Goin' to Hell to Get My Dick Sucked Sept 26, 2021 13:20:37 GMT -5 Lissie Hope and Trey Bouchet like this
Post by lethe on Sept 26, 2021 13:20:37 GMT -5
"Don't kick me out, I'll burn it down, I'll burn it down
Go fuck yourself, I'll burn it down, I'll burn it down
Let me talk to your manager, I swear he's my friend
Don't kick me out, go fuck yourself"
Progressively closer. Something wooden and heavy hitting and then bouncing off of something hollow and metal.
And then there is light, finally. A puddle of light catching on the ragged edges of the drainage pipe. It’s covered in decades worth of graffiti and tags and the paint is peeling up in places where it’s gotten too thick.
The banging is getting closer, the reverb of metal singing with every blow is getting louder. Lethe finally steps into the light and for a moment the blank, dead eyes of the Minnie Mouse mask that she wears look like they glow like a predator’s. “What the fuckkkkk,” she sing songed, dragging out some words and not others, the cadence jarring and uncomfortable.
She swings the pink baseball bat, studded in nails and spikes and broken pieces of glass, wrapped up in rusted barbed wire. The bat is older than it looks. The bat has seen some shit. Lethe let it hit the metal side of the drainage pipe one more time.
“What the fuckkkk does it mean when both of the people that you beat last week are suddenly just a little bit closer to the main event than you are? When last week I beat Niamh and Josiah Howard and now they’re both up there… facing CVO and here I am scraping the bottom of the goddamn barrel again. What does that meaaaaan?”
A tilt of the head, Minnie Mouse mask swaying. Behind the mask, a smile that promised something nasty. “Nothinggggggg,” she sang. “It means nothing. Did you think it did?”
Her beaten up black boots sent a spray of brackish water into the air as she stomped out of the drainage ditch. The light followed her as she kicked her way through the weeds and up into the crumbling remains of a parking lot. “It doesn’t mean anything because even if those two boring ass fucks were in the main event while I was still curtain jerking it still wouldn’t change anything.”
Lethe laughed, the puddle of light following her as she pushed through the rotting, mildewed canvas of an old circus tent, faded red stripes bleeding into white. “Fuckin’ humans, we used to be apex predators. I mean, technically we still are. Or we could be. But most of us have gotten a little too comfortable with domestication. We don’t have to get our hands dirty anymore to have our needs met so we’ve gotten lazy and we’ve gotten stupid. Slow. Dumb. Fumbling.”
Lethe stares at her reflection bouncing back at her from every angle, some of them distorted and warped. The funhouse mirrors make it difficult to tell which one is the real Lethe. “But back when we used to be apex predators we practiced something called persistence hunting. Endurance hunting. A fuckin’ human would just… follow you. We got a little slow on two legs but we made up for it by just not fuckin’ stoping. Ever. We followed whatever it was we were hunting until it got tired. Until it got overheated. Until it just dropped from exhaustion because we didn’t give up once we got a thing’s scent.”
“And that kind of freaks us out, subconsciously. The things we used to do. The idea of it being used against us. This shit is all still stored in our lizard brains, that piece of us that hasn’t evolved or moved on from the fuckin’ monsters we used to be. It’s why we’ve played with the idea in our horror movies and our media. Because subconsciously we’re scared of that piece of us that still thinks like a fuckin’ predator. We create things like Michael Myers and Jason and Freddy who keep coming and coming and coming once they smell blood in the water. No matter how many times you think you’ve escaped ‘em or killed ‘em or finally beat ‘em… you’re never free because they just don’t stop.”
The light glints off of the studs in the baseball bat, the ones that aren’t covered in rust or blood or some combination of the two as the blank Minnie Mouse eyes reflect back from a dozen angles. “That’s why it doesn’t matter where the people I’ve put behind me are at. What they’re doing. It doesn’t matter what you put in front of me, it doesn’t matter how many times they might think they have me beat. I will keep walking. Keep running. Keep hunting. It doesn’t matter where Niamh and Josiah are on the show because they’ve already drank from Oblivion. They’re already useless background noise. What matters is what’s in front of me and that’s John Blade… which is…” Lethe snorted. “I’m rolling my eyes. I want that on record.”
Lifting the bat, Lethe shifts her stance like a baseball player. She points the battered end of the bat towards one of the Lethe reflections before she swings, the mirror shattering and leaving a gaping hole in the dark. “One, two, three and John Blade will make four. And at this point… doesn’t it get tempting to lean on that? Doesn’t it get real fuckin’ tempting to start thinkin’ that that means you can’t lose? Propping your whole identity up on this undefeated streak. But streaks end. It’s inevitable. What matters is that John Blade isn’t gonna be the one to end it. What matters is that even when someone does it won’t stop me from running this company down until it’s tired. Until it’s weak.”
A smirk that promised something, hidden beneath a mask. “Until it’s me.”