Garrison Kelly's Blog
October 19, 2025
AK Spray Is the Only Way
INTRO
I don’t want stress management skills
I want an AK-47
I don’t want to negotiate with my abusers
I want an AK-47
I don’t want to apologize to angry customers
I want an AK-47
Because AK spray is the only way!
VERSE 1
You can call me a cosplay revolutionary
You can say I’m no different from a bloody mercenary
You can call me an edgelord visionary
You can call me undesirable and say you’ll never marry
But all I want is justice, a little bit of substance
To go with the speeches of authority’s reaches
Violence is the language of the voiceless
Desperation is the language of the choiceless
CHORUS
AK spray is the only way
To turn every day into Judgment Day
I can play God while you play them like a fiddle
Here’s a rain of bullets to meet you in the middle
VERSE 2
Childhood trauma killed all my potential
And they’re the ones with the nerve to call me mental
Blame me for my own pain, do it for their own gain
And all I’ve got is, “I’m fine” when I’m asked if I’m okay
Nothing like a smoking barrel to loosen their lips
World’s easiest confessions, descend the iceberg tip
Even they know the lake of fire’s a one-way trip
Scan their boarding passes, they’re called bullets in their asses
CHORUS
AK spray is the only way
To turn every day into Judgment Day
I can play God while you play them like a fiddle
Here’s a rain of bullets to meet you in the middle
BRIDGE
When the senators and reps break all their promises
When the Thin Blue Line takes a million hostages
Logic and reason never permeate their brains
But a flood of bullets will, now clean up all the stains
CHORUS
AK spray is the only way
To turn every day into Judgment Day
I can play God while you play them like a fiddle
Here’s a rain of bullets to meet you in the middle
It’s just a fantasy and my words are only words
It’s my very best defense from being called a jailbird
But only privilege and riches will get the benefit of the doubt
The womb’s the way in, electric chair’s the way out
I don’t want stress management skills
I want an AK-47
I don’t want to negotiate with my abusers
I want an AK-47
I don’t want to apologize to angry customers
I want an AK-47
Because AK spray is the only way!
VERSE 1
You can call me a cosplay revolutionary
You can say I’m no different from a bloody mercenary
You can call me an edgelord visionary
You can call me undesirable and say you’ll never marry
But all I want is justice, a little bit of substance
To go with the speeches of authority’s reaches
Violence is the language of the voiceless
Desperation is the language of the choiceless
CHORUS
AK spray is the only way
To turn every day into Judgment Day
I can play God while you play them like a fiddle
Here’s a rain of bullets to meet you in the middle
VERSE 2
Childhood trauma killed all my potential
And they’re the ones with the nerve to call me mental
Blame me for my own pain, do it for their own gain
And all I’ve got is, “I’m fine” when I’m asked if I’m okay
Nothing like a smoking barrel to loosen their lips
World’s easiest confessions, descend the iceberg tip
Even they know the lake of fire’s a one-way trip
Scan their boarding passes, they’re called bullets in their asses
CHORUS
AK spray is the only way
To turn every day into Judgment Day
I can play God while you play them like a fiddle
Here’s a rain of bullets to meet you in the middle
BRIDGE
When the senators and reps break all their promises
When the Thin Blue Line takes a million hostages
Logic and reason never permeate their brains
But a flood of bullets will, now clean up all the stains
CHORUS
AK spray is the only way
To turn every day into Judgment Day
I can play God while you play them like a fiddle
Here’s a rain of bullets to meet you in the middle
It’s just a fantasy and my words are only words
It’s my very best defense from being called a jailbird
But only privilege and riches will get the benefit of the doubt
The womb’s the way in, electric chair’s the way out
October 5, 2025
Troll's Tears
If my mini fridge wasn’t stocked with Mountain Dews
Cans of troll’s tears are what I’d choose
Not a scarce resource, I’d stay hydrated forever
‘Cause those bitches are crying like it’s rainy weather
Is it any coincidence that it tastes so salty?
You got to be salty if petty is what you call me
Jealousy and envy over individuality
They’re mediocre and plain, that’s their whole reality
They see the world through a black and white lens
It makes me wonder how they have any friends
They’re a bigger pain in the ass than a colonoscopy
Bigger pain than rectal cancer shown in the autopsy
Maybe their bodies on a table is a bunch of wishful thinking
There’s no thinking from them, just some Kool-Aid drinking
Every troll looks the same because they are the same
Trying to out-suck each other in a competitive game
There are no gold medals for their basic bitch statuses
Maybe that explains why they’re so damn mad at us
They’d kill for some color in their plain vanilla world
They’d kill someone anyways, maybe a cute girl
A chick who turned them down in front of the whole town
For being a big nothingburger and an even bigger clown
The only thing bigger is the size of their egos
Yet they’re fragile like glass despite their macho ethos
These pathetic motherfuckers aren’t worth my time
I’ll drink their tears and keep on pumping out rhymes
Cans of troll’s tears are what I’d choose
Not a scarce resource, I’d stay hydrated forever
‘Cause those bitches are crying like it’s rainy weather
Is it any coincidence that it tastes so salty?
You got to be salty if petty is what you call me
Jealousy and envy over individuality
They’re mediocre and plain, that’s their whole reality
They see the world through a black and white lens
It makes me wonder how they have any friends
They’re a bigger pain in the ass than a colonoscopy
Bigger pain than rectal cancer shown in the autopsy
Maybe their bodies on a table is a bunch of wishful thinking
There’s no thinking from them, just some Kool-Aid drinking
Every troll looks the same because they are the same
Trying to out-suck each other in a competitive game
There are no gold medals for their basic bitch statuses
Maybe that explains why they’re so damn mad at us
They’d kill for some color in their plain vanilla world
They’d kill someone anyways, maybe a cute girl
A chick who turned them down in front of the whole town
For being a big nothingburger and an even bigger clown
The only thing bigger is the size of their egos
Yet they’re fragile like glass despite their macho ethos
These pathetic motherfuckers aren’t worth my time
I’ll drink their tears and keep on pumping out rhymes
October 1, 2025
Voice of Reason
CHORUS
No one would believe me when I had a story to tell
They bent the knee to the powers that be
They’re too afraid of burning in hell
You’re not the voice of reason, you’re enabling treason
You’re handing out forgiveness like it’s Christmas season
A seat at my table should always be earned
Fuck the crosses you burned
What are the lessons you’ve learned?
VERSE 1
You want me to compromise with the ones who tell lies
And give them any credence like they’re just as wise
Shake hands with the Klan for your economic plan
Where we come together for this capitalist cheddar
One for all and all for one
But what will you do now that the damage is done?
