Post by No Homie on Feb 8, 2016 1:10:21 GMT -5
“I… remember the first time I came here... it’s been a rough six days… and I’m just happy to not be that person anymore, and so is my electricity bill. Thank you for… letting me do this. That’s all I have to share right now.”
Nervous words from some blonde guy and appreciative applause fill the room as we open in a small bingo hall, the room is badly lit, at least nine people in nine chairs sit in a small circle. Other chairs are scattered about the room but they’re empty and broken, somebody had a steel chair party. Some other guy, presumably the speaker dressed in jacket and pants takes the small podium at the head of the room, tapping the microphone with an audible knock.
“Is there anything anyone else would like to share?”
A door creaks open and in steps Pac Powers, casually dressed in belly shirt and wrestling tights, raising a taped fist and his index finger, the speaker ushers him on. Pac pulls a phone from nowhere, and cues a song for no real reason.
Drake- Energy
Pac begins to bust a rhyme, white boy style.
I got enemies, got a lot of enemies!
Gotta lotta people tryin ta take away my energy!
Pac stops, taking the phone and violently smashing it on the podium again and again, anyone who has a cheap phone knows the back of the case flies one way, the battery the other and its dumb luck if the phone itself doesn’t crack beyond repair.
“You know what… this isn’t a rap video, this isn’t some fake making money from an established sub-culture, this isn’t even that Eminem song When I’m Gone… which is sure as hell looks like… how could it possibly be When I’m Gone… when I’m already right here.”
The group exchange nervous glances, some even mouthing “What the fuck?”
“What is this… a self help meeting? Are all nine of you that insecure? Do all nine of you really need help?”
Pac swipes the contents from the top of the podium dramatically, which crash and clang on the concrete.
“What… so you’re all talking about me? Eating twinkies, look at some of you, you need at least two chairs to sit on! Pretty boys and guys with big foreheads, Irish immigrants or whatever, WHAT ARE WE ALL TALKING ABOUT THEN?!”
The group watch on stunned, some even look down at their stomachs and legs with feels, mister big forehead puts a cap on.
“Ya quiet now aintcha! Nothing to say when PAC shows up do ya… DO YA!?!”
Pac starts glaring at everyone with wild, crazy eyes.
“Self help at its finest… look at you jokes. Its no wonder you’rs struggling, it’s no wonder you need advice on how to live the rest of your fat, big forehead lives!”
The man in the cap slumps, his expression that of a shattered man.
“Take a look at me… LOOK AT ME… I’m that guy that pushes over old ladies and steals their walking frames, I’m that guy who takes hats off kids who ride past on their bicycles and throws them in the nearest river, I don’t need help, I’m at one with myself. I’m self emPOWERED. Not you… never you!”
One of the pack tries to make a quick exit.
“OHHH! We got a straggler here!!”
Pac sprints over to the door and kicks it shut, staring back at the escapee, who quickly shuffles back to his seat.
“Ya know… there was once this kid on the block doing his own thing in a bad neighbourhood, everyone was on crack and all that green shit, spending every stolen dollar out of their grandmothers purses they could find to get it.”
Pac takes a pack of chewing gum and pops a few in his mouth.
“So yeah, this kid starts getting smart, he figures if he can somehow sell the same product for a smaller price, eventually everybody’s gonna come to him right? Pretty clever… someone should make a movie about it, I dunno Denzel or some shit.”
Pac stops.
“I’m waffling on again.”
Pac puts his hands on the podium.
“Okay so at some point, the other guys decide they don’t like this kids concept, and they start running up on him, trying to scare him a little. He takes a baseball bat and cracks open every one of their skulls to make a point… because he knew the only way he was going to be successful… was by eliminating the competition.”
Pac pauses, nobody in the room has any idea what he is talking about.
“It’s a metaphor… get the fuck out.”
The group of nine make a beeline for the nearest exit, as Pac watches them on.
“Geez, LIGHTEN UP!”
Nervous words from some blonde guy and appreciative applause fill the room as we open in a small bingo hall, the room is badly lit, at least nine people in nine chairs sit in a small circle. Other chairs are scattered about the room but they’re empty and broken, somebody had a steel chair party. Some other guy, presumably the speaker dressed in jacket and pants takes the small podium at the head of the room, tapping the microphone with an audible knock.
“Is there anything anyone else would like to share?”
A door creaks open and in steps Pac Powers, casually dressed in belly shirt and wrestling tights, raising a taped fist and his index finger, the speaker ushers him on. Pac pulls a phone from nowhere, and cues a song for no real reason.
Drake- Energy
Pac begins to bust a rhyme, white boy style.
I got enemies, got a lot of enemies!
Gotta lotta people tryin ta take away my energy!
Pac stops, taking the phone and violently smashing it on the podium again and again, anyone who has a cheap phone knows the back of the case flies one way, the battery the other and its dumb luck if the phone itself doesn’t crack beyond repair.
“You know what… this isn’t a rap video, this isn’t some fake making money from an established sub-culture, this isn’t even that Eminem song When I’m Gone… which is sure as hell looks like… how could it possibly be When I’m Gone… when I’m already right here.”
The group exchange nervous glances, some even mouthing “What the fuck?”
“What is this… a self help meeting? Are all nine of you that insecure? Do all nine of you really need help?”
Pac swipes the contents from the top of the podium dramatically, which crash and clang on the concrete.
“What… so you’re all talking about me? Eating twinkies, look at some of you, you need at least two chairs to sit on! Pretty boys and guys with big foreheads, Irish immigrants or whatever, WHAT ARE WE ALL TALKING ABOUT THEN?!”
The group watch on stunned, some even look down at their stomachs and legs with feels, mister big forehead puts a cap on.
“Ya quiet now aintcha! Nothing to say when PAC shows up do ya… DO YA!?!”
Pac starts glaring at everyone with wild, crazy eyes.
“Self help at its finest… look at you jokes. Its no wonder you’rs struggling, it’s no wonder you need advice on how to live the rest of your fat, big forehead lives!”
The man in the cap slumps, his expression that of a shattered man.
“Take a look at me… LOOK AT ME… I’m that guy that pushes over old ladies and steals their walking frames, I’m that guy who takes hats off kids who ride past on their bicycles and throws them in the nearest river, I don’t need help, I’m at one with myself. I’m self emPOWERED. Not you… never you!”
One of the pack tries to make a quick exit.
“OHHH! We got a straggler here!!”
Pac sprints over to the door and kicks it shut, staring back at the escapee, who quickly shuffles back to his seat.
“Ya know… there was once this kid on the block doing his own thing in a bad neighbourhood, everyone was on crack and all that green shit, spending every stolen dollar out of their grandmothers purses they could find to get it.”
Pac takes a pack of chewing gum and pops a few in his mouth.
“So yeah, this kid starts getting smart, he figures if he can somehow sell the same product for a smaller price, eventually everybody’s gonna come to him right? Pretty clever… someone should make a movie about it, I dunno Denzel or some shit.”
Pac stops.
“I’m waffling on again.”
Pac puts his hands on the podium.
“Okay so at some point, the other guys decide they don’t like this kids concept, and they start running up on him, trying to scare him a little. He takes a baseball bat and cracks open every one of their skulls to make a point… because he knew the only way he was going to be successful… was by eliminating the competition.”
Pac pauses, nobody in the room has any idea what he is talking about.
“It’s a metaphor… get the fuck out.”
The group of nine make a beeline for the nearest exit, as Pac watches them on.
“Geez, LIGHTEN UP!”