Thesis 9: Umbrellas and the Cycles of Golden Rain
Mar 21, 2021 4:00:03 GMT -5
Trey Bouchet likes this
Post by Deleted on Mar 21, 2021 4:00:03 GMT -5
The shot pans through a restaurant in unassuming Alexandria, Louisiana during slow hours. As one patron pass through the doorway, Mr. Abraham comes into view with a plate of beignets and warm coffee. He sets his mug down before grinning at the camera.
Well, hello there, you must be wondering why all this hullabaloo is coming to such a harmonious place as Alexandria. Well, I’ll tell you, but the onus is on you to listen. I do mean listen wholeheartedly too. No gist nor sparks notes tonight friend… or should I say, “Sin Eater” to be proper?
He takes a hearty bit of fritter creating clouds of powdered sugar.
Nothing better than a fresh pastry made with love. Sure, you could purchase them by the box at Tim Horton’s—but where’s the soul? Where’s the adventure in that? Oh those companies shipping big boxes haven’t sat down with a real donut. Such is America, don’t you agree, Byron?
Abe leaves a handsome tip while taking his sugary lagniappe for the world outside.
It’s come to my attention that everyone still fears reprisal from Philidor Holdings. Tis a sad form of jealousy. You though Byron, can be a bigger, better man than this roster will ever dream.
For example, when a chance to prove your points on Clash last week – you didn’t compromise. However, your lack of compromise is also what’s going to be seen as weakness. Oh brother, can we fix a gimp like that. Trust ole’ Abe has another trick up his sleeves.
It all sets stage for our second stint together. A noble experiment albeit missing notes our first time out, my friend. Although what worries me about your conviction is if you really think that people need to hear the message to understand it. Remember that millennia challenged the minds of those unable to read through sermons and stained glass. I ask you then, what message shall they scry from us?
We walks the small city streets in an alabaster suit untouched by sunlight.
Sounds like our messages have a chance to mend what’s missing this week. I say this because what better place to build your following than in the margins of a larger, well-read tome? In that everyone will tune in to watch Howard Black and Elizabeth Hope, giving us blank space for a retort.
It comes to no surprise I’m not in favor of Philidor’s business model. A mission statement far from the betterment of humankind. Although it seems to be an uplifting phrase for a putsch rolling in their favor. I’ve watched like others, waiting for the inevitable monster within… don’t believe me? Just poke the beast and see what happens.
They balance Ash Blake on a Cleopatran throne. Who among them carries with their fullest weight? I assure Elizabeth Hope will not. She made her debut in down spiral that righted just before hitting the surface. Ever since, she’s lived the life of Barbie with an Oprah power fist, in that her appeal is the ubiquitous struggle of the silent half. Out ill-fated gender block that has been relegated to in-between matches.
Although I press anyone to believe Elizabeth wants anything more than a chance at that World Title. This isn’t a Breakfast Club or Brownie Troop; hardly, they know how to put their fingers on the pulse of Action Wrestling. It’s only a shame we won’t be around to watch it all implode. No, we have bigger targets.
And while her partner might be a stable genius in his own right, I also doubt that the obstinance of Howard Black is employee of the Month material. He joined Philidor for the same reason the rest of this roster foams unjustly at the lips to think. Howard might be too perfect, to be honest, destined to want something else that cannot be shared revenue. Instead, he chose to be a beverage company competing within the umbrella of an umbrella corporation.
Mr. Abraham gets up close and personal for his last shot.
I’m tired of trying to prove my pedagogies. Bryon, you and I have to not only work together, but resist the evil Philidor has done to poison the very waters of Action Wrestling. Simply advising you to “not drink the water” would never have been enough. Instead, fate has foreseen our foray into the fabled midcard, and it is for the same reason we lace up each week: Wrestling’s attempts at venture capital have no effect on us. We push forward because our agendas cannot die.
What are you willing to die for Mr. Bathory? What are you willing to sacrifice to win in Action Wrestling? Because the loss of humility and self-actualization has since turned the cronyism of Ash Blake into bona fide active retirement. In that we are still striving, Byron, while they continue to hoard and loaf themselves into insecurity. Yet I doubt their appetites will remain fed for long… when Blake must adjust them.
Abe lowers his sunglasses to show his weathered, hazel eyes. His southern draw disappears into gravel.
Bryon Bathory. Sin Eater. My name is synonymous with pillars. A colonnade holding up triumphant rotundas. If you wish to change the world, then you’ll need a team. If you wish to change humankind forever… you’ll first need church. I will ensure your word survives and erect a parish in its honor. Lest we perish such as the knowledge of Alexandria. I await your answer, Sin Eater.