Marginalization is institutionalization
But at least we can agree this is a badass nation
CHORUS
No one would believe me when I had a story to tell
They bent the knee to the powers that be
They’re too afraid of burning in hell
You’re not the voice of reason, you’re enabling treason
You’re handing out forgiveness like it’s Christmas season
A seat at my table should always be earned
Fuck the crosses you burned
What are the lessons you’ve learned?
VERSE 2
You call it unity when you fit the square pegs
Into the round holes while the beggars beg
We’re all equal because we all look the same
As we’re playing Monopoly, a real-life game
Say nighty-nighty, give your dreams to the mighty
It’s for the common good even with the white hoods
In the end, we’ll all be ground up into sausage
But at least we won the war, ‘cause the street trash lost it
VERSE 3
You’re not riding the fence, you’re riding the dick
Of Agent 47 who should be 86ed
You say you love us all, but you won’t answer the call
You’ll be so far away when another tower falls
Of course you’re apathetic and it’s kind of pathetic
How you use your privilege to rewrite and edit
The story of history through your eyes, not theirs
You’re so rich and lionized that you don’t have to care
CHORUS
No one would believe me when I had a story to tell
They bent the knee to the powers that be
They’re too afraid of burning in hell
You’re not the voice of reason, you’re enabling treason
You’re handing out forgiveness like it’s Christmas season
A seat at my table should always be earned
Fuck the crosses you burned
What are the lessons you’ve learned?
OUTRO
No small surprise where the center really lies
You’re the center of the universe, now everything’s worse
You sang kumbaya with jackboot-wearing thugs
Future civilizations will wonder if we’re on drugs
No one would believe me when I had a story to tell
They bent the knee to the powers that be
They’re too afraid of burning in hell
You’re not the voice of reason, you’re enabling treason
You’re handing out forgiveness like it’s Christmas season
A seat at my table should always be earned
Fuck the crosses you burned
What are the lessons you’ve learned?
VERSE 1
You want me to compromise with the ones who tell lies
And give them any credence like they’re just as wise
Shake hands with the Klan for your economic plan
Where we come together for this capitalist cheddar
One for all and all for one
But what will you do now that the damage is done?
Marginalization is institutionalization
But at least we can agree this is a badass nation
CHORUS
No one would believe me when I had a story to tell
They bent the knee to the powers that be
They’re too afraid of burning in hell
You’re not the voice of reason, you’re enabling treason
You’re handing out forgiveness like it’s Christmas season
A seat at my table should always be earned
Fuck the crosses you burned
What are the lessons you’ve learned?
VERSE 2
You call it unity when you fit the square pegs
Into the round holes while the beggars beg
We’re all equal because we all look the same
As we’re playing Monopoly, a real-life game
Say nighty-nighty, give your dreams to the mighty
It’s for the common good even with the white hoods
In the end, we’ll all be ground up into sausage
But at least we won the war, ‘cause the street trash lost it
VERSE 3
You’re not riding the fence, you’re riding the dick
Of Agent 47 who should be 86ed
You say you love us all, but you won’t answer the call
You’ll be so far away when another tower falls
Of course you’re apathetic and it’s kind of pathetic
How you use your privilege to rewrite and edit
The story of history through your eyes, not theirs
You’re so rich and lionized that you don’t have to care
CHORUS
No one would believe me when I had a story to tell
They bent the knee to the powers that be
They’re too afraid of burning in hell
You’re not the voice of reason, you’re enabling treason
You’re handing out forgiveness like it’s Christmas season
A seat at my table should always be earned
Fuck the crosses you burned
What are the lessons you’ve learned?
OUTRO
No small surprise where the center really lies
You’re the center of the universe, now everything’s worse
You sang kumbaya with jackboot-wearing thugs
Future civilizations will wonder if we’re on drugs
September 25, 2025
Black Tar Kiss, Chapter 3
It shouldn’t even come as a small surprise at this point that I try to tune out White Snake whenever he’s got his slithering lips bobbing up and down. But in all of his lunatic rantings and ravings, he managed to give me one piece of solid advice for the day I get captured by the cops: don’t say a damn thing. Just cross my arms, stare at the corner, and don’t flinch a muscle. Don’t even bother giving the detective a smidgen of eye contact. Also don’t ask for a lawyer. I know everybody says you have the right to a lawyer and all that jazz, but to any cop who’s on a steady TV diet of the Law & Order franchise, asking for a lawyer is an automatic guilty plea. It shouldn’t have been, but you know how these cops are, they don’t give a damn about your rights, just your wrongs. If you ain’t spilling those wrongs, you got nothing to worry about. Just sit tight, zip your piss flippers, and sooner or later they’ll come to terms with not having a goddamn thing on you.
White Snake prepared me for a legal battle as brutal as the one we had with Me Encanto Femicidio. What he didn’t prepare me for was Detective Jeri Lodge. Incels already had an insane amount of disrespect for women, calling them gold-diggers, vagina hosts, rape meat, and females among other horrible nonsense. I could barely see this lady out of the corner of my eye as I was still fixated on the corner of the white as hell room, staring at nothing in particular. From what I could see, though, she had some age on her in the form of subtle wrinkles here and there on her face. That platinum blond hair had a few white streaks in it and it wasn’t for the reason your average Reddit user imagined in their tiny little man brain. Black leather jacket made her look like she was in a rock band, probably the kind that Scar Tissue listened to and became horny for as a kid. Green jeans? Why not. Them jeans were as green as the Jolly Green Giant and she damn near walked like one anytime she wanted to make it known she wasn’t a bitch to mess with. Bottom line, she looked like she’d seen it all and could detect BS from ten counties over, ones that were outside of her jurisdiction, but I digress.
She slapped one of them manila file folders on the hard metal table and I swear I could feel the surface ripple just a little bit. The tape recorder she laid down next to it got the gentler treatment of the two, for obvious reasons. She didn’t hit that record button right away, though. She just clasped them calloused hands together that still managed to look great with light blue nail polish. Now wasn’t the time to admire her purty hands. Those purty hands could become sledgehammers if she decided to throw down. I didn’t give her eye contact, but I’m pretty sure this bitch could see right inside my head. Thank god she couldn’t see what was going on in my tummy, because that mess was colder than a Dairy Queen Blizzard and nowhere near as delicious.
Detective Lodge spent the world’s longest seconds staring at me with them medusa eyes and frankly I wouldn’t have minded turning to stone. But then she opened her mouth and let me know who was in charge that night. “Since I know you conservative men love to steal pieces of fiction that aren’t yours, I’ll throw some Matrix dialogue your way, Mr. Black Piller. My department and I have been tracking incel gangs in Bull Rope for a long time now. And you, sir, have been living two lives.” That southern drawl would have put me down on my knees in a heartbeat if my ass wasn’t already parked in a cold-ass metal chair.
