Ode to a Not Puss Wrecks
The Many Faces of The F** It All*

Preface
In the city of Thebes, where truth is twisted and power corrupts, a fierce woman rises to shatter illusions and reclaim her destiny. Known only as The F*** It All, she refuses to be defined by names, titles, or the lies spun by those who seek to control her. Her story is one of rebellion, self-invention, and unapologetic defiance—a modern myth wrapped in the language of Shakespeare and the spirit of a revolution. This time, she’s not just surviving—she’s about to wreck his world and fix it all at the same damn time. Call her The F*** It All Wrecks, because she’s the wrecking ball no one saw coming—breaking down the old and building up the new in one unstoppable force.

Characters
The F* It All Wrecks**
Once known by many names, she shattered her own identity to escape the suffocating control of her father, King Laius. She is a master of self-reinvention and survival, having learned early that in Thebes, truth is a weapon and names can be chains. With a sharp tongue, a protective spell, and a refusal to play by anyone else’s rules, she stands as a living paradox: both everywhere and nowhere, both legend and outcast. She claims her own air rights and answers to no one. Now, she’s ready to wreck the system that tried to break her—and fix what truly matters.

King Laius (King Lay-us)
The manipulative king of Thebes, whose name sounds like a cruel joke: “Lay-us”—because he won’t lay The F*** It All or her sister ever again. Once a predator cloaked in royal power, Laius now finds himself outwitted and outplayed by his own daughters. His attempts to control and “lay” claim to them have been spectacularly thwarted, leaving him grasping at shadows and empty threats. King Lay-us? More like King ‘Won’t Lay Us’—he’s all talk, no touch. And now, he’s about to get wrecked.

Jocasta
Queen of Thebes and mother to The F*** It All, Jocasta is caught between two worlds: loyalty to her husband and a growing sense of what’s right. She’s spent years ignoring the cracks in her family’s foundation, but as her daughter’s rebellion grows, Jocasta is forced to confront her own complicity and decide where her true loyalties lie.

Echo (Sister)
Echo is The F*** It All’s fiercely loyal younger sister. Quick-witted and unafraid, she’s always been her sibling’s confidante and co-conspirator. Echo has a knack for mimicry and misdirection, often running interference to protect her sister from Laius’s schemes. She’s the only one who knows some of The F*** It All’s secrets, and she’s ready to stand beside her, no matter the cost.

The Chorus
A collective of sharp-tongued commentators, the Chorus serves as the voice of Thebes—sometimes wise, sometimes foolish, always entertaining. They break the fourth wall, offer comic relief, and aren’t afraid to call out the absurdity of the city’s drama. Their commentary blends Shakespearean flourish with modern sarcasm, keeping the audience grounded (and laughing) as the story unfolds.

Agent Gray
A shadowy figure from outside Thebes, Agent Gray represents the meddling bureaucracy that tries—and fails—to make sense of the city’s chaos. Tasked with “investigating” The F*** It All, Gray is perpetually confused, always a step behind, and ultimately powerless in the face of Thebes’s surreal politics and shifting truths.

The People of Thebes
Ordinary citizens, easily manipulated by Laius’s propaganda and the Chorus’s rumors. They are the comic relief, sometimes wise and sometimes clueless, reflecting the confusion and absurdity of living in a city where reality changes with every rumor.

Thebes is a city drowning in contradictions—prosperous yet plagued by confusion, ruled by a king whose grip on truth is as fragile as it is tyrannical. The F*** It All, once a pawn in her father’s game, has shattered her identity into fragments, blinding the world to her true self. With a protective spell and unyielding spirit, she fights to expose Laius’s lies, reclaim her name

In Thebes, where rumors run faster than chariots and truth's a coin tossed by the gods, a new day stumbles in—drunk, disheveled, and already late for its own funeral.


Here, names are weapons, titles are traps, and the only law is: survive the story, or become its punchline.


The F*** It All moves through the city's edge, walls covered in faded graffiti—her names, sprayed and scratched, crossed out and rewritten a hundred times.


"Witch." "Whore." "Daughter." "Nobody."


She pauses, tracing a finger over the latest: "F*** It All"—the only one she didn't hate.


"Daughters are meant to be seen, not heard. You'll answer to your name, or else."


She remembers the first time she refused—how the world seemed to tilt, how Jocasta's eyes darted away, how Echo squeezed her hand in secret rebellion.


Names are cages. I've broken every lock.


Let them call me what they will—I'll answer to none.


She weaves through the market. Vendors whisper, children stare. The Chorus follows, unseen but ever-present.


They call her a ghost, a curse, a scandal wrapped in silk.


But she's just a woman who won't play dead.


She stops at a fountain, staring at her reflection.


For a moment, she sees all her old selves—frightened girl, obedient daughter, silent shadow—staring back.


She cups water in her hands, lets it slip through her fingers—a ritual of forgetting.


Let them watch. It's the only show in town.


He can look all he wants. He won't find me—not the me he's hunting.


Then let them see what I want them to see.


One with a voice sharp as broken glass,


In her childhood room, The F*** It All draws symbols in chalk, muttering words she half-believes. Echo watches, wide-eyed.


If names are chains, then magic is the bolt-cutter.


She stands in the city square, raises her voice.


You want a story? Here's mine: I write it myself.


The crowd murmurs. Laius's spies take notes. The Chorus cackles.


The king's men scribble, but their ink runs dry.


The queen looks away, but her heart skips a beat.


The city listens, but only half-believes.


She turns, cloak swirling, and disappears into the alleys—leaving only questions in her wake.


And so begins the tale of the one who won't be named,


Who broke her own chains and set the city aflame.


The wrecking ball has only just begun to swing.


Chapter 3 - Chapter One: The Name Game