanery.
Esther: I got this... Excuse me sir.
The barman instantly drops his drinks and gives the elegant lady his full attention.
Hipster Barman: How may I help you, sweet stuff?
Esther: Can you tell me anything about Caleb Ronan?
Hipster Barman: 'Fraid I don't know that one. Is it the one with amaretto and grenadine?
Esther: No, it's not a drink. He's a student here. He was here last year, we believe.
Hipster Barman: Oh Ronan! Yeah I know the guy...
Percy Micro: What is he like?
The barman leans over his bar and sees Percy on a lead. His eyes damn near bulge out of his head.
Hipster Barman: What the hell? I think I've seen it all now.
Dallas Culture: Just go with it.
Hipster Barman: Yeah whatever man. Ronan used to come by here a few times. Cool guy.
Brent Alpine: Fair dinkum. I think we've got the wrong bloke.
Hipster Barman: Always taking selfies, overly sensitive, anxious, always jumping on the latest social injustice bandwagon?
Dallas Culture: That's him!
Hipster Barman: As I said, cool guy. But, you know, I never really knew him. You need to ask Peri.
Esther: Is that his girlfriend?
Hipster Barman: Think so. Dorm 14, block C3 if I recall. Went to a party at her place a few weeks back.
So here we are. Dorm 14, block C3. Except it's actually C2 because C3 hasn't been built yet and the barman was mistaken. Our gang knock on the door.
Peri (inside): Come in.
Esther and Dallas look at each other in confusion at the girls' lack of security consciousness. Alpine just walks straight in with Percy. Inside is Peri, an all-American cherry pie with blonde hair that looks like it was cut off a doll. She lies on her bed, facing away from the door. She is concentrating on cutting and filing her toenails into a small bin at the end of her bed. This particularly takes Dallas Culture's interest and his eyes are fixed on her milky white, dainty feet. Peri pays none of them any heed.
Brent Alpine: Are you Peri?
Peri: The one and only. What can I do ya for?
Percy Micro: Madam, we are enquiring as to your relationship status with one Caleb Ronan. Please clarify.
Completely oblivious to the talking pig in her room, Peri continues her beautifying.
Peri: What relationship status? Ronan was sooo like a little brother or even sister to me. We'd go to totally random protests most weeks. One time we even chained ourselves naked to the lecture hall doors. That was sooo crazy.
Esther: For what cause?
Peri: Cause? Oh yah. Those like seriously oppressive campus administrators had told our friend Lacey that she wasn't allowed to wear her 'I WANT TO EAT YOUR' t-shirt. It was all kinds of hilarious because she had a picture of a cat below the slogan. You know, like pussy. Haha. But all jokes aside, this was like majorly anti-lesbian and it made us cry. Sooo much sad.
Esther sighs in incredulity.
Percy Micro: What's the matter Esther? Surely you can respect a smidgen of social justice. Wasn't your mythical messiah the prince of social justice - feeding the poor, healing the sick, giving hope to the oppressed?
Esther: Jesus didn't fight injustices because he wanted to look good on Twitter. In fact, The Bible says in Matthew 15:8 'these people honour me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me'. I don't see Caleb Ronan standing up to evil. I see him talking about global issues when, deep down, he's one of the most narcissistic, self absorbed individuals I've ever seen. He refers to all the suffering thousands of miles away but contributes to the oppression of those in his own household. Look at his poor parents - they pay his way, they do all his chores, they endure his sulky, selfish attitude. Comparing Ronan to Jesus is tantamount to blasphemy. Brent's got his issues but at least he doesn't put on a façade of righteousness.
Brent Alpine: Hey what do you mean?
Peri: Yeah I have no idea what any of you mean.
Percy Micro: Can you tell us anything more? Brent here will be facing him in a wrestling ring this Sunday. It's important he undertakes a comprehensive review of your friend.
Peri: Umm... well, Ronan loved coming over and eating tubs of ice cream while listening to Barry Manilow and watching my Sex in the City boxset. We are like soooo vintage.
Brent Alpine: OK it's clear - I'm going to be wrestling a teenage girl. I've fought enough of those sort of mongrels at wrestling school. It kinda makes sense. He does have an 'affirmationist'. Only bloody insecure drongos would have one of those.
Dallas Culture: That's a great observation, Brent. You're such a wise man.
Brent Alpine: Thanks mate.
Dallas Culture: Speaking of observations, I notice that your bin is filling up quickly, Peri. Let me take the bin bag out for you.
Culture takes the bag away. As he is walking outside, he retrieves a few of her toenail remains from the bin bag and puts them in his pocket.
Esther: Before we go, is there anyone else who might have some info on Ronan for us?
Peri: Well I only knew a certain side of him. I've heard that he does have more of a manly side. You should go see the football team. Ronan showed up for practice a few times.
So that's where they went. Onto the football field, right in the middle of training. Terrible timing and the team's captain is none too impressed. The burly quarterback strides over to confront the intruders.
Quarterback: Get off the fuckin field.
Esther: Easy there. We're here to ask you about a former player of yours. Caleb Ronan. You know him?
The quarterback's countenance softens and he erupts into contagious laughter.
