Here's another story that I think will cause you to have ideas. This one is based on Sion Sono's movies "Suicide Club" and "Noriko's Dinner Table" which deal about finding your true self, isolation, and the idea of disconnection between adults and kids.
You might be unfamiliar with the plot unless you've seen the movies (they can be found online, don't worry). But I'll try to make it easy for people to understand, okay?
Well, let us start the cycle in motion, and see what type of tale this leaves us. This story is dedicated to my four friends, who all inspired me to create this magnificent tale.
(Oh and sorry if some characters get to be OOC. I promise, it'll make this story easier to follow)
0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
London and Kendrick's Suicide Table
by Green Phantom Queen
Dedicated to NeroAnne, Terrahfry, Redsandman99 and Seraphalexiel
0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
Prologue-London and Kendrick's Roots
0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
My name is Paul London.
And mine is Brian Kendrick.
That's who we are...that's who we have been after what happened in two years. We used to be called Paul and Brian Helmsley, after our so-called 'father'. The two of us were orphans and were adopted by this man. We lived with him for the majority of our life, before the incident.
We always felt as if we were someone else entirely, and that daddy dearest didn't understand us at all. For years, we had to hide secrets in our lives that we couldn't tell him, lest we have them all shot down.
Like the fact that we didn't want the last name Helmsley; we wanted to be our own individual person.
Or the fact that we wanted to become wrestlers like he was, instead of going through college and becoming Accountants, or all of those nasty guys in suits.
Or the fact that we were gay...and loved each other.
People these days don't truly understand what it's like to be like us; have you ever tried to get a room in a hotel and the woman behind the counter immediately says 'Since there are two of you, would you like two rooms?" Idiot; clearly, since these two are guys, you just assume that they want their own manly space instead of letting them breathe the same air-conditioned fumes like you do in one room?
The media doesn't help us at all; some channels just gave us a satirical, high burlesque skit about the life of a gay. Rather, it just makes us feel more sick than our stomach than usual.
But that's not what we're here to talk about, we're here to talk about how we became these two characters. So sit back and relax, we're in for a bumpy ride.
It all started four days before Christmas about eighteen months ago. In the bus station that the two of us left from Austin to take us to our destination of San Antonio...
0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
The two boys walked out of the bus, gripping onto their rolling suitcases that contained their belongings. They waved goodbye to the bus driver as the doors closed with a hiss. Then it was on its way to other people waiting to travel in its seats to their destination.
Paul—with tan skin and his black messy hair becoming messier by the cold wind—gripped onto his white jacket with a white gloved hand. Accentuating it was the black lines going down the jacket and gloves, stopping at his blue jeans and torn out sneakers. On the right side of his head was a white mask, similar to the one used in Greek Comedies—a white mask with happy eyes and a gaping smile.
Brian—whose blonde hair framed his delicate porcelain face-- shivered, despite having a black jacket with chains and fringed shoulder pads on top of a long sleeve shirt with red slashes. He had a black fingerless glove on his right hand as his legs were also covered with jeans and sneakers. On the left side of his face was a tragedy mask, complete with sad teary eyes and frown.
"It's cold out here." said Brian, his teeth chattering. "But, it was worth it."
"Yeah." said Paul, looking around. "There's going to be a lot of beautiful babies in here."
Brian's lips turned into an upward smile as they left the station, heading toward wherever they needed to go.
It was that day, that everything changed. Noticing some strings that were dangling on the end of our sleeves, we pulled them off. They were annoying us; mocking us because these were all hand-me-downs. It was hard to understand what had happened; we ran away from home.
The two walked past many people, the people ignoring them as if they were specks of dust floating by in the air. Paul and Brian didn't seem to mind, as they exited the station, both of them following the meandering streets ahead of them.
Males, ages 17. We were just kids....
Paul and Brian walked amongst the crowd; it was crisp with snow, and lighted Christmas trees only added to the Winter-like scene. Children were grasping onto their mothers' hands, lovers were walking and grasping their own hands, and other people were telling each other to have a Merry Christmas. It felt so peaceful, as if it was trying to dull the shock of the two boys running away from home.
