A statue. Not of gold, but of flesh. Deified man-meat upon an altar, glistening like gold under the amber glow of an elaborate (way more so than Dr. Devastation’s!) display of wrought votive candles flickering behind him. Flanking this, covering the warm slats of oak on the back wall, are curtains of resplendent blue, red, and green emblazoned with the only symbol anyone ever needs to see.
“Mmhmm… look…” the croaked voice of Sensei Abe Lincoln announces as he steps in front of the mythological figure. “This… Shujin Yama. Winner of first main event… in Classic Wrestling… history.”
The aged Sensei barely reaches the hip of Yama, a mountain among men atop the altar. Lincoln drops to his knees, eyes wide before the further accentuated glory.
“You have seen… mmhmm… power.” He bows. “You have seen strength. But you have not yet seen… fury.”
Clenching his fists in unison, the image of Yama becomes a new statue.
“No bounty is sufficient to defeat Shujin Yama,” Sensei Lincoln rises. He steps to the side – far to the side – in order to allow the full girth of Yama to be on display, and continues in his broken English. “For Shujin Yama himself is true greatest prize in Classic Wrestling. No amount of money can stop him. No number of steel chairs. More importantly… no God… mmhmm.”
Sensei Lincoln looks from side to side, revealing the scene around them. On the other side of the man-mountain from the spot Lincoln worships from, a lectern is flipped on its side. Muddied stains blacken the silver cross on what used to be its front.
“Such a shame… no?” Sensei Lincoln muses as he lets his eyes fall below where the triumphant colourd banners hang, resting upon a pile of crumpled and torn, white curtains. “The irresistible force of Shujin Yama meets… very movable objects.”
Further back still, a series of upturned and broken pews lay strewn across the heavily scuffed floor. Discarded Bibles dot the room, their shredded pages thrown about. Window frames, high up the walls, lie empty. The shattered rainbow of their stained glass litters the ground where it meets the walls. Presumably, their shards are outside too.
“Shujin Yama is in your house, JAYYY ESSSSSSSSSSSS EN.” Like a snake, he hisses the middle letter. With a venomous spit, the final letter cuts off. “And here, like in ring… mmhmm… Shujin Yama is lord.”
Sensei Lincoln stares up in reverence
“This house? It is sacrilege to Shujin Yama. But he has solution. He is solution. This…” he gestures to the surrounding once more, “…This is solution. He has redecorated; treated it with respect it deserves. For Shujin Yama is vengeful god. When provoked. Today… JAYYY ESSSSSSSSSSSS EN… he has been provoked. And he… is very… very… angry.”
With a clap as loud as the sound of Rich K. Hunt’s chest collapsing under his weight, the sumo’s fist collides with his hand.
“Shujin Yama conquers all.” Yama begins to nod. “He cannot be stopped. Little Richard was just the start. This… this his house now.”
Zig-zagging between the debris, Sensei Lincoln walks towards the entrance to the former house of God. A small paper bag lies resting against a stone pillar. From within, he pulls out a wooden frame that he then carries back towards the front.
“We have heard the American children, who do not respect Japanese warfare, say Shujin Yama should be thankful for King Kong Frank and Lord Colossus. They say…” Yama growls as Sensei Lincoln walks past him. “…They say their antics assisted Shujin Yama in victory. They will be thanked. Mmhmm… they will. They will be given first opportunity to bow before Shujin Yama when he becomes Real World’s Champion.”
Approaching the toppled lectern now, Sensei Lincoln tucks the frame under his armpit. With a subservient yank, he pulls it up. He carefully fastens the frame to the front, hooking it over the slanted top so that the picture can be seen by all.
Shujin Yama, hand raised in the air by Sensei Lincoln.
With thunderous steps, Yama himself steps down from his podium. He looks directly into your quivering, heretical soul.
“It is good to have faith, J.S.N,” his deep voice rumbles with crystal-clear clarity and a thick Floridian accent. “So do it! Have faith! Have faith that the second coming is upon you! Your lord and saviour has returned. His name… is Shujin Yama.”