Detective Lodge opened that file folder and started thumbing through the pages like she had the whole damn thing memorized. Some more Matrix dialogue for my waxed up ears. “In one life, you’re Elijah Canterbury. You get…somewhat good grades in school. You don’t get into any major trouble with your teachers. Hell, you even told one of them you wanted to be a rocket scientist when you grew up.”
Everything she said was true. Like any good ol’ country boy, I loved playing with bottle rockets. I was damned near fascinated with them. And I thought, well, if I could do that stuff with a big ol’ rocket ship and send that sucker into space, that’d be damned near spectacular. That would have been my ultimate wet dream, which wouldn’t have been out of place in a conversation about space rockets that looked like dinguses. Maybe I just really liked explosions. I know my daddy’s favorite movie was First Blood and that had a lot of explosions, compliments of Sylvester Stallone. But yeah, rocket science was my thing for a while before my dreams were crushed into glass shards.
Lodge wasn’t done with the Matrix schtick yet. “In the other life, your alias is Dogmeat. You’re part of a three-piece incel gang called Black Tar Kiss. I guess two goons are easier for your OG to manage since you love chowing on that monster chew so much.” Damn, how much did she know? Where was she getting all this info from? What the hell?! “One of these live has…something resembling a future. The other ain’t got shit.” She slammed that folder shut like it was supposed to be my prison cell door. DONG-DONG!
She took off them sunglasses and showed me them fiery eyes. If she wasn’t too busy cooking me in this interrogation, she could do it with just that stare alone. I knew I was screwed, but I wasn’t going to budge. I might have sweated a little bit, but budging wasn’t an option. She asked, “Do you not get the gravity of this situation, Mr. Canterbury? I can call you Mr. Canterbury, right? You don’t like being called Dogmeat. Nobody does. That’s why you got that name: to chip away at your pride. Make you a good little lapdog for the cause. Yeah, maybe you should be called Dogmeat in that case.”
Yeah, it was damn near graduation season in this timeline, but it wasn’t the summer heat that was making me sweat. It was the heat of a pissed off woman trying to break me worse than the name Dogmeat ever could. I stayed in my seat, stared at the corner, I sweated like a fire hydrant, but I wasn’t saying a damn thing.
That was when Detective Lodge pulled out the big guns, and I don’t mean the Colt 45 she took with her to work every day. She pulled a little somethin’-somethin’ out of that file folder…and she smiled. This bitch smiled. I couldn’t tell if she was being evil as hell or if she was genuinely happy about what she saw. “Well, look what we have here, Mr. Canterbury. It’s your 18th birthday list! Holy Jesus, look at all the goodies on this thing. You dream pretty big for a kid living in poverty.”
Damn it, that battleaxe had my birthday list! Aw, hell no! “Let’s see here…some heavy metal CD’s, some space Legos, probably to go with that masturbatory rocket science you dreamed of, some Star Wars memorabilia, probably with Princess Leia in that golden bikini.” Believe it or not, that wasn’t the most embarrassing thing on that list. When she found out what it was, her jaw dropped in a snarky kind of way, but she still had that wicked grin. “There’s no chance in hell this last item is real…no way…you actually had the cajones to ask your daddy for…a hot stepmom?!”
And that right there was the crux of why my daddy was screaming like a madman at me and why I ran away from his withered ass. I did a little…exploration on my computer and found a whole world of…entertaining videos that I would never want anyone at daddy’s church knowing about. Duct tape sex, adult diapers, bare feet…and yes, hot step-relatives. But let’s be real: I’m from a part of America where we didn’t give two rat’s asses if the relationship was by blood or by marriage. If you were hot, you were a fantasy, plain and simple, no ifs, ands, or buts. We all had these dark secrets locked up inside of us, but none of us were particularly vocal about it, being good Christian folk and all that. That was supposed to be the quiet part, until some hoity-toity politician was caught with Cheese Pizza.
Detective Lodge’s sadistic grinning continued as she kept teasing and poking and prodding me for what felt like the amount of time I would be on hell’s rotisserie rack when I crossed the afterlife. “Now…this hot stepmom you’ve envisioned for yourself. What’s she like? We know she’s hot, but what makes her that way? Does she have cute toes that she loves showing off in flipflops?” That condescending voice was getting under my skin something fierce. I was redder than a belt welt at that point and it was showing. “Does she have a big butt? Does she have big milky honkers? Or maybe what she has is something you’re too afraid to ask for: a big…pulsating…quivering…dripping…DICK!”
“Listen, you son of a bitch!” I jumped out of my seat and channeled my own daddy with screams and finger pointing. I really wanted that finger to be wrapped around a pistol trigger, I was so pissed. “I know what you’re trying to do! And it ain’t gonna work, pumpkin!”
“Well, it looks like it already did. If everything I said was bullpucky, why are you so offended?” And just like that, my broken spirit was finally deflated. I sat back down in the chair like I was no different from a hot air balloon that got popped. I even heaved in and out from the energy I was expending being defeated and torn.
“Now that your lips are a little looser than they were before, how about you tell me what I want to know. Truth is, Elijah, if you can’t take a little joke about you enjoying transgender dick, you ain’t got a shot in hell in a place like prison. You ain’t gonna get a hot stepmommy in there, but you’ll get plenty of daddies. Lots and lots of daddies. Sure, your gangster ass could take on one guy, maybe two on a good day. But you ain’t gonna get one or two guys. You’ll get ten. Twenty. Fifty. There are no fair fights in prison, Elijah. A handsome young guy like you would be better off as a Deliverance character listening to dueling banjoes.”
“You ain’t got shit on me, lady.”
“Oh, I think I do. And if I can’t get it from you, well, I could always hold a little press conference and…let your little stepmommy fetish slip. You know, just to be a petty-Betty. I could make up some wild story like, hey, internet porn consumption is a problem among our youth. Give my department a million dollars. Or, hey, a lack of media literacy is brainwashing young men, give me two million dollars. Or, hey, this young man over here joined a gang because his daddy gave him crap about being an incestuous freak.”
“Let me guess, three million?”
“Double it. And the sad part about all this? It’s easily preventable. You could make all this mess go away by simply telling me what I want to know. You’re a low-level grunt at best, but you still have a little bit of a story to tell, don’t you? You gonna cooperate? You gonna make all this disappear? I’m not Penn or Teller, but I can make stuff disappear pretty damn quickly. Damn, son, you’re sweating bullets! You’re redder than this whole damn state! You look like an actual piece of rape meat! That is what you call vulnerable women on the internet, right? Well, that can be you if I decide to toss your ass in a cell…”
“Alright! I’ll talk! What do you want to know?!” Now that I think back, I don’t know why this was such a hard decision for me. I had no love White Snake and I was already questioning why I was even part of Black Tar Kiss to begin with. Why should I give a damn if he gets what Detective Lodge was threatening me with? Screw him! He could take that chewing tobacco and shove it up his derriere!
