Post by M.D.K. on Jun 24, 2018 18:44:38 GMT -5
We open up at a science fair at an elementary school where a hall is filled with the hustle and bustle of eager, young minds that are trying to expand their minds with teachers determined to stifle their self-loathing for half a day to award these children with an award for being the least mediocre in a mass of ordinary minds. A little like the WGWF outside of the World Heavyweight Championship scene some might say…
The small group of teachers are traipsing from stand to stand to investigate each table in turn while stifling yawns and snorts of derision as the children have made solar systems from various spherical objects in a giant middle finger to the flat earth society, there are an assortment of electrical appliances being run by potatoes including what a child has described as his mum’s ‘back massager.’ which won’t be winning a rosette today. As they get to the end of a row though, they reach an empty table and look confused. As they do, the doors burst open and in dashes M.D.K in a white shirt with a tie wrapped around his head like a school boy on the last day of term with Alyce skipping in behind him wearing an outfit less suitable for a school unless it was being produced by Brazzers… The teachers all look up with raised eyebrows as M.D.K drops a box filled with assorted pieces of paraphernalia and a large bottle which he carefully dumps down.
Teacher 1: “Are you a student at this place of education?”
M.D.K.: “Did the stubble give the game away?”
Teacher 1: “The fact that you are clearly a forty year old man…”
M.D.K: “I’m in my thirties you prick!”
Alyce leans in and whispers at the teachers with a wink.
Alyce: “He’s just had a very tough life…”
Teacher 1: “So… why are you here?”
M.D.K.: “Have the production team not been in touch?”
Teacher 1: “What?”
The headteacher beside him has his phone ring at this point and his brow furrows at first before a smile spreads across his face as the call continues. He ends the call and he leans into the teacher’s ear and whispers something and suddenly a smile also creeps across his face and his demeanour towards the World Heavyweight Champion changes.
Teacher 1: “You have an entry for the Science Fair then sir?”
M.D.K: “I certainly do… take a look at this…”
He rearranges the paper mache mountains and manufactures it into a replica of Hawaii’s Big Island with a large, flat mountain in the centre of the display.
M.D.K: “This is Hawaii’s Big Island and today I will be focussing on the effects that a volcano such as Killer Whale…”
Teacher 2: “Do you mean Kilauea?”
M.D.K.: “It’s an ooga boogah place where crystal meth head surfers with shit tattoos are in high concentration… does it matter what we call it? Soon they will all be dead anyway.”
The first teacher turns to the head-teacher with a look of concern.
Teacher 1: “Are we sure about this?”
Headteacher: “For the money his production team offered us, he can support Trump for all I care…”
He turns back to M.D.K with a warm smile.
Teacher: “So tell us about your project…”
M.D.K: “Well not many people seem to understand the varying levels of volcano around the world. Many think it’s essentially an ejaculating cock on the landscape of the earth in that is stands erect and proud out of the ground like a mighty phallus spewing hot fluid for miles around…”
Alyce: “Like you when we had a couple of weeks apart…”
A nearby mother places her hands over the ears of her wide-eyed, mouth agape child while the father stands with a huge grin etched across his face until the mother offers a slap of disapproval.
M.D.K.: “When in reality, volcanoes are fare more complex than that. The volcano that has been all over the news is in face a shield volcano…So rather than spurting out in one direction, it emerges in multiple directions in various locations and amounts.”
Alyce: “Like your early morning piss that ends up over the seat?”
M.D.K: “A little like that only more widespread and without the nagging woman complaining about it…”
She rolls her eyes and M.D.K continues.
M.D.K: “So if the lava flow were to seep across this area…”
He opens the liquid container from earlier and a few people immediately recoil from the odour… He pours some of the fluid across the model and it immediately engulfs it and melts the model while part of the desk catches fire. Alyce is on hand with a hand held extinguisher which she puts to good use. M.D.K pulls half a dozen Hawaiian Hardhead action figures out of the bag - all of which have been customised in one way or another - and places them on the table. Some have been given grey hair, some have been given glasses, some have been places into dresses. All of them are still clearly Hardhead. M.D.K holds up an original Hardhead figure that hasn’t gone through any budget customisation and juggles it between his hands.
