AS 126 - Mikey Stormrage/Matt Tastic vs Mark Keaton/Big Bad Roadie
RP Deadline is Tuesday the 3rd of April at 23:59 EST. Extension available on request.
Reinstate The Fox!
Number 17 – Big Bad Roady
The dream was realized, then reality quickly came crashing down to the 457 pound man in the form of Triple X. Big Bad Roady hit the padded mats on the outside of the ring and fell on his rear. He was eliminated. He rushed around the outside of the ring, not knowing how it happened, it was some kind of hit, maybe a punch or a kick? He wasn’t sure, it happened so fast.
“I’m officially Mark Keaton’s manager, leave me alone asshole! I’m staying out here!” As much as the big man argued, it was not to be, he was told to go to the back by officials or face suspensions and fines. He had no choice.
BigRoad pushed his way through the curtain then walked down the hall towards the locker room area. His sister, Veronica Roady, surprised him with a tap on the shoulder from behind before he could get in the room. She was really happy for him and he held back tears as he told her how much he appreciated her showing up to the event tonight. After everything he’s put her through throughout the years, the bail outs, gang related crimes, the police calls home to mom and dad, it was nice to finally give his older sister something to be proud of. They talked about the events of the Lethal Lottery, then slowly walked to a lounge area where a television monitor was set up. They watched the match in silence. BigRoad silently cheered on his boss.
Tyrone Blades just hit RMK with his devastating Click Clack, Mark wobbled to the ropes, Tyrone charged at him and Mark just went flying over the top ropes. It was odd looking, he wondered if that kind of strange contact happened to him too. He rubbed his eyes and gave his big sister a worried look.
“Hey Veronica, maybe you should go wait for me in your car or somethin. He’s going to come charging back here all pissed off, probably won’t be a good sight for you.” She patted her little brothers arm and walked away. BigRoad figured he was probably fired by Mark at this point. What a disaster of a night for Mark, first his white sand attack was successful of Titus, but then his Voltron Suplex was kicked out of! What kind of superman is Titus anyway? BigRoad couldn’t believe all of those TMZ fans around him either, it was brilliant! He almost laughed at the thought of it all, one wicked right cross and I’d be looking for a new job right now.
“Did you see that shit?! Did you see that fat son of a bitch?! How in the flying fuck is he even able to walk, dude?!?! Whaaaat?!” Mark Keaton arrived on the scene exactly as BigRoad predicted, riled up, sweaty and pissed off. RMK then kicked over a water jug and the plastic barrel rolled right down the hall spilling water everywhere.
“He should be in an old folks home right now, writing his autobiography or something man! What the hell is going on around here?” Mark paced around, pulling at his blonde hair.
“It’s a modern miracle, boss.” BigRoad shook his head, trying his best to show that he cared.
“And what about that sexy beast who came in at number 17?!” Mark gave BigRoad a frying pan chop to his chest that stung like crazy.
“Ha! Sorry boss, I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about that, not even you.” He lied, rubbing his chest.
“You know what,” Mark took a calming breath, “to be honest man, I was scared when I saw you walking down that ramp. I instantly regretted every negative thing I ever said to you. But then it hit me, we’re pals, we are gonna ROLL through these bastards, YA! Speaking of that, what the hell happened to you anyway? I turned around and you were eliminated from the match.”
“I got hit by Triple X, I think it was a kick or something, then next thing I knew I was rolling around the outside like a beached whale.”
“Ya, well. That shit happens all the time in WZCW. You have to be careful man, so many dangerous wrestlers left and right. But I think you’re gonna be a force in the future. Look at The Beard, he’s doing quite well for himself with a limited schedule. That will suit you perfectly. Put er there dude.”
BigRoad looked at Mark’s high five offer, “We hug in my family.”
Mark pushed him away. “Hey, we don’t hug in my family jackass. Now give me a high five so I can go take a fucking shower.”
They high fived. Mark walked away and pushed his way into the men’s locker room. Big Bad Roady smiled and heaved his travel bag up to his shoulder.