Quarterback: I know Ronan. All TOO well. We had a... let's just say amusing initiation ceremony for him.
Brent Alpine: Which was?
Quarterback: Well the boys put our heads together and wanted the craziest challenge possible for that scrawny sumbitch. We decided to dress him in a gimp suit with the ass cut out. We fed him laxatives and made him run round campus signing Bonnie Tyler's 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' while shitting uncontrollably. Then we took him into the locker room and collectively gave him a golden shower. It was brutal.
Esther: That's horrendous. Does your momma know you do stuff like this?
Quarterback: Hey, I'm with you lady. I thought it was WAY too far. But Ronan didn't. He kept asking us to give all we got. He started twitching in his eyes and convulsing all over. That shit lasted a few days. By the time we took the field in our next game, dude was jacked. He went into beast mode and we completely dominated the other team. He gets all angry like The Incredible Hulk and all of a sudden he has superhuman strength. We nicknamed him The Literally Amazing Hulk. But the funny thing was... after the match, he began crying in the end zone. He never played for our team again.
Percy Micro: Intriguing. He appears to enjoy degradation. I believe this stems from a latent and masochistic Oedipal Complex. Clearly he has more than familial affection for his mother. This has resulted in a deep seated submission to alpha male types like his father Dale. Why? Because he feels guilt towards Dale for inappropriately desiring his wife, aka. Caleb's mother. Consequently, whenever Dale attacks him, he bends over and concedes. Hence why Caleb has such an attachment to his cell phone. He finds security in its phallic like qualities because it reminds him of his father and, subsequently, his mother. I conclude that Caleb is stuck in a cycle of degradation, then victimisation and ends it with harmless aggression. Therefore, he will be destroyed by Brent on Sunday and happily lay down for more. When Brent has left the ring, then he will take out his frustrations on someone inconsequential like the timekeeper.
Quarterback: Wow, you're pretty smart for a talking pig.
Dallas Culture: This is all very interesting but my spiritual intuition informs me that there is one further piece to this puzzle that we are missing. I sense Ronan's aura nearby and the Universe wants to bless us with more karmic lessons in our path.
Quarterback: What?!
Dallas Culture: Do you know anyone else we can speak to about Ronan?
Quarterback: What about the man himself?
Brent Alpine: HUH?
Quarterback: Ronan. I heard he's back in town. I'll give you the address.
Alpine and the E.M.S. are on tenterhooks as the quarterback types something into Dallas Culture's phone. A stray football nearly collides into them.
Our friends are now outside another door. Alpine rallies the troops.
Brent Alpine: Look dingos, if Caleb Ronan is in here, this may turn a bit cranky. Let's try and keep this no drama. I want the bloke in his best condition for Slam. This is just about us saying 'hi, how ya goin mate?'. No monkey business.
With that, Brent delivers a sturdy knock on the door. The following man answers.
The comical looking figure speaks in an unusual, mentally deficient Irish accent.
Man: What's the craic? Alright fellas and lady and... err pig. How can I help ye?
Brent Alpine: Caleb?
Caleb: That's me lad. What can I do ye fer?
Brent Alpine: WCF wrestler Caleb Ronan?
Caleb: No way. Perpetual loser Ronan Caleb.
Brent Alpine: Same thing. You say potaaaaata, I say potato.
Ronan Caleb: No, no fella. Not the same thing. He's Caleb Ronan. I'm Ronan Caleb. It's quite funny really, so it is.
Dallas Culture: You mean you're an entirely different person? Don't you have the same traits though - social justice obsessed, eye ticks, millennial narcissism and so on...
Ronan Caleb: Well yeah but I'm special and unique. Hang on - SELFY TIME!
Before he can get his selfy stick into place, Alpine slams the door shut.
imthehope.blogspot.com
I'm the Hope
May 21st 2016
Enough Rope to Hang Yourself
I wouldn't call myself a writer. Don't get me wrong; I am sublimely literate but words just seem so wretchedly inadequate to express the magnificence that I embody. Man has tried and failed for eons to contain brilliance within books - Bibles, Qur'ans, Vedas, 50 Shades of Greys... All of these texts are just flashes in the pan. No one reads them these days. Yet, I, 'The Shine' Brent Alpine will be eternally studied, interpreted and will divinely inspire generations upon generations. I transcend religion, culture and ethnicity.
My new friend Esther is cute but she's sadly deceived. Despite what Percy says, it's not the God bit that's easy to object to. After all, intelligent design is a given. Am I not testament to that fact? How can a being so masterfully crafted like I be solely the result of some random chemical accident? It's laughably inconceivable.
Where Esther is going astray is all her talk of Jesus, salvation, transformation and reconciliation. Christians have a dim view on humanity - that we are all deeply flawed and in need of restoration and redemption. They feel like they need to help people and run around like headless chickens trying to feed grubby mouths in putrid soup kitchens. So much effort. They think they are lights in a dark world. A bit like our deluded friend Ronan Caleb, or whatever he's called. It's all about action. I am more about BEING. I AM MORE ABOUT SHINING. If anyone wants my light, it's freely available. Just come stand under my loving glow.
