The scene opens in view of an altar. The room lit via a halo hovering around the head of an athletic preacher type, dressed in a white suit, black shirt and white collar standing beside a heavenly statue of himself.
The first episode of Classic Wrestling. And what card could be complete without the one and only Johnny…Saint…Nelson.
The smooth, clean shaven being looks unexpectedly upset upon the malfunctioning of his halo flickering to a pathetic death. However, the show must go on despite life’s disappointments.
I know what you’re thinking, and yes, you’re absolutely right, being a saint is hard work…for the likes of you Classic Wrestling fans and the members of our sinful locker room.
Removing the halo contraption device within his suit, JSN disgustedly slams it to the ground before gracing us with his attention once more.
But OHHHH LORDY, it’s not hard work for JAYYY ESSSS ENNNNN! No, sir-rie bob!
A wag of the index finger follows before stomping down hard on his misfiring halo. Slicking his hand through his neatly cut hair, he regains his composure.
Now I’m not gonna stand here and preach to you all to love one another, say your prayers and do unto others as you would yourself. Why waste my time? You’re all too far gone.
He puts his arm around the statue of himself beside the altar, as if they were buddies.
But the Saint just wants to let you know that he understands. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault that you all dress provocatively, profusely curse and are disease ridden due to your uncontrollable promiscuity.
Removing his arm from his statue, JSN seemingly fights off the sexual urge that just overcame him whilst looking at it. Hand to his heart, he continues to address.
JSN forgives each and every one of you. I blame your heroes. Heroes of the big screen, of your MTVs. The lifestyles that you’ve been force fed, via the ungodly advances in technology, have made you lose sight of good old wholesome American family values.
There it is, the stars and stripes laid out on the altar for some reason.
Video killed the radio star but it will not kill Johnny Saint Nelson’s faith that he can save each and every one of you from the most rotten and damaging times to the very soul of humanity….
His eyes squint and lips crunch together at the very mention.
The hair….my god the hair! The spray….why must an entire can be used every day? The amount of innocent bystanders who have been left blinded not to mention the destruction to the ozone layer.
Hands on hips and a disappointed shake of the head.
Mother Nature is a personal friend of mine. I will not stand idly by while the ignorance of this pop culture brings her to her knees like a cheap whore all in the name of personal grooming! Each and every week I will bestow upon the classic wrestling congregation my own dose of violent protection….protection from the likes of Harry Chest.
Removing a book from inside his suit pocket which reads “The Good Book”. No, not that one, it’s a notepad, silly. He makes his way behind the altar.
And how fitting that my first ever match in Classic Wrestling will be dedicated to defending that mother’s nature against Harry Chest during the first round of the World Title Tournament.
Flicking through the pages, JSN orates as if preaching to his congregation, gesturing with his index finger.
A man who portrays himself as a hero, cape and all, dressed in spandex that leaves little or nothing to the imagination and yet the little he affords us is his hairy chest…Oh…I just got it. Ha Ha. Humour…that cry for love and attention.
Deep breaths, big sermon moment.
Outrageous hair with uncontrollable volume is unhygienic, it’s dirty. This is not the hero you seek!
Slamming the good book down upon the altar, JSN’s eyes widen with intent.
For the love of god, think of JAYYY ESSSS ENNNNN! Your children are already lost. I am the actual saint who is going into the ring to Body Slam, Suplex, Full Me…but mainly chop the back of my hand across that hairy chest despite the risk of hand entrapment within those unwashed curls!
Hands clasped together in prayer.
But The Saint understands that you need someone pure and wholesome to overcome the unwashed likes of Harry Chest.
Creepy grin time.
Classic Wrestling will be cleansed!