M.D.K.: “It won’t surprise you to know how easily available these were to get. In some shops they were the only ones left to buy…
The other teacher leans into the smouldering desk and looks concerned as he takes asniff of the desk.
Teacher 2: “Is that…”
M.D.K.: “Can all questions be saved for afterwards please? Now if we see what happens if we put it across some standard Hawaiian people… Oh… wait a minute.”
He takes out a Sharpie marker and draws crude breasts across the chest of one of the action figures before attaching a tag to it that reads “Carlene” and smirks as he picks up the flask again and carefully pours the fluid across the toys and smirks as they contort and blacken before melting and igniting. Fire alarms begin to go off as the table now fully ignites, the extinguisher is now spent and the fire rages across the desk. Panic begins to swell up amongst the crowd buy M.D.K remains unmoved as he continues his presentation.
M.D.K.: “Do you see how they burn and contort and are scorched to nothing but ash? There is something far more important that should be noted though… While the loss of life may be important to those in close proximity and the physical damage to property may have some value. Because they are Hawaiian, the actual value to life is nominal and in fact the more that die, the more valuable everybody else’s life will become!”
Soon the smoke overtakes the school hall and screaming can be heard through corridors. We cut quickly to M.D.K standing outside the school arm in arm and watching as fire engines arrive to tackle the now out of control blaze.
Alyce looks to M.D.K and smiles at him.
Alyce: “Happy now?”
M.D.K.: “The classic sound of an American school. Screams of fear and children cowering. The only thing missing is a social outcast in a trench coat.”
Alyce: “You do know that Hardhead comes from Florida?
M.D.K: “Huh?”
Alyce: “His whole Hawaiian schtick is about his heritage. He was born and raised in Florida.”
M.D.K.: “And what fun could I have had with that? Throw a few oranges at some old people and feed them to a fucking crocodile?”
Alyce: “Alligators…”
M.D.K.: “What?”
Alyce: “It is alligators native to Florida and not crocodiles…”
M.D.K.: “Fuck me are you here to be a partner in my antics or be Buzz Killington?”
Alyce: “Don’t mind me. I’m here to drink in the chaos and be here for you… my love.”
M.D.K.: “Well don’t get too excited. We have a flight to catch and a dullard to dissect.”
We cut to a flight montage to indicate that travel in in effect and we are treated to a few of the landmarks that Spain has to offer before seeing the sights of Barcelona which plays home to the WGWF this week. It is a big occasion for the city and the excitement has seen a variety of events. The one right now on the top floor luxury of Torre Agbar - the tallest building in Barcelona - and home to a WGWF press conference where a spokesman for the powers that be has just delivered the corporate bullshit and has introduced the main attraction. The holder of the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship… While he talks, the man himself is backstage with his beau who has a familiar faraway look in her eye.
M.D.K.: “Everything OK?”
She snaps out of her train of thought and stares at M.D.K blankly.
Alyce: “Huh?”
M.D.K.: “Are we alright? You have been a little vague since I cashed in my claim and regained what is truly mine.”
Alyce: “It’s fine…”
M.D.K. tilts his head to one side and narrows his eyes at his love.
M.D.K.: “Are you sure? Because you sound anything but to be honest.”
Alyce: “I told you it’s fine! I have shared the innermost feelings of mine as well as introducing you to a world that I have never opened up to anybody in the past and yet you couldn’t tell me that you were cashing in?”
M.D.K.: “I wanted to tell you, I truly did but I just couldn’t bring myself to. It’s not that I didn’t trust you…”
Alyce: “Then what?”
M.D.K.: “I guess I couldn’t let anybody remotely close to having a bite of the cherry into the loop. Any chance of jeopardising me taking my rightful seat on the throne again. I just couldn’t accept that no matter what we are or how much I feel for you, the competitive streak that runs through me just couldn’t allow that to happen.”
