Gene Sergeant

Gene Sergeant’s past is shrouded in mystery. Who he is, where he came from and how he made himself into who he is today is unknown. What is known about him is that he has a shrewd business mind and an almost pathological disregard for ethics that have made him fabulously wealthy.

He discovered a young man nicknamed Arseface singing with an improv band in New Orleans. The boy’s style was obviously rough, and his chances at achieving success by himself were marginal. His lyrics were incomprehensible and his appearance was unsettling, to say the least. But Sergeant was a keen observer of the times, and knew that, in the era of grunge and garage rock, a young man like Arseface could conquer the nation.

Sergeant signed the boy to his record label, Georgia Records, and then promoted him to international superstardom.

Unfortunately, Arseface’s popularity was pretty much based on novelty, and if Sergeant wanted to keep his cash cow in the limelight, he would have to take drastic measures. He assured Arseface that he would take charge of everything, and then proceeded to make the boy one of the most reviled figures in popular entertainment.

In responding to lawsuits against Arseface by parents whose sons had died trying to emulate their idol’s shotgunned appearance, Sergeant insulted the victims and belittled their losses. In doing so, he assured everyone that he was simply passing along Arseface’s heartfelt opinions on the matter.

Between this treatment, and encouraging the Pope to “Kiss Arseface’s ass,” Gene Sergeant not only made his client a media target, but also boosted the sales of his records more than their actual content would have done on their own.

When the multiple class-action lawsuits threatened to empty Arseface’s coffers, and there were no more depths to which he could sink, Sergeant disappeared from the boy’s life as suddenly as he had appeared, taking all of the money with him. He left only a letter, gently informing his former client that he would soon be leaving the United States – perhaps to a “discrete island nation” – where he would continue to enjoy whatever revenues his record company would pull in. He left Arseface to his own lamentable destiny.