[Panel description: Two poorly drawn green curtains cover the image.]
I know you would rather be reading the long strings of words, that go on and on without saying anything important. I know you like to feel the feelings, that come from having your happiness depend on brightly colored text, like a loser. You peruse the unending whining of boring teens,
while urinating liquid from your eye sockets in the way that humans do, when an artist nearing my caliber plays a delicate sonata upon their fragile heartstrings. But here’s the thing.
I am going to kill all of those people.
[Panel description: The curtains jerkily draw back to reveal a poorly constructed clay sculpture looking like a crude figure kneeling with its head down.]
Maybe, I already have. And since you enjoy learning more about them, as a way to waste what remains of your meaningless lives, I will reveal how I did it, using only the most groundbreaking artistic techniques. These skills, I am telling you. They are, if I dare say it, over 9000. In fact my skills exceed any kind of numerical description.
[Panel description: The image of the sculpture is badly filtered, giving everything a yellow and red pixilated look.]
Only the fine arts matter here. And in those I am supreme! Watch and learn. You see, in my musing over that so-called "highest" of art, the animes, I came across the rich and marvelous history of the great masters. Thus I abandoned this stupid and childish cartoon nonsense, and moved on to greater more mature forms of art.
Perhaps one day I will see fit to update my past work with my newfound genius. For clearly it would be a massive boon to the style. Because drawing anime is for stupid babies, and I am now, a serious artist.
Voila. If you need to exude moisture from your vision ducts, whether in sorrow or in awe of my artistic skill, feel free.
After an embarrassing defeat that I am not interested in talking about, I realized that I was not strong enough. This may be hard to believe when gazing upon my masculine perfection, that is the inspiration for this marvelous creation of mine.
It is a throwback to so-called "classical sculpture work", as you can see, but updated by a modern genius such as myself. It is mimicking a pose of thoughtfulness and presents my contemplation of my path to future greatness, as well as my future buffness. What deep thoughts go on behind his, by which I mean my, stoic facade? You can only dream of knowing. But let me tell you. They are all good. Damn good.
How could such a physique need improvement? You ask. But it is true. I climbed the god tiers.
[Panel description: The angle of the picture changes, so that only part of the lumpy sculpture can be seen in one corner of the image. The rest is a heavily pixilated background, with distorted colors that are mostly red and green.]
By defeating the bigger version of my "sister" in the future, I will gain mastery over her attractive celestial body. When I say this, I mean the green sun, in being the body I am talking about. That is how scientists and other boring people who care about things like "numbers" and "data" talk. They call stars and planets bodies, to display admirable traits like their smartfulness. And while I am above things like "science".
[Panel description: The image zooms in on the sculpture, which looks similar to a mound of dog droppings.]
My smartfulness scores are off the charts! So like my big u's and my delectable text color, I have stolen these official word fragments to use as I see fit. That is all that statement meant. If you thought I meant something else, fuck you. Anyway. It is only fitting that everything of hers become mine, because I am so much better than every version of her that ever existed. But even that is not enough. I need to become stronger. And by looking at my screens, I have seen what I must do. Now I will show you, all rendered so perfectly it is like you were there to witness it. But do not be fooled.
[Panel description: The image is another poorly filtered photograph of a painting on a long strip of white paper. The painting consists of many swirls and splatters of colored paint thrown haphazardly across the paper.]
This is merely a trick created by my superior ability, known as an "optical illusion". In fact you have never left whatever room you are presently chained to the wall in. Such is the power of art. Observe. This is representative of my soul, scattered throughout existence itself.
Now I know to most people, it would look like a foolishly unrestrained infant had thrown paint on the paper in the middle of soiling its baby diaper. But it is art, therefore it is genius. And I made it, so therefore I am a genius. The red specifically represents me, because I am everywhere. It also represents the blood I will spill in my wake, which will also be everywhere, and in many other colors than red. But that would make the presentation too cluttered, and I do not want to confuse you as you behold my masterwork. I know viewers are easily overawed in the presence of greatness.
How will this come about, you may ask?
[Panel description: The image zooms in. The paint splatters are mostly blue and red.]
I will defeat my denizen. I will claim his boon as a reward. It is an arcane juju that has the power to scatter a soul throughout all of reality. And because of another artifact that will fall into my claws, a magical ring gifted to me by my loyal purple lackey, it will scatter my soul through all of the void as well. But I will not go alone.
[Panel description: The image shows some kind of mobile hanging from an unfinished ceiling, consisting of some twisted wire and one blue flat object hanging on the end of it. The picture was taken next to a light fixture, which washes out one corner of the image.]
No, clasped in my arms will be my dear puppet pal. And my essence will become forever entangled in his. In that way, I will be inescapable and undefeatable. No matter where you go or where you try to hide, I will be already there. I am not the only one secure in his warm and floppy embrace. For some reason, the rabbit and the clown come too.
I am presenting this with this bold and futuristic hanging piece that combines the dynamicness of motion with the chaos that is my soul. And before you think that is some poetic garbage, I mean that literally. For my soul is combined with the two hangers-on. The clown and the rabbit accompany me in my adult form in an unholy maelstrom of chaos and torment. That is what the small cardboard pieces represent.
This is not my favorite part of the story. I am not looking forward to sharing my victory with the clown. But ascending to complete perfection has its imperfections. Real winners understand this.
[Panel description: Another picture of the mobile is even more affected by the light fixture. One corner of the image is entirely white, while the rest is pitch black with the wire mobile glowing in a few bright lines.]
We work and work and don't let anything stop us. Not bratty teens with scrappy fists and bad taste. Or the haters who do not understand that beauty is in the eye sockets of the beholder. Or boring game sessions filled with unsolvable puzzles. No. A real winner never gives up. Instead he keeps going, until everything opposing him gives up first.
Observe that I said he. This was not an accident. Girls can never be real winners. The bitches don't have the inner boy strength to stiffen their spines and fill their hearts with the special stardust that makes believing happen. Instead they start to cry and wait for a boy hero to save them. No one saved me. I clawed my way to supremacy out of will and pure talent.
How do I become so strong and powerful, you ask??
The answer to that is easy. I believed in myself. If you believe in yourself, and are also not objectively terrible, for any reason that includes being weak or a girl or anything else I don't like, you can do anything.
Except become greater than me, because that is impossible. If you have learned nothing else from my expert teachings, remember that.
Enough talking. My glorious destiny awaits. Goodbye forever.
[Panel description: The green curtains close jerkily over the mobile.]
END OF ACT 6 ACT 6 ACT 5.