Post by Gurgen Hovhanissian on Jan 4, 2017 3:45:41 GMT -5
“Think it’s open?” Frank asks from behind the camera.
Rather than respond, Bob tries the door to the Beastly lair aka, the once upon a time might have been NAW library. The door offers little resistance.
Beyond there is only darkness. Frank switches on the camera light. Some of the curtains The Beast had affixed to the ceiling now repose on the floor. The torches hang, extinct on the walls. Here too, some have been torn from their resting place.
“Somebody threw a tantrum,” Frank remarks in a reversal of verbal roles. Bob again seemingly ignores his companion. “Beast?!” he calls out.
The single word dies a quick death among the thick curtains and yields no response.
Persistent, Bob tries again, “Beast? Are you in here?”
Again, the room refuses to release any sort of Beast onto the pair of paparazzi.
Bob turns halfway to the camera and suggests, “Let’s try the throne room.”
They make their way through the maze of curtains. But, before the set foot in the makeshift throne room, a huge hairy shape burst forth from among the folds of one such curtain. It knocks over Frank.
Seizing Bob in its clutches, it speaks, “Who Beast fight last week? Jason.”
Masterfully controlling his bladder, Bob responds, “Oh, Beast it’s you. Where have …”
But the Beast cuts him off, “Who fight Beast next time? Jason!”
Bob tries to extract himself from the Beastly grasp. But before he can wriggle free, Beast continues, “Who else Beast fight next time? JASON!”
Bob glances at Frank. Frank, out of shot, probably glances a knowing look back at him.
“Yes, Beast, it IS possible for more than one person to have the name Jason,” Bob explains, “Aren’t there any other Gurgens in Armenian?”
Beast draws Bob closer. His breath, reeking of decay and not just the dental kind, wafting in Bob’s face, Gurgen whispers, “They no be Beast!”
Bob knows he’s endangering his life by pressing the point, though in truth, any interaction with The Massive Moron holds the promise of hazard. “And the same is true for the Jasons. One’s Jason Price, another is Jason Phoenix and yet another is Sexy Jason.”
Gurgen slowly releases the reporter. He backs off some. With little or no comprehension betrayed by his face, i.e. with his usual expression, he states, “That be another thing Beast no get. Why be name Sexy Jason?”
Bob is about to explain the birds, the bees and the basics of sexual attraction to Gurgen when the latter cuts him off, “Beast no think Sexy Jason be sexy. Sexy Jason no even have the boobs. How Sexy Jason be sexy if Sexy Jason no have the boobs?!”
“Presumably,” Bob tentatively starts, “it is the people who DO have boobs that find him sexy.”
Gurgen makes a genuine effort to grasp the information laid before him but of course, fails utterly. His mind just resets to the previous issue it was failing to grasp.
“Too many Jasons,” he babbles, his bottom lip trembling, “There be just … too many Jasons.”
He counts them on his fingers. Holding his index finger he says, “There be Jason Price, that be one.”
He holds his middle finger and goes, “Sexy Jason be two.”
Clutching his ring finger he states, “And Jason Firebird be … erm …”
Desperately maintaining his hold on that third finger, he tries to recall the name of the number just beyond two. After a while, he gives up and just calls it “… many.”
He drops to his knees, flops to his side and curls into a hairy little ball. Frank zooms out and only now does it become clear that The Massive Moron is entirely lacking in the clothes department. A thing not immediately apparent before given the bad lighting in here and the resemblance of Gurgen’s body hair to a coarsely knit sweater. Frank does his best to avoid recording the image of either the Beastly dick or the hairy ass crack of hell, lest he’d be forced to pixelate them in post-production.
“Too many Jasons,” The Beast whispers, rocking back and forth in his curled up position.
“Right,” Bob declares, “that’s probably all we’ll get out of him today. Fancy a beer?”
“Sure do,” Frank says. He swings the camera to his hip, not bothering to switch it off.
They’ve nearly made it to the nearest set of curtains when the Beast’s moans of ‘too many Jasons’ change to, “Beast gotta do something about that.”
“Beer’s gonna have to wait,” Frank observes as he shoulders his camera again.
They turn around to see the Beast, no longer in fetal position. He’s lifting his massive frame up of the floor. To his dismay, Frank sees that there’s no way to avoid the Beastly manhood so he’ll have to go through this entire section and edit out the Beastly member … which of course means, he’ll have to spend the better part of half an hour staring at something no man, or woman for that matter, should ever have to witness.