Detective Lodge hit the record button on that tape player and asked very plainly, “What happened at Battleground Park tonight? Tell me everything. Spare no detail no matter how irrelevant you think it is.”
My lips were loosened up a long time ago, long before Detective Lodge walked into the room. She saw my nervousness and went for the kill. Truth is, nothing I could have done in that room would have worked. No legal advice could have saved me, not even from a seasoned OG like White Snake. I did exactly what was asked of me. I turned into the world’s biggest rat without even needing “monster chew”. I told Jeri everything. Every last detail. The transformation into a psycho wolf, chasing gangsters away instead of pounding on them, and yes, I made it extra clear that I never threw a single punch that night. Scar Tissue and White Snake did all the damage. And then it dawned on me: I was ratting out Scar Tissue, too, the guy with the most potential out of all of us. I couldn’t stop myself in time. The story was already out and already on that tape.
I hung my head feeling both relieved to get that off my chest and guilty as hell for selling Scar Tissue up the river. He did in fact beat up those chuds and they deserved it, but he had so much more to live for than throwing his life away for another chud who had the audacity to call himself White Snake.
Jeri turned off the recorder, collected her things, and strolled out of the room, but not before telling me, “Your story better be accurate. You tell one single lie and…” She made a throat slash gesture with her thumb and the message was loud and clear. I sat alone in that room with nothing but my racing thoughts. I was a dead man no matter what. The only difference was, it wouldn’t happen in prison. I do wonder which fate would have been worse: getting mauled by a blood elemental and a giant snake or getting gang raped by fifty tattooed murderers while the CO’s didn’t do jack about it? Hell, I might have been killed off by another incel gang in town, I didn’t have all the facts yet. It would have been so much easier to go back home and sleep it off. Just reconcile with my daddy and start over again. But reconciliation wasn’t that easy, especially with a couple of egos as massive as ours. The minute I walked through that house door, I was a dead man all over again. He never hit me, but he would have started if he saw me again, I was sure of it.
And wouldn’t you know it: Jeri sauntered back in the room with my personal belongings and said, “You’re free to go. I asked around and your story is in fact true. Them other gangsters didn’t have loose lips either, but they had loose bowels and bladders, which was close enough. Even I couldn’t do that.” I smiled at the joke, but that smile didn’t last long as I knew my fate was sealed. Jeri even tried to push me in the right direction with one last word of advice before I left the station: “Go home to your dad. I can’t make you go. You’re eighteen years old. You’re not a runaway anymore. But I guarantee you the streets of Bull Rope don’t give nearly as much of a damn about you as your daddy does…”
White Snake prepared me for a legal battle as brutal as the one we had with Me Encanto Femicidio. What he didn’t prepare me for was Detective Jeri Lodge. Incels already had an insane amount of disrespect for women, calling them gold-diggers, vagina hosts, rape meat, and females among other horrible nonsense. I could barely see this lady out of the corner of my eye as I was still fixated on the corner of the white as hell room, staring at nothing in particular. From what I could see, though, she had some age on her in the form of subtle wrinkles here and there on her face. That platinum blond hair had a few white streaks in it and it wasn’t for the reason your average Reddit user imagined in their tiny little man brain. Black leather jacket made her look like she was in a rock band, probably the kind that Scar Tissue listened to and became horny for as a kid. Green jeans? Why not. Them jeans were as green as the Jolly Green Giant and she damn near walked like one anytime she wanted to make it known she wasn’t a bitch to mess with. Bottom line, she looked like she’d seen it all and could detect BS from ten counties over, ones that were outside of her jurisdiction, but I digress.
She slapped one of them manila file folders on the hard metal table and I swear I could feel the surface ripple just a little bit. The tape recorder she laid down next to it got the gentler treatment of the two, for obvious reasons. She didn’t hit that record button right away, though. She just clasped them calloused hands together that still managed to look great with light blue nail polish. Now wasn’t the time to admire her purty hands. Those purty hands could become sledgehammers if she decided to throw down. I didn’t give her eye contact, but I’m pretty sure this bitch could see right inside my head. Thank god she couldn’t see what was going on in my tummy, because that mess was colder than a Dairy Queen Blizzard and nowhere near as delicious.
Detective Lodge spent the world’s longest seconds staring at me with them medusa eyes and frankly I wouldn’t have minded turning to stone. But then she opened her mouth and let me know who was in charge that night. “Since I know you conservative men love to steal pieces of fiction that aren’t yours, I’ll throw some Matrix dialogue your way, Mr. Black Piller. My department and I have been tracking incel gangs in Bull Rope for a long time now. And you, sir, have been living two lives.” That southern drawl would have put me down on my knees in a heartbeat if my ass wasn’t already parked in a cold-ass metal chair.
Detective Lodge opened that file folder and started thumbing through the pages like she had the whole damn thing memorized. Some more Matrix dialogue for my waxed up ears. “In one life, you’re Elijah Canterbury. You get…somewhat good grades in school. You don’t get into any major trouble with your teachers. Hell, you even told one of them you wanted to be a rocket scientist when you grew up.”
Everything she said was true. Like any good ol’ country boy, I loved playing with bottle rockets. I was damned near fascinated with them. And I thought, well, if I could do that stuff with a big ol’ rocket ship and send that sucker into space, that’d be damned near spectacular. That would have been my ultimate wet dream, which wouldn’t have been out of place in a conversation about space rockets that looked like dinguses. Maybe I just really liked explosions. I know my daddy’s favorite movie was First Blood and that had a lot of explosions, compliments of Sylvester Stallone. But yeah, rocket science was my thing for a while before my dreams were crushed into glass shards.
Lodge wasn’t done with the Matrix schtick yet. “In the other life, your alias is Dogmeat. You’re part of a three-piece incel gang called Black Tar Kiss. I guess two goons are easier for your OG to manage since you love chowing on that monster chew so much.” Damn, how much did she know? Where was she getting all this info from? What the hell?! “One of these live has…something resembling a future. The other ain’t got shit.” She slammed that folder shut like it was supposed to be my prison cell door. DONG-DONG!
She took off them sunglasses and showed me them fiery eyes. If she wasn’t too busy cooking me in this interrogation, she could do it with just that stare alone. I knew I was screwed, but I wasn’t going to budge. I might have sweated a little bit, but budging wasn’t an option. She asked, “Do you not get the gravity of this situation, Mr. Canterbury? I can call you Mr. Canterbury, right? You don’t like being called Dogmeat. Nobody does. That’s why you got that name: to chip away at your pride. Make you a good little lapdog for the cause. Yeah, maybe you should be called Dogmeat in that case.”
Yeah, it was damn near graduation season in this timeline, but it wasn’t the summer heat that was making me sweat. It was the heat of a pissed off woman trying to break me worse than the name Dogmeat ever could. I stayed in my seat, stared at the corner, I sweated like a fire hydrant, but I wasn’t saying a damn thing.
