Post by Mother Russia Account Now on Feb 23, 2016 20:38:16 GMT -6
We open up on a shaky phone recording. Frank Debauchee is lounged lavishly in a Victorian style tub. Bubbles engulf him as a lone rubber ducky sails aimlessly. Two stunning attractive women surround the tub, scrubbing Frank's back.
"Awe look at that, I hurt the little guys feels. You need some sort of closure like a needy broad? I'll give it to you kid. That's the least poppa can do."
Frank looks down and gives the duck a little nudge. He clearly wasn't in the mood to entertain. All this kid was trying to do is hop on the Debauchee train. Get some much needed notoriety because he definitely lacks charisma.
"It's simple really, I don't like you. You have the audacity not only to insult my beloved mustache; you have the gall to debut the same week as me. This is Mr. February's month. Instead of the spotlight basking down on all my beautiful glory - I'm stuck sharing it with some Neanderthal. Some pompous kid cashing in on someone else's dime."
Frank lets out a sough as one of ladies reaches down to scrub something lower, much lower. He showed little shame.
"The only reason you ever had any steam in this industry is due to you riding off Superstar Mitchell's baby boy. You never earned your stripes. You expect sympathy from me? Not going to get it slick. You want to put on them big boy britches and step toe to toe with God? Keep dreaming. I don't do charity work, this soup kitchen is closed. I'm saving you the embarrassment, gratitude would be nice. I also got you a condolence card...somewhere. Where did I put it?"
Frank's hand combs around the bubbles searching for a card? He then lifts his middle finger up from out of the water. A coy smile embraces his lips. One enchanted by the most magnificent 'staches known in existence.
"I'd worry more about winning at Unstoppable and less about how I'm clearly better than you. It's not your fault, everyone is equally inferior."
His voice was calm and cool. He really bought everything he sold. The feed ends.
"Awe look at that, I hurt the little guys feels. You need some sort of closure like a needy broad? I'll give it to you kid. That's the least poppa can do."
Frank looks down and gives the duck a little nudge. He clearly wasn't in the mood to entertain. All this kid was trying to do is hop on the Debauchee train. Get some much needed notoriety because he definitely lacks charisma.
"It's simple really, I don't like you. You have the audacity not only to insult my beloved mustache; you have the gall to debut the same week as me. This is Mr. February's month. Instead of the spotlight basking down on all my beautiful glory - I'm stuck sharing it with some Neanderthal. Some pompous kid cashing in on someone else's dime."
Frank lets out a sough as one of ladies reaches down to scrub something lower, much lower. He showed little shame.
"The only reason you ever had any steam in this industry is due to you riding off Superstar Mitchell's baby boy. You never earned your stripes. You expect sympathy from me? Not going to get it slick. You want to put on them big boy britches and step toe to toe with God? Keep dreaming. I don't do charity work, this soup kitchen is closed. I'm saving you the embarrassment, gratitude would be nice. I also got you a condolence card...somewhere. Where did I put it?"
Frank's hand combs around the bubbles searching for a card? He then lifts his middle finger up from out of the water. A coy smile embraces his lips. One enchanted by the most magnificent 'staches known in existence.
"I'd worry more about winning at Unstoppable and less about how I'm clearly better than you. It's not your fault, everyone is equally inferior."
His voice was calm and cool. He really bought everything he sold. The feed ends.