It was bright with neon lights. Everyone there looked better dressed than us, as if to say 'We look cooler than you'. We walked with our bags, as if we had just come back from an important trip, but we were on a trip...we were going to find him. The man who saved our lives...
And the ones to whom we were eternally grateful for...
0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
We lived with a father, Hunter Hearst Helmsley. We lived with a mother, Stephanie McMahon Helmsley. And we lived with a sister, Ashley.
Paul and Brian stared at the food in front of them. They barely touched their plates since dinner began, and the rest of their family was finishing their meal.
"That was delicious, daddy!" Ashley squealed, gulping down the last of her water. "Thank you!"
We were adopted when we were both six, because Hunter wanted proteges. We were treated like members of the family, and we loved it. But yet, we always felt that we weren't ourselves, that we lost ourselves when we left the orphanage and entered our new home.
When we entered High School, we figured out what happened to us. We were in love, but we didn't know it yet. We just thought that being separated would hurt us, and all of the mocking and whispers in school didn't help us out either. It was hell, and through it all, no one gave a rat's ass about us.
I remember the situation like it was yesterday, we didn't eat any of our food and everyone had just finished. Hunter than began to talk about college. But we didn't want to go to college, we wanted to train to become wrestlers like him.
"I'm off to do homework!" Ashley continued, standing up, and walking toward the older ma. She planted a kiss on his cheek, with wich Hunter responded with a smile. Ashley then walked away from the dining room and onto the second floor, where her homework and music waited for her.
Hunter was known in the WWE—World Wrestling Entertainment—as Triple H. His gimmicks included spitting water into the air, and his trusty sledgehammer. The sledgehammer gave him the nickname of 'Cerebral Assassin', and because of his ruthless and aggressive style of fighting, it made him be called 'The Game'.
But no, he didn't want us to become wrestlers. He wanted us to carry out the family line—as Stephanie was the daughter of the chairman of the WWE, Vince McMahon—so that we would run the business. But we didn't want to study math, business, economy and all of that shit. We wanted to fight and be in the ring, with the audience cheering our names.
What was worse, was that he wanted us to go to the local city college, but that would be boring. The majority of our graduating class was going to be there, and that meant our reputation would be sunk to lower levels than it ever was. We wouldn't find friends, nor could we find any peace.
But he just thought we only wanted to leave so we can get girlfriends and get wasted.
"I'll wash the dishes, dear." said Stephanie, taking the utensils and empty plates into the kitchen. She noticed that Brian and Paul's dishes weren't touched.
"You boys want these as leftovers for lunch tomorrow?" she asked them. Paul and Brian just nodded their heads, but didn't look at their mother. "All right then."
As she left, Hunter twisted the ends of a wrapper belonging to a peppermint. He set the cellophane down, before popping the red and white swirled candy into his mouth. Paul and Brian stayed quiet, knowing what was coming.
"The local college is the safest place for you two to grow." He stated to his sons. "The girls in those other places are worthless, skinny pieces of trash...especially when you..."
He didn't say it, but we both knew. Pregnancy. Dad told us about a tale of his friends X-Pac and Chyna—don't ask us why we don't know their real names—who, while in college, had a child. The two were living peacefully with a beautiful girl named Joanna, but the fact that it was hell to raise the baby during their years of College was something Hunter never hesitated to reiterate.
Then there were magazine articles that magnified the statement. Our father only added that if we left for Houston, we would end up having an early marriage—not as if we wanted one before. The mantra of 'Girls are trouble...Girls are trouble...' just made the situation even worse.
Hunter finished his first peppermint, then reached for his second one. The sound of a crinkling cellophane wrapper only added to the dissonance between the three men. Paul and Brian's father popped the second piece of candy into his mouth, tasting its minty flavor.
The two of us stared at the candy wrapper in front of us, and then at the bowl of peppermints close by. The red and white swirled together, like a pinwheel...that simple piece of candy...
While in elemetnary school—around 2nd Grade—we had two classmates known as John Cena and Randy Orton. They somehow called themselves 'Candy'--which we thought because they were once shown eating a stick of cotton candy together—and people always called them that ever since. We went along with the status quo, but we were wrong about that thought. Very wrong.
