Signal Panic, Inc. presents
Action Saxton & Saboteur
“And welcome back to Randy… ‘Do I make you RANDY baby? Yeah!’ and Ralph… ‘DUDE! I’m gonna ralph! *Puking noise*', the number one morning talk radio show host in Las Vegas among high school dropouts and hung over community college students. I am your host Rockin’ Randy along side Ralph the Mouph, and we are joined here today by two of the hottest competitors in WZCW, Saxton and Saboteur and boy, are we excited to talk to you guys.”
“Pleasure’s all ours, suckas.” Saxton replies to Randy.
“Now Ralph, I understand you’re a big wrestling fan, so big that you actually have tickets to see Saxton and Saboteur live this weekend at the Roulette events. Why don’t you explain to our listeners how the Roulette round works.”
“Well Randy, most of the time the wrestlers know exactly who they’ll be fighting weeks in advance, but during the Roulette round all matches are determined live by roulette wheels. Literally anything can happen this week! Saxton could be challenging former rival Alex Bowen in a mayhem match, Saboteur could be challenging Rush for the EurAsian title, or Saxton and Saboteur could see themselves in a Kingdom Come rematch!”
“Wow, so these are truly unpredictable times for the former tag team champs, as well as the rest of WZCW. Tell me guys, what would be your ideal match this week?”
Saboteur leans towards his microphone and starts to yell into it, “Well Randy, I think Saxton and I can agree on…”
Randy and Ralph grab their headsets with cringes on their face as their ears are blasted by Saboteur’s voice.
“Whoa there Saboteur, you’re not in front of an arena full of screaming fans, you don’t have to yell!”
Saboteur seems unrepentant, but humors Randy by lowering his voice, “Well what I was about to say before I was so rudely interrupted was that Saxton and I are in agreement that the best match possible would be a rematch for the WZCW Tag Team Champions which were awarded to Le Gentleman Masqué and The Beard after they illegally pinned me at last week’s pay per view.”
“And Saxton, you agree with Saboteur?”
“Hell yes sucka! My boy Saboteur and I look better in gold then either of those jive turkeys, and we’ll prove it once we get those titles back around our waists!”
“Interesting, interesting, so now to more pressing questions, what’s the groupie situation like backstage? Inquiring minds want to know!”
Saboteur and Saxton give the radio hosts an unamused glare.
“I mean, come on, you must have ladies lining up just to get 5 minutes with you.”
“All I need is 2 and a half, Randy.”
Ralph hits a button which plays a short clips of crude sex noises followed by a farting noise.
“Ohhhh no! Our guests jut got Ralphed all over! Sorry boys, we’ll make sure you get Randy and Ralph commemorative towels on the way out to dry yourselves off.”
“Look sucka, I did not drag my perfectly chiseled ass out of bed at 5 AM to answer questions about backstage groupies. What Saxton does with the ladies is between him, the fine young thing, and one time Krypto when I didn’t realize he was hiding under the couch, and that’s it! Now get to the real questions before I karate chop your soundboard of fart noises in half!”
Randy and Ralph both take a deep gulp, intimidated by the 270 pound black Adonis. Randy nervously tosses the wrestling duo another question.
“Well, er… in the spirit of randomized competition, we were hoping that maybe you guys had some random stories about your adventures that you would like to tell us. But only if you want to! No pressure or anything! No need to karate chop our faces off or anything Mr. Saxton and Saboteur sir!”
The two heroes think over the request for a few moments. The duo has seen more than their fair share of adventure over the course of their tag team partnership, but which one of their stories is truly the most random?
Saboteur breaks the silence, “I have a random story for you, but it’s so spectacularly random that it can only be told through the art of flashback!”
Saboteur's mask glazes over and his head tilts back. There is a long uncomfortable silence in which the three other men in the room stare awkwardly at each other. Ralph clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck.
Action Saxton reaches out waves a hand in front of Saboteur's face. His masked companion fails to respond.
"Dammit, sucka!" Saxton sighs, shaking his head. "What the hell have I told you about narrating your flashbacks?"
Saboteur still says nothing. Randy leans towards his microphone.
"Well, hey, how about we hear from you, big man?" he says.
Action Saxton straightens up, flexing subtly. "About damn time you asked me direct!" he says. "You can ask any sucka in that locker room, from Alhazred to whoever the hell that new guy who claims to be 'down with the clown' is. Ask anyone I sit next to on a plane, a train, or an automobile. From near to far, from star to star, Action Saxton has the tales to make the women wail, the yarns to burn barns, the stories that get on Maury, can you dig it?"
"We certainly can 'dig it'!"
"Hell yeah, suckas, now sit back and relax and enjoy this funky-ass ride."
