The Vore in Voorhees (700 Words)
Jan 24, 2021 23:50:14 GMT -5
CJ Phoenix, Stuart Slane, and 2 more like this
Post by Regan Voorhees on Jan 24, 2021 23:50:14 GMT -5
Red camellias part to reveal a reimagining of de Goya’s Saturn Devouring His Son. The updated version has Saturn-as-Regan, eyes mad with hunger, feasting upon a body with ring gear suspiciously familiar to Tsukiko’s. The camera holds on the painting as an invisible pen writes golden calligraphy across the screen.
The camera pulls back to reveal Regan Voorhees admiring the piece. The room is dark, illuminating only the painting, Regan herself, and a trio of white marble statues in her likeness on each side of the painting in the likeness of various Olympian deities.
“Saturn, or the Greek Cronus, ate his children because they were prophesied to overthrow him. Of course, the one who did was the one he didn’t actually eat. His wife tricked him into devouring a rock in Zeus’ place, because marriage, am I right? From there, Zeus completed a training montage and came back to shove a Cyclops-forged lightning bolt up his father’s ass. Not a bad plan, though. If you truly want to conquer your enemies, you must devour them.”
She gives the camera a suspicious look and clears her throat.
“Ahem. Metaphorically. But what lesson can we learn from this? What about the not uncommon cultural practice of consuming another human being so that you can add their strength to your own?”
Again, she stops herself.
“I’m not going to eat anyone, for fuck’s sake. My militant veganism extends to the human race. My point, however, is that carnivorously conquering one’s competition in Cronus-like fashion both strengthens your own position and eliminates potential usurpers. Just don’t let anyone trick you into eating a rock. Or in this case, a rockhead.”
A haughty laugh escapes her throat, a sound devoid of humor.
“Those who can, wrestle. Those who can’t, manage. While Ryan Logan can’t seem to do either, I’m not stupid enough to fall for some obnoxious cry for attention instead of focusing on my actual opponent. I’m familiar with sleight of hand, ladies. And while decapitating Miss Logan with my croquet mallet would be a delightful prospect, it won’t win this match. Only a fool would want sizzle over steak. Why eat a rock when I can eat a goddess?”
“You’re quite the specimen, Tsukiko. The strength, the skill, the speed, an epic poem come to life. And the cleverness. The sneaky little bait-and-switch routine, having your hype-girl say the most incendiary things, because you know the slightest distraction is enough for you to end an unwary opponent. Foxes are known for their cunning, after all.”
“Do understand, all that wrestling training I spent so much money on, it means nothing if I can’t beat a wrestler of your caliber. I can’t let your desk jockey of an appetizer ruin that opportunity. If Ryan Logan decides to compete, I’ll be more than happy to send her to the Abattoir. But after my loss to CJ Phoenix last week, I’m rather famished. And you’re such a splendid entree, Tsukiko. A walking, talking, wrestling three-course meal. My greatest challenge since arriving in Action Wrestling, and a step on my way to a Cruiserweight Title shot in record time. You have all the tools to defeat me, of course. The experience, the ability, the x-factor of having an ally in your corner. So many advantages, Tsukiko. But I have to wonder… Are you as hungry as I am? Because when I come to Washington this week, I come for one reason… To dine on fox."
Regan sighs at the implication.
“Metaphorically, of course. I’ll bring my own slaughterhouse. Bon appetit.”
The camera turns from Regan to reexamine her painting of Regan-Saturn Devouring Tsukiko. From off screen, she mumbles.
“I really did lean too far into the cannibalism thing.”
The camera cuts to a row of be-togaed pigs in an Olympian enclosure, victory garlands on their heads. Thankfully disinterested in devouring one another in a generational divine power struggle, they instead devour a sheet cake(the nectar of pigs). A familiar banner fades in at the bottom of the screen.
“The Vore in Voorhees(Best Paired with Eileen Barton’s “If I Knew You Were Comin' I'd've Baked a Cake” and Sangre De Vida Corazón)
The camera pulls back to reveal Regan Voorhees admiring the piece. The room is dark, illuminating only the painting, Regan herself, and a trio of white marble statues in her likeness on each side of the painting in the likeness of various Olympian deities.
“Saturn, or the Greek Cronus, ate his children because they were prophesied to overthrow him. Of course, the one who did was the one he didn’t actually eat. His wife tricked him into devouring a rock in Zeus’ place, because marriage, am I right? From there, Zeus completed a training montage and came back to shove a Cyclops-forged lightning bolt up his father’s ass. Not a bad plan, though. If you truly want to conquer your enemies, you must devour them.”
She gives the camera a suspicious look and clears her throat.
“Ahem. Metaphorically. But what lesson can we learn from this? What about the not uncommon cultural practice of consuming another human being so that you can add their strength to your own?”
Again, she stops herself.
“I’m not going to eat anyone, for fuck’s sake. My militant veganism extends to the human race. My point, however, is that carnivorously conquering one’s competition in Cronus-like fashion both strengthens your own position and eliminates potential usurpers. Just don’t let anyone trick you into eating a rock. Or in this case, a rockhead.”
A haughty laugh escapes her throat, a sound devoid of humor.
“Those who can, wrestle. Those who can’t, manage. While Ryan Logan can’t seem to do either, I’m not stupid enough to fall for some obnoxious cry for attention instead of focusing on my actual opponent. I’m familiar with sleight of hand, ladies. And while decapitating Miss Logan with my croquet mallet would be a delightful prospect, it won’t win this match. Only a fool would want sizzle over steak. Why eat a rock when I can eat a goddess?”
“You’re quite the specimen, Tsukiko. The strength, the skill, the speed, an epic poem come to life. And the cleverness. The sneaky little bait-and-switch routine, having your hype-girl say the most incendiary things, because you know the slightest distraction is enough for you to end an unwary opponent. Foxes are known for their cunning, after all.”
“Do understand, all that wrestling training I spent so much money on, it means nothing if I can’t beat a wrestler of your caliber. I can’t let your desk jockey of an appetizer ruin that opportunity. If Ryan Logan decides to compete, I’ll be more than happy to send her to the Abattoir. But after my loss to CJ Phoenix last week, I’m rather famished. And you’re such a splendid entree, Tsukiko. A walking, talking, wrestling three-course meal. My greatest challenge since arriving in Action Wrestling, and a step on my way to a Cruiserweight Title shot in record time. You have all the tools to defeat me, of course. The experience, the ability, the x-factor of having an ally in your corner. So many advantages, Tsukiko. But I have to wonder… Are you as hungry as I am? Because when I come to Washington this week, I come for one reason… To dine on fox."
Regan sighs at the implication.
“Metaphorically, of course. I’ll bring my own slaughterhouse. Bon appetit.”
The camera turns from Regan to reexamine her painting of Regan-Saturn Devouring Tsukiko. From off screen, she mumbles.
“I really did lean too far into the cannibalism thing.”
The camera cuts to a row of be-togaed pigs in an Olympian enclosure, victory garlands on their heads. Thankfully disinterested in devouring one another in a generational divine power struggle, they instead devour a sheet cake(the nectar of pigs). A familiar banner fades in at the bottom of the screen.
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