Signal Panic Inc. presents
Action Saxton & Saboteur [size=-3]& Krypto[/size]
in
"Fistloose!"
"And that, brothers and sisters," roars the firey preacher, "is why we can't allow this demonic activity to continue any further, and definitely not in our town!"
The crowd gathered in the town hall roars in approval. There are, however, four individuals who are certainly not roaring. They are Action Saxton, Saboteur, Stan Rogers, and Krypto. The four look around the town hall with various expressions on their faces - Krypto with vacant albeit bemused delight, Saxton and Saboteur with confusion, Rogers with pure, unbridled fury. Saxton is the first to speak up.
"Sucka, why are we inside your flashback?" he asks.
"Why is everything in black-and-white?" asks Saboteur.
"Why is Mr. Saboteur behaving so strangely?" asks Krypto.
"Why are you whippersnappers worrying about petty details when there's a travesty afoot?" barks Stan Rogers. "Were you not listening to the man at the front?"
"Of course we weren't," Saboteur replies, "We only just got here, and town hall meetings are about as interesting as Josh Young vs. Armando Parady- Ow!"
His sentence devolves into a yelp as Stan Rogers cuffs him sharply where his ear should be.
"Learn to listen!" he snaps. "Kids these days..."
He grumbles to himself for a moment. Saxton remains silent, Krypto oblivious. Rogers sighs.
"Since I'm the only one of us with a working set of ears, let me tell you boys what just occurred! You see, I have a very important wrestling match tonight, one of the biggest of my career!"
From under his seat, Stan Rogers withdraws a poster. On it in large letters are emblazoned the words A GRUDGE MATCH HELD INSIDE A WRESTLING RING FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT TONIGHT. Underneath are blurry shapes vaguely resembling Stan Rogers and his presumed opponent. You can tell which one is meant to be Rogers, because the other one has hair. Rogers jabs a finger at the poster.
"Look at this! I will be engaging the dastardly dandy Handsome Harold in mortal combat tonight, and this town's church is trying to shut the event down!"
Krypto gasps. "Oh no!"
"Oh no is right!" exclaims Rogers.
"These guys are really going to shut down this thing?" asks Saboteur.
"They're going to try! They'll probably stand in front of the arena or something equally ridiculous! It is poor form, trying to rob a man of his living, especially by shutting down such an old and respected form of competition! Back in my day, the only thing we shut down were speakeasies, because prohibition was in full effect!"
"Sucka," Saxton pipes up. "Aren't we in your d-"
The preacher interrupts. "All in favor of protesting this demonic and satanic and vile and vicious and dastardly wrestling event that may turn our children into hooligans, say 'Aye!'"
"Aye!" roars the entire town hall.
The preacher bangs a gavel. "It is decided!"
The townspeople applaud loudly, leaving our heroes to sit, dejected, and wonder what this could mean.
---
An hour later, the four walk into a local bar and sit on stools together, still looking very glum. The flyer for the match is still clutched tightly in Stan Rogers' hand. Every so often he glances at it and sighs deeply into his beer.
"Cheer up, sucka," says Saxton. "We'll think of something. I mean, who the hell really wants wrestling banned?"
"Yeah!" says Saboteur. "I bet the townspeople don't really want to protest the event. They were just swept off their feet by the preacher's charisma and soothing southern accent."
He turns to a man sitting next to him at the bar.
"Hey, you're excited for the wrestling show tonight, right?"
"How dare you ask me such a question, young man!" exclaims the gentleman. "Wrestling is dishonorable and is contributing to the death of society by ruining the sanctity of the family lives and teaching our children horrible habits! It is unchristian and uncouth!"
Saboteur turns to the three. He shrugs. "It was worth a shot."
"Perhaps," sighs Rogers. "But perhaps the preaching man was right. There simply isn't a place in this world for wrestlers such as myself."
Saxton seizes Rogers by the shoulders and begins to shake him. His eyes are wild and wet with emotion as he yells at the man.
"Don't you say that!" he yells. "Don't you ever say that the world will not need wrestling or wrestlers! Sucka, with God as my witness, and Saboteur, and that goofy alien sucka, and as long as this blood runs through my veins and pumps in the hearts of people all around the world, there will always be a place for wrestling!"
He unhands Rogers, breathing heavily. Rogers makes sure he hasn't died before speaking. "That's all well and good, boy, but how do you propose we get the townsfolk to see it?"
Action Saxton takes the wrestling poster from Stan Rogers' hands. He stares at it for a few moments, and then smiles.
"Sucka," he says. "I have a plan."
----
"I do not think this is a very good idea."
"Nonsense, sucka! You look just like him!"