School ended for the three siblings as they walked through that road. They passed two boys who were talking to each other, but the two boys took heed of this. They looked in shock and screamed Brian and Paul's names. The two brothers turned around, seeing the ignored boys coming up to them, saying 'hello' and such.
While going home with our sister we passed them. It was an unexpected reunion, to say the least.
"Brian! Paul!" John squealed as he embraced the two boys in a bone-crushing hug. "Nice to meet you again!"
We were both aghast; John and Randy were both shy boys and kept to themselves. But seeing them now, they had muscle—Randy had black tattoos carved on his torso—but both had big smiles on their faces. They were also dressed strangely; neither had a shirt, but John was wearing jean shorts, sneakers and a camouflaged patterned cap. Randy—on the other hand—was dressed as if he was working in the WWE, nothing but a pair of speedos and wrestling boots.
"Do you know these two?" asked Ashley to her brothers. "They're strange..."
'Strange' was putting these two lightly. John and Randy were best friends, but the two of them stopped coming to school in the third grade. Paul and I heard rumors about Randy moving to Missouri and John going to Massachusetts, which upset them very much. But now, they were back in Texas...
"How's everything been?" said Randy, slapping us on the back. "How have Paulie and Bri been doing?"
No one called us those names anymore; we stopped using those 'cutsie' aliases by the time we got to 4th grade. But the two ignored us, telling that they were on route to their job. Something called the 'D-Generate X' School. And as part of their job, they sold pictures of themselves doing...stuff.
But it was also there that we found out how they became 'Candy'. You see, we didn't go to school until mid-October of John and Randy's 2nd Grade year. The teacher—Miss Sherri, bless her soul—asked them 'Who do you admire?' When she got to both John and Randy, they answered...
"We admire each other. Because our friendship is as sweet as Candy!"
It took us those simple minutes to realize why they were called that. John was mostly called 'Cena'--because there were 3 other Johns in that class—and there was Randy. Take the C from Cena's last name, drop the R in 'Randy', then add those two together...and you would get Candy, their nickname.
They don't know why they said it, but maybe because they were close—they were best friends since Kindergarten as we had heard from the other students. But it didn't matter, they looked happy. Maybe those two represented us, how much we loved each other as brothers...friends...lovers...
The two of them soon ran off, because they were going to be late for work if they kept any longer. They shook Ashley's hand and ran off...but they left us a message.
"We're still sweet as can be; just like candy!"
And on our way back home, that message just rang in our ears. As the three of us walked, we talked about our lives. John and Randy were living their lives, but how did they get back to Texas, that was hard to understand.
"John and Randy are independent." I said to Ashley.
"So am I." Ashley said to her older brother.
"You don't get it, Ash." I said in response. "They are independent; they're living their lives, they're together."
We were working on our classes, strengthening our bodies so we could become wrestlers. We wanted to be free from our father's grasp. But we knew that we could never be that...free.
"Idiots." Ashley replied, sticking her tongue out at us. "Why would you want to be like those two? They look like whores!"
"They're independent, Ash. It's two different things all together." That was our simultaneous reply. It was the only reply we could come up with.
"You're just saying that because Daddy's always telling you two to grow up." said Ashley in response.
Then she got on her bike—which she brought with her—and pedaled off to her dance class, but waved goodbye to us before she did. Adults...
Oh sure, Dad was an adult...
0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
Dad was Triple H, the Cerebral Assassin, and once was known as one-half of this old motorcycle gang known as 'D-Generation X'. D-Generation X—or something on the lines of that—was the school that Cena and Orton were enrolled in...
But while he knew about himself, he never knew about us. Sometimes, when we would have family photos together, he would not realize our melancholy and moody faces. Ashley was always chipper—but that was because she was 'Daddy's little girl'--but no one cared about us. In the real world that is...
"As you can see here," said the Calculus teacher, Mr. Ross. "By substituting eight for x, we can therefore solve the equation in front of us."
There was the sound of a chair scraping the floor. Everyone looked to see Brian standing up, with a look of insecurity and doubt on his face. Mr. Ross stopped writing on the chalkboard and turned around.
"Um, Mr, Ross." Brian began. "I feel that as students, we should have unlimited access to the computers. I believe that through this, we would be able to learn how to do all of this problems and get even more examples on how to use the formulas, than what the book has to offer us."
