~33~ How to build a better Butcher?

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I was working in the lab, late one night
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight
For my monster from his slab, began to rise
And suddenly to my surprise
He did the mash, he did the monster mash
The monster mash, it was a graveyard smash

Monster Mash ~ Bobby Pickett

🤡🤡🤡


So Fuzzo's fun time has come between me and my need to be with May? Yeah, that pisses me off to no end. And I am an agent of chaos! So what does an agent of chaos do when he's unbelievably pissed off? Obviously, he gets revenge on those that thought to do him and his harm. Cause dammit, my name was right there on the list for May! Then they tried to screw me? Fine then, I'm gonna screw them right back.

Okay, so you want me to teach the Butcher some stupid shit? Flock it, why not? Let's see how you like your trained pet monster when I teach him that bad blood tastes good ...especially your blood?

So far I've just been twisting Butchy's head around for my own amusement. But now I am going to get serious about this tutoring crap. Put some serious psychotically subversive thoughts, into possibly the last Flocking Falcon in the entire Valley of Death, that should be turned into an acolyte of Anarchy.  

"You're not weird at all Butch. They've just been messing with your head so long, that all their bullshit almost sounds normal to you now." I slowly start twisting his head around to see the current in a new and painfully interesting way. "Like all that bullshit is just background noise, like when the TV is on in the other room while you eat dinner. You ain't watching what's going on, but it's always there in the air. But all that noise in your ears is going somewhere in there? Doing something really wrong to your real you."

"Wrong to my what?" Butchy's icy eyes coldly narrow in consternation.

"Your real you. Not the you that they want you to be, but the real one you already know you are." I nod to his football jersey, big number 69, of course. "And you know who you are, you're that guy ...the real Butch."

"Oh yeah? And what's that then?" The monster is suddenly eyeing me suspiciously again.

"You're that dude in the back parking lot at Da Frost. The guy that does what you do, that no one else can do, but you?" Like stringing more Flocking F-words together incorrectly than any other monster on planet San Fall. "You already see your true truth, and you know exactly what to do with it. You grab it by it's lying neck and smack the crap out of it, so it doesn't start lying it's ass off to you again."

Butchy blinks several times as the words get absorbed. Then he slowly starts to bob his head big brick head in agreement at the compliment. One that he is not totally sure is actually a compliment yet. Even though it sounds complimentary, it clearly tastes wrong to him somehow.

"See Butch, it's not you that's the problem here, they're the problem. Because you already know your true truth. Your only malfunction is you just haven't figure out yet how to give them enough of their bullshit back to them, the way they want it? So that they will just leave you the flock alone and stop caring what you do on your time. That's the real 'straighten out and fly right' bullshit they've been shoving down your throat around here." I wave around the Other Library for distraction. 

"So the way I see it, you got two choices going forward. Suck it up and take Orsir's shit. Learn to like it, or at least act like you don't know any better? Or get seriously twisty and learn to beat him at his own game, and start breaking the very same rules that he breaks all the time." I shrug. "Your call."

I already know this twist will appeal to the dark inner ultimate warrior spirit in Butchy. Now I just have to appeal to his lighter more reasonable fun-loving side, the slightly psychotically funnier version of Butch ...The Butcher. Because in all honesty, I am starting to see that Butchy by himself is one very depressing dude.

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