He has one eyebrow raised and widens his eyes as if trying to keep himself awake, running his hands up and down his face.
(Butch): I think I just became diabetic after watching...in fact that maybe oversimplifying it a bit. Enduring is probably the more apt word fit to describe that....
Butch lifts up the remote control and flicks the channel before rising from his seated position in his living room.
(Butch): So I'm guessing you're a big movie buff slash gamer, Ronnie?
Butch turns from the camera, strolling into the walk-in kitchen, opening the fridge, burying his head inside. His is muffled as he searches for something to quench his thirst.
(Butch): (Muffled) Confused?
Butch pulls his head of the refridgerator, the clinking noise of glass against glass indicating he has found something. As the fridge door closes, an ice-cold bottle of Budweiser '66 is grasped in his left hand. Uncorking the the bottle cap using his thumb as a makeshift bottle opener, he takes a long refreshing drink from the beer.
(Butch): Ahhhh...good beer....shite year...anyhoo...Aye, confused are we Ronnie? Because what I just erm witnessed was like a long-winded irrelevant pointless load of shite intertwined with the bastard love child of Inception and Fall Out Three with about twenty seconds of airtime dedicated to yours truly, which was also a long-winded, pointless, irrelevant and also condractive load of shite.
Butch stifles a laugh as he takes another drink from his beer.
(Butch): Seems a little bit trivial but please allow me to correct you on a few minor details you either misinterpreted and or ignored. What I conducted earlier was a simple addressing of previous subject matters brought up by you. An interview would have required another participant to periodically prompt and feed me dropping-off points to act upon. Like I said, trivial, but still true.
Also, you seem to be labouring under the misaprehension that I tried to draw out said address to make it seem longer than it really was...
Butch screws his face up in an incredulous expression.
(Butch): Correct me if I'm wrong but you did you not just drag out a re-hashed version of another address you directed at Hans only a few weeks ago only to spend the last half a minute or so spouting off another recycled babble of bullshit?
What does that tell us Ronnie? Apart from the fact that you like to re-enact over-the-top dream sequences that involve lots of men dressed up that have absolutely nothing to do with anything whatsoever?
Butch scoffs before finishing off the bottle of beer and continuing.
(Butch): I'll tell you what it means Ronnie old buddy, old pal. All you are Ronnie McNeil is a living, breathing example of smokes and mirrors, astutely put in place to cloud and distort the true facts, and those facts are this brother.
Butch drops his light-hearted, sarcasric tone.
(Butch): You are a pathetic, pitiful excuse of a man too afraid to look his opponent in the eyes because no matter the eye colour, all he sees in the reflection is a decadent and weak soul, transparent and opaque, unable to accomplish his goals by himself and by his own hand. You can go on and on creating more smokescreens and spouting out more indecipherable bullshit that no one has the patience or energy levels to entertain or be bothered paying any real attention to it; it makes no difference whatsoever. All that matters is what happens between the first and last bell. And that'll be the moment I expose you for the fraudster you really are.
The driest of smiles finds its way onto Butch's face.
(Butch): And I can't f*cking wait.
The scene fades to black.
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