You could argue that I sympathise more with my cousin Dallas' theology. He believes humanity is inherently good and that their goodness lies within; just waiting to come out if we love and accept ourselves enough. According to him, we are all spiritually connected and will grow to perfection through karma; only accelerated by silencing our ego and transcending the illusions of mind. Where Esther's cup is half empty, Dallas' is half full. But the fact is that neither cup is full.
Percy Micro takes an entirely different view. His stance is nihilistic. He feels that we are all broken with no hope of being fixed. He subscribes to a godless society where psychology reigns and reason is our only respite from utter pandemonium.
Secretly, all three of my new handlers (Earth, Moon and Son - Percy, Dallas and Esther respectively) believe that they are controlling me. They believe that their worldview will eventually prevail within my belief set. How can I navigate between these, you might ask?
My position is clear. Esther believes that God is external but superior to man. I agree but disagree. Dallas believes that God is internal and equal to man. I agree but disagree. Percy believes that god is a myth that is inferior to man. I agree but disagree.
What truly happened is this. God created 'The Shine'. And he saw it was good. In fact, it was better than he intended because of an accidental big bang that interfered in the creation process. Like evolution at its best, the creation soon surpassed the creator. God then decided to retire and let me just shine.
People ARE broken. They can't be fixed and there's no need for them to be fixed. This world doesn't need them. It only needs 'The Shine' Brent Alpine to sustain its life.
It offends my deity to see the shameless self absorption of Caleb Ronan. Considering that I, in my greatness, am so modest, how can Ronan be so stunningly arrogant in his overwhelming paucity? He is addicted to selfies because there's no one who wants to take his picture. He needs his affirmationist, Frank Brown, because someone to tell him the truth would be too painful. He projects his concern on world corruption because he cannot face his own innate ruin. He desires to be a writer because it's his escape from reality.
It doesn't matter that we didn't find Caleb Ronan at that college. He is a dime a dozen. For every Caleb Ronan, there's a Ronan Caleb. Insignificant, narcissistic, dull. He puts the 'gene' in 'generic'. How can someone be so amazingly unamazing? It really is a talent. If his eyes have been twitching lately, imagine what they will do when they dare to cast a gaze at my effervescence! What a trigger that will be! Just a shame he's firing blanks.
I read his comments about me. They were an excellent cure for insomnia (it takes a lot to subdue my abundance of energy). I think he must be undergoing some sort of mental trauma because he wrote as though I have been in the WCF before. Poor child. If I had been in the WCF previously, it would be an occurrence so cataclysmic that the world would never be the same again. No, no, this Sunday is my debut. He has the honour of my first match which, coincidentally, will be his last. But at least I'll give him a participation award!
He said he always wanted to be a writer but wrestling is his means to an end. He's just awaiting his writing break. Well, I'll give him a break this Sunday. It has been said that the greatest literature has been penned from tragedy. I look forward to being his muse.
The Classic Tournament provides the steps to my throne. At Blast, I will become WCF World Champion in merely my third match. Sometimes it makes me sad to be so much greater than everyone else and then I simply remember, I raise up and give light to whoever is near me. The WCF deserves to truly Shine.
Voice: I want Hershey bar! I want Hershey bar!
It's a gargantuan of a patient - a mid-40s balding giant in a gown smeared with vomit. His pupils are dilated and his ample frame is aggressively taut. A tiny young nurse half-heartedly attempts to restrain him while reaching for a syringe in her pocket.
Nurse: Please Royston, get back in your room. We'll order you a Hershey tomorrow.
Patient: NOW HERSHEY! NOW! I want... IT'S YOU.
The giant stops in his tracks and quivers at the sight of you. He submissively wilts and slithers back into his room like a feeble slug.
Nurse: Sir! Visiting hours are over.
You simply stand there. She registers who you are.
Nurse: My mistake sir. I'm sorry, please go on ahead.
You walk past her but she meekly continues alongside you, as if to make things right.
Nurse: He's better today. Still no memory of the last few years but he seems so much more lucid. Anyway, I'll do the necessary.
She pulls out the syringe and goes on ahead of you through the nearest door on the left. This is routine for her now.
Voice (off screen): Aw g'day Belinda. How ya goin? NO, NOT THAT BLOODY THING AGAI...(fades into unconsciousness)
Nurse Belinda: Sorry Brent.
She comes back out into the corridor.
Nurse Belinda: Can I just ask... what are you going to do with him this time?
Your hand raises to her like a stop sign. She immediately cowers and retreats back down the hallway like a scolded dog. You enter the room that she previously visited.
Inside, unconscious and strapped to the bed is the man once known as 'The Shine' Brent Alpine. You stand at his bedside and open the black suitcase. A panicked miniature pig waddles out and tries to flee but your mighty gloved hand clasps it round the throat. You lift it up onto Alpine's bed and attach a black collar gadget around the pig. On its forehead is a circular, 360 degree cam and a microphone sits beneath the snout. You let the pig roam free on Alpine's bed. Predictably, he scurries and delves like the wild animal he is. Just as he starts to snuffle around Brent's crotch area, you give him a whack to the back of his head and he stands upright and alert like a soldier acquiescing to a superior's command.
