From reality to dreamland... [versus Crowe]
Aug 16, 2013 18:27:29 GMT -5
Post by Bondo on Aug 16, 2013 18:27:29 GMT -5
He stood there, tall and silent as he knew the words of which he wanted to speak. It wasn't easy being a Grey; Especially in the midst of biggest merger this side of San Diego.
He had to behave; He had to act like his namesake. Strong, quiet, perfect.
It wasn't easy. But then again, Thaddeus Grey was never one to walk an easy path in life.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Board..." He began. He always hated sucking up those fat-faced monkeyasses. All they ever did was look at the bottom dollar. They didn't care if what they did (after all, Thaddeus' father, Michael Grey, had made his fortune as a corporate raider) hurt other people. Thaddeus may always play the role of a complete and total asshole, but even he had his moral compass, however skewed it usually was.
"When this merger was first brought to my attention, I must admit. I had my doubts. How would two of California, nay, the World's most successful alternative asset managment companies ever work together under the same roof?"
A couple murmurs spread out over the crowd. He nod his head in agreement, taking his hands to silence any critics.
"Especially from my end. After all my father, Michael Grey started Greystone Capital fifty-three years ago with an idea and a little start-up from an estate allocation on the death of his grandfather. And our partner in this venture, they had a similar birth. Edward Raymond Stotch formulated his own company, built it with his own hands, and it gave way to one of the most successful organizations in our industry, ERS Acquisitions."
Ugh, why did he even have to deliver this speech? Especially since this was all his old man's idea? Lucky son of a bitch got out of it by having a heart attack and dying two months ago.
"Through time and hard work, these two companies went head to head over the last two decades to notch out two very impressive portfolios. And so it seemed like the heaven's had parted and a light shown clearly over what had to happen. We must merge to find the ultimate form of success."
Yadda, yadda, yadda. He could be in a gym right now. Hell, he could be with a girl somewhere... instead, he's wining and dining a bunch of selfish sons of...
"And through a series of very difficult negotiations, our two families have come together; into one corporation under the same umbrella. It is with great honor..." Lies, goddamn lies... "and humility that I welcome everyone into a new era." He smiled. Half-heartedly, but they didn't know that.
A very fireworks went off, some confetti fell. And a rather large banner unrolled from the ceiling.
MONOLITH.
It was strong, it was simple. The idea being that this new entity would be immovable, like a rock that has stood tall for cenutries.
He smiled, and he shook hand after hand, and he bore the weight of his namesake. People would say things to him, kiss his ass, preach some financial gospel that Thaddeus had never cared about, and he would smile and nod. All the while the thought of his upcoming match lingered in his head... something that most of the people in this room thought was silly and irrational.
The hours are falling away, the minutes keep ticking. Time is fleeting, and we've got ourselves a bird without flight.
I know your rage, Crowe. I've felt it before. But both of us are men who would do anything to walk away as victor. No matter the cost.
So was it really that big of a surprise when I allegedly stole your victory? I'm not the kind of guy who makes excuses. Did you have it in the bag? Absolutely. But if you were too stupid, or too naive to assume that it could be stolen from you, then you never had it in the bag. You merely stood on the threshold of victory; I just gave you a quick nudge out of the way and I made my grand entrance into the winner's circle.
I hold no regrets; to me they're as pointless as an apology. If you never wanted to, or never intended to do something, then you would have never done it. Apologies are useless, they're phony, and in my mind, they're about as useless as a limp cock.
But that tag-team match; you did something. You cost us a victory. Something I didn't expect from you. I didn't think you would blatantly screw us over and hand our opponents a win. I've got to give it to you, when I thought I had the answers... you went and changed the questions.
It won't happen again.
We find ourselves face to face once more; this time there aren't any partners or any other opponents. You and I are going to find out first hand if a Crowe can navigate the Greyarea of life.
You talk about the pestilence of society and the burden of people... let's find out what happens when I take away your thesaurus and your eyeliner, and I look you dead in your eyes, and I throw the first punch.
