Post by Stephen Singh on Feb 6, 2022 14:52:35 GMT -5
Joey Bunga sits behind his glorified utility closet of an office, mindlessly staring at a Newton’s Cradle the click-clacks, click-clacks the seconds away. Romeo H. Finet–fresh off his co-victory in the White House Battle Royale with Dionysus–knocks, pushes the door open, and begins to speak before Bunga can even get his mouth open.
I want a word with Teo Blaze.
So you don’t quite win some mostly meaningless battle royale and you think you get a title shot?
No, no. I don’t want a title shot, I literally want to speak with Teo.
Right, right. You just want “a word” with the champion–whose partner just so happened to beat you a few weeks ago in a tag match? If all you want is a chat, you should check out these really cool cellphones where they transmit your voice–
Does Teo even use cellphones? Like doesn’t he do chicken-chasing, meat-pounding type of training montages? Very analog.
Heh, meat-pounding…
Bunga starts the Newton’s cradle over again.
Anyways, you’re not getting a match with Teo.
I don’t wan–
Right, right. Sure. Digger told me not to trust you, so I’m not just going to put you in a room with our champ. What I am going to do, however, is let you settle your issue with Bolas de Arana.
Finet stops the cradle’s incessant clicking again.
Whatever, I’ll happily mop the floor with Bogus. But if you’re not going to give me some time with Teo, I’m going to take it.
Yeah, okay. Don’t let the door hit ya where your boyfriend splits ya, Romeo!
Implying that I’m homosexual isn’t an insult you Garden State garbage-brain. But fine. I’m going to stomp Arana this week and then I’m going to figure out a way to bend Teo’s ear. One way or another. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Bunghole.
Finet exits the office and stands face-to-face with another Action Wrestling camera in the hallway. He smirks into it.
The New Legacy has begun, Action Wrestling! Even though it wasn’t exactly the resounding victory I’d hoped for, sharing the White House Battle Royale win with a guy that everybody in the back would count as well out of my league is a good start. Solid foundations aren’t built quickly, they’re slow and purposeful. And that’s what I’m doing here. Acting with purpose, Bogus de Arana.
Purpose. Something you couldn’t begin to understand if it were tattooed on the inside of your empty skull, Bolas. One week it’s “I’M BACK AND I’M COMING FOR YOU, TEO!” and the next is, “PLEASE ANDRE LET’S BE TAG PARTNERS AND CHASE THE TITLES!” It would be embarrassing for anyone other than another piece of New Jersey shitlord with half his face painted and knuckle tattoos that I assume read, “BUTT PLUG.” You have no purpose so you skitter back and forth, lusting after one title then another; you reach desperately at any possible recognition, any type of acknowledgement from The World at large. But that reach always exceeds your grasp: Teo wouldn’t notice if you died tomorrow and while you ranted about what a great tag team you were going to make with Jensen, he didn’t know he was tagging with you.
Bolas, you’re gauche. You’re a trailer park fantasy of a pro wrestler. I don’t need to face you to prove anything to myself but Joey Bunghole thinks we’ve got a score to settle. This is much more of a Don Draper in the elevator sort of situation but fine, I'll play along.
I’m going to make clear to you and all of Action Wrestling that I was not the one afforded “luck” in our draw, Bogus. You don’t know it yet, but it’s going to be one of the highlights of your year when you’re the first competitor whose shoulders I put down for a three-count in Action Wrestling. Congrats on getting buried in the foundation of my legacy. It’s going to be a great place to be and it’s going to be absolutely filled with…finesse.
Purpose. Something you couldn’t begin to understand if it were tattooed on the inside of your empty skull, Bolas. One week it’s “I’M BACK AND I’M COMING FOR YOU, TEO!” and the next is, “PLEASE ANDRE LET’S BE TAG PARTNERS AND CHASE THE TITLES!” It would be embarrassing for anyone other than another piece of New Jersey shitlord with half his face painted and knuckle tattoos that I assume read, “BUTT PLUG.” You have no purpose so you skitter back and forth, lusting after one title then another; you reach desperately at any possible recognition, any type of acknowledgement from The World at large. But that reach always exceeds your grasp: Teo wouldn’t notice if you died tomorrow and while you ranted about what a great tag team you were going to make with Jensen, he didn’t know he was tagging with you.
Bolas, you’re gauche. You’re a trailer park fantasy of a pro wrestler. I don’t need to face you to prove anything to myself but Joey Bunghole thinks we’ve got a score to settle. This is much more of a Don Draper in the elevator sort of situation but fine, I'll play along.
I’m going to make clear to you and all of Action Wrestling that I was not the one afforded “luck” in our draw, Bogus. You don’t know it yet, but it’s going to be one of the highlights of your year when you’re the first competitor whose shoulders I put down for a three-count in Action Wrestling. Congrats on getting buried in the foundation of my legacy. It’s going to be a great place to be and it’s going to be absolutely filled with…finesse.