AN HOUR LATER
The micro pig is sleeping on Brent's chest. After stirring slightly, Alpine's eyes open in startled shock.
Brent Alpine: Bloody hell! A little pig! NURSE BELINDA!
The noise wakes the pig. Suddenly a red light shines from his collar. A robotic sounding voice emanates from it.
Voice: Greetings Mr. Alpine. I am Percy Micro.
Brent Alpine: STREWTH! I must be a whack job after all. A talking pig?!
Percy Micro: Of course I'm not a talking pig. It is merely a proxy.
Brent Alpine: A proxy for what? Or whom?
Percy Micro: For your escape. It is time to depart from here, Mr. Alpine. I have colossal plans for you.
Brent Alpine: They won't let me leave. I've tried repeatedly mate.
Percy Micro: They will now. All you need to do is to keep me close at all times. Then just walk out. Anyone who stops you is answerable to me.
Brent Alpine: And then what? Where do I go next?
Percy Micro: To the place you will fulfil your destiny. There is one condition, however. You must keep me... well, this pig... nearby every moment, unless instructed of course.
With a 'here goes nothing' mind-set, Alpine carries the micro pig and, with slight trepidation, leaves through the door.
We are now in an office marked 'WCF Creative'. A typical nerd type sits behind a production studio of many monitors and switches. Percy Micro is sat obediently on the wooden surface and Brent Alpine stands over the nerd, staring into the main screen.
Creative Nerd: This is gonna be unreal. We have cooked up a crazy hot video to promote you, Brent. The ratings for this Slam are gonna be SICK, sky high, off the MOFO hook.
Brent Alpine: Easy drongo. Just play the bloody video.
The nerd hits a switch and the vignette plays.
Creative Nerd: So... what do you think?
Brent Alpine: I love it mate. There's only one way it could be improved - more of me!
Percy Micro: Brent's being polite. Frankly, it was an abomination.
The nerd looks crushed.
Percy Micro: You're being paid? For THAT? It looked like a 5 year old scribbling on Microsoft Paint. And don't get me started on the annoying ditty.
Creative Nerd: Look, I'm new here. We had to scale back a lot after the company's recent... err, restructuring. This is the best we can get out with this budget and in a short space of time. I'm sorry.
Brent Alpine: I thought it was pretty damn bonzer for a debut promo.
Creative Nerd: Debut? Don't you mean return?
Percy Micro: HUSH! Mr. Alpine, could you please excuse us one minute? Feel free to get yourself a slurpee from the canteen.
Brent Alpine: Fair dinkum mate.
Alpine leaves the room.
Percy Micro: As I told you, Brent doesn't remember the last three years. As far as he's concerned, this is his debut in the WCF. And that's the way it will remain. His delusion is... useful to me.
Creative Nerd: Hey sorry man, I forgot. Are you sure he's in fit state to return? Mentally I mean?
Percy Micro: He's in the best state possible. You see, Brent has always been a rather exquisite weapon. All weapons, however, need human direction. A gun cannot fire on its own. A sword not wielded might as well be blunt. Two and a half years ago, Brent was an indestructible weapon under my yielding. Sadly, he fell into wrong hands. He was commandeered by Sequitus. It was like giving a child an atom bomb. They pressed the destruct button too early. I have rebuilt Mr. Alpine at my institution and he is no longer capable of such self-sabotage as I rule him with an iron fist.
Creative Nerd: I'll level with you, Percy, the executives are concerned. We're obviously delighted to have a talent of his calibre back but not without a little more guidance and safeguarding.
Percy Micro: Those are also functions I fulfil more than adequately, thank you very much.
Creative Nerd: Sure, sure, I agree. But the bosses want more. They want a pastoral team to surround Brent. At least until he's back on track.
Percy Micro: NO! I am quite sufficient!
Creative Nerd: Look, I'm just the messenger. The execs have told me that Brent needs another two carers or his contract will be terminated effective immediately. We can't afford the lawsuit.
Percy Micro: HOW DARE YOU? DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!
Creative Nerd: Of course we do. Which is why we'll give you a concession. The WCF will recruit one member of this pastoral care team. It'll be someone with a medical background to maintain Brent's health. As a favour to you, we will let you hire the other member of the team. The job spec will be to your tailoring. Is that a deal?
Before Percy can answer, Alpine walks back in the room with a blue slurpee in hand and a huge childlike grin adorning his face.
Brent Alpine: G'DAY DRONGOS!
A familiar young blonde haired man sits in the lotus position with his eyes closed in reverence for the Universe. He is clad in a white tank top, wrapped by a giant purple scarf and his lower regions are framed way too tightly by a pair of light blue leggings. He opens his eyes for a moment to see that he is still alone in front of a grid of empty yoga mats. Dejected, he closes his eyes again and begins to 'OMMM'.
He is startled by the ringing of his cell phone. He immediately removes it from his pocket and hurriedly answers it. He speaks in a soft Australian accent with every word articulated with snobbish perfection.
Yoga Teacher: Namaste! This is Dallas Culture's Yoga Ashram. How can I be of service?
