Post by Gurgen Hovhanissian on Dec 9, 2016 3:10:02 GMT -5
We open to Frank’s chest hair. He says, “We’re rolling.” He moves away from the camera. We see two folding chairs arranges side by side in their broom cupboard. Frank parks his backside in one, Bob occupies the other.
When Frank is seated, Bob begins to speak, forgoing his usual introduction.
“So,” Bob states, “we get this call. It’s everybody least favorite man-beast. Yes, he has figured out phones.”
“We installed this app designed for preschoolers … it has pictures,” Frank interjects.
Bob nods and continues, “He had this idea. He had this text … in Armenian of course. So we ran it by our translator, cleaned it up a bit.”
Again Frank adds, “Cleaned it up a lot. He references genitals nineteen times, and bodily functions another twelve.”
“You know,” Bob proceeds, “for an insane knuckle dragger, he sometimes is surprisingly lucid. This, however, was not one of those times. So, for better or worse … here are the raving ramblings, straight from what little is left of his brain.”
The screen cuts to black. With a flash we’re looking out over a moonlit swamp. There’s a disturbance in the water, then another. It’s coming closer. Soon we realize it’s The Armenian Beast, executing a slow and deliberate crawl stroke. Yes, The Hairy Horror does know how to swim. He grew up in the Soviet Union, remember? The Soviets were pretty committed to not having their comrades drown … when they were, at bayonet point, being herded into the machine guns of the capitalist imperialists in massive human wave attacks. The Beast disappears from view behind the bank. A moment later a hairy paw shoots up above the bank, all sorts of weeds and putrid plant matter is hanging from his thick fingers.
Gurgen pulls himself up, out of the water. His hair and beard are likewise adorned with the fetid contents of the lake. A fat toad leaps out of the beard in search of a safer haven. A baby catfish follows suit. Gurgen swings his legs forward, gets comfortable and after downing the obligatory wodka, he pulls a crumpled up piece of paper from his coat. He wrings the water from the paper. Carefully as not to rip the delicate sheet, he unfolds it and begins to read … in Armenian, of course.
A voice actor who sounds somewhat like The Beast, or at least as much as one can without deliberately contracting throat cancer, translates as he goes along. The words scroll by, written in beautiful calligraphy on the back of an endless progressions of beer coasters.
The moment is finally here
High times at Holiday Fear
Endlessly he has waited
Armenian madman; never sated
Redemption will finally be his
Many a man used to take the piss
Engraving his name on the belt
Numberless blows will be dealt
Incumbent Jason Price must perish
An ass-kicking we will surly cherish
No longer this pristine champ
But rather the Armenian tramp
Eager to shove his beard in your face
And choke you with a total lack of grace
Strong as a demented rhino
Teetering like an elderly wino
Will Jason stand a chance
In the ring you will prance
Leaping like a gazelle on heat
Laughing as you try to beat
The Beastly bunch of hair
Rugged as a pissed off bear
In the end it will be the Beast
Urged on by rats and bats at least
Mauling you till you’ve gone soft
Pounding your face hard and oft
Holding his brand new title aloft!
Having said what he needed to say, Beast neatly folds the paper and tucks it back into the coat. Meanwhile, the text zooms out and we see the first letter of each line light up to reveal the all too clear message. Gurgen toasts the camera with his wodka just as the scene fades to black.
What on Earth the moonlit swamp swim was all about is anybody’s guess. But then again, this is The Irradiated Imbecile, he thinks wodka for breakfast is a good idea, and for lunch, dinner, brunch, midnight snack, … you get the point. Given all that, why would you assume anything he ever does has any sort of method to it whatsoever.
Oh, look, they somehow retrieved that toad and had it waddle across the screen as a bookend to the video. Great, now I need a wodka.
When Frank is seated, Bob begins to speak, forgoing his usual introduction.
“So,” Bob states, “we get this call. It’s everybody least favorite man-beast. Yes, he has figured out phones.”
“We installed this app designed for preschoolers … it has pictures,” Frank interjects.
Bob nods and continues, “He had this idea. He had this text … in Armenian of course. So we ran it by our translator, cleaned it up a bit.”
Again Frank adds, “Cleaned it up a lot. He references genitals nineteen times, and bodily functions another twelve.”
“You know,” Bob proceeds, “for an insane knuckle dragger, he sometimes is surprisingly lucid. This, however, was not one of those times. So, for better or worse … here are the raving ramblings, straight from what little is left of his brain.”
The screen cuts to black. With a flash we’re looking out over a moonlit swamp. There’s a disturbance in the water, then another. It’s coming closer. Soon we realize it’s The Armenian Beast, executing a slow and deliberate crawl stroke. Yes, The Hairy Horror does know how to swim. He grew up in the Soviet Union, remember? The Soviets were pretty committed to not having their comrades drown … when they were, at bayonet point, being herded into the machine guns of the capitalist imperialists in massive human wave attacks. The Beast disappears from view behind the bank. A moment later a hairy paw shoots up above the bank, all sorts of weeds and putrid plant matter is hanging from his thick fingers.
Gurgen pulls himself up, out of the water. His hair and beard are likewise adorned with the fetid contents of the lake. A fat toad leaps out of the beard in search of a safer haven. A baby catfish follows suit. Gurgen swings his legs forward, gets comfortable and after downing the obligatory wodka, he pulls a crumpled up piece of paper from his coat. He wrings the water from the paper. Carefully as not to rip the delicate sheet, he unfolds it and begins to read … in Armenian, of course.
A voice actor who sounds somewhat like The Beast, or at least as much as one can without deliberately contracting throat cancer, translates as he goes along. The words scroll by, written in beautiful calligraphy on the back of an endless progressions of beer coasters.
The moment is finally here
High times at Holiday Fear
Endlessly he has waited
Armenian madman; never sated
Redemption will finally be his
Many a man used to take the piss
Engraving his name on the belt
Numberless blows will be dealt
Incumbent Jason Price must perish
An ass-kicking we will surly cherish
No longer this pristine champ
But rather the Armenian tramp
Eager to shove his beard in your face
And choke you with a total lack of grace
Strong as a demented rhino
Teetering like an elderly wino
Will Jason stand a chance
In the ring you will prance
Leaping like a gazelle on heat
Laughing as you try to beat
The Beastly bunch of hair
Rugged as a pissed off bear
In the end it will be the Beast
Urged on by rats and bats at least
Mauling you till you’ve gone soft
Pounding your face hard and oft
Holding his brand new title aloft!
Having said what he needed to say, Beast neatly folds the paper and tucks it back into the coat. Meanwhile, the text zooms out and we see the first letter of each line light up to reveal the all too clear message. Gurgen toasts the camera with his wodka just as the scene fades to black.
What on Earth the moonlit swamp swim was all about is anybody’s guess. But then again, this is The Irradiated Imbecile, he thinks wodka for breakfast is a good idea, and for lunch, dinner, brunch, midnight snack, … you get the point. Given all that, why would you assume anything he ever does has any sort of method to it whatsoever.
Oh, look, they somehow retrieved that toad and had it waddle across the screen as a bookend to the video. Great, now I need a wodka.