It's always nice to hear about companies going the extra mile to deal with customer complaints. Miss Kajara may be a newcomer to our community, but it's good to see that she's hopping right into the good ol' Wyrdtown way of doing things.
A note has just materialized here on my desk, and judging from the smell of brimstone and the scratching of ancient glyphs it's fresh from the talons of the Grand Brilliance of the Illuminated Brotherhood stating that though there is a rogue presence of light currently hovering slowly down Grand Avenue, it is in no way, shape, or form affiliated with our favorite band of wacky, menacing, hooded figures who have invited fallen angels to dwell within their hearts.
Citizens are advised to not look into the light, as looking into the light may cause symptoms just as temporary loss of vision, spotted vision, nausea as if by flashing lights, dizziness, permanent loss of vision, the immediate liquefaction of the eyeballs, spontaneous involuntary eye-gouging, and blindness followed by a complete and utter disassociation with the visual sense.
Several tourists were taken to Plagius Memorial after not only being blinded, but having forgotten that they had eyes in the first place, as well as the entire concept of vision. So please, dear listeners. Do not look at the light. Do not go into the light. Do not approach the light. The light burns. The light hates. The light consumes. The light devours. The light. The light. The light. The light. The light.
And now a word from our sponsor…" -WYRD Radio
Uh, so Kal, this is kind of weird for me. I can't actually find you. Attempting to do my usual discorporate into energy and hop right to you thing is not working. Every time I try it, I end up with your minion.
I know you're still there, I can feel you. But for the first time since you fell out of that speckled blue egg of yours, I don't actually hear you. And what's worse is that I'm pretty sure you can't hear me.
For the first time in thirty years I don't have an audience for my stream of consciousness snark, humor, and commentary on life. I don't have your life to commentate on and it's driving me nuts!
It's just not right with Claudia. I'm not sure what went wrong with the whole ritual thing, but she got blasted with enough of my personality to the point where she's making my jokes and quoting my memes before I do half the time!
I'm not sure where you are, what you're doing, and when you're coming back. But you're coming back, so I'm going to be taking notes about stuff that happened while you were gone, so you can get fully caught up when you come back, okay?
So let's start with the minion. You've had me watching Claudia for the past few months just to make sure that she doesn't get into trouble. Well, TECHNICALLY you asked me to make sure she didn't gruesomely devour anyone important. Same thing, really.
And she didn't! She totally didn't! Uh… I think she sucked the soul out of some Angel Hendrix woman and took a big juicy bite or three out of that crazy lady on Twitter that spent most of her time talking about her birds.
Yes, we get it. You're called Valkyrie. You're Norse. And of course your ravens are named after Odin's. Way to play to the stereotype, lady. If she'd been British she'd have a pair of bulldogs named Winston and Poor Dental Hygiene.
Though I'm being informed that British youth now have the fewest number of cavities per capita in the world. Probably because their parents and grandparents had to put up with snide, tooth-related commentary from literally everybody for the past century.
Anyway, like I said, the minion didn't chew on anybody important, so no harm done! As a matter of fact she opened up a pair of roster positions, ones that aren't listed as "on the back" and "on the knees" and fulfilled by a blonde with boobs bigger then her head who is known only by a single one-word name that's SUPPOSED to end with a Y, but has a Y instead. Probably with a heart dotting it. Candi, Becki, Dumbi, that sort of thing.
And by golly, Claudia went and took initiative. I didn't tell you the whole thing, because I was kind of occupied with filling your life with the joy and amusement that stems from having a comedic genius narrating your life minute by minute.
But I was there when Der Vaart hired her. He didn't see me. Well, he did, but he didn't know it was me.
You remember that silly plush Bony the Dracosaur get up I had to use in the IWC before we debuted proper? Pretending to be a skeletal dragon puppet, you know with the theme song and everything?
BONY IS A DRACOSAUR
AN ELDRITCH ABOMINATION
WE HEED HIS CALL
HE'LL LEAD US ALL
TO ETERNAL DAMNATION
Sing that to the tune of noted children's rhyme "This Old Man." Note this is me taking care NOT to mention the other seven foot tall lizard thing adored by children the world over. He's a big lavender disgrace to the species. Just give it thirty years and we'll find out that he diddles kiddles just like every other children's entertainer.
And the Subway guy. Jared only went on the Subway diet because he wanted to get into some smaller pants. And show them his five dollar footlong. Nah, more like the six inch of the day.