Female Voice (on phone): Hi Dallas. It's Marissa.
Dallas Culture: Marissa sweetie. Are you joining me for some yoga adventures?
Marissa (on phone): Well that's why I'm calling. Dallas, I just don't know. I wanted to come, I really did, but I've heard some unsettling rumours about you.
Dallas Culture: I did NOT suck Janine's toes! She was doing the Tittibhasana Firefly Pose and her form was so bad that her foot just happened to encroach my mouth. And because I was in a deep state of zen stillness, I didn't realise. It was an accident. Please don't leave the group!
Marissa (on phone): What? Eww! I didn't hear THAT rumour.
Dallas Culture (sighing in relief): Oh... what rumour did you hear?
Marissa (on phone): That you'd put your class prices up. So you have a thing about feet? That makes sense to me now! I thought you said all the foot massages were you just trying to balance my sacral energies.
Dallas Culture: Erm, ah... I haven't put the class prices up. In fact, it's now half price for you! Please come down. Remember, no socks or sneakers - they ruin my flooring.
Marissa (on phone): FREAK!
She hangs up. Dallas exhales nervously. Suddenly, his doorbell rings. He rushes to let in his guest. When he opens the door, he sees no one there. Upon further inspection, he finds a small note at his doorstep. It reads -
Need a job? Brent's back. He requires your 'spiritual guidance'. Call me. Percy.
Culture puts the note in his pocket and smiles contently.
We are now deep in the heart of a Sierra Leone jungle. A pretty young nurse is breathing into the mouth of an unresponsive baby. Its brown skin has an alarming blue tinge. The child's mother is in a mess of tears on the leafy terrain. The father is pacing angrily around the nurse.
Father: WHAT ARE YOU DOING? You need to bring our baby back!
The nurse withdraws and resorts to gentle CPR.
Mother: Lord have mercy on us! Where are you almighty one? We need you. Our baby needs you.
Nurse: Please Jesus. Please Jesus. Please...
The dimming light in the child's eyes fades out. It is dead. The nurse stops. She stares over the baby in immeasurable shock. The parents read her body language and do not need to be told what's happened. The mother wails and sobs and it's almost as if her heart audibly breaks.
Father: You useless woman. Where is your God? Where is your God now?!
The sky is black with dread. The nurse is crossing the jungle, stumbling through high reeds and brushing past coarse leaves. Bitter tears obscure her vision and her breath is rough and rapid.
Nurse: Where were you God? You said you'd never leave nor forsake me but I can't see you Lord. How is that just?! I need to get out of here.
She stops and gazes up at the charcoal sky.
Nurse: Where ARE you?
A brilliant radiance seeps out through the clouds. BLEEP! Her pager goes off. It reads -
Esther, come back to base. We've had a call from America. You're wanted on an assignment.
Our latest location is a room within a skyscraper hotel. Brent Alpine stares out at the sights of New York City below. Meanwhile, watching the TV, 'The Vulture' Dallas Culture sits next to Esther who is stroking Percy Micro on her lap. On the screen, they are watching Caleb Ronan's WCF match with Freezer Burn.
Esther: The guy's a piece of work but I have to admit, he's good for a rookie.
Dallas Culture: I still can't believe he accused me of toe sucking without consent! I could sue him for such inflammatory accusations... yet I have compassion and unconditional love which prevents me from sinking to such low vibing behaviour.
Esther: I wouldn't listen to him. He said I'm from the Westboro Baptist Church. For someone who preaches nonjudgement and tolerance, he's way too quick to insinuate I'm a fundamentalist loonie just because I'm a Christian. What a hypocrite!
Alpine walks towards the TV.
Brent Alpine: Come on dingos, why ya watching this? I've got the match in the bag. There's no way I'm losing my debut against that little child.
Percy Micro: Mr. Alpine, if I may, this team strategy meeting is all about the marginal gains. It's as clear as day to us that you will utterly annihilate this Caleb Ronan individual. However, as this is your... err, first match, we wish to ensure that you win as comprehensively as possible. If you can get in Ronan's psyche, you can not only defeat him, you can obliterate him from the inside out. That is why you need to listen to my analysis - just me, not these two fruit loops.
Esther: Hey! The WCF obviously think I have something to offer Brent.
Percy Micro: Heaven knows what! In fact, heaven doesn't know what because it ISN'T REAL. It's a fairy tale, just like the rest of your antiquated beliefs. You are Brent's nurse and solely his nurse. He doesn't need to know Jesus as his 'personal Lord and saviour'. If anyone is his Lord, it might as well be the Flying Spaghetti Monster because he's just as plausible!
Esther: Richard Dawkins called - he wants his material back. Heh. I think it's ironic that you're so opposed to the concept of a creator when you are a puppet master for this poor little pig. Maybe I should turn his collar off and see if he can still talk... or maybe a big bang will 'accidentally' happen and bring you back into existence.
Percy Micro: You do that and you'll be straight on a plane back to Sierra Leone trying to bring infants back from the dead!
Dallas Culture: Yeah Esther, don't. You don't know what he's capable of.
