Karnak: Mischa Bachinski, born August 18th, Leo, sign of aggression favorite ride the Beer Garden. Mischa was conceived in a little town outside
Odessa in the Ukraine by a factory worker named Tamara. His mother, after
being part of the clean up crew in Chernobyl, was dying of prolonged exposure
to Uranium. Wanting her son to be safe, she decided to put him up for
adoption—forging his birth certificate, she claimed he was two years old, and
was recently potty trained. When Mischa came to Canada, his adoptive parents
were surprised to see their toddler had five o’clock shadow, and a slight trace of
alcohol on his breath. They put him in the basement and his adoptive mother
would prepare food and leave it for him on the top of the stairs. On the rare
occasion he would run into his new parents—the mother would weep, and the
father would shoo him away like a horsefly. So began an inexhaustible rage. He
turned to the last bastion of pure strength and masculinity in society: self- aggrandizing commercialized hiphop. This is how Mischa became, the angriest
boy in town
Mischa: Yo! I want to talk about feeling. Ukrainian men have two emotion: Rage! And
Passion. People always be hating on me and my mad skillz, ‘cause I am best
rapper in all of North Eastern Saskatchewan. Grab yo dicks if you in the 306!
Brah! You might know me as ‘Bad Egg’ on the YouTube. I'm well known there.
That’s where I met my shorty, Talia. She’s from Kiev, from my country, and she
gave me mostly positive feedback on my YouTube comment wall…and then we
became mad passionate all-night lovers on Facebook, Twitter...we made love
with each other in my native language on all of the social media networks. She is
now my fiancé…..we were engaged. I was saving up to move back to Ukraine
and we were going to… (pauses) Too much passion...now Rage!
I have no respect for this country! Fact: you want to know what Canada is
leading supplier of, to whole world? Two things: mustard seeds...and Uranium.
That’s great for hotdogs, yes... but not so good for Ukraine. So thank you for
killing my mother. And for indirectly killing me. I feel the rage, and when I rage,
I rap about money in auto-tune. Auto-tune will never die. Hit the beat.
YOU ARE READING
Ride The Cyclone Script
Humorscript ONLY FOR THE PRODUCTION MY GROUP DOES WITH THE RIGHTS (also we'll have a door bit curtains so anything with the curtains falling and rising will be us entering and leaving the door)
