Conversation · Horseback Monument
Speakers · 20
Half Light
Logic
Authority
Electrochemistry
Suggestion
Physical Instrument
Drama
Interfacing
Hand/Eye CoordinationResponses · 1
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A figure in a day dress, cuddled up in an armchair... she looks up and smiles at you across the living room.
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Savvy's here, watching the little fiasco of the horseback monument. You should distance yourself from this project. Say it's your Personal Brand Strategist gone rogue.
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'Gone rogue'? No, Idiot Doom Spiral has finally achieved something remarkable.
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Of course you're going to distance yourself from your misdeeds -- the lying, the conning, the exploitation...
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Maybe... But we still have a long way to go -- your net worth is nothing if you factor in the tax!
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- Spoken like a true hustler. We have a long way to go -- your net worth is still nothing if you factor in the tax!
- Beauty doesn't cut it. We have a long way to go -- your net worth is still nothing if you factor in the tax!
- Maybe... But we still have a long way to go -- your net worth is nothing if you factor in the tax!
- A Superstar Cop? No. You're a hustler -- and you've got a long way to go. Your net worth is still nothing if you factor in the tax!
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The disco danseur towers above, mounted on a horse. Numerous rods and ropes still hold the original reassemblage in place.
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Beauty doesn't cut it. We have a long way to go -- your net worth is still nothing if you factor in the tax!
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A Superstar Cop? No. You're a hustler -- and you've got a long way to go. Your net worth is still nothing if you factor in the tax!
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Spoken like a true hustler. We have a long way to go -- your net worth is still nothing if you factor in the tax!
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A seagull lands on the monument, surveying the town below. Then it takes off again.
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Somewhere in a hospital bed the lieutenant turns onto his side, feverish and exhausted...
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Your mind is silent, just like the roundabout under the sodium lights.
Your mind is silent, just like the roundabout in the falling rain.
Your mind is silent, just like the roundabout in the falling snow.
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He nods, eyes still on the megastar above, his face tinged by the citrus beams warming the cold air.
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He nods, eyes still on the disco danseur above, his face tinged by the citrus beams illuminating the dark.
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A figure in a day dress, cuddled up in an armchair... she looks up and smiles at you across the living room.
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He nods. The roundabout is quiet, almost eerily so under the brilliant sun. The king of disco is lit up like a stage, anticipating a funky beat that will never come...
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He nods. The roundabout is quiet, almost eerily so under the sodium lights. The apricot sceptre illuminates the disco king like a beacon in the dark, calling all dancers to wait for the drop of the next funky beat...
He nods. The roundabout is quiet, almost eerily so in the rain. Drops fall around the apricot sceptre and bounce off the glitter balls, yet the noble king of disco still hunts unperturbed for the next funky beat...
He nods. The roundabout is quiet, almost eerily so in the snow. The apricot sceptre glows fiercer upon the white sheets, held up by the frozen king of disco who hunts for the next funky beat...
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Perhaps. The free market does work in mysterious ways. At least Idiot Doom Spiral has made you look like the cool cat you are.
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- "But was it all worth it? Everything that came before -- Cindy, the stocks, the thing with Idiot Doom Spiral..."
- "One more question, if you don't mind -- was it all worth it?"
- "And was it all worth it?"
- "Never mind. Another question -- was it all worth it?"
- "But was it all worth it? Everything that came before -- Cindy, the stocks, even the street lamp."
- The lieutenant speaks as if you're rich -- a common misconception -- especially if you count the tax. No, we've got a long way to go before we can feel financially comfortable. The hustle never stops!
"Hey, it's the system. I did my best to support artists, employ people, give back to the community."
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"Hey, it's the system. I did my best to support artists, employ people, give back to the community. Even told Idiot Doom Spiral to stop drinking."
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"I don't think we have time for that. And even if we did, I doubt he's around anymore. Everyone's left."
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"Tax? What tax? We're in Revachol." He looks around, as if looking for hidden taxation, then shakes his head.
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And don't forget about the lying... or the way you conned an honest pawnshop owner.
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You had to pay her so little, otherwise you wouldn't have made any profit -- and if you don't make a profit, you don't have money to invest!
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The lieutenant speaks as if you're rich -- a common misconception -- especially if you count the tax. No, we've got a long way to go before we can feel financially comfortable. The hustle never stops!
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He nods. The roundabout is quiet, almost eerily so under the brilliant sun. The king of disco is lit up like a stage, anticipating a funky beat that will never come...
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He nods. The roundabout is quiet, almost eerily so under the sodium lights. The apricot sceptre illuminates the disco king like a beacon in the dark, calling all dancers to wait for the drop of the next funky beat...
He nods. The roundabout is quiet, almost eerily so in the rain. Drops fall around the apricot sceptre and bounce off the glitter balls, yet the noble king of disco still hunts unperturbed for the next funky beat...
He nods. The roundabout is quiet, almost eerily so in the snow. The apricot sceptre glows fiercer upon the white sheets, held up by the frozen king of disco who hunts for the next funky beat...
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He nods. The roundabout is quiet, almost eerily so under the brilliant sun. The king of disco is lit up like a stage, anticipating a funky beat that will never come...
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He nods. The roundabout is quiet, almost eerily so under the sodium lights. The apricot sceptre illuminates the disco king like a beacon in the dark, calling all dancers to wait for the drop of the next funky beat...
He nods. The roundabout is quiet, almost eerily so in the rain. Drops fall around the apricot sceptre and bounce off the glitter balls, yet the noble king of disco still hunts unperturbed for the next funky beat...
He nods. The roundabout is quiet, almost eerily so in the snow. The apricot sceptre glows fiercer upon the white sheets, held up by the frozen king of disco who hunts for the next funky beat...
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Good -- take no responsibility over this disaster. People are trying to mourn and all they can see is your gaudy figure mocking them from above.
Don't you see? Idiot Doom Spiral has finally achieved something remarkable.