"This sucks," Hardison grumbled from his couch where the bank of TVs against the wall were turned to something that was very specifically not the Oscars. "You know I've been to every single one of these since I was fifteen, right? Fifteen! Had to steal a damn tuxedo my first year just to be allowed in. All that tradition down the damn drain because some folks can't remember that it ain't 1956 no more."
He had been ranting about this for over an hour now and showed no signs of stopping.
"Bad enough they ignored Selma last year," he continued. "I mean, any movie about Dr. King is, like, instant Oscar bait. But to ignore Straight Outta Compton? That movie was amazing! Yo, that dude who played MC Ren was on point in every damn scene he was in. This is a damn travesty!"
The couch could no longer contain his frustration. Hardison flung himself up and started to pace, furiously downing bottles of Squeeze Orange soda, which wasn't helping his energy levels any. "You know, I can fix this. I can hack the hell outta those Oscars. We'll see how good their damn ceremony is with Hardison in control of the lights an' music an' the damn teleprompter!"
This would...probably not end well.
[Establishy, but open to the crew if they want in! Thanks to whoisalicewhite for reminding me of Hardison's canonical Oscar attendance. Which, combined with Aldis Hodge's role in the unfairly-snubbed Straight Outta Compton made this post a must]
- From the Apartment Above Lukes, Sunday Night