Masuda Teijin Gets Cast in the Live Action Cowboy Bebop
Oct 16, 2021 6:12:46 GMT -5
Trey Bouchet and Paul Mall like this
Post by Deleted on Oct 16, 2021 6:12:46 GMT -5
We open to a grand scene as only Kurosawa could direct of an imperial daimyo. Samurai sit around an elevated stage; suddenly, The Emperor enters in flowing garment spectacled by his traditional seal: the family name of Masuda. It closes in on Teijin moments before he breaks the scene.
“Cut!
It’s not the same, but I couldn’t get back the deposit. So here we are running some glib scene meant for Tsukiko—only now it’s venerable saint Paul Mall during his dark horse candidacy. I’m verklempt. Surely, I’m not the only one that put money on the Fox last week or had Cheyenne Walker “all the way”.
No matter because this tournament is my hero song. My cementing moment into AW history. I spent a fortune for this set because it actually fucking hurts my soul that it’s taken so long to get here. On the cusp of kicking Terra Walker’s ass and taking her only validation: The CruiserClash Title. A path of destruction not even your insincere grin can’t stop this round, Paul.”
Teijin rips off that imperial costume down to indie shorts and a Terra Walker T-shirt done up like the Joker.
“It’s in my blood to be skeptical of the numbers, and you’ve hurt a lot of casual bookies. Odds speak volumes when they see a new guy doing so well. But with only that rumble as a knock on your resume, I’ve had to dive into what makes you hard a matchup, Smokey, since you’re quite the bandit.
Your wins, like mine, end on little miracles. But you’re matching abundant luck against someone who just got visited by his fairy godmother. And speaking of moms—hi Mrs. Mall! We had a charming chat on the phone this week. See… Mama Mall wants you to win as much as my cold, distant mother does. Also, they want us to stop smoking. Sorry, Okaa-san, but children live to defy elder wisdom.
What’s your zen? Me, I love to zone out on nicotine puckers, feeling badass like Spike Spiegel. I don’t know what fuels your vices, Paul, but I know they makes us both human.
Humans are not so kind as to print up a book like you did last week. Yeah, I read that on the shitter beside my Garfield strips. Why do you want fans to think you’re a model of modesty? Overloaded kindness bringing unobtainable levels of euphoria.
You might enjoy a good puff, but chillaxing is fleeting. And it’s my duty to wake you from this daydream. That asshole faking a cigarette cough with vicious eye contact—pure, unfiltered venom.”
He walks off set to light up.
“Honestly, life’s been so mellow during my win streak, I’m only padding my own numbers on this hit. So much that this might be my last cig. Because the highs of this moment could sustain me for a lifetime.”
Teijin tokes once more before flicking it to the ground and crushing his butt flat.
“You’re that same kind of hit. But what’s the lasting appeal? Smoker’s cough? Aroma of a dozen truckers pounding hams? Sagging breath of Atlantic City regulars praying for another jackpot?
CVO has tried to wake you up for weeks. She’s pulled you through this entire tourney, but you swerve from sage advice. Cut around the dotted line because you just have to be your own man like Smoking Jay Cutler.
That’s unhealthy for a future locker room leader. You should heed her advice because it might just save your ass. Instead, you just have to play the enigma: a nice guy.
Nice guys don’t succeed in wrestling. Look around us: Voorhees, Kitsune, Roddy—all these assholes cheating in the dark. pricks backstabbing at every turn. You can’t play paladin in our realm of liches. You either become a monster or get turned to stone like every other self-fellating hero.
I’ve survived the bastards of our business. You… you’re their next meal. Anyone that wants to interfere in my vengeance will meet the same fate as Terra Walker—because I won’t stop until I end her reign! Because our fans deserve a fighting champion... not more smoke and mirrors.”
Fade to black.
“Cut!
It’s not the same, but I couldn’t get back the deposit. So here we are running some glib scene meant for Tsukiko—only now it’s venerable saint Paul Mall during his dark horse candidacy. I’m verklempt. Surely, I’m not the only one that put money on the Fox last week or had Cheyenne Walker “all the way”.
No matter because this tournament is my hero song. My cementing moment into AW history. I spent a fortune for this set because it actually fucking hurts my soul that it’s taken so long to get here. On the cusp of kicking Terra Walker’s ass and taking her only validation: The CruiserClash Title. A path of destruction not even your insincere grin can’t stop this round, Paul.”
Teijin rips off that imperial costume down to indie shorts and a Terra Walker T-shirt done up like the Joker.
“It’s in my blood to be skeptical of the numbers, and you’ve hurt a lot of casual bookies. Odds speak volumes when they see a new guy doing so well. But with only that rumble as a knock on your resume, I’ve had to dive into what makes you hard a matchup, Smokey, since you’re quite the bandit.
Your wins, like mine, end on little miracles. But you’re matching abundant luck against someone who just got visited by his fairy godmother. And speaking of moms—hi Mrs. Mall! We had a charming chat on the phone this week. See… Mama Mall wants you to win as much as my cold, distant mother does. Also, they want us to stop smoking. Sorry, Okaa-san, but children live to defy elder wisdom.
What’s your zen? Me, I love to zone out on nicotine puckers, feeling badass like Spike Spiegel. I don’t know what fuels your vices, Paul, but I know they makes us both human.
Humans are not so kind as to print up a book like you did last week. Yeah, I read that on the shitter beside my Garfield strips. Why do you want fans to think you’re a model of modesty? Overloaded kindness bringing unobtainable levels of euphoria.
You might enjoy a good puff, but chillaxing is fleeting. And it’s my duty to wake you from this daydream. That asshole faking a cigarette cough with vicious eye contact—pure, unfiltered venom.”
He walks off set to light up.
“Honestly, life’s been so mellow during my win streak, I’m only padding my own numbers on this hit. So much that this might be my last cig. Because the highs of this moment could sustain me for a lifetime.”
Teijin tokes once more before flicking it to the ground and crushing his butt flat.
“You’re that same kind of hit. But what’s the lasting appeal? Smoker’s cough? Aroma of a dozen truckers pounding hams? Sagging breath of Atlantic City regulars praying for another jackpot?
CVO has tried to wake you up for weeks. She’s pulled you through this entire tourney, but you swerve from sage advice. Cut around the dotted line because you just have to be your own man like Smoking Jay Cutler.
That’s unhealthy for a future locker room leader. You should heed her advice because it might just save your ass. Instead, you just have to play the enigma: a nice guy.
Nice guys don’t succeed in wrestling. Look around us: Voorhees, Kitsune, Roddy—all these assholes cheating in the dark. pricks backstabbing at every turn. You can’t play paladin in our realm of liches. You either become a monster or get turned to stone like every other self-fellating hero.
I’ve survived the bastards of our business. You… you’re their next meal. Anyone that wants to interfere in my vengeance will meet the same fate as Terra Walker—because I won’t stop until I end her reign! Because our fans deserve a fighting champion... not more smoke and mirrors.”
Fade to black.