Anyway, I put the outfit on, and spent my time adorning her top hat. You might not've seen her in this sort of outfit. She's just like you in that colder is better and she doesn't have your adventuring experience, thus requiring as many pockets as possible and enough pouches to qualify as a Rob Liefeld wet dream.
Oh, speaking of Rob Liefeld, imagine some sort of alternate universe Rob. Still adamant on not drawing feet whenever possible, giving people too many teeth, but replace the pouch obsession with belts. Then swap genders just because and make her a fashion designer. Because that's what Claudia's dress looks like. Enough belts to supply an entire anime cast, or two SquareSoft RPG main characters.
Black belts, brown belts, belts made of leather, belts made of fabric, buckles of chrome, of brass, of bronze, and a few cheapo bits of day-glo plastic. All of them secured to a dress of the style that tailors in the era of Queen Victoria would certainly recognize, but the crazy quilt of clashing neon colors and patterns would likely drive them to gouge out their eyes.
It's one of those wasp waisted doohickeys with a huge pile of added junk in the trunk. Or at least it looks like that to an outsider. The enhanced badonkadonk and multitude of sub-skirts are there to cunningly hide our favorite quasi-undead part-dragoness' tail.
I'm not sure if this is going to put more eyes on her or less. On one hand, scantily clad clown-dragon, on the other hand a jester in Victorian garb optimized for nighttime visibility. Either way, I'm pretty sure we're catering to some subculture's fetish, somewhere.
Oh, and the mask. I haven't mentioned the mask. Intricately detailed skull with fangs looking thing, got three small horns at the temple and the top. Colored and textured to look like bone. For all the world it looks like she's wearing a juvenile analog of her own fully dragonblooded form's face.
Note to self insert Plinkett "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOUR FACE?!" audio clip here.
It's like some Silence of the Lambs stuff right here. But then again wrestlers with facepaint have been known to wear plastic masks of their own face paint. Though come to think of it they've all been evil mimes, so I guess Claudia is just carrying on the tradition.
Anyway, your minion has begun to display supernatural powers that are totally unlike your own. Well… the methodology anyway. You've got that coat with all the pockets leading into minute dimensions to hold stuff for you and you can teleport via water or ice.
Claudia doesn't need props to do those things. Whilst sitting in the Walrus's waiting room and being goo goo ga joob'ed at by his secretary, rather than sit on some plastic, orange chairs that were probably stolen from a public school back in the 1970's, Claudia managed to flick out her hand and produce a folding stool from out of nowhere. And refused my request to do a diamond cutter on it, since those also come from out of nowhere.
She had the stool so she could take a seat without mussing her dress, or sitting on her tail. I know how you hate chairs that don't have holes in the back, because sitting on your tail makes your whole butt go numb.
We spent a while sitting there. Raymond the Fart had a late lunch. A long, late lunch. Possibly a second lunch. Anyway, we'd been waiting an obnoxious amount of time after 1 in the afternoon when proper peoples would have long since had their Lardfat McChunklets and French Flies consumed and well on their way to digestion and the MSG making them hungry again. All the better for cookies at tea time and then an early dinner.
So der Vaart came waddling in, grunted at his secretary, ignored Claudia, and schlupped off into his office without so much as a glance in our direction. That made Claudia do that pissy dragoness eye glowing thing that's yellow for you and red for her.
And then Claudia did her teleportation thingy.
Kal let me tell you, I don't want to do that from the outside ever again!
Just thinking about it gives me the heebie jeebies.
Gimme a minute to compose myself here…
"Hello to all you wonderful peoples! Some unspecified span of time ago I got to whet my appetite for competition against the likes of none other than Plop, of the famed duo Piddle and Plop."
"Okay, they famous for being absolutely horrible wrestlers, one being a foul mouthed egomaniac, and the other speaking volumes through facial expressions and a vocabulary primarily consisting of one word."
"But that's just dandy! We can't all be standing on the tippy top of the hill of success. There's no room up there. Mostly there's a sad, scraggly old oak tree with "Willow + Jason, World Title Hogs 4 Eva" carved on it inside a heart."
"And we wouldn't want Plop up there anyway, cause he might trip, fall over, roll down and crush us all. But anyway, we don't have to worry about Mr. Doesn't Scrub Under His Folds any time soon, because I don't have to wrestle him any more!"
"Which is good because his soul tasted like like Crisco right off the spatula, yuck! So it's on to smaller and better things for everybody's favorite clown! That's me, Claudia the Colorful Clown! Smaller because everybody's smaller than Plop."