Esther: Hmm. Am I going crazy or is everyone fearing a voice? Of who? Some sort of mafia boss or something? Why does he need to hide behind a pig?
Dallas Culture: ESTHER! Keep quiet!
Culture gets up from the couch and stands over a laptop which is resting on the kitchenette work surface.
Brent Alpine: Aw cuz, you aint hunting down fetish porn again, are ya drongo?
Dallas Culture: I have felt an urging from the Universe that, to really KNOW Caleb Ronan, we need to go to the place he most considers home.
Brent Alpine: Twitter?
Dallas Culture: No, his college campus!
Percy Micro: And how would we find that, you esoteric ignoramus?
Dallas Culture: Google is my friend! See - 'Caleb, Ronan - Nassau Community College alumni 2015'.
Brent Alpine: To Nassau!
Alpine and his E.M.S. (Earth Moon Son) entourage enter a bar close to campus. Alpine is walking Percy Micro on a lead to numerous jibes from drunk students. A few of them try to touch the pig but Alpine pushes them out the way. Esther immediately receives catcalls and flirtatious comments from a group of partying jocks but Alpine steps in between her and them. The jocks retreat fearfully.
Dallas Culture: Hey, how about we ask her? She looks like she might know Caleb.
He points to a leggy blonde who just so happens to be wearing glitzy open toe heels.
Brent Alpine: No way mate! That flamin' galah has probably never even been in the same area code as a good lookin' Sheila like that. We should ask a loser type... like him.
Alpine approaches a typical internet keyboard warrior troll type - morbidly overweight, greasy, spotty and covered with more body hair than Chewbacca.
Brent Alpine: G'day drongo! Do you happen to know a bloke by the name of Caleb Ronan? He studied here last year.
KY Chewbacca: Can't say I do. Cool story though bro. LOL you suck.
With this, Alpine clasps him around the throat and lifts him off the ground.
KY Chewbacca: OK, OK. Ask the barman. He knows everyone on campus.
They approach the barman. He's a mixed race hipster, busy astounding his clients with a plethora of cocktail mixing chicanery.
Esther: I got this... Excuse me sir.
The barman instantly drops his drinks and gives the elegant lady his full attention.
Hipster Barman: How may I help you, sweet stuff?
Esther: Can you tell me anything about Caleb Ronan?
Hipster Barman: 'Fraid I don't know that one. Is it the one with amaretto and grenadine?
Esther: No, it's not a drink. He's a student here. He was here last year, we believe.
Hipster Barman: Oh Ronan! Yeah I know the guy...
Percy Micro: What is he like?
The barman leans over his bar and sees Percy on a lead. His eyes damn near bulge out of his head.
Hipster Barman: What the hell? I think I've seen it all now.
Dallas Culture: Just go with it.
Hipster Barman: Yeah whatever man. Ronan used to come by here a few times. Cool guy.
Brent Alpine: Fair dinkum. I think we've got the wrong bloke.
Hipster Barman: Always taking selfies, overly sensitive, anxious, always jumping on the latest social injustice bandwagon?
Dallas Culture: That's him!
Hipster Barman: As I said, cool guy. But, you know, I never really knew him. You need to ask Peri.
Esther: Is that his girlfriend?
Hipster Barman: Think so. Dorm 14, block C3 if I recall. Went to a party at her place a few weeks back.
So here we are. Dorm 14, block C3. Except it's actually C2 because C3 hasn't been built yet and the barman was mistaken. Our gang knock on the door.
Peri (inside): Come in.
Esther and Dallas look at each other in confusion at the girls' lack of security consciousness. Alpine just walks straight in with Percy. Inside is Peri, an all-American cherry pie with blonde hair that looks like it was cut off a doll. She lies on her bed, facing away from the door. She is concentrating on cutting and filing her toenails into a small bin at the end of her bed. This particularly takes Dallas Culture's interest and his eyes are fixed on her milky white, dainty feet. Peri pays none of them any heed.
Brent Alpine: Are you Peri?
Peri: The one and only. What can I do ya for?
Percy Micro: Madam, we are enquiring as to your relationship status with one Caleb Ronan. Please clarify.
Completely oblivious to the talking pig in her room, Peri continues her beautifying.
Peri: What relationship status? Ronan was sooo like a little brother or even sister to me. We'd go to totally random protests most weeks. One time we even chained ourselves naked to the lecture hall doors. That was sooo crazy.
Esther: For what cause?
Peri: Cause? Oh yah. Those like seriously oppressive campus administrators had told our friend Lacey that she wasn't allowed to wear her 'I WANT TO EAT YOUR' t-shirt. It was all kinds of hilarious because she had a picture of a cat below the slogan. You know, like pussy. Haha. But all jokes aside, this was like majorly anti-lesbian and it made us cry. Sooo much sad.
Esther sighs in incredulity.
Percy Micro: What's the matter Esther? Surely you can respect a smidgen of social justice. Wasn't your mythical messiah the prince of social justice - feeding the poor, healing the sick, giving hope to the oppressed?
