Theo's mega church response

Cameras up in two minutes. Do the roll, put the lights on.

The announcer of the crowd of a thousand, and the broadcast of several people for this entertainment to our senses. This meaning into the cardinal of our authority, Theo!

The choir comes out, the organs pant an inexhaustible blow, the sheets of the holy land and mantelpiece. Yet there's a meaning to make the whole world to watch. Fumbles at the drops at the worstime.

Also, did he have no clothes?

The cardinal had no clothes? Why?

He grinned, though, grinned for all his authority to see.

(Ping)

Pt 4 Keis retaliation

It did not matter to her, she was free.

(Content warning: Assualt)

This time kei wanted the bully to leave her alone. No belt was going to hold her back.

"Look at the girl! In her trackies, what? A tra-"

This time it was a kiddie grapple tossle. Raw fight and flight rage that was brewing, right to her centre. Pain was not the end as she overwhelmed to kid with the thrasing. Sick of all the molestation of simply wearing sweatpants.

The chorus of a fight by school yard erupted as it escalated. Animalism the code of law for the bird. She did not care when she was pulled away and dragged from the kid. Yet blood recollected from her right thumb talon.

Soft and squishy. It was until that puncture of the eyeball did the monitor finally respond.

The shouting and enforcement did not matter, it was at that time. Taking matters into her own hands was so that she was gone.

Gone and expelled. She did her best.

Pt 3 Kei's Bully Response

She tried to turn away, trying to run. Yet it was already too late.

(Content warning: Assualt)

"Hey, You should not of told the teacher."

Kei was frightened. She did not know what to do as the bully approached. She should have hid in the recess room.

"Don't tell! I establish order!"

Kei did not know again, but she wore a belt this time. On her sweatpants.

That did not deter the bully from pulling it down, more forcefully, this time with extra discomfort. Kei was startled, was the belt on too loose?

"I'm the king!" The chipmunk proclaimed.

No response, no echoing around the playground. Only tears of a girl that could not fight back, along with the order established.

Something formed in her mind.

Something wrong.

P2 Kei's report

(Content warning: Assualt)

In the house of crude projects, of the word Bed on a sign. Along with hand printed

colours and spotty designs made by potato print. 

“Ms Mabbley. There's a kid who likes to pull my pants down.”

The human teacher got her notebook, taking her glasses off as he got her eyes alert to the crying peacock.

“What's the matter?” The main class teacher said.

“He pulls my pants down, yet I tell her to stop, I wish him to stop.”

For a swift moment, she scrunches here brow and frilly hair. Not know what to do and discovering that this has never happened in the playground before.

From all this telling of her mother. She could not hold it. The emotional tension was getting to her despite holding the tears back as she fiddles with her sweatpants. From the back.

“Okay, I'll see what I can do about it. Thanks for telling my Kei.” Mabbley concluded.

Kei's Bully

"I did not know what I did wrong."

(Content warning: assualt)

Playground politics is what it is. The drama of it a mere flash.

"Girls should not wear trackies!" The chipmunk, and older kid went to Kei. The span of the yard is what his domain is. folded arms like an iron cage.

"What?"

Kei did not know anything, her brain unable to develop shame or structure yet. Wanting to make friends, purely confused.

"Wear Belts!" The tall kid said.

Before anything happend, Kei's sweatpants where pulled down.

No objection of the playground monitor.

No Objection of the teacher that watched.

Complete confusion overtook Kei.

"I'm the queen! I demand you wear belts if you gonna wear that!" She chuckled, the surrounding laughter shook Kei to the core. Powerless.

Kei was completely clueless, hurt. She did not know.

Exposed to the cold air, the pelvis touched. Confusion.

keirons thoughts afterwords

The black rock he tried to swallow, all with it's abstraction. Was trying to regurgitate out of his mouth as he could not hold to it. For all golem, anthro and human kind his head was a slurry of mad imagination that came out of a nervous burp or two.

The stage fright making him vomit out of all the anticipation. The judges came to get his call, and he did not know the answer as they were discussing the results.

Uglier and uglier from the charade of poses he did, two lopsided heals he had to remove beforehand tossed like empty wet tissues thrown out of a carpet.

“You alright?” The gramophone stage hand had observed what had happened, the door was left open and he wanted to help a stranger.

The barfs kept continuing till it was all empty. No twitch or glory, no erotica, a shell of peacock trying to throw out all anxiety at a bottom of a toilet bowl.

“You done? Kieron, it's a world of life that you're here. Congratulations, you've showed the spirt of the game”

Those words ricochetted into his mind. Kieron stood up. He was done.

Staring into the leftover vegan milkshake, he'd be heading to the nearest Wcdonalds and order most compulsive morish, drowning it is like his failed dehydration and attempt's to pose.

He could not participate in the freestyle.

keirons thoughts before the first show

Keiron Looked into the mirror. All this prepping, all this pondering. Has it all been worth it? The entire feeling of got this head. Nerves racking like a cuckoo clock canary smacking him left and right. Noise he can only hear, ringing tinnitus, as if he was to isolate into another world that he could not comprehend.