Once upon a time, not too long ago, in a far away land that ain't actually that far away thanks to modern technology including my official Action Saxton Moon Boots that you can buy at WZCWshop.com, me (That is, the handsome sucka telling this story, Action Saxton) and my spandex-clad brotha Saboteur were in Japan. You want to know why we were in Japan? WZCW All-Stars, sucka! We got to call the best damn matches y'all ever did see! Dancing aliens! Buddy cops who used kung fu! Robot girls! Some dude who could sing! Sucka, it was the most fun I had ever had in WZCW, except for the time I pounded Alex Bowen's face in, and the time I won the tag team championships, and the time I got to beat up on Saboteur for two hours.
Anyway, me and my boy Saboteur were in Japan, and we thought we'd get ourselves a taste of the culture while we were there. Sucka, I've been to Japan before. Of course I have, how the hell do you think I learned all my forbidden kung-fu techniques from Master Chop Onion? So I really didn't need a taste of the culture. I needed a taste of something else, and it wasn't culture, it wasn't ramen, and it was probably some fine-ass Japanese mommas. I'd ask if you ever had a taste of Japan poontang, but you suckas make fart jokes for a living. Anyway, I'm takin' my boy Saboteur to this restaurant, the best damn noodle stand in Japan. I remember, suckas, I laid out my order and so did my boy, and we got our bowls of the hottest and finest.
"So what are these swirly things inside my bowl of processed brains?" Saboteur asked me.
"Those, sucka," I replied, "are ancient poisonous Japanese ninja stars, and they shamelessly ripped off my design for my patented Action Saxton Throwing Stars and never gave me credit. They put them in every bowl of ramen now in order to silence me, but it never works."
Actually, suckas, they're fish cakes and they're goddamn delicious. I wanted a reason to eat his. Don't tell him that once he wakes up. He still thinks I got a spell cast on me by an ancient wizard that makes me immune to poison. The real reason I'm immune to poison is because of my intense physical training. But I digress.
You see, as I was eating my twenty-fourth bowl of noodles, some big pale sucka sat down next to me. Now, I'm used to people being paler than me, but that ain't the issue here. The issue here is that I was tryin' to eat my goddamn noodles and this sucka wouldn't take his eyes off me! I'm used to being stared at as well, but sucka, when I am eating, you better back the hell up before you get smacked the hell up.
"Ooh hellooo," the creepy-ass sucka breathed in my general direction. You ever see my hit movie Action Saxton Battles The Hunchback Of Notre Dame? Imagine the hunchback. This guy was short, hunched, and his voice was breathy as hell, unlike my rich dulcet tones.
"What do you want, sucka?" I asked, showing incredible constraint considering my noodles were getting cold. I don't think at this point Saboteur even noticed what was going on, as he was still tryin' to work his way through his first bowl.
"I heard that you boys wanted to learn a bit about cul~ture~," said the fat guy, wiggling his caterpillar eyebrows.
"I don't think it's a good idea to trust guys who look like you," Saboteur said. "You can tell how evil is based on how pretty they are, and you're pretty ugly."
The weird-looking fool grinned even wider.
"What if I told you about the possibility of one~million~dollars~??"
Saboteur perked up. I had a bad feeling about this, but before I could say anything that fool had already leaped out of his seat and was shaking the fat sucka's hand.
"We'll do it!" he was saying. "We'll do whatever it is we have to do! So what do we have to do?"
I groaned as soon as I heard what that lard-ass fool had to say.
"You will have to play a game~!"
Now listen, I've been in plenty of games. Basketball games, baseball games, video games, games of thrones, games of death, buryin' games, big game hunting, foot ball games, batsu games, and game overs. But sucka, this was more than just any old game. This sucka took us all around the damn country just to get to his goofy-ass secret lair, and when we reached it, I saw something that would make my red black blood run cold.
This sucka was going to make us go through some crazy-ass game show to get our cash! Now, if it was a quiz show, we'd be millionaires in no time, as if there is anything Action Saxton knows, it's general knowledge. Did you know that the capital of England is London? You do now, sucka, and if it wasn't for my impeccable knowledge of geography, you'd still be sittin' there thinking to yourself "What the hell is an England?".
But this was not a quiz show. No, it was not. This, sucka, was a game of human bowling. I could tell because of the giant-ass sign hanging from the ceiling that said "Human Bowling" on it. There was a huge crowd around this crazy place, too, all surrounding this giant bowling alley with about a hundred pins lined up. I remember I looked up and saw these two suckas with headsets looking down on us calling the whole thing. And let me tell you, they didn't do half a good a job as we did later that same week! I know because I could hear them using my perfect hearing!
"Oh my word, we're in for a treat!" one of those fools said.
"I think you mean to say that we're in for a beat!" said the other. "it's funny because that rhymes and almost sounds like 'beating'. The joke is that these guys are getting pins to the head!"
And dammit, if we wanted to survive, I knew that one of us was going to get some pins to the head. That fat dude stood in front of us and yelled some crazy-ass Japanese syllables into his mic. Luckily I learned enough from Master Chop Onion to understand what he was saying.
