Post by Jack Nomad on May 21, 2016 1:41:17 GMT -6
With the camera rolling we find Billy Feral, the self proclaimed Lord of Darkness seated in an apartment just outside of Fort Myers. At the moment, he's in the process of tuning a Don Felder Gibson LP guitar. He'd give a little twist of the tuning knobs at the top of the guitar and pluck the string until he produced a sound he liked. He's dressed casually, wearing a rather old and faded Slayer T-shirt that most likely is a throwback to his younger years, black leather pants, cowboy boots with silver capped heels and toes, and a few chains wrapped around his waist.
Billy: I'm going to keep this brief as the big night is upon us and I'm finally so close to ending Griffin Hawkins without any rules or regulations to hold me back. However, I do feel a need to address what he had to say about me and the bold assumptions he's made.
He never looks up from his work as his own perfectionism keeps him hard at work, tuning that guitar to perfect precision.
Griffin, you assume a great deal about me. You assume my hate is the only thing that's kept me going. Wrong. It was the very thing that woke me the fuck up. I live a fuller, better life now than I ever did before and my record sales are so much stronger than they ever were. If I were at home, I'd show you a couple of Gold and even a Platinum record I've gotten over the last few years. No, my music is still my driving force, but you... Hawkins, you have been owed this a long time.
He plucks a sour note on the guitar and frowns, tuning sixth string as best he can.
I've made a better life for myself and the reinvention process has worked greatly in my favor. Ask yourself, do I make songs about you, Griffin? Do I waste my time making hate albums that center around you? Fuck no, the universe does not revolve around Griffin Hawkins and his great majesty on the stage. If anything, Luke Knux is a better rocker, stage presence, and performer than you ever will be Griffin.
Satisfied with his work, he then gives a stroke of the guitar's strings, a smirk playing across his lips as his ears are finally pleased. He sets the guitar down beside him on the bed and leans forward, finally looking the camera in the eye.
People forget the Griffin Hawkins of that era. They forget how much of a two faced little c**t you were. You proclaim all these horrible things about me, but do I go after the people you love and cherish? I've alluded to your family, but in all honesty, I just want to destroy you, Hawkins. I could care less about that precious little baby and your pretty little piece of meat you call a wife. I've always had a passing interest in professional wrestling and when opportunity was finally a door I could knock upon, I kicked it open and while I was at it, kicked you straight in the dick. I didn't do that because I was weak, I did it because I wanted to hurt you quick and fast before Micheal Saint could stop me. He wants you gone too, but at the same respect, he needs you to go out in a spectacular, pleasing fashion that destroys you in the eyes of the fans.
A dark smile creases his lips as he tilts his head forward.
Griffin Hawkins, there are alot of skeletons in your closet just begging to be rattled. Once these people get to know the real you, the man you used to be. The man who'd screw over promising talents just to get ahead. The man who was part of one of the most ruthless groups in professional wrestling until paranoia from it's leader got you ousted. They will learn that I am more of a man than you ever were. I'm only one faucet of the past that has come back to haunt you and let me say this, Griffin. You are everything I say you are and more. Whatever I've done in the past with my band or musically PALES in comparison to the wicked, lying bullshit you are guilty of. But that's enough for now.
He lifts his head back.
I'm going to be the David Grohl to your sacrificial drumset and just beat you until you fall the fuck apart at my feet. You'll be the lacerated sky, raining all the blood that Tom Araya screams about falling. Your name is Victim in this vicious wasteland, Griffin, and I am the Pain that's coming for you. I've said it before and I'll say it again, you'll be begging for this to end long before I'm finished with you.
Billy chuckles darkly as the scene fades to black.
Billy: I'm going to keep this brief as the big night is upon us and I'm finally so close to ending Griffin Hawkins without any rules or regulations to hold me back. However, I do feel a need to address what he had to say about me and the bold assumptions he's made.
He never looks up from his work as his own perfectionism keeps him hard at work, tuning that guitar to perfect precision.
Griffin, you assume a great deal about me. You assume my hate is the only thing that's kept me going. Wrong. It was the very thing that woke me the fuck up. I live a fuller, better life now than I ever did before and my record sales are so much stronger than they ever were. If I were at home, I'd show you a couple of Gold and even a Platinum record I've gotten over the last few years. No, my music is still my driving force, but you... Hawkins, you have been owed this a long time.
He plucks a sour note on the guitar and frowns, tuning sixth string as best he can.
I've made a better life for myself and the reinvention process has worked greatly in my favor. Ask yourself, do I make songs about you, Griffin? Do I waste my time making hate albums that center around you? Fuck no, the universe does not revolve around Griffin Hawkins and his great majesty on the stage. If anything, Luke Knux is a better rocker, stage presence, and performer than you ever will be Griffin.
Satisfied with his work, he then gives a stroke of the guitar's strings, a smirk playing across his lips as his ears are finally pleased. He sets the guitar down beside him on the bed and leans forward, finally looking the camera in the eye.
People forget the Griffin Hawkins of that era. They forget how much of a two faced little c**t you were. You proclaim all these horrible things about me, but do I go after the people you love and cherish? I've alluded to your family, but in all honesty, I just want to destroy you, Hawkins. I could care less about that precious little baby and your pretty little piece of meat you call a wife. I've always had a passing interest in professional wrestling and when opportunity was finally a door I could knock upon, I kicked it open and while I was at it, kicked you straight in the dick. I didn't do that because I was weak, I did it because I wanted to hurt you quick and fast before Micheal Saint could stop me. He wants you gone too, but at the same respect, he needs you to go out in a spectacular, pleasing fashion that destroys you in the eyes of the fans.
A dark smile creases his lips as he tilts his head forward.
Griffin Hawkins, there are alot of skeletons in your closet just begging to be rattled. Once these people get to know the real you, the man you used to be. The man who'd screw over promising talents just to get ahead. The man who was part of one of the most ruthless groups in professional wrestling until paranoia from it's leader got you ousted. They will learn that I am more of a man than you ever were. I'm only one faucet of the past that has come back to haunt you and let me say this, Griffin. You are everything I say you are and more. Whatever I've done in the past with my band or musically PALES in comparison to the wicked, lying bullshit you are guilty of. But that's enough for now.
He lifts his head back.
I'm going to be the David Grohl to your sacrificial drumset and just beat you until you fall the fuck apart at my feet. You'll be the lacerated sky, raining all the blood that Tom Araya screams about falling. Your name is Victim in this vicious wasteland, Griffin, and I am the Pain that's coming for you. I've said it before and I'll say it again, you'll be begging for this to end long before I'm finished with you.
Billy chuckles darkly as the scene fades to black.
