POOF!
Through a puff of purple smoke appears CARLO AMARETTO…
Carlo: AVANTI, people of Classique Wrestling!
A beat passes…
…
And passes.
Carlo’s eyes nervously dart to the left and right, wondering why he’s being left to hang.
Carlo: I said… AVANTI!
There’s a clatter of movement from off-screen, and GOMEZ AMARETTO shuffles into view.
Gomez: Yeah… uh-VANN-tee, Classhic whatever…
Hat dented, bow-tie undone, and bleary-eyed the Killer Kadabra looks visibly disheveled. Carlo’s beaming smile melts into concern.
Carlo: (whispering) Gomez… are you drunk again?
Gomez: HIC…
Gomez takes a long swig off a pint of Wild Turkey that has magically appeared in his hand. Beyond annoyed, Carlo rips it out of his hand.
Carlo: Curse and confound it all, brother! I thought I told you to lay off the sauce! We have to pull ourselves together! Especially NOW that we’re on our own!
Gomez: Ahh, who friggin’ CARES, Carlo!? NOTHIN’ MATTERSH ANYMORE!
Extremely drunk and emotional, Gomez falls to his knees. Tears of tragedy fill his eyes.
Gomez: WE HAD IT ALL!! WE WAS ON TOP O’ THE WORLD!! BUT NOW?! WE AIN’T ANYTHIN’ WITHOUT DEM BELTS!! NOTHIN’ BUT FRAUDS!! FOOLS!! DAMN, DIRTY AMATEURS!!
He collapses into a weeping heap of broken pride and false manhood. Carlo looks uncomfortably into the camera before pulling his brother up off the floor.
Carlo: GET UP, damnit! You are embarrassing me! You are embarrassing yourself!
Gomez continues to blubber on his knees. The Evil Abra snags him by his now drooping mustache so the Amaretto twins can look eye to eye.
Carlo: Look at me, Gomez! This is hardly the time for us to fall apart at the seams! Now, more than ever, we must show STRENGTH! Understand?!
Sniffling, Gomez sullenly nods.
Carlo: We may be beaten! We may have lost our precious Tag Team Championship! And that VILE WOMAN is directly to blame! But this is not the FIRST time the Amazing Amarettos have been down and out! It’s only when we reach our lowest point that we show our TRUE magic and mettle! Remember also, what Papa Amaretto always told us…
The Killer Kadabra’s glazed eyes blink irregularly as he pores over his memory, then smiles warmly as the nostalgia of faded memories returns to him. The brothers hold their hands over their hearts and look skyward.
Carlo & Gomez: (with Gomez slurring) “The show MUST go on…”
Gomez nods again, attempting to pull himself together but still wavering drunkenly on his feet.
Gomez: OooooKAY, Carlo… awl doo id fer Bapa…
Carlo: Thank you, Gomez! Now rally yourself, as we prepare our magical act for the LORD COLOSSUS and his BOLTS!!
Gomez’s face sours.
Gomez: Gawdamb CHARGERS!! Cawst me VIVE-HUNNERT BUGS last seazon! Raiders gonna KILL EM this year!
Carlo: Not THOSE Bolts, you spellbound sot! We have handled their ilk once before, but there’s no telling what they have planned for us this time around! Not to mention, you in this current state…
Gomez hiccups again.
Gomez: Ahh i’s not prawlbum, bro! Wu’ll gib em a lil o’ the ol’ SLEIGHT o’ FIST…
He clumsily attempts to throw a few punches to show his spirit, nearly losing his balance and pitching over. Carlo snags him and straightens him back up. Beyond vexed by this point, he turns to the camera and takes the wheel.
Carlo: Walt Whezl! Lord Colossus! Mark our MAGIC words! In the wake of this humiliation, we–the AMAZING AMARETTOS–are GALVANIZED! We are DETERMINED! But most of all, we are PISSED OFF!
Gomez: YA, WURR PISHED!!
Carlo pops his hat off and dramatically holds it out. After a pregnant pause, Gomez takes off his own, nearly dropping it as he does.
Carlo: Our AMAZING RETURN to the top of Classique Wrestling’s tag team division will be a LEGENDARY FEAT that will be spoken of for YEARS!
Gomez: LIKE MUH KIDNEY STONEZ!
Carlo: Do you think us afraid? HA!! Your smoke and mirrors are mere PARLOR TRICKS in comparison to our ASTOUNDING powers! The three of you will soon learn just how DAZZLINGLY DANGEROUS we are when the chips are down! And so too will ALL of CLASSIQUE! Because… WE ARE…
Gomez: …um, we are?
Carlo: AAAMAAAAZIII–
Gomez: BLEECHH!!
Gomez buries his face into the opening of his hat and blows chunks into it. Carlo’s shoulders slump