Post by Trey Bouchet on Jan 28, 2021 11:04:34 GMT -5
“Article 2 Section 2 of the Constitution states that ‘The President shall be Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy of the United States,” Fabunni reads from her script.
“At Revolution, I will command an army of my own. An army of suplexes! Saito! German! Northern Lights! I will draft them into service to defeat Reckless Jack!” Trey vows in a bad English accent.
“‘-he shall have Power to grant Reprieves and Pardons-’”
“There will be no pardon or reprieve for Reckless Jack! Not until we settle our differences the proper way: in the ring!”
“‘-He shall have Power, by and with the Advice and Consent of the Senate, to make Treaties-’”
“Afterwards I will seek peace with Jack, known as one of the greatest cruiserweights in history! My terms are-”
There’s a knock at the door. Through the peephole Trey sees two burly men in black suits and sunglasses.
“Yello?”
“Agents Hawes and Shaub, Secret Service. We need to speak to Trey Bouchet.”
Trey lets them in.
“We’re here to investigate a possible threat to President Biden. A witness claims you expressed a desire to ‘suplex’ him.”
“D’oh!” Trey’s eyes go wide. He glances over to Fabunni, who sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Is that an admission of guilt, sir?”
“Well, sure, but see, when I said that, there was no harm intended.”
“Isn’t a suplex one of the most devastating moves in professional wrestling?”
“Heck, yeah! But I’m the Suplexpert! Nobody does them better. I can suplex someone and it doesn’t hurt!”
Hawes and Shaub appear unconvinced. Fabunni defends her man.
“It’s true. Trey can harmlessly suplex a person into their boots. He’s that good.”
“Why would you want to suplex the President?”
“Uh, Because he’s the President?” Trey’s tone implies he thinks the reason's obvious.
“Trey wants to suplex every celebrity he meets.”
“Beats a handshake and a selfie!”
Agent Shaub counters, “Sir, did you not post on Twitter about how the President should be impeached?”
This is a fact; you can look it up.
Trey starts to sound concerned, “I was joking. It was a rib on Carter Shaw on account of him being President Biden’s ‘Guest of Honor’ for Revolution! Frankly, if there’s anybody you should be investigating it’s him.”
“Trey,” Fabunni warns.
“He’s got a real Manchurian Candidate vibe going on now.”
“Trey!”
The Cajun Catapult keeps babbling, “It’s true! Be on the lookout for Ash Blake suggesting Shaw ‘pass the time by playing a little solitaire’ before the show.”
“Trey Erasmus Bouchet!”
Trey, chastened, finally shuts up.
The agents plexchange glances. Shaub jots something in his notebook.
“Nice going, stooge,” Fabunni admonishes her boo with a hiss.
“What? Would it really surprise you if Shaw went all ‘Sic Semper Tyrannis!’?”
“Sir, while we appreciate this intel, we still have concerns about your intentions. Barring significant exculpatory-”
“Plexculpatory,” Trey corrects.
“-evidence, we recommend you not be allowed to compete at Revolution.”
The gravity of the situation finally dawns on Trey, “Guys, I swear I would never hurt the President, or anybody else that didn’t mess with me first. Even when I’m wrestling, most of the time it isn’t personal. It’s just that, this match, against Reckless Jack? It’s a chance to put another guy who thinks he can push me around in his place. Another bully to smarten up. Your boss would understand. He spent his life dealing with bullies who mocked him for his stutter. Well, this match is like that. You gotta let me wrestle at Revolution. Please.”
The agents study the earnest little suplex machine. Hawes speaks into his microphone cufflink.
“Send in the plexperts.”
In moments, Champ and Major the First Dogs bound in! They sniff at Trey, then they playfully jump on him.
“Cool Doggos!” Bouchet laughs as they all roll around on the hotel floor.
Champ and Major’s endorsement is enough. The agents clear Trey and leave with the dogs.
Trey closes the door and exhales. He winks at his boo.
“Lucky I had that jerky in my waistcoat, huh?”