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Posted by Tobias Clarke
on May 21, 2024, 11:41 am, in reply to "Shark comments, And Wolfy isn't playing anymore."
Tobias is already in view, centered right in the camera, not a hair out of place and the haughtiness is just oozing out of him.
Clearly, spending time doing this is beneath him, but then, so is most things.
With an over the top eye roll to begin with, he starts to speak.
(Tobias): Well, look who pops up on a podcast to talk utter sh*t, but Man-Shark. Buddy… buddy…
He stops, placing one hand on his chest as if in a conciliatory mood.
(Tobias): Get out of the water? What in the f*ck are you on about? At what point have I stood in water, or gone swimming? Focus on the here and now fish brain and listen up. Get out of the ring.
You, Monkey… your related doctor or whatever…
All three of you proved my point at Havoc.
To no surprise… I was right.
The grin is from ear to ear. It’s quite unsettling.
(Tobias): I. Was. Right. Again.
He leans into the camera, turning his head as if to listen out to a response that won’t be coming.
(Tobias): How am I right, you ask… presumably in grunts and ooks, because you’re all feral b*stards…
The disdain is just lacing every word by this point, as he almost recoils back to his previous standing position.
(Tobias): None of you, none of you at all deserve a place in that ring, let alone in this company! You don’t have what it takes! Oh wow, you sell merchandise… and? If all that you can do, is be marketable, and to kids and retards exclusively… sorry, to kids and retards and to people who want to do things to kids and retards… then buddy, you’re not the sort of person with a long term future here.
Listen buddy, at the core, I have your best interest at heart. Go find some traffic and play in it, kay? You’ll have more fun than in this place. Go as one, or go as a trio, I don’t care. Just. Go.
It’s a sweet smile, but it doesn’t reach the eyes.
(Tobias): Unless you want slapped again?
The smile drops, you can tell he’d love to do it again.
(Tobias): Next up, still going with this absolute f*cking charade… Monkey, stop throwing your money away. Some poor person in Vietnam or somewhere made that replica toy belt you’ve been carrying round and calling a ‘Perfection’ belt. Think of them before you throw it away like that you litterbug.
He tuts loudly.
(Tobias): This…
He sweepingly gestures with an outstretched hand towards the man sat on a stool besides him, a large belt draped over his lap held in place by his left hand, while his right is occupied with a cloth, polishing the metal almost relentlessly.
(Tobias): This is…
He snaps his fingers, getting the man’s attention.
(Tobias): Name?
(Claude): My name’s Claude, Mr Clarke.
(Tobias): Ah yes, Claude. Anyway, he’s here to fetch my Evian, ensure those towels are freshly folded… and…
That smirk again, you can hear the glee in his voice.
He turns back to face the camera.
(Tobias): You might remember him as the employee who passed me the mic when we faced off Monkey… y’know buddy, when you got tranq’d…
It’s clearly a happy memory, but something sours it, as he turns back to face the man.
(Tobias): Now you almost dropped that tranq gun that night butter fingers, don’t you even think about dropping that belt.
(Claude): No, course not Mr Clarke.
He stops polishing, looking up in defense of himself.
(Tobias): Keep polishing man!
The protestation of the man can be heard as he restarts his efforts.
(Tobias): I want that belt gleaming.
(Claude): But it is!
Almost looking like he’s ready to backhand him, the man wilts under the glare of Tobias.
Silence follows, the man keeps polishing.
(Tobias): Yes buddy, keep at it.
Tobias turns to face the camera once more.
(Tobias): Now where was I? Ah yes, Monkey… what Callum has there is my Perfection belt. So drop the act. You’re already wildly out of your depth, you smell, you’re clearly harboring at least one disease and you’ve got an obsession with Wikipedia. Don’t add liar to the list. Be better.
That look of disdain again, the brow furrowing, eyes squinting somewhat at the camera, as if judging.
(Tobias): Or at least, less sh*t than you are now.
Speaking of sh*t though… that ‘effort’ that my tag partner at Ringmaster went to… Grade F there Maniac. Aquifina? Aquifina?
It’s clearly a dirty word in his vocabulary, he’s almost spitting out the verbs.
(Tobias): So you can’t listen to what someone needs, you can’t act properly on it… no surprises there given you’ve completely f*cked up with Erica… and you didn’t act on things when I had to clearly explain to you what to do with a steel chair at Havoc… jeez buddy, I really am truly concerned for our chances in round one, as if you get that personality of yours that’s riddled with alzheimers at the wheel… damn…
A low exhale of breath, eyebrows raising at the premise.
(Tobias): But no, it’ll be fine. I’m better than that. I’m better than you.
A small wave at the camera, dismissive in nature.
(Tobias): I’m better than all of you.
A turn of the head towards Claude.
(Tobias): Keep polishing man!
He walks off camera, as the scene fades to black.
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