Meet My Monster: Dick Trickle Addresses Television Bias
Aug 19, 2024 14:09:04 GMT -5
Jonathan Barrows likes this
Post by colossus on Aug 19, 2024 14:09:04 GMT -5
The heat in Miami was already unbearable, and it wasn’t even noon yet.
As the sleek black sedan pulled up to the TV studio, Dick Trickle couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. This commercial gig was going to be a game-changer. Colossus, his massive, silent client, was finally getting the recognition he deserved. The wrestling world knew Colossus as an unstoppable force in the WGWF, but this?
This was mainstream. This was big-time.
Colossus, however, didn’t share Dick’s enthusiasm. As he stepped out of the car, his towering frame cast a long shadow on the pavement. His eyes narrowed behind the mask that covered half of his bearded face. He let out a low, rumbling grunt.
“Cheer up, big man!” Dick said, slapping Colossus on the back with far more enthusiasm than was wise. “This is gonna be great! They’re gonna make you a household name, just you wait and see.”
Colossus’s response was another deep grunt, this one more ominous than the last. He adjusted the duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his muscles bulging under the strain. The two of them walked towards the studio entrance, where a perky assistant was waiting with a clipboard in hand.
“Mr. Trickle, Mr. Colossus, welcome! We’re so excited to have you here today!” she chirped, though her smile wavered slightly when she had to crane her neck to look up at the hulking Colossus. “If you’ll follow me, we’ll get you both settled in the green room before we start shooting.”
Colossus grunted, the sound reverberating through the air like a distant thunderclap. The assistant’s smile froze as she turned on her heel, leading them down a maze of hallways. Dick couldn’t help but notice the way she kept glancing over her shoulder at Colossus, as if she expected him to burst through the walls at any moment.
They arrived at the green room, a plush, air-conditioned space filled with comfortable chairs and a table laden with snacks and drinks. Colossus eyed the food with a glint in his eye, but before he could make a move, the assistant cleared her throat.
“The director will be here shortly to discuss the concept with you,” she said, her voice slightly more tremulous than before. “If you need anything, just let me know.”
With that, she made a hasty exit, leaving Dick and Colossus alone.
“See? This ain’t so bad, right? Free food, air conditioning, and a fat paycheck at the end of the day.”
Colossus grunted noncommittally, his eyes still fixed on the snacks. He reached out, grabbing a fistful of potato chips and stuffing them into his mouth.
Before Dick could say anything else, the door swung open, and in walked the director. He was dressed in all black, his hair slicked back in a style that probably hadn’t been fashionable in decades, exuding an air of self-importance that immediately grated on Dick’s nerves.
“Gentlemen, so glad you could make it!” the director said, his voice dripping with faux enthusiasm. “I’m Marco, the director for today’s shoot. Let’s talk about what we’re going to do.”
“Yeah, let’s,” Dick said, his smile tight. “What exactly is this commercial about? We were told this was gonna be a big deal.”
“Oh, it is!” Marco assured him, clapping his hands together. “We’re shooting a spot for a revolutionary new weight loss program, and we think Colossus here is the perfect spokesperson!”
There was a moment of silence as the words hung in the air.
Then, slowly, menacingly, Colossus turned to look at Marco.
His eyes narrowed to slits, and he let out a deep, guttural growl that made the director take an involuntary step back.
“Weight loss?” Dick repeated, his voice incredulous. “You want Colossus, the human wrecking ball, to be the face of a diet program?”
“Yes, exactly!” Marco said, oblivious to the danger he was in. “The whole idea is to show that even someone as strong and powerful as Colossus can benefit from our program. It’s all about showing that anyone can get into even better shape, no matter where they start!”
Colossus’s growl deepened, and Dick could practically feel the anger radiating off him. The big man’s fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, it looked like he might pick up Marco and throw him through the nearest wall.
“Now hold on just a minute! You think you’re gonna make my client look like he needs to lose weight? You must be outta your damn mind!”
Marco blinked, clearly confused. “No, no, you’re misunderstanding. It’s not about making him look bad; it’s about inspiration! If Colossus can see the value in our program, think of the message it sends to the average person!”
The only response he got was another bone-chilling growl from Colossus. Dick turned back to Marco, his eyes narrowing.
“Listen, shit-stain, you don’t know who you’re dealin’ with here. Colossus doesn’t need to lose weight, and he sure as hell ain’t gonna be made a fool of on national TV.”
“But—” Marco began, but Dick cut him off.
“No buts! Either you come up with something that showcases Colossus’s strengths, or we walk. And trust me, you don’t want Colossus walkin’ outta here angry.”
Marco paled, clearly realizing he was on thin ice. “Okay, okay, we can tweak the script. How about this—we focus on Colossus maintaining his peak physical condition, and the program is just one of the tools he uses to stay at the top of his game. We’ll emphasize his discipline and dedication.”
Dick looked up at Colossus, who was still glaring daggers at the director. The big man grunted.
“That might work,” Dick said slowly. “But it better be good, or we’re done here.”
Marco nodded frantically. “Of course, of course! I’ll get the writers on it right away.”
As Marco scurried off to salvage the situation, Dick turned to Colossus, who was still fuming.
