Revenge is a beautiful word. People usually believe it will make them feel better—restore balance, dignity, maybe even respect.
But the Plastic King?
After being exposed, he decides to seek revenge—not to fix anything, of course—but to make people forget that the exposure ever happened.
Normally, revenge is meant to make people regret crossing you.
The Plastic King’s version, however, is meant to make people… laugh.
So he gathers his fans and starts making jokes about the individual who exposed him. The fans laugh on cue—not because the jokes are funny or even relevant—but because, well, they understand the payment structure.
Which brings us to a very reasonable question:
Where does the money come from?
Drug dealing.
But don’t worry—he proudly claims he only deals in weed.
And as we all know, people in such positions are always completely honest about the limits of their activities. No surprises there.
Let’s dig a bit into his mentality.
Despite the complete irrelevance of his jokes, he still can’t deliver them without a little… preparation. Apparently, at least two lines are required; otherwise, the jokes risk landing in another universe—which, to be fair, might actually improve them.
He is not only a drug addict but also a sex addict, which clearly demonstrates one thing:
the man can multitask.
His grand strategy is simple. If people laugh at the target long enough, they will eventually forget about:
- his exposure
- his actions
- and his role in covering for child exploiters
A bold plan. Questionable—but bold.
He performs his version of “stylish humiliation” in a very sophisticated way. Behind the individual’s back, he delivers his “hilarious” jokes. In front of them, however, he switches instantly to the kind, gentle face—the same one he uses for the poor people who show up at his door.
It’s not hypocrisy. It’s range.
But his hypocrisy eventually reaches impressive levels. When he gets exposed again—and he will—he doesn’t just deny it. He upgrades to what can only be described as professional beggar storytelling.
Stories like:
- “It wasn’t me. I was in the hospital the whole time with my sick father.”
- “My father has cancer. Do you think I would leave him and do that?”
- “I love you for God’s sake. Why would you think that of me?”
Of course, we don’t know if his father is even alive—or if he has any idea who he actually serves—but that’s beside the point.
He will continue with the cheap talk, because that’s all he really has.
Endless words. Zero action.
And later? He will probably become even more desperate—or “creative,” depending on your perspective—and start borrowing stories straight from street beggars and public transportation performances.
Really… who knows?
