A single spotlight shining down. A man, sitting, upon a stool.
That man?
Ricky Broadway.
He raises his hand in the air, snapping his wrist back in a dramatic fashion.
“As I, Ricky Broadway, sit here upon this stool only days from another performance for the ages…”
His tone follows the movements of his hands, dramatic and theatrical.
“And what a better opponent than the colossal.. Lord Colossus, to sing a little song with, to do a little dance.”
He twists his body around on the stool.
“A seven-foot behemoth, three hundred and fifty pounds. An uneducated man may think that to achieve a win would be impossible.”
He smirks, wagging his finger.
“Oh, no.. no.. no… For as the old saying goes.. the larger they are…. the harder they fall… to their knees as they worship the mecca of all entertainment, the number one act in all of the world…”
He points back to himself.
“The exceptional, spectacular, one man show himself. For I…”
He pops off of the stool, thrusting a finger to the air.
“Ricky Broadway..”
He swiftly moves around. Both hands circle around and a pose emerges
“SUPERSTAR!”
Broadway readjusts before continuing.
“The time for drab performances by uncultured, unappealing, and quite frankly unoriginal people such a Lord Colossus is over.”
The spotlight follows RIcky.
“You would think being as tall as he is, as large of a man, that Lord Colossus would be more interesting. But I’ve seen more intriguing displays by the homeless taking shits beside a dumpster on my way leaving a performance.”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“He speaks of voids, where the only void I see is talent. He speaks of squeezing the voice from my throat when all that will be squeezed is the multitudes of overweight fans as they return from concessions through the door in preparation for my performance.”
Ricky takes a few steps.
“The only thing inevitable about our meeting is that I shall emerge victorious in an… exceptional display of pure talent over raw idiocrasy. For I am Ricky Broadway and you, Lord Colossus… are the Lord of Losers. Join me as I allow you to have your five minutes of fame at Classic Eleven, before riding off into the sunset a never was. I’ll see you soon.”
Fade.