The Classic Wrestling banner. Directly in front of the banner stands a young woman: appears to be early twenties, average height, long black hair done up glam-style. Wearing pink and white (and very loud) spandex ring attire, this woman – “WILD” KAT DIAMOND sports pink and white face paint around her eyes that juts out into sharp points on either side. Wild Kat appears to be a comic book heroine brought to life.
“Ladies and gentlemen… my name is “Wild” Kat Diamond. It is my honor and privilege at this time to introduce to you to the man with no limit… the man as ferocious as any tiger, the man as proud as any lion, and the man as powerful as any bear… HE IS: FERAL. FREDDY. KILGORE!”
She motions to her left and on camera appears “Feral” Freddy Kilgore: a statuesque mountain of a man with long blond hair and a face that screams intensity. He wears red and orange wrestling tights and his face is painted in a similar manner to Wild Kat’s: sharp and intense designs around his eyes. From the way his muscles glisten, it’s clear that baby oil is Freddy Kilgore’s friend. Kilgore’s intensity is off the charts: he can barely stand still even as he moves into frame and Kat holds the mic up to his mouth. He looks directly into the camera as he continues to shift his weight back and forth, seemingly unable to stand in one place for too long. When he speaks, he alternates between SHOUTS and regular speech.
“CLASSIC WRESTLING… I AM “Feral” Freddy Kilgore. As you look into my eyes I want you to understand one thing: you are gazing into the soul of an absolute FORCE. OF. NATURE!”
Kilgore punctuates each word with a sharp fist into his own chest.
“You cannot stop the tide from rising.
You cannot stop the sun from setting.
And you CANNOT STOP Freddy Kilgore from laying waste to anyone put in front of him in a Classic Wrestling RING!”
To emphasize the point, Kilgore flexes his right bicep.
“In nature, the spoils go to the survival of the fittest… and I have come to Classic Wrestling with one singular goal: to prove that I AM the fittest. To tear through the premier athletes of the world, to hang with the absolute best of the best… and when all the smoke clears… to be standing atop a heap of their spent and defeated bodies as the undisputed King of the Jungle! The law of the jungle means NO MERCY, baby, and that’s the creed that Papa WILD THANG lives and dies by.”
Kilgore tenses all his muscles, getting really worked up by all this “law of the jungle” talk. But he releases that tension, looking into the camera and pointing directly into the lens.
“But I need everyone watching at home to understand one thing: I am not here to do this alone. When I step into that ring, I’m going to a different place. I’m going to a place deep down inside that is more animal than man. I’m going to that place that tells you to shrug off the pain. To ignore your body’s cries for a break. That place that makes damn sure I will not stop until I’ve given every drop of blood, every OUNCE of sweat, and every beat of my HEART before I surrender, baby.
And that’s where I need you, my little Wild Hearts. You see, the very feral blood that flows through these veins flows through yours. Together, you and me can do the impossible. When we go to that place, when our wild hearts beat as one, when I have Wild Heart Nation in my corner, there is nothing that I can’t do, no obstacle that I can’t overcome, and NO MAN ALIVE THAT CAN STOP US!”
Kilgore flexes both arms out in front of him, smiling into the camera.
“Classic Wrestling: on behalf of Papa Wild Thang, on behalf of Wild Kat, and on behalf of all my Wild Hearts: you’ve got no choice, baby. You can’t escape… THE CALL OF THE WILD!”
Kilgore cups his hands, looks straight up into the air, and releases a feral HOWL into the abyss. Wild Kat drops her mic and mimics his motion with a savage howl of her own. She leaps on Kilgore’s back wrapping her arms around his neck and the two come crashing INTO the camera with wild intensity as we fade out.