We really don't hug in my family.
2 Days Later ---- Toronto Ontario Canada -----
Today wasn’t going to be a good day….
A heavy row of bushes blocked the small, three-bedroom house from the view on Steve St. in western Toronto. The thunderous roar of a 1991 Harley Davidson Fat Boy motorcycle let the community know that BigRoad was home. BigRoad let out one final roar of the engine before turning it off. He removed his black helmet and sat it on his knee for a moment. He stared at his parent’s house with a bit of shame, he didn’t visit nearly as often as he wanted to. But he put his parents through so much in the past 10 years that he almost didn’t feel like he belonged here anymore. He reluctantly got off of his bike and walked towards the house, he forced himself to take each step, he wanted to turn and run away instead. The family dog ran at him, the golden retriever was in his later stages in life, but it could still jump up for kisses.
“Renny! You little bugger! I thought you’d be dead by now, aww you are so cute! Who’s the cutest little pup pup?!” BigRoad grabbed Renny by the face and pushed his own to get maximum kisses, he loved the dog, memories of happier times were attached solely to the animal, so his heart filled when Renny was happy to see him. Renny jumped back down and kept close to his side as he continued his walk to the house. He walked in without knocking, the dog then took off into the kitchen to alert his father….
Silas Roady. Pale skinned, bushy eyebrows and a sunken face, Silas was the man of the house. He was the commander, he demanded respect, he was thin but in good shape. He gave the dog an annoyed stare as he hauled on his rolled cigarette at the table. Renny doing his best to try and get some kind of attention, almost shouting that they had a visitor. Silas already knew who was here, the roar of the motorcycle was unmistakable.
“Pops.” BigRoad nodded as he took a step in the kitchen, he put his helmet on the counter. He casually opened the refrigerator hoping to see a beer. But it was practically bare.
“Your mother is in the den, watching her stupid goddamn soaps.” Silas muttered, he grabbed a nearby glass of rum and took a sip. He returned his attention to the Toronto Newspaper sprawled out on the kitchen table.
“Uh huh. HEY MA!” BigRoad called out, he searched through the pantry and grabbed some crackers.
The sound of a chair creaking could be heard, then the sliding of house slippers.
Susan Roady walked into the kitchen, her moon shaped face delighted to see her son. She was a very overweight woman, causing her to have health problems. Stress lines covered her face and the years of suffering with a man she didn’t love was clearly evident in her eyes.
“My boy! I read you were finally fighting in the ring the other night!” She grabbed his cheek and pinched it. She filled the coffee pot with water and put it on.
“Stupid nonsense. Fake bullshit I always said. Get a real job, seriously.” Silas muttered, not taking his eyes away from the paper.
“Hush you! We’re very proud of you son. The way you lifted that little man up over your head! Your cousin Sal showed us the whole thing on the internet! You know what he’s like? A bigger fan than even you were at his age. Did Veronica talk to you? She said she was there that night. ”
“Ya ma, I talked to her, she gave me a lift to the airport. How have things been here?” BigRoad took a bite of a dry cracker, completely uncomfortable in his parent’s house. Knowing a fight could break out any moment.
“Well good, good. I joined a new book club with Marsha and Betty. Remember your little friends Peter and Norman you used to hang out with when you were ten? They just moved back to Toronto…”
“Sluts,” Silas grunted, “both of em, got about 50 fucking kids now.”
“Hush! We talk about books we’ve read. I’m reading…”
“Jesus Susan, nobody wants to hear about that shit.” Silas took a drag of his cigarette and gave her a dirty look. His eyes looked glazed over, one half closed, the sure-fire sign he was starting to get drunk, and not just regular drunk, asshole drunk.
“It’s fine ma. Renny looks to be in good shape though.” BigRoad tried to change the subject, he reached down and gave the dog a scratch behind his ears.
“Oh, he’s been struggling with the arthritis a little. He has his moments where he’s back to normal, then there’s days he can barely climb the stairs to his bed.”