That was when Detective Lodge pulled out the big guns, and I don’t mean the Colt 45 she took with her to work every day. She pulled a little somethin’-somethin’ out of that file folder…and she smiled. This bitch smiled. I couldn’t tell if she was being evil as hell or if she was genuinely happy about what she saw. “Well, look what we have here, Mr. Canterbury. It’s your 18th birthday list! Holy Jesus, look at all the goodies on this thing. You dream pretty big for a kid living in poverty.”
Damn it, that battleaxe had my birthday list! Aw, hell no! “Let’s see here…some heavy metal CD’s, some space Legos, probably to go with that masturbatory rocket science you dreamed of, some Star Wars memorabilia, probably with Princess Leia in that golden bikini.” Believe it or not, that wasn’t the most embarrassing thing on that list. When she found out what it was, her jaw dropped in a snarky kind of way, but she still had that wicked grin. “There’s no chance in hell this last item is real…no way…you actually had the cajones to ask your daddy for…a hot stepmom?!”
And that right there was the crux of why my daddy was screaming like a madman at me and why I ran away from his withered ass. I did a little…exploration on my computer and found a whole world of…entertaining videos that I would never want anyone at daddy’s church knowing about. Duct tape sex, adult diapers, bare feet…and yes, hot step-relatives. But let’s be real: I’m from a part of America where we didn’t give two rat’s asses if the relationship was by blood or by marriage. If you were hot, you were a fantasy, plain and simple, no ifs, ands, or buts. We all had these dark secrets locked up inside of us, but none of us were particularly vocal about it, being good Christian folk and all that. That was supposed to be the quiet part, until some hoity-toity politician was caught with Cheese Pizza.
Detective Lodge’s sadistic grinning continued as she kept teasing and poking and prodding me for what felt like the amount of time I would be on hell’s rotisserie rack when I crossed the afterlife. “Now…this hot stepmom you’ve envisioned for yourself. What’s she like? We know she’s hot, but what makes her that way? Does she have cute toes that she loves showing off in flipflops?” That condescending voice was getting under my skin something fierce. I was redder than a belt welt at that point and it was showing. “Does she have a big butt? Does she have big milky honkers? Or maybe what she has is something you’re too afraid to ask for: a big…pulsating…quivering…dripping…DICK!”
“Listen, you son of a bitch!” I jumped out of my seat and channeled my own daddy with screams and finger pointing. I really wanted that finger to be wrapped around a pistol trigger, I was so pissed. “I know what you’re trying to do! And it ain’t gonna work, pumpkin!”
“Well, it looks like it already did. If everything I said was bullpucky, why are you so offended?” And just like that, my broken spirit was finally deflated. I sat back down in the chair like I was no different from a hot air balloon that got popped. I even heaved in and out from the energy I was expending being defeated and torn.
“Now that your lips are a little looser than they were before, how about you tell me what I want to know. Truth is, Elijah, if you can’t take a little joke about you enjoying transgender dick, you ain’t got a shot in hell in a place like prison. You ain’t gonna get a hot stepmommy in there, but you’ll get plenty of daddies. Lots and lots of daddies. Sure, your gangster ass could take on one guy, maybe two on a good day. But you ain’t gonna get one or two guys. You’ll get ten. Twenty. Fifty. There are no fair fights in prison, Elijah. A handsome young guy like you would be better off as a Deliverance character listening to dueling banjoes.”
“You ain’t got shit on me, lady.”
“Oh, I think I do. And if I can’t get it from you, well, I could always hold a little press conference and…let your little stepmommy fetish slip. You know, just to be a petty-Betty. I could make up some wild story like, hey, internet porn consumption is a problem among our youth. Give my department a million dollars. Or, hey, a lack of media literacy is brainwashing young men, give me two million dollars. Or, hey, this young man over here joined a gang because his daddy gave him crap about being an incestuous freak.”
“Let me guess, three million?”
“Double it. And the sad part about all this? It’s easily preventable. You could make all this mess go away by simply telling me what I want to know. You’re a low-level grunt at best, but you still have a little bit of a story to tell, don’t you? You gonna cooperate? You gonna make all this disappear? I’m not Penn or Teller, but I can make stuff disappear pretty damn quickly. Damn, son, you’re sweating bullets! You’re redder than this whole damn state! You look like an actual piece of rape meat! That is what you call vulnerable women on the internet, right? Well, that can be you if I decide to toss your ass in a cell…”
“Alright! I’ll talk! What do you want to know?!” Now that I think back, I don’t know why this was such a hard decision for me. I had no love White Snake and I was already questioning why I was even part of Black Tar Kiss to begin with. Why should I give a damn if he gets what Detective Lodge was threatening me with? Screw him! He could take that chewing tobacco and shove it up his derriere!
Detective Lodge hit the record button on that tape player and asked very plainly, “What happened at Battleground Park tonight? Tell me everything. Spare no detail no matter how irrelevant you think it is.”
My lips were loosened up a long time ago, long before Detective Lodge walked into the room. She saw my nervousness and went for the kill. Truth is, nothing I could have done in that room would have worked. No legal advice could have saved me, not even from a seasoned OG like White Snake. I did exactly what was asked of me. I turned into the world’s biggest rat without even needing “monster chew”. I told Jeri everything. Every last detail. The transformation into a psycho wolf, chasing gangsters away instead of pounding on them, and yes, I made it extra clear that I never threw a single punch that night. Scar Tissue and White Snake did all the damage. And then it dawned on me: I was ratting out Scar Tissue, too, the guy with the most potential out of all of us. I couldn’t stop myself in time. The story was already out and already on that tape.
I hung my head feeling both relieved to get that off my chest and guilty as hell for selling Scar Tissue up the river. He did in fact beat up those chuds and they deserved it, but he had so much more to live for than throwing his life away for another chud who had the audacity to call himself White Snake.
Jeri turned off the recorder, collected her things, and strolled out of the room, but not before telling me, “Your story better be accurate. You tell one single lie and…” She made a throat slash gesture with her thumb and the message was loud and clear. I sat alone in that room with nothing but my racing thoughts. I was a dead man no matter what. The only difference was, it wouldn’t happen in prison. I do wonder which fate would have been worse: getting mauled by a blood elemental and a giant snake or getting gang raped by fifty tattooed murderers while the CO’s didn’t do jack about it? Hell, I might have been killed off by another incel gang in town, I didn’t have all the facts yet. It would have been so much easier to go back home and sleep it off. Just reconcile with my daddy and start over again. But reconciliation wasn’t that easy, especially with a couple of egos as massive as ours. The minute I walked through that house door, I was a dead man all over again. He never hit me, but he would have started if he saw me again, I was sure of it.
