The sunny skies and big waves of summer have passed by, leaving us with the dusk-darkened sands of an off-season beach, as two familiar silhouettes emerge from the setting sun. Mushigihara and Leon Van Zandt are pushing large wheelbarrows filled to capacity with sand, their black boots struggling to reasonably maneuver through the dunes.
And yes, they look like death warmed over, as one would expect from weeks of hellish training.
The Emperor stops short and slumps to his knees, head on his hands and elbows tucked in, until…
The monster yelps in pain as he scrambles to his feet and gets back to pushing his burden. Right behind him, Eddie Dante stands, wielding a kendo stick across his naked shoulder; the manager of the Foreign Legion seems dressed for fun in a sun that isn’t there, in naught but a pair of board shorts. But he does not look pleasant. Not at all.
LOSERS GET NO REST UNTIL THEY IMPROVE. ESPECIALLY after embarrassing yourselves against Bobby Dean, TWO-ON-ONE. I should have had your contracts cancelled before we left the studio that night, but now the tides have aligned and you have a chance to redeem yourselves!
Almost as if on command, Mushigihara stops his wheelbarrow, and lays face-down in the sand. A second later, Van Zandt stops, and begins lumbering his way toward his comrades.
The not-so-gentlemanly gentleman points out, toward the ocean. The camera pans the waters.
This weekend, you will be taking on the Surf Express… (in a dismissive, mocking tone) Bro… and you will make an example of them. Destroy them. Crush them. And show them that you are the kind of waves that you DON’T want to ride.
The men of the Foreign Legion each take a long, deep breath of sea air.
Think about it. Those nonchalant bros think they’re just riding out those sweet waves to victory… but little do they know that rumbling beneath the sea are a pair of beats ready to rise through the waters and wreak HAVOC!
For the first time today, and probably for weeks, Eddie Dante smiles.
“Wipeout” doesn’t begin to describe what will happen to them if you’re on your game, boys.
He points at the still-writhing Mushigihara.
YOU will be that fearsome, RAGING kaiju rising from the ocean, jaws wide open, to DEVOUR Bradlee Nelson.
He then points to Leon, who, despite his obvious fatigue and pain, stands stalwart.
And YOU, Leon, will be the cold, emotionless Titan that rends Bowie Abrams limb from limb.
That’s certainly one way to crash the big clambake, huh?
The notion of feasting on lobster and clams must have hit a note with the Emperor. He rises to his knees and closes his eyes, clutching his stomach and humming as if he were savoring it.
And after we’ve sent those two fools “over the falls,” we will make it CRYSTAL CLEAR to the front offices that WE are the rightful challengers for those Classic Wrestling Tag Team Championships, and we WILL, at long last, topple Bobby Dean and… Some Man… and take those belts for ourselves!
With a nod, Mushi slowly rises back up to his feet, and assumes the same stalwart stance as his partner.
He is then immediately shocked by Dante’s stick cracking right across his back, which sends him back down into the sand.
Leon Van Zandt is next.
If, IF! YOU BEAT THOSE AIRHEADED WATER BABIES ON CLASSIC TV, ANYWAY!
As the Legion lays crumpled on the ground, Eddie starts circling them.
And believe me, boys, if you fail, and we don’t get on that next Pay-Per-View event, I will PERSONALLY make sure you are hauling that sand ALL OVER THE STATE OF OHIO!
Eddie Dante walks off-camera for a moment… and returns carrying two large buckets, one in each hand. He puts one down, and pours the other over the sand in one of the wheelbarrows, and repeats the process with the other bucket, to the chagrin of Mushigihara and Leon Van Zandt.
Until then? Back to work, boys.
With a mass collective groan, the burly wrestlers climb back up, and start pushing their burdens once again.
And it’ll be even HEAVIER if you fail.
He shakes his head and walks off-screen.