“Beast have genius idea!” he shouts at the camera, “If there be too many Jasons, Beast just take out a few … then there be less Jasons.”
He shakes his hairy paw at the camera. “And Beast start with Sexy Jason! When Beast be done with Jason be whole lot less sexy. Even female womens no longer find Jason Sexy then!”
Slowly, he strides over to the camera. “What No-boobs Jason think? Just because Beast lose a match, Beast forget how to be Beastly? Jason seen nothing yet. Haha, Beast hear Jasons go, ‘Beast no have clue what to do in ring’. And Jasons be right, Beast barely find inside of ring. And why be ring square anyway?! But be sure, Jasons, when Beast do find ring, Beast gonna cause lots and lots of pain. Jason Firebird and Jason No-Boobs think Jason Price no be sore after match? And Jason Price be champion! Jason No-Boobs be champion? Jason Firebird be champion? Beast no think so! If Jason Price be sore after match with Beast, how other Jasons think they gonna feel? Beast tell Jasons … Jasons gonna be dead!”
Beast begins pacing back and forth.
“Beast be pushover? Not no more! Pick up easy win against Beast? Not no more! Beast just get lucky? NOT NO MORE, JASONS!”
He has found a solid wall and punches it.
“Not no more!”
Again, he drives his balled up paw into the wall.
“Not no more!”
And again.
“Not no more!”
“Jasons faces no be hard like wall … Jasons want some of this?!”
He shakes his paw at the camera again; the knuckles have been bloodied.
He throws his head back and bellows a raspy, guttural dissatisfaction at the world.
He glances over at one of the curtains yet affixed to the ceiling. He grabs ahold of it and tear is down.
The curtain fashioned into a some sort of toga that also served as a cape and might even be a cloak, but in any event, it served the purpose of hiding the Beast’s nether region from view, he charged off in search of something to spend his rage on.
“Oh dear,” comments Bob, “here we go again.”
“After him?” queries Bob.
“Nah, let someone else suffer the brunt of his rage for once,” Bob says, “We’ll just follow the trail of destruction afterwards. It won’t be hard to spot.”
“Beer then?” Frank suggests.
“Beer,” Bob confirms.
And the video ceases to be.
Rather than respond, Bob tries the door to the Beastly lair aka, the once upon a time might have been NAW library. The door offers little resistance.
Beyond there is only darkness. Frank switches on the camera light. Some of the curtains The Beast had affixed to the ceiling now repose on the floor. The torches hang, extinct on the walls. Here too, some have been torn from their resting place.
“Somebody threw a tantrum,” Frank remarks in a reversal of verbal roles. Bob again seemingly ignores his companion. “Beast?!” he calls out.
The single word dies a quick death among the thick curtains and yields no response.
Persistent, Bob tries again, “Beast? Are you in here?”
Again, the room refuses to release any sort of Beast onto the pair of paparazzi.
Bob turns halfway to the camera and suggests, “Let’s try the throne room.”
They make their way through the maze of curtains. But, before the set foot in the makeshift throne room, a huge hairy shape burst forth from among the folds of one such curtain. It knocks over Frank.
Seizing Bob in its clutches, it speaks, “Who Beast fight last week? Jason.”
Masterfully controlling his bladder, Bob responds, “Oh, Beast it’s you. Where have …”
But the Beast cuts him off, “Who fight Beast next time? Jason!”
Bob tries to extract himself from the Beastly grasp. But before he can wriggle free, Beast continues, “Who else Beast fight next time? JASON!”
Bob glances at Frank. Frank, out of shot, probably glances a knowing look back at him.
“Yes, Beast, it IS possible for more than one person to have the name Jason,” Bob explains, “Aren’t there any other Gurgens in Armenian?”
Beast draws Bob closer. His breath, reeking of decay and not just the dental kind, wafting in Bob’s face, Gurgen whispers, “They no be Beast!”
Bob knows he’s endangering his life by pressing the point, though in truth, any interaction with The Massive Moron holds the promise of hazard. “And the same is true for the Jasons. One’s Jason Price, another is Jason Phoenix and yet another is Sexy Jason.”
Gurgen slowly releases the reporter. He backs off some. With little or no comprehension betrayed by his face, i.e. with his usual expression, he states, “That be another thing Beast no get. Why be name Sexy Jason?”