And wouldn’t you know it: Jeri sauntered back in the room with my personal belongings and said, “You’re free to go. I asked around and your story is in fact true. Them other gangsters didn’t have loose lips either, but they had loose bowels and bladders, which was close enough. Even I couldn’t do that.” I smiled at the joke, but that smile didn’t last long as I knew my fate was sealed. Jeri even tried to push me in the right direction with one last word of advice before I left the station: “Go home to your dad. I can’t make you go. You’re eighteen years old. You’re not a runaway anymore. But I guarantee you the streets of Bull Rope don’t give nearly as much of a damn about you as your daddy does…”
September 7, 2025
DIY
VERSE 1: INTERNET TROLL
“Your writing’s so awful, I wish you’d stop
Crimes against humanity, I’ll call the cops
Your books get mentioned in the Geneva Conventions
They’re torture, I’ll call for an Executive Order”
CHORUS 1
You want something done right, you got to do it yourself
Come over to my home and ring the doorbell
You better be packing a rocket launcher
Or I’ll enslave you, make you my salad tosser
You’d never risk getting decked in the mouth
You’d never risk getting your tongue pulled out
Keyboard courage doesn’t amount to shit
Dish it out all you want, but you can’t take it
VERSE 2: RED PILLER
“I can’t get laid, ‘cause her legs ain’t shaved
Neither are her pits or the nipples on her tits
Every female should look like Wonder Woman
And have a personality so bland and wooden”
CHORUS 2
You want something done right, you got to do it yourself
Jack it off, jack it raw for your prostate health
Ain’t nobody going to do it for you
Especially when your hobby is going “pew-pew”
At a high school or a gay rights march
Or a feminist meeting without a patriarch
You got a four-wheel drive playing Kid Rock live
But you got no soul, that’s why you can’t find a hole
VERSE 3: POLITICIAN
“I’ll rattle my saber until you do me a favor
Drop to your knees as you try to appease
Kiss my ass until the end of time
Or I’ll lock you up for your treasonous crime”
CHORUS 3
You want something done right, you got to do it yourself
Stop hiding behind all your status and wealth
Put your working boots on and let’s get it on
Don’t tell me you’re right, show you’re not wrong
But chickening out is what you do best
And you couldn’t pass a military psych test
Run for the hills, take your Ivermectin pills
Or better yet, cyanide to melt your insides
OUTRO
You want something done right, you got to do it yourself
The punk movement said it, yet you somehow forget it
“They’re all too woke and they’re all going soft”
Yet you’re so tough that you hide behind the cops
Hide behind ICE while you pay the price
For your FAFO moment, you refuse to own it
You’re a sheep on the farm being led to slaughter
Shave off your wool, put it on the king’s daughter
“Your writing’s so awful, I wish you’d stop
Crimes against humanity, I’ll call the cops
Your books get mentioned in the Geneva Conventions
They’re torture, I’ll call for an Executive Order”
CHORUS 1
You want something done right, you got to do it yourself
Come over to my home and ring the doorbell
You better be packing a rocket launcher
Or I’ll enslave you, make you my salad tosser
You’d never risk getting decked in the mouth
You’d never risk getting your tongue pulled out
Keyboard courage doesn’t amount to shit
Dish it out all you want, but you can’t take it
VERSE 2: RED PILLER
“I can’t get laid, ‘cause her legs ain’t shaved
Neither are her pits or the nipples on her tits
Every female should look like Wonder Woman
And have a personality so bland and wooden”
CHORUS 2
You want something done right, you got to do it yourself
Jack it off, jack it raw for your prostate health
Ain’t nobody going to do it for you
Especially when your hobby is going “pew-pew”
At a high school or a gay rights march
Or a feminist meeting without a patriarch
You got a four-wheel drive playing Kid Rock live
But you got no soul, that’s why you can’t find a hole
VERSE 3: POLITICIAN
“I’ll rattle my saber until you do me a favor
Drop to your knees as you try to appease
Kiss my ass until the end of time
Or I’ll lock you up for your treasonous crime”
CHORUS 3
You want something done right, you got to do it yourself
Stop hiding behind all your status and wealth
Put your working boots on and let’s get it on
Don’t tell me you’re right, show you’re not wrong
But chickening out is what you do best
And you couldn’t pass a military psych test
Run for the hills, take your Ivermectin pills
Or better yet, cyanide to melt your insides
OUTRO
You want something done right, you got to do it yourself
The punk movement said it, yet you somehow forget it
“They’re all too woke and they’re all going soft”
Yet you’re so tough that you hide behind the cops
Hide behind ICE while you pay the price
For your FAFO moment, you refuse to own it
You’re a sheep on the farm being led to slaughter
Shave off your wool, put it on the king’s daughter
August 16, 2025
You Are the Reason
You are the reason you lost all your friends
You are the reason your romances end
You are the reason you’re all alone
You are the reason and you can’t atone
You are the reason we hate religion
You are the reason we hate politicians
You are the reason we have division
I’m starting to think this was your mission
You are the reason the world’s on fire
You are the reason we hang by a wire
You are the reason we’re too damn tired
To raise any children in a world of killin’
You are the reason we cannot forgive you
You are the reason you need all the tissues
You are the reason for your own damn tears
You didn’t lead with hope, you led with fear
Now who could I be talking to when I say “you”?
A former friend? Some relatives? Some troll with loose screws?
The answer is yes, you and all the rest, and I said it best
Here comes Armageddon, we won’t let you forget it
I am the reason you’re gone forever
I am the reason we never speak ever
I am the reason for all the boundaries
I set them up and I say it proudly
I am the reason my life is much better
I am the reason, I am the trendsetter
I am the reason why I still have hope
Let you back in? That’s a big nope!
You are the reason your romances end
You are the reason you’re all alone
You are the reason and you can’t atone
You are the reason we hate religion
You are the reason we hate politicians
You are the reason we have division
I’m starting to think this was your mission
You are the reason the world’s on fire
You are the reason we hang by a wire
You are the reason we’re too damn tired
To raise any children in a world of killin’
You are the reason we cannot forgive you
You are the reason you need all the tissues
You are the reason for your own damn tears
You didn’t lead with hope, you led with fear
Now who could I be talking to when I say “you”?
A former friend? Some relatives? Some troll with loose screws?
The answer is yes, you and all the rest, and I said it best
Here comes Armageddon, we won’t let you forget it
I am the reason you’re gone forever
I am the reason we never speak ever
I am the reason for all the boundaries
I set them up and I say it proudly
I am the reason my life is much better
I am the reason, I am the trendsetter
I am the reason why I still have hope
Let you back in? That’s a big nope!
July 31, 2025
Pulling on the Masks
INTRO DIALOGUE
Uno, dos, tres, cuatro
Can you hear me, Juan?
Okay, these people think they’re the Master Race?