"Bite the wax tadpole!" that sucka said. "Has anyone really been far even as decided to use even go want to do look more like?"
The crowd were all chanting "Potato", and that's when I knew we were in deep trouble. Unfortunately, Saboteur did not seem in any shape to compete in this sadistic game of bowling. That sucka was curled into a ball at my feet.
"Saboteur!" I cried. "What the hell happened to you, my brother?"
"Saxton..." he groaned. "I accidentally ate one of those poisonous spiral things..."
"Damn!" I yelled. "If only I wasn't so foolish as to trick you into thinking that the spiral things were poisonous, perhaps you could have fought with me another day! Forgive me, my man!"
But no amount of fist-shaking at the ceiling was going to help. That sucka was curled so tight you could have called him an armadillo. I knew it was going to be up to me to get us out of this bowling fiend's sadistic scheme, and the only way to do that would be to get a strike.
Now, you may not know this, but I am a damn good bowler. So when I say I'm going to get a strike, I'm going to get a strike.
"I'm going to get a strike!" I said to my brotha. He groaned in response, so I used my rippling muscles and strength to pick that sucka up and toss him down the lane with all of my might.
You ever seen a sucka in spandex go hurtling down a bowling lane at 88 miles per hour? You ever see him catch fire with how fast he was rolling? You ever see him sprout spikes he was rolling that fast? Saboteur's balled-up body slammed into those pins so hard it knocked all nine-hundred of them down. Some of them smashed through the ceiling. Others flew into space. Some of those cheap-ass pins exploded. And several of them hit me where it hurt - my afro.
I was about to emit my classic catchphrase, "Aw hell no!", which is useful for many situations, but now was not the time for catchy catchphrases. You see, as I was too busy worrying about my luxurious 'fro, the entire crowd had stood up and unmasked to reveal their ninja masks.
That's right, suckas. This was all a setup. The fat guy suddenly turned skinny and pulled off his fake head to reveal his real head. Who I saw made my blood run cold.
"No!" I cried.
But yes. It was him. It was my archnemesis. It was El Habanero.
That sucka didn't even stay and fight me! He ordered his ninjas to take us out and escaped using some goofy-ass ninja techniques with a rope. That just goes to show what kind of cowardly suckas ninjas can be. You want to know why I spend my life fighting crime? It's because the difference between being a brother and a ninja is just a small line, and I sure as hell never want to be no ninja!
Those ninjas in the crowd were closing in quick, though, so I readied my head, aimed, and pushed all the bowling pins stuck in my afro out of my afro, hitting twenty of those suckas at once. They fell like dominos, and not like the pizza place with the adorable blue-haired mascot. I mean like the game - And that's another game I've once been part of. I do hold the world record in "Largest Domino Structure Built To Look Like A Famous Action Movie Hero", and if you don't know who that action movie hero is I'll give you a hint: It's me.
However, not all of them fell, and I was clearly outnumbered. Luckily by this time, Saboteur had recovered from not being poisoned and helping me knock down a bunch of pins, so we stood back-to-back, ready to take out the ninjas. And dammit, we fought those suckas and kicked their asses, because when it comes to being a team, ain't none better tha Action Saxton & Saboteur! Even those who beat us ain't better, they just talented and lucky. No one, suckas! You hear that?
So after we kicked a whole horde of ninja ass and put a bunch of 'em on the moon, I punched a hole in a wall and we walked back to our hotel room using my supreme sense of direction, and prepared for the next day. And for breakfast I ate pancakes.
Action Saxton folds his arms impressively as he finishes his story. Randy and Ralph stare at the Badass Brother in wonder. Randy moves closer to his microphone.
"Well, that was certainly an interesting st-"
"Hold up, suckas, I ain't done yet." Action Saxton holds up a hand. "Every story of mine has a moral, and this time there are many. First off, don't go accepting weird offers from strange dudes in ramen shops. Two, train in the art of the hair cannon every day. And three, you never know when something unexpected is going to happen, so if you ain't ready to get out there and do whatever the hell it takes to make it to the next day, even if everything you've been plannin' goes wrong, you ain't worth being in my ring!
Can you dig it?"
Ralph goes to press a button on the soundboard, but Randy stops him.
"Ladies and gentlemen, that was Action Saxton, and, uh..."
He stops and stares at Saboteur, who is still glazed over. His mask drools.
"Don't worry about him, suckas," Action Saxton says. "He gets like this. He'll snap out of it."
"Right!" Randy says. "So stay tuned for more of today's hot hits, as well as everyone's favorite New Age Extravaganza, Riding The Waves With Beach Bum Bob!"
The DJs turn their equipment off and Action Saxton stands up. The three of them shake hands in various combinations, the DJs still glancing at Saboteur. Shrugging, they leave and turn the lights off, the only illumination in the room coming from the lights of the automation system.
Saboteur's head rolls to the left slightly.
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