The prior pump with the rubber bands was good enough to pump the muscles, and yet.

The symmetry round was up. he did'nt know S*** yet to stand there and look pretty. Go to the gym, smile to the webcam and spread hopeful messages, then try to be cute, Do a direct call to action to like, follow and subscribe and all that.

Line up with the other boys, bring the goods, flare the lats. Wellness category of the men because he could not qualify for everything else.

Yet it all came to his life that he could not face a real audience, an audience that was going to stare at him. He could not swallow it down. A big black stone that was wedged into his beak, it was his nervousness. No reassurance was going to make him get rid of it.

Shameless objects meat to be judged, of bigorexia fetishism to be judged and collected, to be used like a pet show. A piece of libidinal, short-lived ejaculation. Nothing else, His thoughts getting more incoherent. Open display, at the isle. A hack waiting to show it.

Thoughts of the club, thoughts that his ideas are complete and total disaster. He had to breath.

Swallow it all down, get it out, get it out get it-

Barlan Bellison's Rant

Modelled after this cussy rant this, of course.

Danny knew that his career was down in the latrine, he had quit. He had to motivate himself to do freelance for his carpenter gig. His crude workstation included.

He looked up a video, for himself, for his new mindset away from his boss.

The old Bland turtle in his late forties with a documentary scene, "Dreams with sharp beaks" who did a rant about being paid, that'll do. On boop tube. He looked like he had a chip on his shoulder, recommended by another friend.

It was Barlan Bellison, famed writer, out of sync. Now passed.

"Somebody called yesterday, from Narner Brothers, Yesterday about a very long and thoughtful interview on Bodylon five I did.

Young woman called and said that can we'll use it for their dvd, I replied of course that can be arranged. All you have to do is pay me!

She said what?

You have to pay me!

Well, Everybody is doing it for nothing.

Everybody may be a bumhole, but I'm not! In what right do you call me and tell me to work for nothing. Do you pay the ditch digger? The plumber, the teamsters who help you're work? Do you get a paycheck? All those low status, thankless jobs?

Well yes.

Exactly!

She replied with It will be free publicity!

Then I was like - Lady, tell that to somebody who is younger than you, who is a naive country bumpkin. There is no publicity value of having my interview on your dvd.

You're gonna sell two thousand of them, that will be pant's blowing. Then what's gonna happen? Somebody will go, "Ooo, I really like how that guy gave that interview, I wonder if he's written a book, let me-"

There's no publicity value!! The only value is that you put the dosh in my hand, cross my mitt with gold, and you can have it

Alright thank you.

I'll never hear from them, They want everything for noth - THEY won't go for two seconds without being paid, and will whine and ask for more!

I should do a freebie for Narner Brothers? What are them with a tin cup on the side street? No!

They always want the writer to burn out over nothing!

There's too many amateurs, not realizing that whenever they have to do something with the infinity of the internet. They do it for nothing!

Hoo, Hoo! I'm going to get noticed, Hue hue!

You tell me.." He repositioned himself after that mocking gesture.

Nobody has sold their soul and toil, I sell it at the highest of rates.

"It's the amateurs that make it tough for the professionals, and the hacks who work cheaper and faster don't help either. These guys are so used to getting it for nothing, and for mooching. They don't even send you the dvd!

You've got to call them, where's the dvd? You can go buy it, YOU can go buy it! Otherwise, I'll burn your business down to the ground, how about that??"

He mumbled and rambled. Danny turned it off.

He knew the responsibility as a freelancer now, with the ample opportunity he must give to his craft. Pure attention paid with minimum distraction, like he was on the moon. The best available version of himself at that time, with the best information and references at his disposal.

This is his attempt to be a professional. A creative professional. He wanted to be creative, otherwise he'd be a hack. He worried that he'll do hack work, but he could only cover rent for three months.

Scene - A chaotic opportunity, to be picked

There is twisted talent agent who has a high following on a Social media. He is in his deathbed. He's gained a huge profile of many pictures of his network.

But hidden inside is a sick game he'd like to play. Maybe it's a curse of fate given to him by the cancer that he's got. He's got a phone. So he's going to recommend one bodybuilder to an agent to Buffwood for a big role within a movie.

Kieron and two others, wait by him, Kieron leaves as he could see the fight between the glares of the two. Wanting to get picked, picked by Buffwood and promoted excessively. 

"I'm sorry, I can't give the responsibility to be in the role. I'll let the higher ups decide, please wish me well."

He can't have the strength to do it, who will?

Tension dissipates, but Kieron has already left, not being able to handle what a gatekeeper can do.

Tristian gets shouted at.

"What were you doing??"

Late college life blows, they say it gets better after high school. But this punk gets bored within science class and is seeking a change. To be individual, to be unique.

Taking parkour breaks on top of small suburban properties, he needs peace of mind. To scribble within his sketchbook, but his peers see him do it, join him, dare him.

One dare got out of hand, himself twisting his ankle, falling down and getting into trouble. With a mocking of his peers and a shouting of his foster parents. He is lost, but he wants a change.

Maybe the gym he will go to will give him direction, fill a purpose?

His life blows.