HWA Message Board: 'Tis the Season

Open scene.

We’re in a familiar looking room, the usual haunt as it were.

This time though, it’s not as bereft of objects as you’ve come to expect.

No, this time there’s a very festive set up. A tree decked out with all manner of twinkling lights and ornaments takes center stage.

Beneath it are a multitude of gifts all wrapped in various patterned paper or ensconced in bags of varying sizes.

It’s really quite the picturesque scene.

Into view of the camera steps a HWA staffer, one who clearly would like to be anywhere but here given the day it is, but making a go of appearing jolly.

In his hands is another wrapped parcel, which is placed to the side of the current gathering.

(Tobias): It’s off centre you cretin, move it closer in!

Into view from the other side of the camera comes Tobias, gesticulating at the staffer for where to place the latest gift.

(Tobias): Right f*cking there, it’s even marked on the ground!

An ‘urgh’ of strung out proportions comes next, as he observes the placement in it’s rightful place before his withering gaze causes the staffer to beat a hasty retreat.

He turns to face the camera, extending his arms out wide and almost, but not quite, dropping the attitude.

(Tobias): Season’s greetings HWA-fanverse, ‘tis I, your future World champion.

He turns to the side, his uninjured arm making a sweeping gesture to take in the tree and presents.

(Tobias): Because I am kind hearted towards my fellow employees and want to take pity on them this time of year, I thought you’d want to see what it is I’ve got them, eh buddies?

He looks down at the gifts, picking one at random before leaning down to grab it, giving it a big shake as he does so.

He stops, clearly trying to decipher what’s in it, before shaking it again even more vigorously.

(Tobias): Don’t let it be said that I don’t take care of those ret*rds that I work with. Not only do I want them to strive for even a fraction of my greatness, but I spent at least 10 minutes… no…

He stops, looking quizzical before turning to look off camera.

(Tobias): Was it 15?

He awaits a response that isn’t as timely as he’d want.

(Tobias): Samuel! Pay attention you sh*thead, I’m talking to you. Was it 15?

A voice from off camera floats in, clearly timid in the face of the verbal lashing.

It can’t be heard fully, but it’s clearly confirming his thoughts.

Tobias turns back to the camera.

(Tobias): Was that difficult? No. Jesus f*cking Christ…

Another ‘urgh’ of strung out proportions comes out, before he starts looking for the tag.

(Tobias): Anyway buddies, I spent my valuable time looking for something that sums up each and every one of those wastes of space that infect this roster. Something from the heart…

Finding the tag, he reads aloud the name.

(Tobias): Draconis… oh who the f*ck cares?

And with that, the present is flung over his shoulder with one hand, clipping the tree as it does so to land behind it with a clatter.

Not sparing any further thought to it, Tobias grabs the next wrapped gift at his feet.

(Tobias): This one is for Clown Number 2… aka, Lunat… urgh, no I can’t do it.

With a flourish, the wrapping is ripped off, revealing a small glass vial with a cork stopper and a make up set.

Holding both up to the camera, Tobias elaborates.

(Tobias): I got two for you, you demented waste of space. In here…

The vial is waggled.

(Tobias): … is something you otherwise lack; relevance. And as for the makeup.

The makeup set is now waggled.

(Tobias): Black and white facepaint is so boring. Brighten up f*ckface.

Both gifts join Draconis’s gift somewhere behind the tree, the sound of their impact somewhat hidden by the sound of the wrapping paper already being ripped off the next gift.

(Tobias): Next up we have something for that very special little fish loving squirt that I kerb stomped some weeks back.

Holding aloft the gift, it’s a brick with what appears to be a ticket to a local aquarium taped to it. The gift tag, a garish coloured thing hanging off reads ‘Shark’.

(Tobias): I know you love animals just like I do…

A tap of the chest over his heart.

(Tobias): Hashtag PETA and all that… anyway, I figured you’d do better out there than it that stupid little podcast booth you’ve got in the basement of your parents. So y’know buddy, get out there, preferably minus the breathing apparatus, go see the fish for real.

This time some ornaments are shattered as the brick is thrown over his shoulder.

