Smile for The Camera: Difference between revisions

{{quote|'''Albert:'''Oh, hey, real nice move, dumbass! How am I supposed to use this from the ground, huh? Yeah, I'm feeling real useful now. Just gonna go beat this bitch up, okay. Oh! I know! I'll get her to step on me! Then her foot will hurt for like a whole goddamn day! Yeah, long-term, that's the way to win a fight. Maybe if I'm really lucky, she'll trip and poke her eye out on me. Then she'll be in trouble, yeah? Meanwhile, Mister Long, Green, and Handsome over there can bite her ankles. We'll be the perfect team! The Anklebiters! We'll be huge, I tell ya! Just you wait. We'll make millions by giving people irritating foot pain. Maybe we can get an ad deal with Adidas or something. Like, I'll be on a stool or something, and then Malachi puts on the shoe, and something awesome happens, and then I'll be like, 'OHHHHHH YEEEAAAAHHHH! DIG IT!' Then I'll marry some Swedish supermodel, and we'll have divorce three weeks later, and then there'll be a big scandal, and I'll be all over the tabloids, and then me and Malachi will have a falling-out and we'll go our separate ways. And he'll be like the goddamn Paul [[Mc Cartney]] and form a new group that's almost as good as we were, and I'll just be a homeless head on the side of the road in Milwaukee, wherever the fuck that is, asking people for money. And then one day Malachi will walk by, but he won't even recognize me, and he'll just keep walking, and I'll cry. And then I'll start singing, 'I ain't got no body...' And then a talent scout will find me, and I'll get a record deal and make millions. But then World War 3 will break out, and people won't want to listen to my music anymore, and I'll turn to drugs, and then eventually kill myself, and then everybody will start buying my records, because I'll be dead, see, and that's the only way for a true artist to become popular is to die. Like Picasso, and Michael Jackson...