Action Saxton and Saboteur step back and admire their handiwork. If no one had told them, they would have assumed that Handsome Harold himself was standing right in front of them. Despite the fact that Krypto was much shorter than Harold, more oddly-proportioned than Harold, and the extent of the disguise was the poster wrapped around Krypto's head so that Harold's face lined up with his own, their alien buddy was a spitting image.
"But friends," protests Krypto, "Will I not stand out?"
"You're right!" exclaims Saboteur. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a long gray mop of curly hair. "Put this on!"
Krypto fumbles with the wig, managing to lodge it sideways onto his head. Saboteur gives him a thumbs up.
"Perfect."
The four turn towards the baseball diamond, where the local team, The Dodgers, were practicing.
"You boys are sure this will work, right?" asks Rogers.
"Sucka," responds Saxton, "if there is one thing in life that I can do, it is work."
He pokes Krypto in the back, propelling the alien towards the practicing baseball players.
"Mr. Saxton, I don't-"
"Go on, sucka! Just like we practiced!" Saxton barks.
Krypto swallows loudly and takes a step towards the baseball players. He clears his throat.
"E- Excuse me," he stammers.
The baseball players take no notice of him. He decides to try again.
"If you would please turn your attention to me, I would like to speak..."
One baseball player hits a home run. The rest cheer. Saxton groans. Krypto tries once more.
"E- E- Excuse me!" he squeaks. "I-"
He inhales, a slow deep breath. He lets it out in a burst of emotion.
"I don't particularly like baseball very much!"
The baseball players stop batting. The crickets stop chirping. Rogers, Saxton, and Saboteur stop breathing. Krypto, still in disguise, trembles, as one of the baseball players sizes him up with the evil eye.
"What did you say?" he asks the alien.
"I- I said that I don't particularly enjoy baseball," Krypto replies.
The baseball players all look at each other.
"Well, you know what we do to punks who don't like baseball?" asks the baseball player. He starts tapping his bat against the ground as he slowly starts to walk towards Krypto, who is shaking violently. "We batter 'em up!"
"Hold your horses, young man!"
At Saboteur's urges, Stan Rogers steps up next to 'Handsome Harold'. The baseball player looks at him.
"Who are you supposed to be?"
"I," says Stan Rogers, frowning, "am Stan Rogers! And this, young man, is the devilish and dastardly Handsome Harold, whom I am scheduled to compete with!"
"Tonight!" hisses Saxton from the sidelines.
"Yes!" exclaims Rogers. "Tonight! I am scheduled to face the dastardly Handsome Harold tonight!"
"In a wrestling match!" whispers Saboteur urgently.
"I am scheduled to face Handsome Harold in a wrestling match tonight in the ring at the Grand Old Stadium!" says Rogers, impressively.
The baseball players look at each other.
"I thought the church man said that wrestling was banned?" asks one.
"Yes and no!" says Rogers quickly. "You see, he said that he wishes people to boycott, but I am asking you as a felow athlete, as an all-American boy and a lover of baseball, would you not prefer to be able to watch me exact my revenge on this villain?"
The baseball players huddle up. After a few moments, they break.
"You know, you're right," says one of the baseball players. "We want to see you kick Handsome Harold's teeth in!"
"Excellent!" says Rogers. "I trust you will be at the Grand Old Stadium tonight at seven-o-clock?"
"I will!"
"I hope my momma lets me go."
"Great! Great!" says Rogers. "I will see you boys there! Keep living cleanly and playing America's pasttime, boys!"
He turns around, dragging Krypto to Saboteur and Saxton.
"Hell yeah, sucka!" whoops Saxton once they are out of earshot. "What did I tell you? What did I tell you?"
"We aren't done yet," says Saboteur, grimly.
"While I am glad our plan was successful, I don't understand why those strange striped creatures were swinging large poles in my direction," says Krypto, still in his disguise. "As far as I know, humans do not celebrate the tradition of Zwarnigoop."
"So, boys," says Rogers, clapping his hands together. "Where shall we hit next?"
Where indeed! Through the day, the quartet perform their skit in such places as the local rollerskating rink...
"Wheels are dangerous and only ruffians use them!"
...The park...
"Many of you are carrying around silly umbrellas when it is not even raining!"
...The local bakery...
"I've always found apple pie to be particularly unpleasant!"
...The Sewing Club For Women...
"I believe knitting to be the superior craft!"
...The Smoking Cigars And Complaining About Your Hard Day At Work Club For Men...
"Women's ankles are not in and of themselves obscene, and thus there is nothing wrong with slightly shorter skirts!"
...And the local swing music festival.
"I'm not exactly sure what a glockenspiel actually is!"