VERSE 1
Pulling on the masks, not wiping their asses
Wiping is gay, they’re supposed to be fascists
Run into a school zone, terrorize the masses
Pinhead, pinhead, racial slur passes
Pinhead, pinhead, racial slur passes
Appropriating cultures like a motherfucking vulture
Pinhead, pinhead, getting really pissed
Pinhead, pinhead, MAGA terrorists
VERSE 2
Logging onto Tinder to get themselves some
Chickies in the streets, grab their fucking bums
When they want her number, she will give them none
Pinhead, pinhead, chivalry is done
Pinhead, pinhead, chivalry is done
Scaring off the women in a patriarchal system
Pinhead, pinhead, sucking on her face
Pinhead, pinhead, getting sprayed with mace
VERSE 3
When they’re at a protest, at first they pull a gun
But when they see some blue hair, then they start to run
When they see their pronouns, it makes them think twice
Pinhead, pinhead, secretly enticed
Pinhead, pinhead, secretly enticed
Consuming trans porn ‘til the bright and early morn
Pinhead, pinhead, getting really pissed
Pinhead, pinhead, at the word “cis”
VERSE 4
I couldn’t speak Spanish to save my own life
But I know a few phrases, so I can get by
On your knees, pendejo, that’s a good puto
Pinhead, pinhead, besame kulo
Pinhead, pinhead, hired by the law
It was January 6th when ICE gave them a job
Pinhead, pinhead, covering their face
Pinhead, pinhead, for the Master Race!
Uno, dos, tres, cuatro
Can you hear me, Juan?
Okay, these people think they’re the Master Race?
VERSE 1
Pulling on the masks, not wiping their asses
Wiping is gay, they’re supposed to be fascists
Run into a school zone, terrorize the masses
Pinhead, pinhead, racial slur passes
Pinhead, pinhead, racial slur passes
Appropriating cultures like a motherfucking vulture
Pinhead, pinhead, getting really pissed
Pinhead, pinhead, MAGA terrorists
VERSE 2
Logging onto Tinder to get themselves some
Chickies in the streets, grab their fucking bums
When they want her number, she will give them none
Pinhead, pinhead, chivalry is done
Pinhead, pinhead, chivalry is done
Scaring off the women in a patriarchal system
Pinhead, pinhead, sucking on her face
Pinhead, pinhead, getting sprayed with mace
VERSE 3
When they’re at a protest, at first they pull a gun
But when they see some blue hair, then they start to run
When they see their pronouns, it makes them think twice
Pinhead, pinhead, secretly enticed
Pinhead, pinhead, secretly enticed
Consuming trans porn ‘til the bright and early morn
Pinhead, pinhead, getting really pissed
Pinhead, pinhead, at the word “cis”
VERSE 4
I couldn’t speak Spanish to save my own life
But I know a few phrases, so I can get by
On your knees, pendejo, that’s a good puto
Pinhead, pinhead, besame kulo
Pinhead, pinhead, hired by the law
It was January 6th when ICE gave them a job
Pinhead, pinhead, covering their face
Pinhead, pinhead, for the Master Race!
July 18, 2025
Stay Down
VERSE 1
Your childhood sucked, so your offspring must pay
Beat them with a belt to make sure they’re not gay
A piece of leather passed down from your father
You could throw that shit away, but why the hell bother?
Whip them, lash them, and verbally trash them
Their spirits and dreams, go ahead and smash them
When you’re taken away with cuffs around your wrists
You can tell the courtroom about the gripes on your list
PRE-CHORUS
Mr. Narcissist, next time you get pissed
Make sure the gun you put to your head doesn’t miss
CHORUS
Stay down! X4
VERSE 2
You hate your wife, because she ruined your life
That’s the story you tell on your way to hell
Too much nagging from her led you to a divorce
You’re so innocent, so you owe her, of course
You say the system’s rigged with a voice so big
But your dick’s so small and so are your balls
One last check in the form of alimony
Your bank account is dry, keep pissing and moaning
PRE-CHORUS
Mr. Wifebeater, Mr. Cheater, Mr. Geezer
Next time you keep a dead body in your freezer
Call your victim anything but a skeezer
It’s not a good look when you’re locked up and booked
CHORUS
Stay down! X4
BRIDGE
I’m sorry life didn’t turn out the way you wanted
I’m sorry you grew up with a mind so haunted
But my real sympathies lie with the ones you hurt
You didn’t have to do that, no more bodies in the dirt
Nobody walks away from this life unscathed
Doesn’t mean they need to feel even half of your pain
You could have broken the cycle, but you broke their bones
You broke their minds too, so forgiveness is a hard no
CHORUS
Stay down! X8
OUTRO
Lay down!
And stay down!
‘Cause if you get back up
You’ll get jacked up!
Your childhood sucked, so your offspring must pay
Beat them with a belt to make sure they’re not gay
A piece of leather passed down from your father
You could throw that shit away, but why the hell bother?
Whip them, lash them, and verbally trash them
Their spirits and dreams, go ahead and smash them
When you’re taken away with cuffs around your wrists
You can tell the courtroom about the gripes on your list
PRE-CHORUS
Mr. Narcissist, next time you get pissed
Make sure the gun you put to your head doesn’t miss
CHORUS
Stay down! X4
VERSE 2
You hate your wife, because she ruined your life
That’s the story you tell on your way to hell
Too much nagging from her led you to a divorce
You’re so innocent, so you owe her, of course
You say the system’s rigged with a voice so big
But your dick’s so small and so are your balls
One last check in the form of alimony
Your bank account is dry, keep pissing and moaning
PRE-CHORUS
Mr. Wifebeater, Mr. Cheater, Mr. Geezer
Next time you keep a dead body in your freezer
Call your victim anything but a skeezer
It’s not a good look when you’re locked up and booked
CHORUS
Stay down! X4
BRIDGE
I’m sorry life didn’t turn out the way you wanted
I’m sorry you grew up with a mind so haunted
But my real sympathies lie with the ones you hurt
You didn’t have to do that, no more bodies in the dirt
Nobody walks away from this life unscathed
Doesn’t mean they need to feel even half of your pain
You could have broken the cycle, but you broke their bones
You broke their minds too, so forgiveness is a hard no
CHORUS
Stay down! X8
OUTRO
Lay down!
And stay down!
‘Cause if you get back up
You’ll get jacked up!
July 14, 2025
When It Happens to You
VERSE 1
You got the Thin Blue Line ‘til they vote Democrat
Now you storm the white house with a baseball bat
You called Benson a badass ‘til she voted for Harris
Now you spray paint on her house the word “terrist”
Your spelling sucks and so does your syntax
The King of England had a heart attack
But you speak like royalty when and only when
You bitch about the use of “they” and “them”
CHORUS
What can you do?
It’s only racist when it happens to you
What can you do?