He walks away, dropping his extra beignet as he disappears down a city street.
Well, hello there, you must be wondering why all this hullabaloo is coming to such a harmonious place as Alexandria. Well, I’ll tell you, but the onus is on you to listen. I do mean listen wholeheartedly too. No gist nor sparks notes tonight friend… or should I say, “Sin Eater” to be proper?
He takes a hearty bit of fritter creating clouds of powdered sugar.
Nothing better than a fresh pastry made with love. Sure, you could purchase them by the box at Tim Horton’s—but where’s the soul? Where’s the adventure in that? Oh those companies shipping big boxes haven’t sat down with a real donut. Such is America, don’t you agree, Byron?
Abe leaves a handsome tip while taking his sugary lagniappe for the world outside.
It’s come to my attention that everyone still fears reprisal from Philidor Holdings. Tis a sad form of jealousy. You though Byron, can be a bigger, better man than this roster will ever dream.
For example, when a chance to prove your points on Clash last week – you didn’t compromise. However, your lack of compromise is also what’s going to be seen as weakness. Oh brother, can we fix a gimp like that. Trust ole’ Abe has another trick up his sleeves.
It all sets stage for our second stint together. A noble experiment albeit missing notes our first time out, my friend. Although what worries me about your conviction is if you really think that people need to hear the message to understand it. Remember that millennia challenged the minds of those unable to read through sermons and stained glass. I ask you then, what message shall they scry from us?
We walks the small city streets in an alabaster suit untouched by sunlight.
Sounds like our messages have a chance to mend what’s missing this week. I say this because what better place to build your following than in the margins of a larger, well-read tome? In that everyone will tune in to watch Howard Black and Elizabeth Hope, giving us blank space for a retort.
It comes to no surprise I’m not in favor of Philidor’s business model. A mission statement far from the betterment of humankind. Although it seems to be an uplifting phrase for a putsch rolling in their favor. I’ve watched like others, waiting for the inevitable monster within… don’t believe me? Just poke the beast and see what happens.
They balance Ash Blake on a Cleopatran throne. Who among them carries with their fullest weight? I assure Elizabeth Hope will not. She made her debut in down spiral that righted just before hitting the surface. Ever since, she’s lived the life of Barbie with an Oprah power fist, in that her appeal is the ubiquitous struggle of the silent half. Out ill-fated gender block that has been relegated to in-between matches.
Although I press anyone to believe Elizabeth wants anything more than a chance at that World Title. This isn’t a Breakfast Club or Brownie Troop; hardly, they know how to put their fingers on the pulse of Action Wrestling. It’s only a shame we won’t be around to watch it all implode. No, we have bigger targets.
And while her partner might be a stable genius in his own right, I also doubt that the obstinance of Howard Black is employee of the Month material. He joined Philidor for the same reason the rest of this roster foams unjustly at the lips to think. Howard might be too perfect, to be honest, destined to want something else that cannot be shared revenue. Instead, he chose to be a beverage company competing within the umbrella of an umbrella corporation.
Mr. Abraham gets up close and personal for his last shot.
I’m tired of trying to prove my pedagogies. Bryon, you and I have to not only work together, but resist the evil Philidor has done to poison the very waters of Action Wrestling. Simply advising you to “not drink the water” would never have been enough. Instead, fate has foreseen our foray into the fabled midcard, and it is for the same reason we lace up each week: Wrestling’s attempts at venture capital have no effect on us. We push forward because our agendas cannot die.
What are you willing to die for Mr. Bathory? What are you willing to sacrifice to win in Action Wrestling? Because the loss of humility and self-actualization has since turned the cronyism of Ash Blake into bona fide active retirement. In that we are still striving, Byron, while they continue to hoard and loaf themselves into insecurity. Yet I doubt their appetites will remain fed for long… when Blake must adjust them.
Abe lowers his sunglasses to show his weathered, hazel eyes. His southern draw disappears into gravel.
Bryon Bathory. Sin Eater. My name is synonymous with pillars. A colonnade holding up triumphant rotundas. If you wish to change the world, then you’ll need a team. If you wish to change humankind forever… you’ll first need church. I will ensure your word survives and erect a parish in its honor. Lest we perish such as the knowledge of Alexandria. I await your answer, Sin Eater.
He walks away, dropping his extra beignet as he disappears down a city street.