She looks down and M.D.K. pushes her chin back up and kisses her deeply. He defences melt a little as he smiles at her.
M.D.K.: “You are the only person to genuinely have my number. To have seen beneath the shields. What’s mine is as good as yours my queen…”
He bows to her and smiles and a smile breaks across her face. He gestures towards the door.
M.D.K.: “Do you want to come out there with me?”
Alyce: “This is your moment. I wouldn’t want to overshadow you.”
She smiles and winks at M.D.K. who laughs in response but then turns to the door as he hears his name bellowed and the opening bars to “Charlie Big Potato” begins to play. M.D.K. kisses Alyce one more time before turning to the door and he begins to walk down the short corridor. He flings the door open and emerges into an open office floor where the air is filled with flashbulbs erupting and the chatter of the shutters all going off in unison. M.D.K. sneers at the gathered dignitaries and journalists as he steps up to the podium and taps the title that rests on his shoulder. Clad in a slate grey suit, he leans onto the lectern and smirks.
M.D.K.: “Peons, camperols i formigues… Sou benvingut.”
The fact that he opted to open up dialogue in Catalan rather than Spanish after the dispute has been hotly debated in the country that has nearly led to a civil war in the past few months. The murmur dies down and M.D.K. continues.
M.D.K.: “Here I am in what I am supposed to call glorious Barcelona and I have been given a crib sheet where I am supposed to be polite about the area and the people and the hospitality but let’s be honest, you people have done a fucking number on us haven’t you?”
“We could have held Brawl in a venue that could hold a significant number of people, we could have sold out the Nou Camp or Palau Sant Jordi but no… you people sold our powers that be on performing in a fucking SHOPPING CENTRE… So while you capitalist dogs stock up on trinkets and nonsense, we will be putting our bodies on the line for you in the name of entertainment while I participate in a glorified bullfight against an ox of a man in the Hawaiian Hardhead.”
“But you people don’t care for that. You don’t care about the here and now because that’s coming your way for free on a shiny, silver platter available no doubt at a retailer in this fucking shopping mall. What you care about is the Brawl after this where once again a potato has a chance to be in the spotlight and to have half a fucking heartbeat where he realises what it’s like to be the man… even if he’s simply bathing in the light of somebody else. What I did two shows ago was liberate the World Heavyweight Championship, I saved it from being attached to mediocrity, ineptitude and the epitome of pathetic. Last week should have been a public celebration of something incredible and unexpected. Like when Seal Team Six dumped a bag of sand into the ocean and called is Osama Bin Laden or when Queen Elizabeth the First oversaw your Spanish Armada get skittled by a brave British fleet…”
Hostility rises in the room. M.D.K. smirks and drinks it down and continues.
M.D.K.: “I could have pulled the trigger whenever I wanted and the very fact of that had Slater sweating. I thought he could have held onto it and set up the clash of the two greatest in this company… but once again, when it came to the crunch… he went and choked and rather than see the title be tarnished, I rescued it and raised its profile once more to what it deserves to be.”
“So on the Brawl after this, I make the vegetable realise that he is way out of his depth once more when he goes toe to toe with me and at Summer Madness… at the grandest stage of them all in front of my countrymen… the greatest venue in sport in the greatest country in the world… I will render all of the pretenders to my throne truly… and utterly… as they say in English, Spanish and even your fucking peasant language…”
A murmur of discontent rises up again and one person even tries to rush the stage only to be accosted by security as an amused M.D.K. is able to reel off one more word before being hurried away by road agents as the crowd become unruly.
M.D.K.: “INFERIOR!!”
He is rushed off by security personnel as the crowd lose control of their emotions. M.D.K. is rushed away but continues to laugh maniacally as the camera pans out across the Barcelona skyline and now focusses on the major icon of the Spanish city’s skyline. The multi towered Sagrada Familia cathedral of Barcelona. Inside its glorious interior, we find M.D.K. stood between the pews and caressing them as he walks towards to front of the grandiose place of worship. He stands at the altar at the front and picks his title up from it and places it proudly on his shoulder before speaking.