Esther: Jesus didn't fight injustices because he wanted to look good on Twitter. In fact, The Bible says in Matthew 15:8 'these people honour me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me'. I don't see Caleb Ronan standing up to evil. I see him talking about global issues when, deep down, he's one of the most narcissistic, self absorbed individuals I've ever seen. He refers to all the suffering thousands of miles away but contributes to the oppression of those in his own household. Look at his poor parents - they pay his way, they do all his chores, they endure his sulky, selfish attitude. Comparing Ronan to Jesus is tantamount to blasphemy. Brent's got his issues but at least he doesn't put on a façade of righteousness.
Brent Alpine: Hey what do you mean?
Peri: Yeah I have no idea what any of you mean.
Percy Micro: Can you tell us anything more? Brent here will be facing him in a wrestling ring this Sunday. It's important he undertakes a comprehensive review of your friend.
Peri: Umm... well, Ronan loved coming over and eating tubs of ice cream while listening to Barry Manilow and watching my Sex in the City boxset. We are like soooo vintage.
Brent Alpine: OK it's clear - I'm going to be wrestling a teenage girl. I've fought enough of those sort of mongrels at wrestling school. It kinda makes sense. He does have an 'affirmationist'. Only bloody insecure drongos would have one of those.
Dallas Culture: That's a great observation, Brent. You're such a wise man.
Brent Alpine: Thanks mate.
Dallas Culture: Speaking of observations, I notice that your bin is filling up quickly, Peri. Let me take the bin bag out for you.
Culture takes the bag away. As he is walking outside, he retrieves a few of her toenail remains from the bin bag and puts them in his pocket.
Esther: Before we go, is there anyone else who might have some info on Ronan for us?
Peri: Well I only knew a certain side of him. I've heard that he does have more of a manly side. You should go see the football team. Ronan showed up for practice a few times.
So that's where they went. Onto the football field, right in the middle of training. Terrible timing and the team's captain is none too impressed. The burly quarterback strides over to confront the intruders.
Quarterback: Get off the fuckin field.
Esther: Easy there. We're here to ask you about a former player of yours. Caleb Ronan. You know him?
The quarterback's countenance softens and he erupts into contagious laughter.
Quarterback: I know Ronan. All TOO well. We had a... let's just say amusing initiation ceremony for him.
Brent Alpine: Which was?
Quarterback: Well the boys put our heads together and wanted the craziest challenge possible for that scrawny sumbitch. We decided to dress him in a gimp suit with the ass cut out. We fed him laxatives and made him run round campus signing Bonnie Tyler's 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' while shitting uncontrollably. Then we took him into the locker room and collectively gave him a golden shower. It was brutal.
Esther: That's horrendous. Does your momma know you do stuff like this?
Quarterback: Hey, I'm with you lady. I thought it was WAY too far. But Ronan didn't. He kept asking us to give all we got. He started twitching in his eyes and convulsing all over. That shit lasted a few days. By the time we took the field in our next game, dude was jacked. He went into beast mode and we completely dominated the other team. He gets all angry like The Incredible Hulk and all of a sudden he has superhuman strength. We nicknamed him The Literally Amazing Hulk. But the funny thing was... after the match, he began crying in the end zone. He never played for our team again.
Percy Micro: Intriguing. He appears to enjoy degradation. I believe this stems from a latent and masochistic Oedipal Complex. Clearly he has more than familial affection for his mother. This has resulted in a deep seated submission to alpha male types like his father Dale. Why? Because he feels guilt towards Dale for inappropriately desiring his wife, aka. Caleb's mother. Consequently, whenever Dale attacks him, he bends over and concedes. Hence why Caleb has such an attachment to his cell phone. He finds security in its phallic like qualities because it reminds him of his father and, subsequently, his mother. I conclude that Caleb is stuck in a cycle of degradation, then victimisation and ends it with harmless aggression. Therefore, he will be destroyed by Brent on Sunday and happily lay down for more. When Brent has left the ring, then he will take out his frustrations on someone inconsequential like the timekeeper.
Quarterback: Wow, you're pretty smart for a talking pig.
Dallas Culture: This is all very interesting but my spiritual intuition informs me that there is one further piece to this puzzle that we are missing. I sense Ronan's aura nearby and the Universe wants to bless us with more karmic lessons in our path.
Quarterback: What?!
Dallas Culture: Do you know anyone else we can speak to about Ronan?
Quarterback: What about the man himself?
Brent Alpine: HUH?
Quarterback: Ronan. I heard he's back in town. I'll give you the address.
Alpine and the E.M.S. are on tenterhooks as the quarterback types something into Dallas Culture's phone. A stray football nearly collides into them.
Our friends are now outside another door. Alpine rallies the troops.
Brent Alpine: Look dingos, if Caleb Ronan is in here, this may turn a bit cranky. Let's try and keep this no drama. I want the bloke in his best condition for Slam. This is just about us saying 'hi, how ya goin mate?'. No monkey business.
With that, Brent delivers a sturdy knock on the door. The following man answers.
The comical looking figure speaks in an unusual, mentally deficient Irish accent.
Man: What's the craic? Alright fellas and lady and... err pig. How can I help ye?
Brent Alpine: Caleb?
Caleb: That's me lad. What can I do ye fer?
Brent Alpine: WCF wrestler Caleb Ronan?
