"Well, we're in for a good show. Aren't we folks?"
The crowd cheers, roaring in support.
"I think that's a yes!!!"
The crowd go into a wild stupor, raising their voices as loud as they can, agreeing in advocation.
When I was twelve, I thought I'd be a wrestler, a pro foootbal player, or an artist.
What have I become?
Twenty five minutes ago I was snorting line after line of white powder up my nose, just so I wouldn't bring the gun in my dressing room drawer and blow my brains out on live television.
That chick out in the front row has got a nice rack.
Barney sees my signal, finds her, whispers the standard into her ear, and she leaves with him backstage, taking her to my trailer, for after the show.
"Alright, our contestants todays are Gene Schimdt, from rural Kentucky and Jeremiah Nibbles, right out Little Rock, Arkansas. Today they will be playing for ten thousand dollars in..."
The sham known as my audience fill in the rest, "TELL IT TO A BLACK MAN!!!"
What has television deteriorated into?
"The rules are simple. We asked one hundred African Americans what would enrage them the most to hear a caucasian say, besides the "N" word. Then we spin the "wheel of discrimination" to select our racial comment of the day. Then we have our contestants compete, by throwing them into the Ghetto, and have them say these phrases, words, insults, and jokes to every African American they come across. Whoever says it to the most black people wins. Gene? Jeremiah? You guys ready?'
"Hell Yeah!" the redneck rejects respond simultaneously.
"All right, we''ll be right back to see which racist phrase we'll have the retard twins shouting after these commercial messages, brought to you by MTV."
I went back to my trailer.
Ignored the whore.
Did some more coke.
30 second till we're back on.
I pulled out my gun and stuck it in my pant's waist.
When I got back out there and those cameras said action, I spattered blood all over the stage.
The pain was unbearable. I fell limp to the floor and the voices grew silent.