“Y’know. There was a picture in the paper the other day. The one where you’re walkin down the ramp at the Lethal Bowl and you got on that ugly fuckin white shirt you always wear, Jesus Big Roady! When are you gonna throw that damn thing out?! It’s got sweat stains on it! Y’look like some stupid trailer park trash comin out like that!”
“Silas! You stop it! Stop that talk right now, you’ve been drinkin too much already today!”
BigRoad didn’t answer, he just looked away, red in the face and embarrassed about his white shirt. He was still wearing it under his heavy leather biker jacket. The same jacket he used to run around with his biker gang in.
“He’s outta shape Susan! How many times have I told him!? Cut back on the pop n chips! Look how fat he is now! Four-hundred-pound fat ass! Why can’t you be more like that Marvelous Marvin Keaton guy?! Look at his shape eh? Cut like Greek god, abs like a washboard. Guy probably gets more pussy than Wayne Newton!”
Dejected at the direction of the conversation, BigRoad picked up his helmet and walked out of the kitchen. Susan gave Silas a dirty look then followed her son out to the front door.
“Pay him no mind boy, I…we were very proud of you when you fought those bad guys. Just try not to seriously maim anyone O.k?” Susan rubbed his back, her voice quivering and breaking, trying not to cry at her situation. BigRoad pulled the helmet over his head to block her from seeing the tears welling up in his eyes. She grabbed his head and kissed the face shield.
“I love you son.”
BigRoad closed the door behind him. There was another chance to tell that son of a bitch how I really felt about him. But I was too afraid, yet again. The only man on the planet that can freeze me in my tracks with a stern voice, the only man who could make me break up with a Chinese girl, the only man who forced me to quit a job I really liked, who put me down constantly and never got any backlash from it. He was the devil in human form and there’s nothing I’ll ever do about it. My mother is trapped there and there’s nothing I’ll ever do about that either, I simply don’t care enough. He’s made me the heartless man I am today.
BigRoad started his motorcycle and let the engine tear through the silence. He saw the silhouette of his father through the curtains, standing in front of his mother, screaming at her for whatever reason. He revved the engine, but that didn’t do anything to stop his father from screaming at her. He blinked away tears as he prepared to pull away…. but then he saw it, a vicious backhand swipe from his father, the silhouette from his mother falling away, presuming she had fallen from the blow.
His brain went numb, all hurt feelings vanished, the only thing remaining now was pure hatred, anger and most of all….
The bike fell to the driveway roughly and the engine stalling out. He pulled the black helmet from his bald head and threw it over the bushes. Big Road stormed his way towards the closed front door, he raised his boot and kicked the door in, splitting it right in half. Silas turned in the entry of the kitchen, his jaw open in shock, his pock marked face somehow turning paler than ever. Susan was crawling her way to her feet with the help of the couch cushion. He looked at his mother with sorrow, then turned his attention to the devil standing in the kitchen.
Renny stood at the far end of the kitchen, barking at everyone but not advancing, just reacting to everything.
“You fat fucking bitch! You’re paying for that door!” Silas picked up the empty glass on the table and launched it at BigRoad, the glass missed by a mile and shattered on the wall behind him. The 457-pound man charged into the kitchen and picked up Silas by the neck, he slammed him face first into the fridge door, creating a little star shaped blood splatter as his nose broke on impact. He then picked up Silas and sat him down at the table. He picked up the chair next to him then swung it with all his might, the chair smashed across Silas’s chest and head, breaking into a hundred pieces and flying all over the kitchen. Silas fell to his back on the floor, blood all over his face and knocked out.
“Ma,” BigRoad walked into the living room, “pack your things, your moving in with your sister until I can make enough to buy you your own house. You are not living with that pile of horse shit anymore.”
As if waiting for that very confirmation in her life, Susan rushed upstairs to her room to pack a couple of bags. BigRoad felt heroic, cleansed. Even Renny the dog came up to him and licked his hand, thankful that somebody finally gave Silas a good beating.