He holds up a gift bag next, fishing out a ‘Basic English Grammar for Dummies’ text book.

(Tobias): This next gift is for our latest Japanese import; Starlight Kid. Kon'nichiwa, baka.

The next words are completely over exaggerated, as he taps the front of the book for emphasis.
(Tobias): Your English no good. Use this. Be better. But keep f*cking over the Nepo-Prince, kay?

He gives a thumbs up, before just letting the book drop to the ground in front of him.

Another bag is brought up and with it, a bottle of champagne is extracted.

(Tobias): Speaking of the Nepo-Prince, this one’s for Michelle. Honey, this here is a double meaning, no, triple… firstly, congrats on the engagement. Secondly, commiserations on having to be engaged to him... urgh, was it under coercion. If you’re watching, record yourself and blink twice for no and once for yes. Thirdly, perhaps by drinking this you’ll discover what you’re good at, because it sure as sh*t ain’t this business.

He smiles sweetly before lowering the bottle back into the gift bag, placing it as his feet.

Another gift is plucked from the ground, the wrapping paper torn off with haste akin to a three year old being let loose on Christmas morning.

(Tobias): Ah, perfect…

Bringing up the gift to the view of the camera reveals an Axe ‘Africa’ gift set.

(Tobias): This is for Monkey, in the hope… the vain hope, that perhaps he might not smell of sh*t and p*ss for just five minutes or so. But don’t think that’s it…

The gift set clips the star atop the tree on it’s way over to the otherside of the room.

(Tobias): This next one is your best bud Monkey, or at least, one of his personalities is at any rate.

Reaching down to grab a smaller gift bag, out comes a small tub of tablets, the rattling sound of them filling the air as Tobias waggles the bottle.

(Tobias): Are these placebos, are these real? Will they red pill you or blue pill you? But outwith you and your two types of fan Maniac, the first being five year olds and the second type being people who like five year olds, no one who actually matters gives a sh*t. You don’t like these gifts, go fight with the other clown over the makeup…

The dismissive snort of laughter says it all as Tobias reaches down for an even smaller gift bag, fishing out two small pamphlets.

(Tobias): This next one is for person holding my World title. Price, you’re a tough man to buy for, but I’ve put some thought into this. Firstly is my recommendations for a parafango wrap and mud bath experience. There’s a wonderful place in San Diego that is just superb. Honestly buddy, your pores will thank you and they seriously need to be on your new years resolution for 2025, they are crying out for some TLC. Speaking of which, this next one is a list of all of the Alcoholics Anonymous meetings going on in the local area. When I beat you, I don’t want you drowning your sorrows. I want you to get help. I want you to be better.

He nods somberly. That was from the heart.

(Tobias): And last but not least…

He reaches down and grabs another parcel. There’s still plenty left, but it’s clear that his attention is wavering and he’s got his mind elsewhere now.

Forced cheer doesn't sit well with him, even if the chance to throw barbed insults with abandon certainly does.

(Tobias): The Nepo Prince, “The Sky Assassin” himse…

He trails off with a mocking laugh at that moniker.

(Tobias): Listen up chump, we’ve all heard enough of you and your dreams. ‘It’s my divine right to be world champ’, ‘I’ve worked so hard for this’, ‘oh please uncle, make me the champ’, ‘wah wah wah’.

You’re like that little brat at the arcade who hogs the game. You know the type, the one that's got more chance of becoming pope than of ever finishing in the top 10, but has the near endless amount of coins to keep plugging away… and the poor sob story to stop any real criticism.

So what do I get for the man who has the heart breaking background, who gives himself what he thinks is a cool nickname if you were nine, and ret*rded… and who is never ever ever going to stop being pushed beyond his skill level by his uncle?

He smiles.

And slowly, but surely, takes out from one end of the package a replica World title belt.

The lights from the room and the tree twinkle off it’s mirror sheen.

Tobias looks down at it, and then back to the camera.

(Tobias): From the future world champ, to you Sean. Keep striving for that dream buddy. This will be the only one you’ll ever hold.

Tapping the belt, the camera moves closer, revealing his signature to have been scrawled on it.

(Tobias): From your better. Merry christmas.

The scene fades out to black.

End.