"That's right, as of now I'm on the main ULW roster good and proper! The voices of the peoples cried out "Oh little baby Jesus, things are so dull and dreary around here! All the drips and drabs and drama, ULW just isn't fun anymore!" And so after lots and lots of prodding with a pointy stick, Raymond der Vaart woke from his winter hibernation (which is why it took so long for RingKing to get on the air waves and new shows plotted and planned, don'tcha know?) long enough to sign the newest sweet sensation to grace the squared circle!"
"See, all these other wrestlers? They're all sad and depressing. "Oh, I'm Jason King, my everything died." "Oh, I'm Clay Colton, and this Vanilla-esuqe McDonald's Reconstituted Real True Milkshake Analog Milkfat Product is what the doctors put in to replace the personality I broke as a child doing flips off the monkey bars." "Oh, I'm Mya Denton, and the only things that makes me interesting is somebody else living inside my body.""
"Mya, whose latest outing involved being kicked from pillar to post all night by a complete and utter mythological creature. I mean come on! Sure, she breathes physics-defying fire and has a tail, but she doesn't even have wings! That's not a proper dragon, that's a lizard with digestive issues!"
"I mean what's next on the agenda, Mya? Picking up a few more voices in your head named after months of the year? May, June, and October? Call her Toby. And for the love of pete, don't make any Roots references there, Kunty Kinte."
"Or maybe you can get the snot punched out of your skinny little body by some other creatures from myth and legend. I'm sure I can rip the wings off of a pixie and stick 'em on my back, that way you can have the pleasure of having your arse kicked sideways by a faerie. And I'm not talking the Roxy McStupidlastname kind!"
"Oh! I know! We can have you fight against the Loch Ness Monster! Hmm? Sorry? What's that? Oh, I'm being told in my totally fake earpiece that unlike dragons and pixies and invisible pink unicorns the Loch Ness Monster is not real and is primarily a fable used for tourism and to sell shitty newspapers and magazines. Like Bigfoot, the grey aliens, and the shapeshifting lizard peo… no, wait. Scratch that last one. I know THOSE are real."
"And of course wherever you go there's Isamu right along with you. Now, Brendon Vow is obviously the Indiana Jones of your little group, but I'm not sure which one of you the damsel in distress and which one of you is the obnoxious child sidekick analog. I mean he's Asian, but you're tiny and obnoxious, Mya."
"And I think that makes Eli Legacy the equivalent of Shia LeBouf? The Scrappy Doo character in a pathetic cash grab that everybody hates. But somewhere along the line it was decided "No, WE will be the ones doing the fridge stuffing!" and so marched out along with the whole 82nd Airborne to throw all of one person in a coffin and set 'em on fire."
"I mean that's really got to sting, Mya. Knowing that one whole person is able to slap around your entire little quasi-religious demi-goth hipster clique pretty much at will. Knowing that three of you put together weren't as good as one brightly colored lizard person."
"Say, I'm one person! And my partner Cameron MacNichol is another! Oh, I've got it! You and Isamu are Shortround I and Shortround II! And I bet the two of us could take the two of you with one hand tied behind our backs! Cam-Mac Koopa has actually, you know, made something of himself and held title gold in ULW, that's more that you two chucklefucks have managed in your time in this hear wrasslin' federation."
"Now I wasn't here to witness this stuff in person. But I've heard through the grapevine, and by grapevine I mean dirtsheets, that there's been a lot of nasty political wrangling going on around here. People getting screwed out of their titles, people hired by certain man-walrus hybrids to stuff other people in coffins and set said coffins on fire."
"That's not going to work with me. You can't burn this infection out of the ULW. You're just going to have to lie back and think of England and learn to take it. I will haunt you to your grave. Then I'll dig you up, reanimate your corpse, and have it do unspeakable things with duct tape, gerbils, three bottles of ginger ale, a hollowed out gourd, an eighteen inch dried salami, and the whole of One Direction."
"Golly, we've gotten a bit depressing! Ya'll motherfuckers are contageous. But I'm not going to let that drag me down, nosiree! I'm going to drag the lot of you kicking and screaming up to my level!"
"You're going to be HAPPY, do you hear me? You're going to be CHEERFUL! You're going to be CUTE and AMUSING and ONE HUNDRED PERCENT ANGST FREE! This is not going to be an easy task. But I solemnly swear that I will make ULW a better place, even if it kills you!"
"Especially if it kills you."
"Toodles!"
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