M.D.K.: “La Sagrada Familia… or Sacred Family. A place of worship that is many things and not really any of them. Now before you all get worried, I’m not going to get a God complex, ask for a repeated black-outs and then disappear without a trace…”
A wink to the camera before continuing.
M.D.K.: “But you see, this place has pushed to be a cathedral for years and yet because it is missing so many components, it is merely a minor basilica… What that means is despite it looking impressive, it’s simply something far less than its appearance allow you to believe. That’s a lot like you isn’t it Hardhead? Fuck that noise… I’m going to call you Jack because well… that’s your name as opposed to being some Borden derogatory term like calling you sport or champ…”
“What I mean is that you might have a tag team victory over myself, a victory of sorts against my beloved and you might have a little momentum and a few of the fans are calling your name. But for that grand list of appearances and narrow victories, what exactly are you? I mean, nobody will ever take you seriously as a top level contender because you have the look of every pro-wrestler of the eighties and nineties with the life expectancy to match. Sadly for me though… you aren’t dead yet so this week on Brawl I have to endure your presence in the middle of the ring.”
“And yes… I hope you enjoyed the fun from earlier on. I know how fond you are of school-yard tactics. I guess that’s a classic trait of the obese kid that always considered themselves to be a bit of a bully isn’t it? I mean you love a good comprehension exercise of study what has been given to you and spew back retorts parrot fashion because you are so fucking bereft of original material. It’s quite pitiful to be frank with you and that is why I feel that if your cute little endeavour to make yourself relevant is worthy of giving you a good effort sticker and telling you well done… because at least you’re trying aren’t you, you special little cunt?”
He offers a patronising smile and wink before continuing.
M.D.K.: “So why am I here? Simply because I am in Barcelona and feel obliged to use the surrounding area? Partly yes. But where better to cleanse my most treasured possession when it has been sullied for so long out of my grip. Firstly by Tristan and then almost by that complete fucking salad…”
He walks over to the font and takes the ornate goblet from the side, dunks it into the water and drizzles it across the championship belt.
M.D.K.: “Allow me to cleanse it of the impurities that dared to tarnish it since it was last in my possession. The undeserving, the heathens and the pretenders to my throne. Allow me to cleanse all of the WGWF of the ills that befall it time and time again. The flashes in the pans, the fair-weather friends and the XWF alumni. The good, the bad and the heavily tattooed…”
He heads back over to the altar and proudly drapes the title back over his shoulder.
M.D.K.: “There’s a reason that I have this and you have a wide array of Hawaiian shirts and a little black book filled with dick jokes. I have a nose for success, a hunger for perfection and a drive to always do something more. You are generally happy with being bang average. That’s why your career is littered with flirtations with greater success hampered by a chronic laziness. You know… like every diet declaration you have made on New Year’s Day… and yes, that was another fat joke. Eat them up tubby because when you look like that and have nothing… and I have all this and still look like that, it’s the greatest advert for a gym class I have ever seen.”
“What you are doing for me Jack is giving me a sparring buddy for a potato enriched main course on the following Brawl. You’re a big lad who will absorb a lot of punishment and your material is coma inducing at best although your desire to shy away from delving into a fantasy adventure to pad half an hour into your work gets some brownie points from me. That doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy inflicting every ounce of pain on you this week when I get to string you up and knock seven bells of shit out of you come match time. Coming face to face with an M.D.K. that has one eye already on next week will overwhelm and devastate you far worse than any lava flow has done to your people.”
“So go ahead, point out that you are Florida born and bred, point out my use of fat jokes and stereotypes once again or just try and brush everything off as nonsensical or cheap and that it isn’t fazing you. Try and not let my words and actions get to you and brush them aside as you drag out another formulaic comprehension exercise. Because we all know that deep down, fat girls like you go home and cry into your Haagen Dasz when it all gets too much for you and after this week on Brawl, it will be doing just that as I make you finally realise that you… are truly… and utterly… INFERIOR!”
