11-29-2017, 02:17 AM
(This post was last modified: 11-29-2017, 02:26 AM by King Ghidorah.
Edit Reason: SPELLING
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Quote:Chanel 7 - The Celebrity News Channel - Prime Time (Episode 1,098): Guest - 1 Bling. Phlegmy coughing in bold italics.
Fade in on a talk-show set, with a holographic matte-painting of Tier 4 Coruscant at night as a backdrop. An enormous grey-skinned hominid is sitting behind a polished black desk which is slightly too small, hands as large as snow-shovels folded in front of him. His conservative double-breasted tweed suit (or perhaps quadruple-breasted, considering his chest is as wide as a Mack-truck) is tailored to allow the clusters of jagged bone-white spikes that jut a full two feet from each of his shoulders and protrude from his elbows to breath without ruining his clothing. Smaller bone spurs adorn his jawline, giving the impression of a beard, crown his knuckles and armor his brow-ridge. His stringy silver hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail. He has no lips, nor ears - just small clusters of yet more bone spikes, and his face is twisted in a perpetual razor-toothed scowl.
"Hello," he booms, staring at the camera with eyes like hot coals, "and Welcome back to Prime Time. For those of you just joining us, I'm your host, Armando Graydon."
From the way his voice drops, his nose wrinkles and his eyes flare, we get the distinct impression he does not like this name, and it is perhaps an alias chosen by the producers.
"Our special guest this evening is a noted author, respected spiritual guru, and controversial hip-hop impressarrio - let's give a big Tier-4 welcome," he says his voice practically dripping with anger and disgust as he sweeps a pointing finger towards stage-left, "to...1 Bling!"
An emaciated creature hobbles onto the stage, alternately tottering and knuckle-walking on arms that are too long for him. His skin is grey and wrinkled, his features, although human, are exaggerated - puffy lips, enormous ears, wide, staring yellow eyes - and his feet are so large as to be almost cumbersome. He's wearing a pair of black leather jeans that are one size too large for him, an abundance of golden rings adorned with elvish script (on both fingers and toes - and one on a gold chain around his neck), and a doo-rag with the Eye of Sauron airbrushed on. He grins - displaying what looks to be a fortune in gold teeth - and waves enthusiastically as he hobbles across the black-carpeted set, eventually scuttling like a monkey up onto a red leather arm-chair beside Armando's desk.
The studio audience cheers wildly. Several lacy women's underthings sail across the set.
Armando turns to 1 Bling, whose entire body is the size of just one of his pectorals, visibly hiding his revulsion. The cheering dies down.
"You disgust me, and I would kill you if I thought it worth my time." he says.
The audience laughs. Regular viewers know that this is how Armando greets all of his guests.
1 Bling nods, still smiling. "Oh, you don't want kill Smeagol," he says, his voice thin and reedy, "Without Smeagol, Armando can't fill his timeslot."
Armano sighs like the air escaping from a crashing zeppelin. "I suppose that's true, so we may as well talk about your pointless career. There have been rumors that following the release of your latest album: Filthy Hobbit Sez, you're going to be parting ways with Oruk-Hai Records. Your - and I'm going to use this term loosely - thoughts?"
1 Bling's eyes narrow, and he stands up, looking even more like a monkey as he perches on the chair, with his knobbly knees and perpetual crouch. "Nasty producers! Tricksy producers! They tried to cheat Smeagol, tried to tricks us, but we were too clever! They thought that we were stupid, tried to renegotiate Smeagol's contract, but we dangled them from the penthouse balcony by their ankleses and then they were not so smug!"
1 Bling is frothing at the mouth and breathing quite hard at this point. Armando stares. He has no lips, so he can't really snarl, but his teeth are grinding in a way that suggests he can't quite believe this shit.
"... and then what happened?"
The emaciated rapper's intensity collapses into a sudden icy, strangely well spoken calm. He stares at his reflection in Armando's shiny desk. "You cannot tell them what we did, Smeagol. We can pay the fines, but The Empire is fickle. Silence is your friend. Say nothing, and your money can make it go away."
1 Bling stares into space for a moment longer, then has a coughing fit, and returns to his former self. "Gollum, Gollum... Smeagol's lawyer advises against answering that question. Yes, Smeagol will not answer, oh no, or the nasty police-men will come and takes us. They will take the Preciousssss..."
He clutches the ring that he wears on the chain around his neck and holds it covetously in front of his face with both hands, furtively glancing at Armando as though he expects him to try and steal it.
Armando shakes his head. "Well. Every second I spend on the air with you embarrasses us both, and I've got little enough dignity to to spare these days."
The host returns his attention to the camera, his voice buzzing and rumbling like a freight-train filled with locusts, more distorted than it was before.
"This is Armando Graydon. My guest has been 1 Bling - the Album is Filthy Hobbit Sez; go and buy it, you weak, pathetic animals. Prime Time will return after these messages."
He clenches one enormous fist and pulls it towards him in a classic gesture of power and malice. The sleeve of his suits tears very slightly at the seams.
"And someday, I will have my revenge."