“Don’t worry, big guy, we’re not gonna let them make you look like a joke,” Dick said, though he wasn’t entirely sure how they were going to salvage this mess.
Colossus grunted again, his eyes flicking back to the table of snacks. Without another word, he grabbed a sandwich and began eating, his mood only slightly improved.
The revised script was presented to them an hour later, and while it was better, Dick could still sense Colossus’s displeasure. The commercial now focused on Colossus lifting massive weights, running drills, and generally looking like the unstoppable force he was. The weight loss program was mentioned as part of his regimen to stay in top shape, but the emphasis was on his raw power and discipline.
“Is this acceptable?” Marco asked nervously, watching as Colossus read over the script. Not that Colossus was actually reading it—Dick was, but the big man’s reaction was what mattered.
Colossus grunted, this time a bit softer, which Dick took as a begrudging sign of approval.
“It’ll do,” Dick said. “Let’s get this over with.”
They moved to the set, which was designed to look like a gritty gym. Colossus’s usual gear was replaced with something more appropriate for the commercial—tight-fitting athletic wear that showed off every......buldge. As he stepped onto the set, the crew members visibly tensed, their eyes darting nervously to the monster.
The shoot began, and despite his earlier reluctance, Colossus was a natural. He lifted the heavyweights with ease, ran through the drills like a machine, and even managed to look menacing while drinking a protein shake.
Dick had to admit, the revised concept was working. Colossus looked every bit the unstoppable powerhouse he was, and if the commercial played like this, it might actually turn out okay.
But then came the final scene, where Colossus was supposed to say the tagline for the program. Dick had explained to the director that Colossus didn’t talk on camera, but Marco insisted they at least try it.
“Just one line,” Marco pleaded. “It’s the big finish! ‘If I can do it, so can you.’ That’s all he has to say!”
Colossus glared at Marco, clearly not interested in speaking. Dick knew this wasn’t going to end well, but before he could intervene, Marco was already rolling the camera.
“Alright, Colossus, just say the line,” Marco instructed, holding up his hands like he was trying to calm a wild animal.
Colossus stood there, staring at the camera, his eyes narrowing. He looked like he was about to crush the entire set with his bare hands. The tension was palpable as everyone waited for him to speak.
Instead, Colossus let out a long, deep grunt, one that could have shattered the camera lens if it were any louder. Then, without warning, he turned and stomped off the set, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. He knocked over the weights, smashed through a punching bag, and finally, with a roar that shook the building, he threw a dumbbell through the studio wall.
The crew scattered, panicking as Colossus stormed out of the studio. Dick chased after him, knowing exactly where he was headed.
When he caught up to Colossus, the big man was in the catering area, devouring everything in sight. Sandwiches, fruit, pastries—nothing was safe from Colossus’s rampage. His grunts echoed through the empty hallways as he tore into the food like a man possessed.
“Easy, big fella, save some for the rest of us,” Dick joked, though he knew better than to get too close when Colossus was in this state.
Finishing his 'meal', he headed outside. Dick could see the murderous glint in Colossus’s eyes. The big man let out another earth-shaking roar before he started on the cars.
The first victim was a shiny red sports car, which Colossus lifted effortlessly and hurled across the lot. The car landed with a crash, flipping over and smashing into two others. The rest of the cars didn’t fare much better. Colossus went from vehicle to vehicle, flipping them, smashing windows, and tearing off doors like they were made of paper.
“Colossus! Stop!” Dick yelled, but it was no use. Colossus was a force of nature, unstoppable once he got going.
By the time the security guards showed up, the parking lot was a war zone. Colossus stood in the middle of the destruction, breathing heavily, his rage finally subsiding. The guards, realizing who they were dealing with, wisely kept their distance.
Dick walked over to Colossus, who was now surveying his handiwork with a satisfied grunt.
“Well, big man,” Dick said, patting Colossus on the back, “I think they’ll remember you now, that’s for sure.”
Colossus grunted one last time, a sound that might have been amusement. Dick couldn’t help but laugh.
“Let’s get outta here before they try to send us the bill." The two of them walked off into the Miami heat, leaving chaos and destruction in their wake.
"Let me tell you somethin’, Edward Grado—you overcooked, underseasoned human potato! You might be the Television Champion, but that title’s about to be yanked away quicker than a free buffet from Rosie-O! You’ve somehow bumbled and stumbled your way into that belt, but your days of holdin’ it are numbered, pal, because Colossus is comin’ for you like a freight train with no brakes!
You think you can stand up to the force of nature that is Colossus? You couldn’t fight your way out of a wet paper bag with a pair of scissors, much less go toe-to-toe with the most dominant force in the WGWF! You’re a joke, Grado—a punchline with no punch. When Colossus gets his hands on you, it’s gonna be like mashin’ a potato with a sledgehammer. So shine that belt up real nice, because after Summer Madness, it’s comin’ home with us, and you’ll be left on the scrap heap where you belong! Keep dancing, putz! When Colossus is done with you, the only thing flatter than your wrestling skills will be your career! You’re gonna be so irrelevant, they’ll forget you faster than yesterday’s leftovers. Count on it!"