Caleb: No way. Perpetual loser Ronan Caleb.
Brent Alpine: Same thing. You say potaaaaata, I say potato.
Ronan Caleb: No, no fella. Not the same thing. He's Caleb Ronan. I'm Ronan Caleb. It's quite funny really, so it is.
Dallas Culture: You mean you're an entirely different person? Don't you have the same traits though - social justice obsessed, eye ticks, millennial narcissism and so on...
Ronan Caleb: Well yeah but I'm special and unique. Hang on - SELFY TIME!
Before he can get his selfy stick into place, Alpine slams the door shut.
imthehope.blogspot.com
I'm the Hope
May 21st 2016
Enough Rope to Hang Yourself
I wouldn't call myself a writer. Don't get me wrong; I am sublimely literate but words just seem so wretchedly inadequate to express the magnificence that I embody. Man has tried and failed for eons to contain brilliance within books - Bibles, Qur'ans, Vedas, 50 Shades of Greys... All of these texts are just flashes in the pan. No one reads them these days. Yet, I, 'The Shine' Brent Alpine will be eternally studied, interpreted and will divinely inspire generations upon generations. I transcend religion, culture and ethnicity.
My new friend Esther is cute but she's sadly deceived. Despite what Percy says, it's not the God bit that's easy to object to. After all, intelligent design is a given. Am I not testament to that fact? How can a being so masterfully crafted like I be solely the result of some random chemical accident? It's laughably inconceivable.
Where Esther is going astray is all her talk of Jesus, salvation, transformation and reconciliation. Christians have a dim view on humanity - that we are all deeply flawed and in need of restoration and redemption. They feel like they need to help people and run around like headless chickens trying to feed grubby mouths in putrid soup kitchens. So much effort. They think they are lights in a dark world. A bit like our deluded friend Ronan Caleb, or whatever he's called. It's all about action. I am more about BEING. I AM MORE ABOUT SHINING. If anyone wants my light, it's freely available. Just come stand under my loving glow.
You could argue that I sympathise more with my cousin Dallas' theology. He believes humanity is inherently good and that their goodness lies within; just waiting to come out if we love and accept ourselves enough. According to him, we are all spiritually connected and will grow to perfection through karma; only accelerated by silencing our ego and transcending the illusions of mind. Where Esther's cup is half empty, Dallas' is half full. But the fact is that neither cup is full.
Percy Micro takes an entirely different view. His stance is nihilistic. He feels that we are all broken with no hope of being fixed. He subscribes to a godless society where psychology reigns and reason is our only respite from utter pandemonium.
Secretly, all three of my new handlers (Earth, Moon and Son - Percy, Dallas and Esther respectively) believe that they are controlling me. They believe that their worldview will eventually prevail within my belief set. How can I navigate between these, you might ask?
My position is clear. Esther believes that God is external but superior to man. I agree but disagree. Dallas believes that God is internal and equal to man. I agree but disagree. Percy believes that god is a myth that is inferior to man. I agree but disagree.
What truly happened is this. God created 'The Shine'. And he saw it was good. In fact, it was better than he intended because of an accidental big bang that interfered in the creation process. Like evolution at its best, the creation soon surpassed the creator. God then decided to retire and let me just shine.
People ARE broken. They can't be fixed and there's no need for them to be fixed. This world doesn't need them. It only needs 'The Shine' Brent Alpine to sustain its life.
It offends my deity to see the shameless self absorption of Caleb Ronan. Considering that I, in my greatness, am so modest, how can Ronan be so stunningly arrogant in his overwhelming paucity? He is addicted to selfies because there's no one who wants to take his picture. He needs his affirmationist, Frank Brown, because someone to tell him the truth would be too painful. He projects his concern on world corruption because he cannot face his own innate ruin. He desires to be a writer because it's his escape from reality.
It doesn't matter that we didn't find Caleb Ronan at that college. He is a dime a dozen. For every Caleb Ronan, there's a Ronan Caleb. Insignificant, narcissistic, dull. He puts the 'gene' in 'generic'. How can someone be so amazingly unamazing? It really is a talent. If his eyes have been twitching lately, imagine what they will do when they dare to cast a gaze at my effervescence! What a trigger that will be! Just a shame he's firing blanks.
I read his comments about me. They were an excellent cure for insomnia (it takes a lot to subdue my abundance of energy). I think he must be undergoing some sort of mental trauma because he wrote as though I have been in the WCF before. Poor child. If I had been in the WCF previously, it would be an occurrence so cataclysmic that the world would never be the same again. No, no, this Sunday is my debut. He has the honour of my first match which, coincidentally, will be his last. But at least I'll give him a participation award!
He said he always wanted to be a writer but wrestling is his means to an end. He's just awaiting his writing break. Well, I'll give him a break this Sunday. It has been said that the greatest literature has been penned from tragedy. I look forward to being his muse.
The Classic Tournament provides the steps to my throne. At Blast, I will become WCF World Champion in merely my third match. Sometimes it makes me sad to be so much greater than everyone else and then I simply remember, I raise up and give light to whoever is near me. The WCF deserves to truly Shine.
