Matt Grohl
The President of Babylon (For life, non-negotiable, no refunds)
Matt Grohl
26 He's made it a lot longer than most
If it has all the proper limbs he'll consider it (And even if their missing a few if he's high)
Parties, drugs, prostitutes, anarchy true and pure, music (heavy metal, grunge, alt-rock),
and guns
Order, democracy, slaves of the above world, processed music, magic tricks, roses
He's a fan of all of them, but he loves heroin
Love is a fickle word not to be toyed with around Matt.
What Brings You To Babylon? "Have you ever felt like the world passes around you like a leaf on the wind, momentarily in vision, but quickly gone forever?" Matt sighed out as he brought the liquid on his spoon to a quick boil. "I wanted to come to a place that wasn't like that. I wanted a place stuck in the easy wiles of youthful insanity. I wanted to come to a place where I could be me and if anyone didn't like that then I wanted to be able to blow their brains out or blow out mine." Matt pulled the liquid up into his syringe off the spoon and plunged it into his vein, his eyes fluttered and he moaned as the feeling comparable to butterflies in your stomach after your first kiss poured through him and it wouldn't stop for hours. "Did you know it's illegal to kill yourself upstairs? It's against the law to blow your own god damn brains out or jump off a building because they can't let anything be." Matt explained angrily beginning to slur his speech. "Every thing has to be the way they fucking want it, I don't like that. So that's why I came here I guess." Matt shifted back and flipped out a cigarette, he placed it between his lips and grabbed up his lighter and lit up taking a long drag of cancer.
What Are You Like? "I'm a vengeful, angry bastard with a soft spot for the lame and the misunderstood." Matt said with a chuckle, still riding the wave of his last heroin hit. "I'm an addict as bad as any down here, but that isn't my biggest worry by any means. I'm probably going to die when I say the wrong thing to the right man, but hey everyone has someone carrying a bullet with their name on it." Matt stopped for a moment to breathe in more smoke. "Upstairs they say the trick is to die of old age before the bullet finds you, but fuck that. I want the bullet to find me. Hit me right between the eyes. I want it to blow my brains out all over the wall." He stopped and laughed at the thought of his brains all across the wall. "And if there isn't a man with a bullet chambered with my name on it, I'm sure as hell not waiting for old age. Maybe, I'm the one with the bullet chambered with my name on it, you never know." Matt grinned deviously through the haze of smoke covering his face. "But, my worst trait by far is that I'm a sociopath who likes to lie"
Any Thoughts Of Babylon? "The city of the soon to be dead." Matt whispered, his voice hoarse from singing. "We aren't going to make it as a society. Our birth rate is basically zero and any baby actually born hardly ever makes it past the age of ten." he shifted as he had begun to get antsy, his high was finally wearing off. "Any jobs that we do have exist solely to keep people buying Elysium" Matt explained. "I wouldn't be surprised if some big wig upstairs created this place to fund his presidential campaign. Maybe he's still using it for that purpose, maybe we've grown out of control and are just sitting here playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded revolver. In the end though I don't really give a fuck, as long as I keep my little world of puppets, who really gives a shit if I'm a puppet myself." Matt stood and wobbled. "I'm going to bed. Don't destroy my house and don't wake me unless the city is on fire and even then just so I can watch it burn. Goodnight."