His phone in pocket vibrated, his looked at it.
Big Bad Roady let out a hearty laugh.......
today was a good day after all.
Join WZCW now.
Last edited by Jeff Deliverer of Mail : 04-04-2018 at 07:26 PM.
------2 days after Lethal Lottery ------
Mark Keaton stepped out of the green 85’ Lincoln Continental with an air of pure confidence. His blonde hair combed down flat, his dark brown sunglasses on with a black dress shirt with a high collar, pulled sharp, heavy cologne sprayed on, beige dress pants with alligator shoes, it would make Larry from Three’s Company blush. He walked in the lobby like he owned the place, took the elevator up to the top floor, then strolled down the hall towards the office of Chuck Myles. He could hear the finalization of a debate, the door swung open and some young men stormed out, unhappy that they didn’t get the job. Mark hated negotiations, it was the very last thing he wanted to do. He was still sore from working out earlier too. Mark took a breath, remembering the words of his former V.I running mate, Xander Labelle….
“Don’t be afraid to listen, make sure you’re paying attention to what his wants are, then you can adjust them to YOUR wants…”
Mark nodded, my wants.
“DO NOT give anything away without getting something back in return, never walk out with a ZERO score Mark….”
Mark put his hand on the door handle, took a breath and walked in.
“Oh, come ON! Can’t I get five minutes to myself today? Sorry, sorry Mark, that was uncalled for and unprofessional, please have a seat.” Chuck poured himself a glass of water and offered one to Mark, who declined.
“Did you uh….lose a bet or something?” Chuck pointed to Mark’s dress shirt as he sat back and drank his water.
“What? Come on Chuck,” Mark flipped his collar to make it sharper, “this is the bee’s knees and you know it.”
“What can I help you with? Other than your entrance budget.”
“Listen man,” Mark adjusted in his seat so he leaned forward a little closer to the desk, “I’m not stupid alright, I know it was you who is responsible for Stormrage to be back in WZCW. It has your fingerprints all over it!”
“Well, I can’t take ALL the credit Mark, his recovery is quite remarkable.”
“Ya, sure. Sure, go there then.”
“I’m sure the fans enjoyed it, I bet the ring practically shook from the noise of the crowd when his entrance music played.”
“Well, I don’t care what his agenda is, I don’t care what happens or how Kingdom Come is shaped, I want Stormrage one on one, on your show, Ascension! Now get this…” Mark jumped to his feet, talking wildly with his hands now...
“….an electrified steel cage match, best two out of three falls, the loser gets thrown in a pit of fire! Come on man! Make it happen!”
I want to finish off Stormrage, but Chuck doesn’t need to know that.
“No. That’s not what we’re doing.”
Chuck’s cellphone rang on his desk, he held a finger up, then flipped open his phone to speak into it.
Mark chewed his bottom lip as he sat down. Not a good start, they’re probably going to throw me vs Tyrone Blades or some stupid shit like that. I already beat Tyrone Blades twice, I don’t need to prove myself against him anymore. Look at the guy, smugly talking away on his cell phone, completely disrespecting me, the most charismatic, sexiest, fittest bastard this company has ever seen and I’m getting treated like this. I should take that stupid cell phone out of his hand and throw it out the window. Maybe. Nah, what could I do here? He’s disrespecting me, I have to show a strong hand here myself, he can’t take advantage of me like this. I know! Ha ha! I’ll light a smoke, these idiots can’t handle indoor smoke now-a-days.
Mark lit a smoke and sat back, blowing a wave of second hand smoke in the air.
Chuck covered the mouthpiece of the cell phone and leaned forward a little, “Can you put that out Mark? You can’t smoke inside.”
Mark just blew two streams of smoke out of his nostrils. He continued smoking.
Get off of your cell phone, you rude son of a bitch!
“I’ll call you back later.” Chuck flipped his phone closed.
“Where were we?” Mark dropped his cigarette in Chuck’s glass of water.
“We’re not doing Stormrage vs Keaton on Ascension, what we are doi….”
