Post by Marsupials of Mayhem on Sept 22, 2021 20:11:07 GMT -5
They sit around a coffee table.
It’s littered with empty, half full and barely sipped beers. There’s a bong in the middle and a bowl, with a disposable lighter standing upright like a willing soldier. An ashtray has butts squashed from extinguishing.
Sitting in an armchair is Kid Koala puffing one of those rolled up smokes. He has one leg dangling over one arm and beside him kneels Possum, like a lapdog waiting for their master’s command.
A guy, similar build to Kid Koala, wearing a spiky brown luchadore mask with a long nose and the mouth cut out, swigs a beer sitting on the couch. He wears a stained gray Nirvana shirt and jeans cut off at the knees where knee length wrestling boots meet them. Homemade tattoos are sporadically littered over the bare skin we can see.
Terrible homemade tattoos.
He’s eKid Nah.
Beside him is a large, demonstrative sort of a fellow. His mask is similar to Kid Koala’s… except the fur is matted and blood stained. And a notch at the back of it is cut out so his dreadlocked hair can fall down his back. He’s not wearing a shirt, and the blood seems to have ran down over the Ned Kelly themed full torso tattoo on his chest…
Well, fake blood? I hope. Sheesh. Creepy.
He tops off his stylish attire with a pair of black jeans and black boots. His knuckles and wrists are taped up. Oh… there’s blood on them, too.
Of course there is.
He is Dropbear.
And pacing behind the couch, in his shit-smeared makeup, is the Wombat. He seems impatient that he's been drawn. Or paranoid because of the voices in his head. Regardless, his energy is manic.
Kid Koala lets his head fall back as he puffs his plume of smoke towards the ceiling.
KID KOALA:
“Fight for the Fallen.”
He sits up, on the edge of the armchair, looking over the others in the room.
KID KOALA:
"I mean, who do we really fight for?"
Slapping the back of the couch, the Wombat makes eKid Nah jump in surprise.
THE WOMBAT:
"They ALL fall down."
Slowly nodding, Kid Koala looks at the Wombat with a slight smirk on his face.
KID KOALA:
"That's right, brud. They ALL fall down. And their house of cards fall with them."
He claps a hand onto the knee of the behemoth, Dropbear.
KID KOALA:
"You with me, brother?"
Dropbear looks down at the hand on his leg and slowly moves his on top of it, almost in a caring fashion. He speaks slowly and softly, looking Kid Koala in his eyes with trust as he nods.
DROPBEAR:
"All... fall... down."
KID KOALA:
"My man. How 'bout you, eKid Nah?"
The spikey man beside Dropbear drains the rest of his beer before snatching an already opened bottle off the coffee table. He looks into it before giving it a swirl.
eKID NAH:
"Hell yeah, cuz. Be deadly as fuck, cuz. You know I got your back. We brothers, cuz. Always got you. You always got me."
A sadistic smile spreads across Kid Koala's face.
KID KOALA:
"They all... fall... down.
"It's the only way to make them relevant. The only way to give them meaning."
He draws one long drag of that smoke again, tossing his head back and chuckling to himself.
KID KOALA:
"I mean... who the fuck wants to be irrelevant anyways?"
</Fade to black.>
It’s littered with empty, half full and barely sipped beers. There’s a bong in the middle and a bowl, with a disposable lighter standing upright like a willing soldier. An ashtray has butts squashed from extinguishing.
Sitting in an armchair is Kid Koala puffing one of those rolled up smokes. He has one leg dangling over one arm and beside him kneels Possum, like a lapdog waiting for their master’s command.
A guy, similar build to Kid Koala, wearing a spiky brown luchadore mask with a long nose and the mouth cut out, swigs a beer sitting on the couch. He wears a stained gray Nirvana shirt and jeans cut off at the knees where knee length wrestling boots meet them. Homemade tattoos are sporadically littered over the bare skin we can see.
Terrible homemade tattoos.
He’s eKid Nah.
Beside him is a large, demonstrative sort of a fellow. His mask is similar to Kid Koala’s… except the fur is matted and blood stained. And a notch at the back of it is cut out so his dreadlocked hair can fall down his back. He’s not wearing a shirt, and the blood seems to have ran down over the Ned Kelly themed full torso tattoo on his chest…
Well, fake blood? I hope. Sheesh. Creepy.
He tops off his stylish attire with a pair of black jeans and black boots. His knuckles and wrists are taped up. Oh… there’s blood on them, too.
Of course there is.
He is Dropbear.
And pacing behind the couch, in his shit-smeared makeup, is the Wombat. He seems impatient that he's been drawn. Or paranoid because of the voices in his head. Regardless, his energy is manic.
Kid Koala lets his head fall back as he puffs his plume of smoke towards the ceiling.
KID KOALA:
“Fight for the Fallen.”
He sits up, on the edge of the armchair, looking over the others in the room.
KID KOALA:
"I mean, who do we really fight for?"
Slapping the back of the couch, the Wombat makes eKid Nah jump in surprise.
THE WOMBAT:
"They ALL fall down."
Slowly nodding, Kid Koala looks at the Wombat with a slight smirk on his face.
KID KOALA:
"That's right, brud. They ALL fall down. And their house of cards fall with them."
He claps a hand onto the knee of the behemoth, Dropbear.
KID KOALA:
"You with me, brother?"
Dropbear looks down at the hand on his leg and slowly moves his on top of it, almost in a caring fashion. He speaks slowly and softly, looking Kid Koala in his eyes with trust as he nods.
DROPBEAR:
"All... fall... down."
KID KOALA:
"My man. How 'bout you, eKid Nah?"
The spikey man beside Dropbear drains the rest of his beer before snatching an already opened bottle off the coffee table. He looks into it before giving it a swirl.
eKID NAH:
"Hell yeah, cuz. Be deadly as fuck, cuz. You know I got your back. We brothers, cuz. Always got you. You always got me."
A sadistic smile spreads across Kid Koala's face.
KID KOALA:
"They all... fall... down.
"It's the only way to make them relevant. The only way to give them meaning."
He draws one long drag of that smoke again, tossing his head back and chuckling to himself.
KID KOALA:
"I mean... who the fuck wants to be irrelevant anyways?"
</Fade to black.>