Is it going to be fight... or will it be flight. Because honestly Crowe, your silence, your mystique, your overall persona non grata that you're trying to live by... it's humorus at best.
Perhaps you were vile, you were vicious at one time. But now you're no more a Crowe than you are a dove. And that's the embarassing part. You talk about being a loner and how everybody is beneath you; yet you look for sympathy, for understanding in your defeat.
After this Crowe, I think we are finished. I'll have beaten you twice, and you won't be able to bounce back from it. I find your attitude bleak, and your overall self to be too damn depressing. So do us all a favor. Take that razor you have sitting in your medicine cabinet. You place the blade between your fore and middle fingers, and you dig it into your own flesh.
Because this world has no use for someone as weak as you. As insignifciant and overall lacklustre.
This world needs greatness. It needs perfection. It needs a new breed, a more perfect soul. You're looking at the very definition of what this world truly needs, Crowe.
So enjoy your humble pie this weekend; because after it's all said and done, it's about the only goddamn thing you'll be eating for a while, especially after I knock all of your teeth out.
He remembered the first time he had ever felt this way.
He stood in the back, watching the monitor. He saw the vicious and vile attack. The three on one assault. The massacre so vile, so vicious, it was at best described murderous.
The aura, the arrogance, the attitude he carried. It was impressive. It held a slight tone of jealousy, the way he had all of those people eating out of his hands.
The way they reacted at his very being... it was, just wow.
And as he stood over his fallen prey, his two associates standing beside him, Thaddeus could recall this lump he swallowed hard.
His heart skipped a beat. It fluttered with passion.
What was this feeling he felt? This stirring of emotions going on inside of him.
He couldn't put a finger on it. He stood there, staring, his tongue resting between his top and bottom lips; his blue-gray eyes focused solely on the television in front of him.
Around him his world had stopped... and the only thing that mattered was the attention of the one individual in his line of sight.
His shaggy brownish-blonde hair. His snarl no matter the mood; his eyes so cold and yet so absorbing, drawing him in and occupying his thoughts, his mind, his general being.
Thaddeus couldn't define the emotion he was feeling, the overall state he was in.
It felt so familiar, yet so foreign.
All he knew for certain was that he yearned for an encounter with a darker being, one more deserving of the monikor of crow.
He had to behave; He had to act like his namesake. Strong, quiet, perfect.
It wasn't easy. But then again, Thaddeus Grey was never one to walk an easy path in life.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Board..." He began. He always hated sucking up those fat-faced monkeyasses. All they ever did was look at the bottom dollar. They didn't care if what they did (after all, Thaddeus' father, Michael Grey, had made his fortune as a corporate raider) hurt other people. Thaddeus may always play the role of a complete and total asshole, but even he had his moral compass, however skewed it usually was.
"When this merger was first brought to my attention, I must admit. I had my doubts. How would two of California, nay, the World's most successful alternative asset managment companies ever work together under the same roof?"
A couple murmurs spread out over the crowd. He nod his head in agreement, taking his hands to silence any critics.
"Especially from my end. After all my father, Michael Grey started Greystone Capital fifty-three years ago with an idea and a little start-up from an estate allocation on the death of his grandfather. And our partner in this venture, they had a similar birth. Edward Raymond Stotch formulated his own company, built it with his own hands, and it gave way to one of the most successful organizations in our industry, ERS Acquisitions."
Ugh, why did he even have to deliver this speech? Especially since this was all his old man's idea? Lucky son of a bitch got out of it by having a heart attack and dying two months ago.
"Through time and hard work, these two companies went head to head over the last two decades to notch out two very impressive portfolios. And so it seemed like the heaven's had parted and a light shown clearly over what had to happen. We must merge to find the ultimate form of success."
Yadda, yadda, yadda. He could be in a gym right now. Hell, he could be with a girl somewhere... instead, he's wining and dining a bunch of selfish sons of...
"And through a series of very difficult negotiations, our two families have come together; into one corporation under the same umbrella. It is with great honor..." Lies, goddamn lies... "and humility that I welcome everyone into a new era." He smiled. Half-heartedly, but they didn't know that.
