Animal Planet Documentary || Gongchan & Suzy
Repeatedly, on a one-two-three-one-two-three pattern his appendages endlessly fiddled with the various buttons and settings of the maker of home movies; the glorious handheld video camera. The days of dates printed at the corner were long lost now that they had departed from the Bronze Age of bullshit and into the digital empire of bootleg pornography. Soon, at birth, their eyes would be replaced with orbs of software covered by a thin film transistor liquid crystal display, called Google(y) eyes for marketing purposes. Yes, babies would stare at white ceilings as LED lights of letters and numbers entertain their spongy minds into the night. Technology was amazing, and he saw the world through the lens and the monitor that depicted thermal heat through a handy function for potential ‘ghost hunting’.
Honestly he hadn’t decided if ghosts were real or not. According to a certain member of the circus their existence was an unquestionable fact, but who knows, the poor sap could just be schizophrenic or a really dedicated conman. Whatever, at least the guy had good looks going for him, since compelling physically attractive people was one of the better perks of the circus, and speaking of individuals with the estimated facial value of diamonds and pearls, Gongchan stopped in his tracks, immobilized as his stupidity arrived at full circle. “What the Hell am I doing wasting time?” The question was spoken aloud, but he didn’t actually need anyone to answer for him, and that was the thing with telepathy, people just couldn’t keep their thoughts to themselves. Promptly after flipping off his fellow anatomical anatomy, who apparently questioned his sanity, he redirected his path to be set into a beeline towards a trusty tent tinted salmon that hosted the number one gal in the entire world.
Bae Suzy. What would he do without the little ray of sunshine? Quite literally, the girl could potential blind people and that was just one of the factoids that made her so irrefutably lovely. “Suzy, where art thou?” In English prose he called for her, promenading through the campground with a silver palm sized camera pendulous from his neck and his hands tucked securely in a coat dyed the color of nightmares. He had purposely, and quite fastidiously, forced his appearance to mimic sleep deprived movie directors, the tousled locks of hair sealing the deal. It’s also why he tried to keep a pen tucked behind his ear today, only to lose it when entering tent number fourteen.
Frowning, and subsequent to his imprudent invasion of what was supposed to be a personal living space, he retrieved his pen and furthermore, readied it for fire. The young woman was in sight, ignorant to the dangers lurking within the corners of their world, where friends were foes, and trust was a fable told by village elders to guarantee that someone would take care of them when they became gross and senile. And like a villain, he spoke in a cryptic goodbye. “Prepare to die, Starshine.” Using his hands as a weapon of mass destruction, or rather as catapult for pens, he flicked the capsule of ink forwards and watched as it soared in Suzy’s direction. But he was betrayed, and when it slapped against the tent wall he groaned for another effort made so futile that they might as well hire a gang of clowns to laugh at his ultimate failure.