By the time seven-o-clock rolls around, the area outside of the arena is stuffed to the gills. Action Saxton and Saboteur step back to admire their handiwork. Krypto has shed his disguise and is breathing easily for the first time in several hours. Stan Rogers almost smiles.
At the front of the crowd is the preacher, who is loudly yelling over the hullabaloo.
"Brothers and sisters," he cries, "this hunger that the Devil himself has put into your souls is consuming you! He wishes to tempt you and confound you with his evil and despicable ways, and this 'wrestling' is just another distraction from the good in the world! Fire and brimstone is all that awaits you should you choose to go through with this!"
But his words are lost as the crowd starts chanting.
"We want wrestling!" they chant. "We want wrestling! We want wrestling!"
Stan Rogers strides forward, parting the crowd like the Red Sea, with Krypto, Saxton, and Saboteur behind him. He marches to the doors and throws them open, and the crowd roars.
----
"Ladies and gentlemen, it is now time for your main event of the evening!"
The packed stadium cheers in approval as the announcer calls. In the front row, Action Saxton, Saboteur, and Krypto similarly cheer and yell. In the ring are Stan Rogers, Handsome Harold, a referee, and the announcer.
"Introducing first of all, coming to us from the city of St. Louis, Missouri, he weighs in tonight at 260 lbs. and stands at 6 feet, 3 inches tall, the "Strongman" Stan Rogers!"
The crowd becomes unglued as Stan Rogers crosses his arms in acknowledgment. He eyes Handsome Harold, who is spraying the ring with perfume.
"And his opponent for tonight has come to us from the hills of Hollywood, weighing in at 259 lbs. and he stands at 6 feet, 2 inches tall. He is currently spraying the ring with a perfume of a sort, but I must remind him tonot use too much, for the only wetness we wish to have in this ring is the perspiration from the competitors' heaving bodies. Ladies and gentlemen, "The Human Chrysanthemum" Handsome Harold!"
The crowd boos loudly. Handsome Harold hands the referee his spritzer, and retreats to his corner. He grabs a microphone from the announcer before looking out into the crowd.
"I would just like you all to know," he says, "that I am not a fan of your city!"
He hands the microphone to the referee, soaking in the chorus of boos that now rain down on him and eyeing Rogers looking very dastardly indeed. With the arena packed, our heroes in the front row, and everyone on the edges of their seats, the referee calls for the bell.
Immediately, the two wrestlers approach each other and tie up. The crowd rumbles with anticipation. After three minutes of strength-testing, Stan Rogers manages to lock in a headlock and the crowd becomes unglued. Rogers yanks on Harold's head, the crowd's cheering becoming more and more pronounced. However, Harold manages to reverse out of the hold, and locks in a headlock. The crowd starts booing raucously, stomping their feet.
Stan Rogers is struggling inside Harold's deadly headlock, but being the all-American wrestler he is, manages to cleverly power out. The crowd awaits his next move with bated breath. They can feel it coming, and they can't wait, and - yes! A headlock! The crowd is on their feet! Well, most of it.
"Sucka, I am starting to get the feeling that this is not the wrestling we are used to," says Saxton.
"You got that right," Saboteur replies.
The crowd has started booing loudly, as Harold has managed to trap Rogers in his deadly signature hold, the headlock. Rogers is fading, his eyes rolling, the crowd screaming, the men roaring and the women sobbing into their man's shoulders. But suddenly, despair turns into jubilation! Sadness into delight! Upset into pleasure! For you see, Stan Rogers has managed to do the impossible, and hit Harold with his trademarked special hold, the headlock! Harold crumples to the ground and Rogers shoots the half!
One! Two! Three!
The crowd explodes in delight, hugging each other and jumping up and down. Men, women, and children are sobbing with happiness as Stan Rogers celebrates the defeat of the evil villain Handsome Harold. Saxton and Saboteur look at each other, and then at the emotional and sobbing Krypto.
"C'mon, sucka," he says, dragging Krypto by the head into the aisle. "Let's get out of here."
The three of them leave, leaving Stan Rogers to bask in the cheers of the fans.
---
"You know, sucka, wrestling has changed."
The three sit at the bar, drinking their chocolate malts. Saxton continues.
"It's a lot different now then it was back then. Or back now. Whatever. But I think we learned a lot. Like that we can powerbomb bears, go through bees, and defeat entire churches. And if we can defeat this church through the power of wrestling, I see nothing stopping us defeating the New Church through the power of wrestling."
Saboteur sips his malt through his mask. He stares at Krypto, who is still blubbering over the power and emotion of Stan Rogers's victory. "Did you just try to shoehorn a moral into a flashback?"
"You're damn right I did, sucka," says Saxton. "You're damn right I did."
The two of them sip their malts happily.