He holds his arms open as the shadow falls across that of Jesus himself on the main wall. The camera fades out.
The small group of teachers are traipsing from stand to stand to investigate each table in turn while stifling yawns and snorts of derision as the children have made solar systems from various spherical objects in a giant middle finger to the flat earth society, there are an assortment of electrical appliances being run by potatoes including what a child has described as his mum’s ‘back massager.’ which won’t be winning a rosette today. As they get to the end of a row though, they reach an empty table and look confused. As they do, the doors burst open and in dashes M.D.K in a white shirt with a tie wrapped around his head like a school boy on the last day of term with Alyce skipping in behind him wearing an outfit less suitable for a school unless it was being produced by Brazzers… The teachers all look up with raised eyebrows as M.D.K drops a box filled with assorted pieces of paraphernalia and a large bottle which he carefully dumps down.
Teacher 1: “Are you a student at this place of education?”
M.D.K.: “Did the stubble give the game away?”
Teacher 1: “The fact that you are clearly a forty year old man…”
M.D.K: “I’m in my thirties you prick!”
Alyce leans in and whispers at the teachers with a wink.
Alyce: “He’s just had a very tough life…”
Teacher 1: “So… why are you here?”
M.D.K.: “Have the production team not been in touch?”
Teacher 1: “What?”
The headteacher beside him has his phone ring at this point and his brow furrows at first before a smile spreads across his face as the call continues. He ends the call and he leans into the teacher’s ear and whispers something and suddenly a smile also creeps across his face and his demeanour towards the World Heavyweight Champion changes.
Teacher 1: “You have an entry for the Science Fair then sir?”
M.D.K: “I certainly do… take a look at this…”
He rearranges the paper mache mountains and manufactures it into a replica of Hawaii’s Big Island with a large, flat mountain in the centre of the display.
M.D.K: “This is Hawaii’s Big Island and today I will be focussing on the effects that a volcano such as Killer Whale…”
Teacher 2: “Do you mean Kilauea?”
M.D.K.: “It’s an ooga boogah place where crystal meth head surfers with shit tattoos are in high concentration… does it matter what we call it? Soon they will all be dead anyway.”
The first teacher turns to the head-teacher with a look of concern.
Teacher 1: “Are we sure about this?”
Headteacher: “For the money his production team offered us, he can support Trump for all I care…”
He turns back to M.D.K with a warm smile.
Teacher: “So tell us about your project…”
M.D.K: “Well not many people seem to understand the varying levels of volcano around the world. Many think it’s essentially an ejaculating cock on the landscape of the earth in that is stands erect and proud out of the ground like a mighty phallus spewing hot fluid for miles around…”
Alyce: “Like you when we had a couple of weeks apart…”
A nearby mother places her hands over the ears of her wide-eyed, mouth agape child while the father stands with a huge grin etched across his face until the mother offers a slap of disapproval.
M.D.K.: “When in reality, volcanoes are fare more complex than that. The volcano that has been all over the news is in face a shield volcano…So rather than spurting out in one direction, it emerges in multiple directions in various locations and amounts.”
Alyce: “Like your early morning piss that ends up over the seat?”
M.D.K: “A little like that only more widespread and without the nagging woman complaining about it…”
She rolls her eyes and M.D.K continues.
M.D.K: “So if the lava flow were to seep across this area…”
He opens the liquid container from earlier and a few people immediately recoil from the odour… He pours some of the fluid across the model and it immediately engulfs it and melts the model while part of the desk catches fire. Alyce is on hand with a hand held extinguisher which she puts to good use. M.D.K pulls half a dozen Hawaiian Hardhead action figures out of the bag - all of which have been customised in one way or another - and places them on the table. Some have been given grey hair, some have been given glasses, some have been places into dresses. All of them are still clearly Hardhead. M.D.K holds up an original Hardhead figure that hasn’t gone through any budget customisation and juggles it between his hands.
