Golden Trophy
I just wrote this stream of consciousness style after watching some award show clips. I actually don’t hate award shows, although I’m not a huge fan. Its more that I find them rather insulated from the realities of the world even when they try and acknowledge the issues faced by many. So that was kind of the genisis of this randomness, that in my mind takes place at an Oscar’s style show in a future even worse off then the our present.
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“are you ready sir”
“of course I’m fucking ready”
“remember these people pretty much hate to laugh at anything that could be the slightest bit controversial, unless it’s about you know who, or you know what. That silence you hear means you’re doing great.”
“Fuck off Stanley”
“Fucking off Sir”
“and we’re going live in 5, 4, 3 . . . ” Two fingers, one finger, Go.
“hello everyone and welcome to tonights 123rd...”
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“are you ready”
“of course I’m fucking ready”
“remember these people hate being told they’re anything less than perfect. Their silence and anger means you’re doing a good job.”
“Fuck off Felicia”
“Aye Aye Captain. Knock em dead”
“Taking control in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1”
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“and the winner is... and the winner is...”
“who the fuck is that?”
“security!”
Captain wandered across the floor, the lights, the coruscant stage, the shiny pretty people seated below her, she could feel the intoxicating rush of the spectacle. There was an aura of weak power that radiated through the building and from these people; a delusional, self congratulatory power. To Captain they were all ego wrapped up in false platitudes.
These people made her sick. Captain wanted to puke the disgusting half digested contents of her stomach all over their stupid show, a visceral depiction of what she thought of them and this. She felt the flush of adrenaline and anger surging through her veins, realizing that she had made her way out far enough that she was being noticed. She heard the hazy calls for security, saw the confused stares of the two men on stage and those in the audience who were not aware of what was taking place. To those in the know, positions were already being taken up, months of planning coming together beautifully, a perfect orchestration, it made Captain smile.
She saw the microphone and began to stride forward, her path intersected by the man in velvet. Grabbing her arm he attempted to haul her away from the stage, struggling to contain his anger, the knowledge that this was being broadcast live a prison that forced him to remain semi-civil so as not to harm his reputation.
Captain smiled up at him “hello”
“come on. Let’s take you back stage, we’re busy”
“oh I know”
Captain looked out at the crowd, faces beginning to realize that this was not some planned stunt, a sea of annoyed and angry eyes barely visible by the blinding spotlights that illuminated the scene playing itself out on stage.
“Hello” she waved to the crowd and smiled.
Time to start the show.
With a swift and unexpected movement she removed the large blade she had conceled in her jacket and with no hesitation grabbed the velveteen man. One smooth motion and he lay on the stage floor drowning wordlessly in himself.
Ignoring the man Captain watched as the crowd panicked, some reached for weapons that weren’t there, left at home unallowed inside the theatre, others stood in shock and panic, while others screamed and ran for the doors. The ones at the doors realized it first, when with every push and pull the doors refused to budge, and every order yelled at a staff member fell upon deaf ears. This was not a single crazy person, something bigger was happening.
On stage Captain stood patiently waiting, waiting for someone to play hero and try and come after her. However it appeared the large blade and calm demeanor made most think twice. No one here was willing to die.