I remember the day I first discovered my paint.
Do you?
For me, it was a symbol of freedom, an idol of power. It gave me the ability to take control over my life, and put my sordid past away in a box I don’t care to open. In a lot of ways my paint is my mask. The difference is that with a mask you can hide your face completely, but with paint it’s the same face with a new sheen. A mask is for hiding, and often comes laced full of shame. Paint is standing up and being counted, full of hope and pride in who you are.
Is this why you wear your paint, Hatchet? So that when you’re old and grey you can look back?
It doesn’t feel like it to me.
Whereas my paint serves as an extension of who I am and who I want to be, your paint lets you hide in the shadows, completely oblivious to the real world.
The problem is two-fold, hatchet, because you also have to keep an eye on your paint. Treat your paint like the part of you it is, less it should start to crack. There is nothing worse in all of Arcadia than cracked facepaint. Cracked facepaint no longer acts as an extension of you. It no longer acts as a conduit for the change you want to bring to the world. Cracked facepaint shows the fractures in your very soul.
I apply new facepaint every single day, and I keep on top of my routines, my selfcare. Hatchet, I can tell you don’t. I can tell the facepaint started as something important to you. I can see how each stroke on that face of yours was once painstakingly placed. But I can see over time that it mattered less and less to you. I can see where the cracks formed in your paint, and where where the cracks formed in your soul.
Your soul was tainted the moment you became a gun for hire. Your soul was tainted the moment you and your Gathering took the path you did.
What is your purpose, Juggalo? You don the facepaint of a clown and yet I don’t recognise you as any clown I’ve ever met. You don’t put smiles on peoples faces, other than maybe a chelsea grin. I exist to bring entertainement to the masses but you exist to bring suffering to each of them.
So what will it be, Hatchet. Am I worth your first new lick of paint in a long time? Or are this crowd that spend their credits worth nothing to you?
When we meet in that ring I will be freshly painted and ready to show what Klaus is made of. It appears to me that you will be too busy sipping on Faygo to care.
So you’ve tried it your way, now it’s time to try mine.
Welcome to the FREAK SHOW, let us show you the way!