Big Oval: Badlands Office

A Story by Abishai100

Portrait of Oscar-night and culture intuition for darkness and transit-superstition for what's Earthling 'sport' of (masked) character.

Oscars culture story (fictional), with no direct ties to any particular film or real-life story/account.

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I found the right-stuff in a casting for a film about an immigrant-turned-psycho for Halloween month (October) in the American Homeland in '24 and was nominated for Best Actor but found myself competing with the likes of great celebrity-renown for the Oscar and knew I didn't really have a chance. However, no one knew that in my home-country, before I moved to the States, I really was a criminal (Facebook-like?).

It was Halloween-month in the States, and in the film (Unrighteous Margin), I portrayed a horror-film avatar 'copycat' who robbed banks and did it quite coldly and had to cast myself for this very-special (American) role as a calculator with acid and silencers and sometimes pocket-knives to complement my pre-job placed tool-kits inside varied American institutions, sometimes veiling my work with smugglers-roads intercepts to feel more heroic even (wow). I had to hone my consciousness, thinking back to my home-country time where I really was lining my eyes to the dark-side of the mind and of life's badness itself (sure). The critics marked this performance a something like a wanderer-soul with incomplete-distances readings to the leviathan/uncertainty of Earthling field goals (Facebook-like?).

INTERVIEW: Your work was quite the thriller-feel for Earthling-line, pal.

ME: Thanx (Facebook-like!).

INTERVIEW: So, what's this special 'adjective' for what's the criminal art(s)?

ME: Let's say I've found some background motivation for this stage of religion.

INTERVIEW: You mentioned you were making some time-capsule bio (image?).

ME: Perchance, if I win on Oscar-night, I'll dedicate the laurel to Hitchcock.

INTERVIEW: Thanx (Selfie-like).

Sure, the Earth of Western world (American Homeland) vanities had created the bad-image of wrought cleats for inventive evils and pirate-humors; and I placed myself in (swiftly) as the art-diplomat of what's simply human/pedestrian language (for the soul!). Would I win on Oscar-night? Would I become the antithesis of James Bond (for the Ego)? This was some mask for sportsmanship, and I was the new stranger (perhaps).