October 7 | Marsupials of Mayhem vs the Bastards | Dropbear
Sept 21, 2021 19:56:15 GMT -5
BRAVE1 and robriot like this
Post by Marsupials of Mayhem on Sept 21, 2021 19:56:15 GMT -5
You know how you’re sitting on your couch at night, watching TV, and you think you hear something?
Or you’re walking home at night and you feel like something is behind you? Just can’t put your finger on it but there’s that feeling. It just lingers like a chill on your soul.
Or you’re working on something and your peripheral vision catches something that wasn’t even there? Or was it?
You’re about the meet the reason.
A single steel chair sits beneath a swinging kerosene lantern. The tones of the camera’s filter are sepia.
We jump into an extreme close-up of a still photo, of a bloodied koala screaming at the camera.
We jump back to the wide shot of the steel chair. Sitting in it is Dropbear, of the Marsupials of Mayhem. His matted, bloodied koala mask. Blood running down his face and chest.
He holds onto a teddy, which is also a koala. It’s seen better days.
Much better days.
He staring down at the teddy. It seems to be some sort of security blanket.
DROPBEAR:
“What you say?”
His voice is monotone, simple and monosyllabic.
Pulling the teddy up to his ear, his gaze snaps to the camera. He covers the plush koala’s mouth.
Face contorting into a wild animal, Dropbear hisses at the camera, dropping down to one knee as if he wear ready to strike, pulling the teddy into his chest as if to protect it.
DROPBEAR:
“How you get in?”
He hisses again.
DROPBEAR:
“Dropbear no want surprises.”
His attention gets captured and he pulls the teddy away from his chest before raising it to his ear, eyes never leaving the camera. Pulling the teddy away from his face, he addresses it as if he were almost a whining child.
DROPBEAR:
“Me no want talk to camera. Dropbear don’t care about Bastards.”
Narrowing eyes, Dropbear still clearly does not trust the camera man, though he continues to listen to the plush koala in his hand.
DROPBEAR:
“Kid Koala say talk?”
A guttural growl of disgust resonates from the beast.
DROPBEAR:
“Hmmm.”
Rising to his feet, Dropbear stands in all of his massive glory. The kerosene lantern illuminates the black and grey Ned Kelly themed torso tattoos which has blood all over it. The sepia tones create a haunting image before the camera. The koala plushie dangling from his hand as he holds one of it’s arms.
DROPBEAR:
“Bastards. Me no like you. Me no like you ever.
“Marsupials kill you.”
He stabs a finger into his own chest.
DROPBEAR:
“Dropbear kill you. Dropbear like blood.”
He twirls his finger around in the wet blood like substance on his chest.
DROPBEAR:
“Sticky.”
Dropbear’s head tilts to the left, inquisitively, like a question formed.
DROPBEAR:
“Your blood sticky?”
A sadistic grin spreads across his face, when he holds the plush koala up to the camera.
His fingers move the head around, as if it were speaking to the camera.
But the words don’t come.
There’s silence.
But Dropbear’s face recognises the words. He responds to everything he hears. Whatever is being said.
The plush koala seems to be getting more animated. It seems to be inspiring some rage within Dropbear, whose free hands bawls into a fist and he roars ferociously at the camera.
DROPBEAR:
“ALL - FALL - DOWN!”
Camera cuts aggressively to an extreme close-up of the plush koala, which has bloodied fingerprints over its face.
Cuts back to the steel chair, with no sign of Dropbear, as the kerosene lantern swings gently above it casting haunting shadows.
</Fade to black.>
Or you’re walking home at night and you feel like something is behind you? Just can’t put your finger on it but there’s that feeling. It just lingers like a chill on your soul.
Or you’re working on something and your peripheral vision catches something that wasn’t even there? Or was it?
You’re about the meet the reason.
A single steel chair sits beneath a swinging kerosene lantern. The tones of the camera’s filter are sepia.
We jump into an extreme close-up of a still photo, of a bloodied koala screaming at the camera.
We jump back to the wide shot of the steel chair. Sitting in it is Dropbear, of the Marsupials of Mayhem. His matted, bloodied koala mask. Blood running down his face and chest.
He holds onto a teddy, which is also a koala. It’s seen better days.
Much better days.
He staring down at the teddy. It seems to be some sort of security blanket.
DROPBEAR:
“What you say?”
His voice is monotone, simple and monosyllabic.
Pulling the teddy up to his ear, his gaze snaps to the camera. He covers the plush koala’s mouth.
Face contorting into a wild animal, Dropbear hisses at the camera, dropping down to one knee as if he wear ready to strike, pulling the teddy into his chest as if to protect it.
DROPBEAR:
“How you get in?”
He hisses again.
DROPBEAR:
“Dropbear no want surprises.”
His attention gets captured and he pulls the teddy away from his chest before raising it to his ear, eyes never leaving the camera. Pulling the teddy away from his face, he addresses it as if he were almost a whining child.
DROPBEAR:
“Me no want talk to camera. Dropbear don’t care about Bastards.”
Narrowing eyes, Dropbear still clearly does not trust the camera man, though he continues to listen to the plush koala in his hand.
DROPBEAR:
“Kid Koala say talk?”
A guttural growl of disgust resonates from the beast.
DROPBEAR:
“Hmmm.”
Rising to his feet, Dropbear stands in all of his massive glory. The kerosene lantern illuminates the black and grey Ned Kelly themed torso tattoos which has blood all over it. The sepia tones create a haunting image before the camera. The koala plushie dangling from his hand as he holds one of it’s arms.
DROPBEAR:
“Bastards. Me no like you. Me no like you ever.
“Marsupials kill you.”
He stabs a finger into his own chest.
DROPBEAR:
“Dropbear kill you. Dropbear like blood.”
He twirls his finger around in the wet blood like substance on his chest.
DROPBEAR:
“Sticky.”
Dropbear’s head tilts to the left, inquisitively, like a question formed.
DROPBEAR:
“Your blood sticky?”
A sadistic grin spreads across his face, when he holds the plush koala up to the camera.
His fingers move the head around, as if it were speaking to the camera.
But the words don’t come.
There’s silence.
But Dropbear’s face recognises the words. He responds to everything he hears. Whatever is being said.
The plush koala seems to be getting more animated. It seems to be inspiring some rage within Dropbear, whose free hands bawls into a fist and he roars ferociously at the camera.
DROPBEAR:
“ALL - FALL - DOWN!”
Camera cuts aggressively to an extreme close-up of the plush koala, which has bloodied fingerprints over its face.
Cuts back to the steel chair, with no sign of Dropbear, as the kerosene lantern swings gently above it casting haunting shadows.
</Fade to black.>