A very fireworks went off, some confetti fell. And a rather large banner unrolled from the ceiling.
MONOLITH.
It was strong, it was simple. The idea being that this new entity would be immovable, like a rock that has stood tall for cenutries.
He smiled, and he shook hand after hand, and he bore the weight of his namesake. People would say things to him, kiss his ass, preach some financial gospel that Thaddeus had never cared about, and he would smile and nod. All the while the thought of his upcoming match lingered in his head... something that most of the people in this room thought was silly and irrational.
The hours are falling away, the minutes keep ticking. Time is fleeting, and we've got ourselves a bird without flight.
I know your rage, Crowe. I've felt it before. But both of us are men who would do anything to walk away as victor. No matter the cost.
So was it really that big of a surprise when I allegedly stole your victory? I'm not the kind of guy who makes excuses. Did you have it in the bag? Absolutely. But if you were too stupid, or too naive to assume that it could be stolen from you, then you never had it in the bag. You merely stood on the threshold of victory; I just gave you a quick nudge out of the way and I made my grand entrance into the winner's circle.
I hold no regrets; to me they're as pointless as an apology. If you never wanted to, or never intended to do something, then you would have never done it. Apologies are useless, they're phony, and in my mind, they're about as useless as a limp cock.
But that tag-team match; you did something. You cost us a victory. Something I didn't expect from you. I didn't think you would blatantly screw us over and hand our opponents a win. I've got to give it to you, when I thought I had the answers... you went and changed the questions.
It won't happen again.
We find ourselves face to face once more; this time there aren't any partners or any other opponents. You and I are going to find out first hand if a Crowe can navigate the Greyarea of life.
You talk about the pestilence of society and the burden of people... let's find out what happens when I take away your thesaurus and your eyeliner, and I look you dead in your eyes, and I throw the first punch.
Is it going to be fight... or will it be flight. Because honestly Crowe, your silence, your mystique, your overall persona non grata that you're trying to live by... it's humorus at best.
Perhaps you were vile, you were vicious at one time. But now you're no more a Crowe than you are a dove. And that's the embarassing part. You talk about being a loner and how everybody is beneath you; yet you look for sympathy, for understanding in your defeat.
After this Crowe, I think we are finished. I'll have beaten you twice, and you won't be able to bounce back from it. I find your attitude bleak, and your overall self to be too damn depressing. So do us all a favor. Take that razor you have sitting in your medicine cabinet. You place the blade between your fore and middle fingers, and you dig it into your own flesh.
Because this world has no use for someone as weak as you. As insignifciant and overall lacklustre.
This world needs greatness. It needs perfection. It needs a new breed, a more perfect soul. You're looking at the very definition of what this world truly needs, Crowe.
So enjoy your humble pie this weekend; because after it's all said and done, it's about the only goddamn thing you'll be eating for a while, especially after I knock all of your teeth out.
He remembered the first time he had ever felt this way.
He stood in the back, watching the monitor. He saw the vicious and vile attack. The three on one assault. The massacre so vile, so vicious, it was at best described murderous.
The aura, the arrogance, the attitude he carried. It was impressive. It held a slight tone of jealousy, the way he had all of those people eating out of his hands.
The way they reacted at his very being... it was, just wow.
And as he stood over his fallen prey, his two associates standing beside him, Thaddeus could recall this lump he swallowed hard.
His heart skipped a beat. It fluttered with passion.
What was this feeling he felt? This stirring of emotions going on inside of him.
He couldn't put a finger on it. He stood there, staring, his tongue resting between his top and bottom lips; his blue-gray eyes focused solely on the television in front of him.
Around him his world had stopped... and the only thing that mattered was the attention of the one individual in his line of sight.
His shaggy brownish-blonde hair. His snarl no matter the mood; his eyes so cold and yet so absorbing, drawing him in and occupying his thoughts, his mind, his general being.
Thaddeus couldn't define the emotion he was feeling, the overall state he was in.
It felt so familiar, yet so foreign.
All he knew for certain was that he yearned for an encounter with a darker being, one more deserving of the monikor of crow.