M.D.K.: “It won’t surprise you to know how easily available these were to get. In some shops they were the only ones left to buy…
The other teacher leans into the smouldering desk and looks concerned as he takes asniff of the desk.
Teacher 2: “Is that…”
M.D.K.: “Can all questions be saved for afterwards please? Now if we see what happens if we put it across some standard Hawaiian people… Oh… wait a minute.”
He takes out a Sharpie marker and draws crude breasts across the chest of one of the action figures before attaching a tag to it that reads “Carlene” and smirks as he picks up the flask again and carefully pours the fluid across the toys and smirks as they contort and blacken before melting and igniting. Fire alarms begin to go off as the table now fully ignites, the extinguisher is now spent and the fire rages across the desk. Panic begins to swell up amongst the crowd buy M.D.K remains unmoved as he continues his presentation.
M.D.K.: “Do you see how they burn and contort and are scorched to nothing but ash? There is something far more important that should be noted though… While the loss of life may be important to those in close proximity and the physical damage to property may have some value. Because they are Hawaiian, the actual value to life is nominal and in fact the more that die, the more valuable everybody else’s life will become!”
Soon the smoke overtakes the school hall and screaming can be heard through corridors. We cut quickly to M.D.K standing outside the school arm in arm and watching as fire engines arrive to tackle the now out of control blaze.
Alyce looks to M.D.K and smiles at him.
Alyce: “Happy now?”
M.D.K.: “The classic sound of an American school. Screams of fear and children cowering. The only thing missing is a social outcast in a trench coat.”
Alyce: “You do know that Hardhead comes from Florida?
M.D.K: “Huh?”
Alyce: “His whole Hawaiian schtick is about his heritage. He was born and raised in Florida.”
M.D.K.: “And what fun could I have had with that? Throw a few oranges at some old people and feed them to a fucking crocodile?”
Alyce: “Alligators…”
M.D.K.: “What?”
Alyce: “It is alligators native to Florida and not crocodiles…”
M.D.K.: “Fuck me are you here to be a partner in my antics or be Buzz Killington?”
Alyce: “Don’t mind me. I’m here to drink in the chaos and be here for you… my love.”
M.D.K.: “Well don’t get too excited. We have a flight to catch and a dullard to dissect.”
We cut to a flight montage to indicate that travel in in effect and we are treated to a few of the landmarks that Spain has to offer before seeing the sights of Barcelona which plays home to the WGWF this week. It is a big occasion for the city and the excitement has seen a variety of events. The one right now on the top floor luxury of Torre Agbar - the tallest building in Barcelona - and home to a WGWF press conference where a spokesman for the powers that be has just delivered the corporate bullshit and has introduced the main attraction. The holder of the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship… While he talks, the man himself is backstage with his beau who has a familiar faraway look in her eye.
M.D.K.: “Everything OK?”
She snaps out of her train of thought and stares at M.D.K blankly.
Alyce: “Huh?”
M.D.K.: “Are we alright? You have been a little vague since I cashed in my claim and regained what is truly mine.”
Alyce: “It’s fine…”
M.D.K. tilts his head to one side and narrows his eyes at his love.
M.D.K.: “Are you sure? Because you sound anything but to be honest.”
Alyce: “I told you it’s fine! I have shared the innermost feelings of mine as well as introducing you to a world that I have never opened up to anybody in the past and yet you couldn’t tell me that you were cashing in?”
M.D.K.: “I wanted to tell you, I truly did but I just couldn’t bring myself to. It’s not that I didn’t trust you…”
Alyce: “Then what?”
M.D.K.: “I guess I couldn’t let anybody remotely close to having a bite of the cherry into the loop. Any chance of jeopardising me taking my rightful seat on the throne again. I just couldn’t accept that no matter what we are or how much I feel for you, the competitive streak that runs through me just couldn’t allow that to happen.”
She looks down and M.D.K. pushes her chin back up and kisses her deeply. He defences melt a little as he smiles at her.
