(no subject)
because now you can't stop me
(lies)
A sponge and a little bit of soap was all it took to remove his red skin. The color washed from his face trickled down his arm, into the sink; the red draining away to a ghostly pale.
“Hey Chief,” a shrill voice called from outside the room. “Open up.”
The chief opened his eyes and stared at his red and white face in the mirror. Halfway through the transformation from Indian Savage to Daniel. With the red skin painted on over his natural white he really did look like an Indian. Not a real one, but a cartoon, like the mascot of the Cleveland Indians without the stupid grin. Large sloping nose and brow, powerful chin; he hated it but knew it was true. The Indian archetype in a white mans skin.
“For the goddamn last time,” he barked, opening the door, “my name is Daniel. Don’t call me chief.” The sight of the ringleader, impatiently tapping his foot sent waves of disgust down Daniel’s spine. His small stature, beady little eyes; he reeked of sleaze and filth, an air of nicotine and ash that no matter how many times they met Daniel could never get used to.
“What do you want now, Sharkoth?” Every time the small ringleader came to visit he brought with him big trouble. Heap big.
“Please, please, call me Maurice,” his mouth curled into a wicked smirk. His voice was whiny, like he spoke through his nose, and hearing it day after day had worn away at Daniel’s tolerance of the man. “Listen, Tonto, the kiddies loved you out there. Your best performance yet, if you ask me. In fact, they want more. So put your face back on and get out there.”
The little troll of a man slammed the door behind him, rattling the chief’s mirror. Daniel sighed. He had always wanted to be an actor, but after all those years of drama classes and school plays, was this where he would end up? A white man pretending to be a great war chief for some backwater freak show day in and day out? He put down the sponge and began to put his red skin makeup back on.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Sharkoth’s voice swelled out from the stage. “I am pleased to bring back to the stage a very dear friend of mine. The Great Immortal War Chief! The warrior who single handedly killed an entire regiment of American soldiers! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the living legend, Minnennewah!”
Daniel pushed aside the curtain hiding him from the audience in a dramatic display. In loincloth, in headdress, in red skin and war paint, Daniel, War Chief Minnennewah stepped out onto the stage once more.
What do you guys think?
Suck or really suck?
(lies)
A sponge and a little bit of soap was all it took to remove his red skin. The color washed from his face trickled down his arm, into the sink; the red draining away to a ghostly pale.
“Hey Chief,” a shrill voice called from outside the room. “Open up.”
The chief opened his eyes and stared at his red and white face in the mirror. Halfway through the transformation from Indian Savage to Daniel. With the red skin painted on over his natural white he really did look like an Indian. Not a real one, but a cartoon, like the mascot of the Cleveland Indians without the stupid grin. Large sloping nose and brow, powerful chin; he hated it but knew it was true. The Indian archetype in a white mans skin.
“For the goddamn last time,” he barked, opening the door, “my name is Daniel. Don’t call me chief.” The sight of the ringleader, impatiently tapping his foot sent waves of disgust down Daniel’s spine. His small stature, beady little eyes; he reeked of sleaze and filth, an air of nicotine and ash that no matter how many times they met Daniel could never get used to.
“What do you want now, Sharkoth?” Every time the small ringleader came to visit he brought with him big trouble. Heap big.
“Please, please, call me Maurice,” his mouth curled into a wicked smirk. His voice was whiny, like he spoke through his nose, and hearing it day after day had worn away at Daniel’s tolerance of the man. “Listen, Tonto, the kiddies loved you out there. Your best performance yet, if you ask me. In fact, they want more. So put your face back on and get out there.”
The little troll of a man slammed the door behind him, rattling the chief’s mirror. Daniel sighed. He had always wanted to be an actor, but after all those years of drama classes and school plays, was this where he would end up? A white man pretending to be a great war chief for some backwater freak show day in and day out? He put down the sponge and began to put his red skin makeup back on.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Sharkoth’s voice swelled out from the stage. “I am pleased to bring back to the stage a very dear friend of mine. The Great Immortal War Chief! The warrior who single handedly killed an entire regiment of American soldiers! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the living legend, Minnennewah!”
Daniel pushed aside the curtain hiding him from the audience in a dramatic display. In loincloth, in headdress, in red skin and war paint, Daniel, War Chief Minnennewah stepped out onto the stage once more.
What do you guys think?
Suck or really suck?