"Thank you for your suggestion, Brian." said Mr. Ross. "But perhaps you should tell that to the Student Council and not to the Calculus teacher."
The two of us were campaigning for more computer time at school back then, and we had our own personal reasons to do so. Of course, Daddy dearest always believed that we were looking at internet porn—but the two of us thought of it as disgusting. We only used our computers for the use of studying—which was first—then to go on the forums. Unfortunately, due to the amount of homework we had, it was rare that we had some time for ourselves—especially since internet was to be off by 9 PM. It just annoyed us, because there were things that could be used to help escape our pain and boredom...
One day, while at the Blanton Museum—located in the University of Texas—the five of us were were exploring the exhibits, but the two of us stayed behind...staring at some of the paintings. It was sickening that these paintings could be with other paintings that were in the same category as that other works of art. We had to leave and go somewhere; we had to leave and meet up with other people. It was clawing, gnawing its way into our inner organs....we had to leave.
"We have to get out of here." I said to Brian. Brian nodded his head.
"Have to go somewhere different." I said to Paul. Ashley saw this and looked at us weirdly, but we ignored her.
"Definitely have to leave." The two of us said simultaneously.
"You guys are crazy." said Ashley, as she walked off to find our parents amongst the maze of statues, paintings and whatnot.
We had to go somewhere, but we didn't know where. Stubborn, ditzy, goofy, reckless, taking caution to the wind...that's who we were. We had to go forward.
Then one day, our miracle happened. The teachers caved into our request; we could use the computers until 5PM. In other words, we had access for the whole school day. We couldn't have been happier.
The two of us rushed toward the Computer Room after school was over, and logged in. We went to our favorite website. It had a strange name, that was for sure.
It was called "Hara-kiri".
The two saw the site's homepage; a red heart on a black background with the kanji for 'Seppuku' in middle of the heart. Next to it was a bloodied katana and a white lily, while a link to the forums appeared under it. The mouse clicked on the link, as a list of users and moderators appeared. They all had such weird names, but it didn't matter...they were at peace.
It was strange; it was written in the same Japanese Kanji for 'seppuku', the infamous suicide of stabbing your stomach with a katana and then slicing your abdomen open so you were left to die. The samurais did it, as an action for them to die with honor, and not fall into enemy hands. But it didn't matter to us, because here, we could speak to other teenagers about our lives.
There was a message from a person named 'Galaxion'. Paul and Brian clasped onto the mouse, clicked on the link and read the message.
Galaxion: HooliganZ, how are you? Big Brother and I did an awesome art exhibit the other day, and it was inspired by you guys! I've sent you a link to this message which contain pictures of our art! I hope to see you in real person soon! Oh, and Big Brother says 'Hi!'
Paul and Brian looked at each other before turning back to the monitor, clicking on the link under the message. They looked in awe at what they were seeing; Galaxion and his older brother dressed as jesters, riding the poles as if they were jesters waiting to trick someone. Then there were ones where Galaxion was dancing, gyrating his hips in a near erotic fashion that almost caused the two boys to drool at perfect, muscled body. Another was Galaxion juggling flaming torches in the air, amidst the shocks and gasps seen in the crowd. It was hard to tell in the picture what Galaxion looked like; he was wearing a green, purple and yellow jester outfit with white makeup covering his face. Along side the multi-colored jester collar and jester hat on his head, he had long blonde hair and glittering green eyes. What made him look so interesting was that he had markings on his face that looked similar to tiger stripes.
"We should reply back." The two boys said to each other as they clicked on the 'Reply' button. They then began to type their message.
To Galaxion: Hey there, I got your message and you and your brother look awesome! Speaking of which, do you have a part-time job as a performer or something like that? Being a street performer means that you get to showcase your talent to everyone and you can earn lots of money for your performance. Maybe we can get to see your performance one day. Thanks for the message and reply as soon as you can.
The two clicked the "Send Message" button, seeing the loading circle process the message. Then, the screen gave them a simple "Message Sent" before heading to their profile page.
The two of us found the site one day while searching over some Internet clippings for our Current Events. It was strange for an advertisement; it only had three messages in red lettering on a black background...
"Are you unconnected?" "Can you connect?" "Do you connect to yourself?"