Bob is about to explain the birds, the bees and the basics of sexual attraction to Gurgen when the latter cuts him off, “Beast no think Sexy Jason be sexy. Sexy Jason no even have the boobs. How Sexy Jason be sexy if Sexy Jason no have the boobs?!”
“Presumably,” Bob tentatively starts, “it is the people who DO have boobs that find him sexy.”
Gurgen makes a genuine effort to grasp the information laid before him but of course, fails utterly. His mind just resets to the previous issue it was failing to grasp.
“Too many Jasons,” he babbles, his bottom lip trembling, “There be just … too many Jasons.”
He counts them on his fingers. Holding his index finger he says, “There be Jason Price, that be one.”
He holds his middle finger and goes, “Sexy Jason be two.”
Clutching his ring finger he states, “And Jason Firebird be … erm …”
Desperately maintaining his hold on that third finger, he tries to recall the name of the number just beyond two. After a while, he gives up and just calls it “… many.”
He drops to his knees, flops to his side and curls into a hairy little ball. Frank zooms out and only now does it become clear that The Massive Moron is entirely lacking in the clothes department. A thing not immediately apparent before given the bad lighting in here and the resemblance of Gurgen’s body hair to a coarsely knit sweater. Frank does his best to avoid recording the image of either the Beastly dick or the hairy ass crack of hell, lest he’d be forced to pixelate them in post-production.
“Too many Jasons,” The Beast whispers, rocking back and forth in his curled up position.
“Right,” Bob declares, “that’s probably all we’ll get out of him today. Fancy a beer?”
“Sure do,” Frank says. He swings the camera to his hip, not bothering to switch it off.
They’ve nearly made it to the nearest set of curtains when the Beast’s moans of ‘too many Jasons’ change to, “Beast gotta do something about that.”
“Beer’s gonna have to wait,” Frank observes as he shoulders his camera again.
They turn around to see the Beast, no longer in fetal position. He’s lifting his massive frame up of the floor. To his dismay, Frank sees that there’s no way to avoid the Beastly manhood so he’ll have to go through this entire section and edit out the Beastly member … which of course means, he’ll have to spend the better part of half an hour staring at something no man, or woman for that matter, should ever have to witness.
“Beast have genius idea!” he shouts at the camera, “If there be too many Jasons, Beast just take out a few … then there be less Jasons.”
He shakes his hairy paw at the camera. “And Beast start with Sexy Jason! When Beast be done with Jason be whole lot less sexy. Even female womens no longer find Jason Sexy then!”
Slowly, he strides over to the camera. “What No-boobs Jason think? Just because Beast lose a match, Beast forget how to be Beastly? Jason seen nothing yet. Haha, Beast hear Jasons go, ‘Beast no have clue what to do in ring’. And Jasons be right, Beast barely find inside of ring. And why be ring square anyway?! But be sure, Jasons, when Beast do find ring, Beast gonna cause lots and lots of pain. Jason Firebird and Jason No-Boobs think Jason Price no be sore after match? And Jason Price be champion! Jason No-Boobs be champion? Jason Firebird be champion? Beast no think so! If Jason Price be sore after match with Beast, how other Jasons think they gonna feel? Beast tell Jasons … Jasons gonna be dead!”
Beast begins pacing back and forth.
“Beast be pushover? Not no more! Pick up easy win against Beast? Not no more! Beast just get lucky? NOT NO MORE, JASONS!”
He has found a solid wall and punches it.
“Not no more!”
Again, he drives his balled up paw into the wall.
“Not no more!”
And again.
“Not no more!”
“Jasons faces no be hard like wall … Jasons want some of this?!”
He shakes his paw at the camera again; the knuckles have been bloodied.
He throws his head back and bellows a raspy, guttural dissatisfaction at the world.
He glances over at one of the curtains yet affixed to the ceiling. He grabs ahold of it and tear is down.
The curtain fashioned into a some sort of toga that also served as a cape and might even be a cloak, but in any event, it served the purpose of hiding the Beast’s nether region from view, he charged off in search of something to spend his rage on.
“Oh dear,” comments Bob, “here we go again.”
“After him?” queries Bob.
“Nah, let someone else suffer the brunt of his rage for once,” Bob says, “We’ll just follow the trail of destruction afterwards. It won’t be hard to spot.”
“Beer then?” Frank suggests.
“Beer,” Bob confirms.
And the video ceases to be.