Back from the break and Otto Price, looking as dapper as dapper can look in a navy blue blazer with the Classic logo stitched prominently on the breast, stands behind his podium with that CW-flagged microphone in his hand and a big, toothy smile plastered all over his face.
Otto: We’re back, ladies and gentlemen, and right now I’d like to bring out the new Sheriff in this here town, MISTER GRIFFIN MYERS!
The fans in the studio audience give a polite reception to the Classic Commissioner as he steps out onto the stage dressed in a CW polo shirt tucked smartly into khaki pants. Bulging biceps poke out from beneath short sleeves and the look on his face tells you everything you need to know about this grizzled veteran of the ring!
Gruff: Good evening, Otto.
Otto: Mr. Meyers!
Gruff: Come on, Otto, you’ve known me a long time, call me Gruff!
Otto: Alright then, Mister Gruff…
The Commissioner deadpans.
Otto: …you’ve asked for this time tonight, what’s on your mind?
Gruff: It’s real simple, Otto. Consequences. That’s what’s on my mind!
Otto: Consequences?
Gruff: That’s right! For as long as I’m responsible for the goings-on here at Classic Wrestling we’re gonna have some accountability! Otherwise, when you get these big boys with their big egos together it’s all chaos and that’s no good for business! Now from here on out, every action these boys make is gonna get an EQUAL and OPPOSITE action outta me!
Otto: Newton’s 3rd Law?
Gruff: That’s right! An’ anybody that don’t like it can go find themselves a job somewhere else! Which brings me to my point, GORDY LOVETT, get yer big Texan butt out here!
They wait. The fans show their general discord with the Cowpuncher.
Gruff: Gordy Lovett, come on down!
Nothing happens. It doesn’t take long for Gruff to get impatient.
Gruff: Gordy! You better get on out here befo-
“Before what?”
Doris Hilton makes her way out to the podium with a smug look on her face. Aside from that, she looks impeccable, not a hair out of place or a wrinkle to be found anywhere. She crosses her arms defiantly and cocks a hip out, her entire body language screams not amused.
Gruff: Before I fire his country ass, that’s what!
Doris: I’ve given Gordy the day off, something about a sick horse back on the ranch. But go ahead, fire him, see if I care! Just know that if you break his contract not only will you still be liable to pay the ridiculously large downside guarantee that I negotiated for him, but I’ll have my lawyers tie you up in court for so long that Jimmy Dale’ll have to take out a second and third mortgage just to keep this place runnin’!
It’s Gruff’s turn to appear completely unimpressed.
Gruff: Is that right?
She smirks her answer.
Doris: Try me.
A wry smile develops on Gruff’s weathered face.
Gruff: Well then, since the only thing you seem to understand is money, well by God I can speak money too! How about FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS? How’s that sound?
The firecracker of a manager scrunches up her face.
Doris: Sounds like chump change, why?
Gruff: Because that’s how much I’m gonna fine Gordy Lovett for involvin’ himself in that match between King Kong Frank and Lord Colossus last week at SLAM-A-THON! You understand that?
The smirk on Doris’ face morphs into a scowl.
Doris: I’ll have a check on your desk within the hour. Are we done here?
Gruff: As a matter of fact we ain’t! If you wanna tell yerself that you gave that boy the night off, that’s fine, whatever helps ya sleep at night on that big ol’ pile’a money your daddy gave ya! But I’m the one that didn’t schedule him for a match tonight because I had this business to attend to before I let him rassle in a Classic ring again! But now that we got that outta the way I’m happy to book him for next week, and if’n you decide to “give him the night off” again I’ll fire him for breach’a contract and we can skip all’a that bullcrap with yer lawyers!
Doris huffs and stamps her feet.
Gruff: Next week it’s gonna be Gordy takin’ on KING KONG FRANK over there in that ring! An’ we’ll see what kinda guts that cow-punchin’ idiot has when he’s gotta look that big hillbilly in the face instead of jumpin’ on him from behind… AGAIN! Now get on outta here so we can get this show movin’!