“Listen, listen Chuck. Come on now. You want to beat Meltdown in the ratings, right man? You can’t beat Meltdown if you have Yemrez vs Keaton, I’d suplex that idiot right out of the company!”
“Might be a bit late for that, but here’s what we’re doing…”
“Listen, Chucky, I want Stormrage on Ascension, I’m not taking any other wrestler on the roster. I won’t show up dude, you can fine me, you can fire me. I want Stormrage. Steel cage, best two out of three falls, barbed wire and electrified cage too. First wrestler to light the other’s hair on fire wins….”
“O.K Mark, shut up for second! On Ascension, it’s going to be Live Mas vs Mark Keaton and….”
“What?! Live Mas?! Probably the greatest tag team ever assembled? Fuck! FINE! Who’s my tag team partner then? Mr. Sabotage man! Who am I getting?! Huh?! Backstage Bob? Johnny Klamor? Make sure the heroes get that pop on Ascension to crank up the ratings, pair me with one of the refs?”
“Big Bad Roady.”
Mark raised his eyebrows.
“Are you serious right now?”
“Serious as ever Mark.”
“So his first match ever in the company was The Lethal Lottery Match, probably the hardest match to win in the history of wrestling. Now you’re pitting him against one of the best tag teams of all time? Live Mas? He’s never been in a tag team match before?! Look, it’s easy to beat these guys one on one, I’ve already been there, done that. But the power of Live Mas is a different story. This might be too much for the rookie!”
“Well, it’s a great test for the man. Is there anything else I can help you with? I’m a very busy GM today.” Chuck gave Mark a final, tired look.
Mark just shook his head, took out his cell phone then left the office without saying a word. He walked down the hallway alone. Big Bad Roady, probably my only friend in the world right now outside family. He pulled up BigRoad’s number and hovered his finger over the call button. He stopped walking, realization setting in….
…..this is where I was way back in my first few matches in WZCW. I was just a headstrong rookie, thinking I could conquer the world of wrestling on my own….then Justin Cooper came along and changed my life forever. Memories came flooding in of his friendship with Cooper, the training, the work out sessions, the partying, the lessons of life and wrestling.
Now it’s my turn to pass on what I’ve learned….just like Master Yoda.
Mark opened a text window under BigRoad’s contact, he fired off a text to his new best pal.
Join WZCW now.
Granpa: You mad?
Matt: Well, what do you think!?
Granpa: Yeah. I'd be mad too. They played your old theme song again. Why can't they get that straight?
I slam the phone hard against the table just bugged by Granpa's attempt at sarcasm. Though, he was right. My damn theme song keeps getting messed up and now I'm mad about two things.
Granpa: Matt. Your phone.
And now make it three. I broke the phone. Again. But Granpa seems to have enough of that. He gets up and looks at me. He went from sarcastic to serious in an instant. He grabbed his cane and that's the moment I knew I had to take him seriously so I got up with him.
Granpa: Look at me. You are not going to let this defeat throw you out. You will continue on your road to Kingdom Come.
Matt: Really now? How? I lost the Lethal Lottery. And I was left out of the Elite Openweight League even though I was owed a rematch. Granpa, I hate to say it, but I'd say we're shit out of luck.
Granpa: Really now? The stars aligned for you at the Lottery and you don't see how? I didn't take you for blind, Grandson. Now, lets go. We have to keep going.
We picked our stuff up and headed out on our way to Italy of all places. And off we went. But when we got to Italy, I didn't expect what I was getting.
Milan. Big cathedrals, people in extremely weird clothes. We stuck out like sore thumbs. Granpa with an old t-shirt and worn out slacks. Me with jean shorts and merch shirt. It was clear we didn't belong there. Then again, we did not care. As we walked the streets I turned to Granpa.
Matt: You keep talking about my road to Kingdom Come. You clearly know something that I don't. Care to fill me in?