M.D.K.: “You are the only person to genuinely have my number. To have seen beneath the shields. What’s mine is as good as yours my queen…”
He bows to her and smiles and a smile breaks across her face. He gestures towards the door.
M.D.K.: “Do you want to come out there with me?”
Alyce: “This is your moment. I wouldn’t want to overshadow you.”
She smiles and winks at M.D.K. who laughs in response but then turns to the door as he hears his name bellowed and the opening bars to “Charlie Big Potato” begins to play. M.D.K. kisses Alyce one more time before turning to the door and he begins to walk down the short corridor. He flings the door open and emerges into an open office floor where the air is filled with flashbulbs erupting and the chatter of the shutters all going off in unison. M.D.K. sneers at the gathered dignitaries and journalists as he steps up to the podium and taps the title that rests on his shoulder. Clad in a slate grey suit, he leans onto the lectern and smirks.
M.D.K.: “Peons, camperols i formigues… Sou benvingut.”
The fact that he opted to open up dialogue in Catalan rather than Spanish after the dispute has been hotly debated in the country that has nearly led to a civil war in the past few months. The murmur dies down and M.D.K. continues.
M.D.K.: “Here I am in what I am supposed to call glorious Barcelona and I have been given a crib sheet where I am supposed to be polite about the area and the people and the hospitality but let’s be honest, you people have done a fucking number on us haven’t you?”
“We could have held Brawl in a venue that could hold a significant number of people, we could have sold out the Nou Camp or Palau Sant Jordi but no… you people sold our powers that be on performing in a fucking SHOPPING CENTRE… So while you capitalist dogs stock up on trinkets and nonsense, we will be putting our bodies on the line for you in the name of entertainment while I participate in a glorified bullfight against an ox of a man in the Hawaiian Hardhead.”
“But you people don’t care for that. You don’t care about the here and now because that’s coming your way for free on a shiny, silver platter available no doubt at a retailer in this fucking shopping mall. What you care about is the Brawl after this where once again a potato has a chance to be in the spotlight and to have half a fucking heartbeat where he realises what it’s like to be the man… even if he’s simply bathing in the light of somebody else. What I did two shows ago was liberate the World Heavyweight Championship, I saved it from being attached to mediocrity, ineptitude and the epitome of pathetic. Last week should have been a public celebration of something incredible and unexpected. Like when Seal Team Six dumped a bag of sand into the ocean and called is Osama Bin Laden or when Queen Elizabeth the First oversaw your Spanish Armada get skittled by a brave British fleet…”
Hostility rises in the room. M.D.K. smirks and drinks it down and continues.
M.D.K.: “I could have pulled the trigger whenever I wanted and the very fact of that had Slater sweating. I thought he could have held onto it and set up the clash of the two greatest in this company… but once again, when it came to the crunch… he went and choked and rather than see the title be tarnished, I rescued it and raised its profile once more to what it deserves to be.”
“So on the Brawl after this, I make the vegetable realise that he is way out of his depth once more when he goes toe to toe with me and at Summer Madness… at the grandest stage of them all in front of my countrymen… the greatest venue in sport in the greatest country in the world… I will render all of the pretenders to my throne truly… and utterly… as they say in English, Spanish and even your fucking peasant language…”
A murmur of discontent rises up again and one person even tries to rush the stage only to be accosted by security as an amused M.D.K. is able to reel off one more word before being hurried away by road agents as the crowd become unruly.
M.D.K.: “INFERIOR!!”
He is rushed off by security personnel as the crowd lose control of their emotions. M.D.K. is rushed away but continues to laugh maniacally as the camera pans out across the Barcelona skyline and now focusses on the major icon of the Spanish city’s skyline. The multi towered Sagrada Familia cathedral of Barcelona. Inside its glorious interior, we find M.D.K. stood between the pews and caressing them as he walks towards to front of the grandiose place of worship. He stands at the altar at the front and picks his title up from it and places it proudly on his shoulder before speaking.