Doris: Well I never-
Gruff: I SAID GIT WOMAN!
Having been put in her place in a way that she probably never has, Doris turns on her high heels and stalks off-stage where she’ll make life hell for probably the next six or eight or a hundred people that crosses her path.
Otto: Well then!
If there was ever a worse time for Motorhead’s Ace of Spades to begin its PCP fueled hell march, you’d be hard-pressed to find it. Walt Whezl appears first, face painted into a ghoulish grin with inverted crosses at the corners of his mouth.
After bowing as insults and more tangible items are hurled at him, Lord Colossus is behind the now minuscule Whezl. He is in his spike and leather ensemble and for all of him managing to suck the light out of everything around him.
This light devouring void marches to the ring, Whezl careering in front of him, brandishing his umbrella festively.
Whezl bows as the Colossus in two steps steps from the floor to the ring. He follows in. Before Whezl can utter word one
Gruff: Now you wait one damn-
Before he can finish that thought.
Whezl: Now now!
Whezl sneers.
Gruff: Now, you listen here, you little runt!
Lord Colossus steps forward leather creaking.
Gruff: And you. You can stop tryna menace me like some kind of backwoods hillbilly. You keep your man in line Whezl. You keep him from tearing anything pillar from post. Otherwise, and I want you to write this down cause you seem fond o’ paper. Lord Colossus, gonna find some consequences of his own!
The Classic crowd roars in approval! Lord Colosuss’ eyes burn with tehomic fire. Gruff walks himself back out of the ring, eyes on the towering menace before him
Whezl: Now that… THAT unpleasant business has been dealt with. I would like each and every one of you.
Whezl sneers at the camera.
Whezl: YES! Even you to acknowledge that before you stands the greatest and most calamitous wonder to ever beheld in Classic Wrestling. Slam-a-thon further proved that the path of domination is paved in the blood and the bones of the unworthy.
You should ALL kneel before the Master of Voltage!
Most of all, you should know that, even if Classic Wrestling tries to restrain the Lord Colossus…
Lord Colossus begins removing his ceremonial armbands and vest, and chaps. Replete with enough spikes to set off a metal detector at viewing distance.
Lord Colossus forcibly removes the microphone from Whezl’s hand from behind, sending the smaller man scrambling to the back.
Lord Colossus: Worms, churls. You will now witness true domination. I demand meat for sacrifice.
The not-even remotely threatening BOM BOM BOM of “What’s new Pussycat” by Tom Jones begins its sultry smooth sounds as two masked, and skinny gentlemen in single shoulder singlets step out from behind the curtain. Their masks helpfully marked with “I” and “II”, they limber up their shoulders looking up at Lord Colossus, who looms even from this distance.
Not being daunted. Both men stride over to the ring. They high five as they slide under the bottom rope.
Whezl returns following the two men who combined are maybe two thirds of three fifths of Lord Colossus. Whose chest just heaves slowly in and out. Whezl has somehow found a referee shirt replete with inverted crosses and his own face in black and white on the chest.
Whezl calls for the bell, which is rung for some reason.
I and II look at Lord Colossus, who remains immobile, a void looming. After some brief consultation, they both charge Lord Colossus, linking hands into a Double Clothesline!
Which has ZERO effect on the big man, they both look up, as he roars with laughter and guzzles the both of them!
Lifting them off of their feet, he helpfully returns them to the mat with a thunderous double chokeslam!
Picking up I, he tosses him on top of II and puts a boot on the pile of wreckage. Whezl slides down to the mat, hand slamming into the mat.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
FOUR!
FIVE!
Lord Colossus looks at Whezl who ceases counting, and call for the bell. Attempting to raise the arm of Lord Colossus proves as futile as facing him as he ignores his lackey and strides over the top rope and out of the ring to the back!