Granpa just stopped and stood there. I waited for a response but it didn't seem like it was coming. Then, he tapped his cane against the ground. As he did last time, I started to have an odd feeling around me. As I look to my surroundings, something was clearly up. No people. The strangely clothes Milan locals had suddenly vanished. As I looked around I saw nothing but the streets. As I looked at the intersections and such, I spotted something. One person. A man. Also dressed in simplistic clothes. I approached him. As I did, behind me I could start to see people again. But the man was clear within my sight. Is this what Granpa meant by my road to Kingdom Come? I approached the man and as I did, it became clear who it was. And the memories of the Lethal Lottery came flooding back along with an assortment of new feeling that grew because of the match.
Matt: Fancy meeting you here.
The man turns around.
Mikey: Matt!! Dude, it's been too long! Well, besides the Lottery. How've you been, man?
Matt: Wouldn't you like to know? Here I was dead worried about you for months, then it turns out you bailed for the Himalayas and just left. You finally decide to come back and end up getting both of us eliminated. Now we're both shit out of luck for a main event.
Mikey goes from happy to not pleased at my words as he turns firmly towards me and looks right at me. I could see the anger boil inside of him. And it started to give me a tingle. A sense of excitement that was peaking my curiosity. I wanted to see more of that. To maybe make that anger come out. Things started to feel like they were making sense now.
Mikey: I'm sorry, but are you blaming me, Matt? It's not my fault I was injured and left. And it's not my fault you've absolutely sucked since I left and you came back from your injury at last year's Kingdom Come.
I saw the sparks light over the tinder. A small ember was started to burn. And it's warmth started to catch my eye. Mesmerizing me. I wanted to make it grow.
Matt: I may have had my down's but I'm still winning titles. But you. To think I was sticking up for you after Mark Keaton injured you. And then it turns out you did it. The thing I hate the most. Mikey, you flaked.
Any joy I saw in him when we met up left his eyes with what I said. I started to see the fire growing. So I kept going.
Mikey: I..... flaked? You're mad that I decided to take care of myself. You're mad that I decided to go and take care of my mental injuries. That's you right now. I shouldn't be surprised. You're always so Goddamn selfish.
I loved it. Hearing his anger. I could see it now. It's clear. The road is clear to me. At least I thought so. Because then I hear the cane again. And suddenly, Mikey is not there. And I'm in a hotel room with Granpa.
Matt: What the hell happened? Where am I? Where's Mikey?
Granpa: You were thinking of Mikey, huh? Good.
Matt: Wait, why?
Granpa: Because I just got a message saying you and him are teaming up against Mark Keaton and Big Bad Roadie.
Matt: Keaton. Great. The guy who started all this. To be honest, after everything that's gone down with that Vis Imperium group, I'm not all that interested. Especially if it's just a tag team match.
That wasn't very pleasant news. I'm not too happy hearing that I have to team up with the man I'm trying to court for a match. And again, another tag team match. Something else I'm not a fan of. But none the less, at least I have Mikey near me. I can manage something. But, what's with the cane? Question for later I suppose. For now, I have a match to get.
Time later without Matt knowing....
Granpa: Hello? Ah, yes. Ms. Serra. Yes. Everything seems to be going as planned. We didn't actually see Mikey Stormrage though, so I had to..... make Matt see him.
I always hated long flights.
"Virgin Australia from Sydney to Milan, Italy now boarding at gate eight."
I checked my ticket. Of course I didn't fly Virgin Airlines, I didn't fit the criteria. Suck it Branson.
The Sydney Airport was massive and I had a hard time navigating, but I was hungry. Most of the restaurants weren't native to America. SUre, they had McDonald's but they weren't my choice for corporate shilling so I had to settle for some local Aussie cuisine. Red Rooster had chicken and sounded fine, so I hit it up and ordered some nuggets and a Chicken, Chips, and Gravy Roll. When the food came out, I unwrapped the sandwich and found not chips, but fries on the sandwich. What the hell was this? I was outraged. Sure, it was delicious, but I wasn't happy. I demanded to see a manager.
"Can I help you sir?"