It’s only sexist when it happens to you
VERSE 2
You fucked around and now you’re finding out
You lost your right to pout and scream and shout
You only know how to do it to yourself
And now you lost your insurance for health
EXTENDED CHORUS
What can you do?
It’s only racist when it happens to you
What can you do?
It’s only sexist when it happens to you
It’s only violent when it happens to you
They’re only bigots when they do it to you
You’re a victim of the system when it happens to you
VERSE 3
Even after all the shit you’ve seen
You lick those boots all nice and clean
Sucking up don’t mean a hill of beans
Ain’t got no green, so you’re on the wrong team
EXTENDED CHORUS
What can you do?
It’s only racist when it happens to you
What can you do?
It’s only sexist when it happens to you
It’s only violent when it happens to you
They’re only bigots when they do it to you
You’re a victim of the system when it happens to you
You got the Thin Blue Line ‘til they vote Democrat
Now you storm the white house with a baseball bat
You called Benson a badass ‘til she voted for Harris
Now you spray paint on her house the word “terrist”
Your spelling sucks and so does your syntax
The King of England had a heart attack
But you speak like royalty when and only when
You bitch about the use of “they” and “them”
CHORUS
What can you do?
It’s only racist when it happens to you
What can you do?
It’s only sexist when it happens to you
VERSE 2
You fucked around and now you’re finding out
You lost your right to pout and scream and shout
You only know how to do it to yourself
And now you lost your insurance for health
EXTENDED CHORUS
What can you do?
It’s only racist when it happens to you
What can you do?
It’s only sexist when it happens to you
It’s only violent when it happens to you
They’re only bigots when they do it to you
You’re a victim of the system when it happens to you
VERSE 3
Even after all the shit you’ve seen
You lick those boots all nice and clean
Sucking up don’t mean a hill of beans
Ain’t got no green, so you’re on the wrong team
EXTENDED CHORUS
What can you do?
It’s only racist when it happens to you
What can you do?
It’s only sexist when it happens to you
It’s only violent when it happens to you
They’re only bigots when they do it to you
You’re a victim of the system when it happens to you
July 8, 2025
The Marsellus Wallace Speech: AEW Edition
(OOC: I read a blog post today about how Marsellus Wallace's speech to Butch in Pulp Fiction can be applied to any relatable scenario, so I did a parody myself, just like the author did. Ready? Here we go:
We fade in on Bryan Danielson, a 44-year-old pro-wrestler who’s one broken neck away from being confined to a wheelchair. He sits across the table wearing a plain white T-shirt (because he doesn’t believe in consumerism). Sitting on the opposite side off screen is Tony Khan, the Head Honcho at All Elite Wrestling, where Bryan works. Tony sounds like a cross between a delusional billionaire and a giddy fanboy.
TONY (O.S.)
What do you think you’re gonna find when your decades-long career is over? I think you’re gonna find yourself one broken down, sad-ass motherfucker. The thing is, Bryan, you have a shitload of five-star matches. But as painful as it may seem, five-star matches won’t save your life, and yours is over the minute you take another bump. That’s a hard motherfucking fact of life, and it’s one your ass is gonna have to get realistic about. The wrestling business is filled to the brim with unrealistic motherfuckers who say they’re gonna retire but never do. Motherfuckers who thought their asses would age like wine. If you mean it turns to vinegar like Ric Flair and Chris Jericho, it does. If you mean it gets better with age like R-Truth and Trish Stratus? It don’t. Besides, Bryan, how many five-star matches do you got left in you? Two? Wrestlers don’t have an Old-Timer’s League. It was called Heroes of Wrestling and it sucked ass. You came close, but you made it only a handful of times. If you were gonna make it again, you would have done it already.
Tony holds release papers just out of Bryan’s reach.
TONY (O.S.)
You actually gonna retire this time?
BRYAN
Certainly appears so.
Bryan takes the release papers from Tony’s hand.
TONY
Night of your final retirement speech, you’re gonna feel a slight sting. That’s pride fucking with you. Fuck pride! Pride only hurts, probably about as bad as Jon Moxley suffocating you with a plastic bag. It never helps. You gotta fight through that shit. ‘Cause a year from now when you’re at home banging Brie Bella and hanging out with your two kids Birdie and Buddy, you’re gonna say to yourself, “Tony Khan was right”, which is something I hear from Dave Meltzer pretty much regularly.
BRYAN
Yeah, me too.
TONY
At AEW Revolution, you job to Jon Moxley. Say it.
BRYAN
At AEW Revolution, I job to Jon Moxley.
The original blog post: https://www.kingdomoffailure.com/post...
We fade in on Bryan Danielson, a 44-year-old pro-wrestler who’s one broken neck away from being confined to a wheelchair. He sits across the table wearing a plain white T-shirt (because he doesn’t believe in consumerism). Sitting on the opposite side off screen is Tony Khan, the Head Honcho at All Elite Wrestling, where Bryan works. Tony sounds like a cross between a delusional billionaire and a giddy fanboy.
TONY (O.S.)
What do you think you’re gonna find when your decades-long career is over? I think you’re gonna find yourself one broken down, sad-ass motherfucker. The thing is, Bryan, you have a shitload of five-star matches. But as painful as it may seem, five-star matches won’t save your life, and yours is over the minute you take another bump. That’s a hard motherfucking fact of life, and it’s one your ass is gonna have to get realistic about. The wrestling business is filled to the brim with unrealistic motherfuckers who say they’re gonna retire but never do. Motherfuckers who thought their asses would age like wine. If you mean it turns to vinegar like Ric Flair and Chris Jericho, it does. If you mean it gets better with age like R-Truth and Trish Stratus? It don’t. Besides, Bryan, how many five-star matches do you got left in you? Two? Wrestlers don’t have an Old-Timer’s League. It was called Heroes of Wrestling and it sucked ass. You came close, but you made it only a handful of times. If you were gonna make it again, you would have done it already.
Tony holds release papers just out of Bryan’s reach.
TONY (O.S.)
You actually gonna retire this time?
BRYAN
Certainly appears so.
Bryan takes the release papers from Tony’s hand.
TONY
Night of your final retirement speech, you’re gonna feel a slight sting. That’s pride fucking with you. Fuck pride! Pride only hurts, probably about as bad as Jon Moxley suffocating you with a plastic bag. It never helps. You gotta fight through that shit. ‘Cause a year from now when you’re at home banging Brie Bella and hanging out with your two kids Birdie and Buddy, you’re gonna say to yourself, “Tony Khan was right”, which is something I hear from Dave Meltzer pretty much regularly.
BRYAN
Yeah, me too.
TONY
At AEW Revolution, you job to Jon Moxley. Say it.
BRYAN
At AEW Revolution, I job to Jon Moxley.
The original blog post: https://www.kingdomoffailure.com/post...