M.D.K.: “La Sagrada Familia… or Sacred Family. A place of worship that is many things and not really any of them. Now before you all get worried, I’m not going to get a God complex, ask for a repeated black-outs and then disappear without a trace…”
A wink to the camera before continuing.
M.D.K.: “But you see, this place has pushed to be a cathedral for years and yet because it is missing so many components, it is merely a minor basilica… What that means is despite it looking impressive, it’s simply something far less than its appearance allow you to believe. That’s a lot like you isn’t it Hardhead? Fuck that noise… I’m going to call you Jack because well… that’s your name as opposed to being some Borden derogatory term like calling you sport or champ…”
“What I mean is that you might have a tag team victory over myself, a victory of sorts against my beloved and you might have a little momentum and a few of the fans are calling your name. But for that grand list of appearances and narrow victories, what exactly are you? I mean, nobody will ever take you seriously as a top level contender because you have the look of every pro-wrestler of the eighties and nineties with the life expectancy to match. Sadly for me though… you aren’t dead yet so this week on Brawl I have to endure your presence in the middle of the ring.”
“And yes… I hope you enjoyed the fun from earlier on. I know how fond you are of school-yard tactics. I guess that’s a classic trait of the obese kid that always considered themselves to be a bit of a bully isn’t it? I mean you love a good comprehension exercise of study what has been given to you and spew back retorts parrot fashion because you are so fucking bereft of original material. It’s quite pitiful to be frank with you and that is why I feel that if your cute little endeavour to make yourself relevant is worthy of giving you a good effort sticker and telling you well done… because at least you’re trying aren’t you, you special little cunt?”
He offers a patronising smile and wink before continuing.
M.D.K.: “So why am I here? Simply because I am in Barcelona and feel obliged to use the surrounding area? Partly yes. But where better to cleanse my most treasured possession when it has been sullied for so long out of my grip. Firstly by Tristan and then almost by that complete fucking salad…”
He walks over to the font and takes the ornate goblet from the side, dunks it into the water and drizzles it across the championship belt.
M.D.K.: “Allow me to cleanse it of the impurities that dared to tarnish it since it was last in my possession. The undeserving, the heathens and the pretenders to my throne. Allow me to cleanse all of the WGWF of the ills that befall it time and time again. The flashes in the pans, the fair-weather friends and the XWF alumni. The good, the bad and the heavily tattooed…”
He heads back over to the altar and proudly drapes the title back over his shoulder.
M.D.K.: “There’s a reason that I have this and you have a wide array of Hawaiian shirts and a little black book filled with dick jokes. I have a nose for success, a hunger for perfection and a drive to always do something more. You are generally happy with being bang average. That’s why your career is littered with flirtations with greater success hampered by a chronic laziness. You know… like every diet declaration you have made on New Year’s Day… and yes, that was another fat joke. Eat them up tubby because when you look like that and have nothing… and I have all this and still look like that, it’s the greatest advert for a gym class I have ever seen.”
“What you are doing for me Jack is giving me a sparring buddy for a potato enriched main course on the following Brawl. You’re a big lad who will absorb a lot of punishment and your material is coma inducing at best although your desire to shy away from delving into a fantasy adventure to pad half an hour into your work gets some brownie points from me. That doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy inflicting every ounce of pain on you this week when I get to string you up and knock seven bells of shit out of you come match time. Coming face to face with an M.D.K. that has one eye already on next week will overwhelm and devastate you far worse than any lava flow has done to your people.”
“So go ahead, point out that you are Florida born and bred, point out my use of fat jokes and stereotypes once again or just try and brush everything off as nonsensical or cheap and that it isn’t fazing you. Try and not let my words and actions get to you and brush them aside as you drag out another formulaic comprehension exercise. Because we all know that deep down, fat girls like you go home and cry into your Haagen Dasz when it all gets too much for you and after this week on Brawl, it will be doing just that as I make you finally realise that you… are truly… and utterly… INFERIOR!”
He holds his arms open as the shadow falls across that of Jesus himself on the main wall. The camera fades out.