It’s beautiful, isn’t it?
A field of cornstalks, so perfectly arranged in rows and columns. Each one is a testament to the hard work of the hands that planted them, watered them, and watched them grow into the cornfield it has now become.
But the thing about making something beautiful is that every Jack and Jill wants to run up the hill to get a taste.
I know you’d be right there with ‘em, Ether. All you’d see is a big fucking table, all set for you to demolish. All the beautiful gold you’d ever want, right there for the taking.
The only problem is that those same hands also planted something else in that cornfield.
On its stalk, it looms large over the whole field. Every little birdie that wants to get a taste of that sweet corn gets turned away by the most basic of emotions.
Each and every birdie can practically taste the object of their desires. But that desire doesn’t come free. They have to best the fearsome monster standing between them and the sweet golden corn.
But in truth, they no longer care about the corn, because they can’t see it anymore. Their gaze is fixed on the scarecrow, on doing whatever they can to tear it down from its lofty perch.
That’s why history seems to keep repeating itself Ether. You and Tag are a couple of little birdies, circling the cornfield. When you walked in OSW’s doors, you caught a whiff of those sweet Tag Team titles.
But when you came to get a taste, you got stopped in your tracks by the scarecrow in the garden.
A pair of Bad Mother Fuckers looming large over anyone who calls themselves a tag team. You joined all the other little birdies floating around, each and every one of you with your eyes fixed on me and Big Z.
And trust me, we can smell your fear. It reeks of desperation as you and your little crew do everything you can to get leverage on us. It reeks of your sneak attacks and traps to lure us in and break us down.
The problem, for you cunts, is that you took your eyes off the prize. You stopped chasing the Tag Team titles and started chasing the monster guarding them.
Do you guys even care about the gold anymore? Do you want to be Tag Team Champions?
Or do you just want to tear down the Bad Mother Fuckers?
We all know the answer.
That’s the thing about scarecrows, Jet Set: If one of the little birdies took a run at the corn, they might come away with a full stomach. But they don’t. Instead, they peck at the scarecrow before flying away.
All while he waves bye bye birdie.
Keep on coming, Ether. You and Tag bring all you got, and maybe you’ll kick our ass all over the Slaughterhouse.
But those titles, they’re where your eyes don’t go.
And when you look at the Bad Mother Fuckers, you will always fear the scarecrow!