The crew were on the floor, laughing like a bunch of hyenas. It felt good. It felt right.
Mr Nasty's face was red. Two reasons why: He's embarassed as hell, and he'd just been wrestling with Dawud. Dawud is long gone-giving your boss a black eye is not good for job prospects. He had been chased off when Mr. Nasty smacked him with a pair of nunchuks.
Mr Nasty didn't even look me in the eye. One of the guys from the crew, Tim Peters shouted in Mr. Nasty's direction. "Where's your retort, princess Naaaasty?"
The crew giggled, waiting for Mr. Nasty to answer.
"Yo.." Mr. Nasty's voice croaked. "Windey-wavey, teamwork corpri-ation, dreamwork motivation, yuh lazy, always resting, ma phone tapped out red but it hasn't been wrestling."
"But you tapped out red, and you were wrestling, You're chatting bird-shit, go back to your nesting, and reflect on your career, detect what really isn't there, good bars and at least a single cheer!"
I heard laughter, and i was putting Mr. Nasty in his place. This was my fuel. And i wasn't running out anytime soon. But I looked at the guy. I was destroying his life. I....
I raised my hand to hush the laughter.
Then I continued. "What's wrong 'pal', you okay? Come out the closet and disapointed that you're not gay? You the best in the game so let's play....You stunk for so long you hate lynx, no wonder you're upset when I spray!"
"Haha! Nice one mate!" Tim said.
"It was kinda out of order" Said another crewman. He was scottish. Everyone looked at him like he was blasphemous.
The director stood up and walked towards the man. "Get your head outta your ash, Ashery."
"D-Danny D-Decool? I-I didn't know you where here, Oh i'm a wee bit embarassed now, I don't know what to do."
"You can stop stuttering for a start, ash-hole. It's Danny Decool." Mr. Decool put on a scottish accent. "Not D-Danny D-Decool!"
Everyone laughed, including me. Indeed, it was Danny Decool. Famous director of 'The Sims'.
"You know what Danny?" The man said. "You're work isnt a tad impressive! Danny Decool- comes from a lineage of nine-times failure!"
"I'll give you failure right now, man. That insult, for a start!!" Mr. Decool looked at me. "Give this guy some finishing words."
"Sure..Hey dude, you get hit by a deathclaw? Cos u look stiff. Did you follow the footsteps of your brother and practically walk off a cliff? And you're not a warrior, just a dried up fool. 'Fallout: New Vegas' called, they hung up when I mentioned you."
Danny Decool burst in laughter, making his drink spill out of his nostrils. The crew laughed and grabbed the man and kicked him out of the door. But I wasn't done. Not with Mr. Nasty anyway. But i'd given him half a minute to think about bars, and perhaps he'd attempt to redeem himself with something half-decent.
"Hey." I said. Mr. Nasty looked up at me. He was still angry. " You got something for me?"
Before he could say anything, the crowd booed. He looked around quickly and made a this-is-ridicolous face.
That's when I jumped in. "Hey, Listen..." The crew went silent. "I'm like a religious arguement, I don't need evidence. To say that boy, Mr. Nasty is so damn unerelevant. And since he was once a Shah resident.." The crew gasped. I winked at them and shrugged as if to say Well, now you know.
"...I'm sure he'll enjoy a few game references."
I'll say this now. Everything that I said that happened to rhyme was 'freestyle'. Weird huh? I've been with this bastard for a decade and I'm somehow better at putting words together than he is. Yet, he was so damn cocky. So self-absorbed within his own bubble. He was a man given too much power. And yes, he used to be a Shah resident. Nabeel Shah. A name only a few in the whole galaxy know. Well, that's as far as I know. What I was doing now, was gold. You'll see.