"Yeah, I ordered this sandwich with chips, but it came with fries instead. I'd just like it corrected."
"I can tell by your accent that you aren't from here. Here in Australia, we call fries, chips. Sorry for the confusion mate."
The old me would have been mad. Mad enough to pick up this greasy little wimp and slam him onto the counter, before grabbing my nuggets and running. I'd changed though. I had a whole year of relaxation and meditation training at a Buddhist Monastery. I was a changed man.
"Not an issue at all. Totally on me my guy. It tastes great regardless. Keep it up."
I shot him some finger guns as I walked off. As I was stuffing my face, I saw a store selling alcohol and made a detour. Okay, maybe I hadn't changed that much. I walked inside.
"Can I help you sir?"
The voice of a sales lady came from a few feet away as I shoved the rest of my nuggets into my mouth.
"No thanks, I'm just looking for now."
I said with a mouth full of partially chewed nuggets. She was repulsed and walked away quickly.
I browsed the aisles as quickly as I could after I heard the next announcement over the loudspeaker.
"Qantas Airways from Sydney to Milan, Italy now boarding at gate fifty two."
I grabbed a bottle of Wild Turkey and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red. On my way to the counter, I saw a bottle of Hennessy. Was I ready to make this mistake? I checked my ticket, I'd be spending almost an entire day in the air when all was said in done. So yes, I was ready to make this mistake. I grabbed the bottle and jogged to the register. I paid as quickly as I could. I slipped the bottles into my overhead bag and ran to my gate. The airport security was much more lax outside of America, which I was always grateful for. TSA was a pain in the ass, and I wasn't talking about my overly drawn out feud with Grand Mystique.
Once the plane was in the air, the drinking began. Truth be told, I didn't remember much, but I know at one point I dozed off and had a rather vivid dream.
"I'm here with recently returned superstar Mikey Stormrage. Mikey, how does it feel to be back?"
"Oh Leon-o, it feels wonderful-0. WZCW is my home, the fans my family-0. The guys and gals in the back my brothers and sisters-o. Which makes the fact that I've been intimate with the World Champion a little weird-o"
I laughed, then grabbed Leon in a headlock.
"Mostly, I'm happy to be back because I get to torment you again my guy-o."
I released Leon, who fixed his hair.
"Why are you talking like that?"
"Since we are in Italy I'm just letting all my piasans know I'm down with their culture. Pizza, spaghetti, Mario. All that fun stuff."
Leon shook his head.
"Your first match post Lottery is against the man who put you on the shelf, Mark Keaton, and his bodyguard turned wrestler, Big Bad Roadie. You must be anxious to get a measure of revenge on Keaton after what he did."
I nodded my head as Leon spoke.
"This is a ruthless business Leon. You do what you can to get ahead. I don't necessarily hold any ill will toward Keaton for what he did, because he was corrupted my Justin Cooper the entire time. A snake is a snake, and that is what Cooper was and what he turned Mark into. I know a thing or two about handling snakes though, I get enough practice before bed each night, so I'm confident I can handle Mark and his human thumb of a sidekick."
Before Leon could begin his next question I began to rock out on my air guitar, which I was a thousand times better at than Keaton. I continued to play while Leon spoke.
"How do you feel about reforming Live Mas one more time? You and Matt Tastic have a history."
"I want to say that it will be fun. I had a lot of good times pissing people off with our antics. Just good unclean fun. I'm not sure where Matt is mentally right now. During the Lottery, it was great to see him again and we had our moment. I haven't spoken to him since then though, despite me reaching out. Matt is a touchy guy, he can get his panties in a twist from time to time, and he is hard to handle when that happens. I'm confident though that we can rekindle that old magic we had and step foot on the road to Kingdom Come with a win."
I gave a big cheesy thumbs up to the camera.
"Anything you would like to add before we end this?"
"Do you know where Eve is staying? I'd like to congratulate her on winning the big one, in my own special way."
"I don't think she would be interested in seeing you."
"Well then, come si arriva in Piazza?"
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