just another interview
"So, Mr Armstrong, the time has come for you to state carefully, again, to us, your position on
the text issue. I would advise you to think carefully about your choice of words, yes very carefully choose, at this time. Indeed, I wonder, Mr Armstrong, if you are at all aware that
history, as well as your various friends, or should i say uh associates...within this department, have given you a name?"
Murdoch chuckles and his broad shoulders shake contentedly as he shuffles happily writing in this momentary seat of power.
"What do they call him Phillips?"
"They call him the Man Of A Thousand Lies is what i heard sir."
Phillips looks at his shoes in a silent partnership with subservience.
Every mans gotta do his own job. Every man has his own job to do.
"So, they call you the Man Of A Thousand Lies, Mr Armstrong. How very interesting. I certainly hope, for both our sakes, that on this occassion you will do me the courtesy of offering up a serving of truth for our consumption here today. I really have been enjoying our little chat so far and i'm sure you realise, by now, the kind of truth that i'm now asking of you."
Murdoch pushes the bowl and the pipe accross the table towards Armstrong, who shivers as the smells from the bowl spill into the air in front of him, at once infiltrating his senses.
His muscles shudder and shift consumed with memories of chemical cohabitation. The eyes glaze over with nostalgia. Bright green and orange lights flicker accross his vision.
The flame on the end of the match is the brightest and warmest within the length and breadth of Armstrong's experience. He raises the copper pipe to his lips and his body drinks the smoke, the muscles in his arms and legs stretching out to absorb this intoxicating kiss.
There is no sound effect as Armstrong places
the pipe down onto the solid metal desk.
Time has stopped.
Murdoch's eyes both closed halfway through blinking lethargic.
Phillips is still looking at his shoes, which tap the floor to a beat still pounding through his head.
"The Truth..." states Armstrong calmly with an air of silent purpose. "...is irrelevant."
Audrey Autonomy 2005
the text issue. I would advise you to think carefully about your choice of words, yes very carefully choose, at this time. Indeed, I wonder, Mr Armstrong, if you are at all aware that
history, as well as your various friends, or should i say uh associates...within this department, have given you a name?"
Murdoch chuckles and his broad shoulders shake contentedly as he shuffles happily writing in this momentary seat of power.
"What do they call him Phillips?""They call him the Man Of A Thousand Lies is what i heard sir."
Phillips looks at his shoes in a silent partnership with subservience.
Every mans gotta do his own job. Every man has his own job to do.
"So, they call you the Man Of A Thousand Lies, Mr Armstrong. How very interesting. I certainly hope, for both our sakes, that on this occassion you will do me the courtesy of offering up a serving of truth for our consumption here today. I really have been enjoying our little chat so far and i'm sure you realise, by now, the kind of truth that i'm now asking of you."
Murdoch pushes the bowl and the pipe accross the table towards Armstrong, who shivers as the smells from the bowl spill into the air in front of him, at once infiltrating his senses.
His muscles shudder and shift consumed with memories of chemical cohabitation. The eyes glaze over with nostalgia. Bright green and orange lights flicker accross his vision.
The flame on the end of the match is the brightest and warmest within the length and breadth of Armstrong's experience. He raises the copper pipe to his lips and his body drinks the smoke, the muscles in his arms and legs stretching out to absorb this intoxicating kiss.
There is no sound effect as Armstrong places
the pipe down onto the solid metal desk.
Time has stopped.
Murdoch's eyes both closed halfway through blinking lethargic.
Phillips is still looking at his shoes, which tap the floor to a beat still pounding through his head.
"The Truth..." states Armstrong calmly with an air of silent purpose. "...is irrelevant."
Audrey Autonomy 2005
posted by Audrey Autonomy at 16:44
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