Muscle Beach, Venice, CA. Chiseled bodies and their rippling muscles lift heavy iron weights in the West Coast sun. Children play on the sand as their sun-weathered mothers add another layer of tanning oil on their browning skin. Waves crash. A soft breeze blows off the ocean. And from the entrance to the area off 18th Street, four men who might as well be faceless carry a palanquin. Sitting in this portable throne, wearing a crown where the points are arms flexing and a sash that says “KING OF THE SWOLE BROS” is “All-Natural” Chick Grillbreast, making his first public appearance since DESTROYING Lord Colossus at ClassicMania.
CHICK: Alright you PEONS! Let me down here. I GOT SOME PROCLAMATIONS TO MAKE.
Chick’s servile swole squad lets him down with all the grace you’d expect from bodybuilders.
CHICK: How DARE you treat your KING this poorly? I oughtta make you RUFFIANS do cardio!
He dusts himself off, adjusts his sash, and stands up on a literal soapbox that he had his serfs place there in preparation for his first address as the KING OF THE SWOLE BROS.
CHICK: HEAR YE! HEAR YE! After I pounded that SEXUALLY DEVIANT NERD, LORD COLOSSUS, INTO THE GROUND at ClassicMania, I have brought a new reign of peace and prosperity to Classic Wrestling and to the UNITED STATES OF GAINZ in general. Already under my reign of peace and protein, I have made sure all local schools have a three-year supply of protein powder. KIDS NEED TO START EARLY, BRO. I created a lobby to go to Washington and tell those CLOWNS to pass legislation to ban cardio and make it illegal to accuse me, CHICK GRILLBREAST, of having a body that has been artificially and medically enhanced by means other than sick gains and chicken breast! I even invented a new kind of meat. It’s called BISON, and it tastes just like beef while having the low fat content of chicken. I AM A SCIENTIFIC MARVEL.
Chick stares at the crowd menacingly until they start clapping and bowing to him.
CHICK: So now I’m back GETTING MY HANDS DIRTY by whipping Classic Wrestling into shape! I won’t stop until I’m the REAL WORLD’S CHAMPION, and my first victim is set to be Leon Van Zandt. First, I wondered why Classic would make me fight a member of Lynyrd Skynyrd. Not only are they my FAVORITE BAND, but I’m pretty sure they all died in a plane crash 20 years ago or something. THEN I DID SOME RESEARCH ON THE WORLD WIDE WEB. I got to my library at 8 AM when it opened to reserve a computer. Finally, at 8 PM, the website finally loaded, and you know what I found out?
The crowd in unison asks, “what?!”
CHICK: First off, Leon Van Zandt ISN’T EVEN RELATED to the dudes from Skynyrd, but even MORE DISTRESSING? SKYNYRD ACTUALLY LIKED NEIL YOUNG! I based my WHOLE WORLDVIEW off them dissing that crusty Canadian hippie in their song “Sweet Home Alabama,” and then I find out THEY WERE ALL BURIED IN NEIL YOUNG SHIRTS? You know what that does?
The crowd winces.
CHICK: THAT MAKES ME SO, SO, SO MAD! Now, not only do I have to POUND THAT NERD LEON VAN ZANDT INTO DUST, I have to find a new band! Do you know how hard that is nowadays? Music peaked in 1982 when Survivor released “Eye of the Tiger!” Everything now sucks! I mean, sad losers from rainy cities singing about their angst? Angry losers from around the corner here rapping about having a good day or drinking JUICE? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH SUGAR IS IN JUICE? IT MAKES ME SO MAD!
Chick grabs a free weight from the open-air gym and smashes it into his palanquin.
CHICK: Leon Van Zandt! I’m gonna make you wish that you let that FATTY FAT FATTERSON FRIEND OF YOURS actually squashed you at ClassicMania instead of teaming back up with your sorry behind! YOU WILL FEEL THE BRUNT OF MY RAGE, LEON VAN ZANDT! FOR ME! FOR ALL MY SUBJECTS HERE! AND ESPECIALLY FOR LYNYRD SKYNYRD! I WILL HAVE MY RECOMPENSE!
Chick pulls his word of the day calendar from his back pocket, and a cheer goes up from the crowd. He goes to sit on his palanquin until he realizes it’s destroyed.
CHICK: UGH! Minions! Carry me on your shoulders!
The swole bros pick Chick up as the screen fades to the Classic logo.