Meet My Monster: Dick Trickle Addresses--Dick Named Damage

[colossus]

The remnants of the once vibrant home lay strewn across the scorched earth like the shattered dreams of a family torn apart by tragedy. Colossus, his towering form casting a shadow over the desolation, strode through the debris with a solemn determination. Beside him, Dick Trickle, his weathered face a mask of empathy, surveyed the scene with a heavy heart.

The acrid scent of smoke hung thick in the air, a reminder of the inferno that had consumed everything in its path. Charred timbers jutted out from the ground like skeletal remains, and blackened walls stood as silent witnesses to the devastation that had unfolded here.

Colossus, with his metallic skin gleaming in the faint light filtering through the haze, paused as he spotted something amidst the wreckage. It was a toy—a small, plastic truck, its vibrant colors now muted by the flames. He bent down, his massive hands carefully cradling the fragile remains, a sense of sorrow washing over him.

Beside him, Dick Trickle knelt, his gaze sweeping over the scene with a mixture of sadness and determination. He reached out, his calloused fingers brushing against the charred earth as he searched for anything salvageable amidst the ruins.

Together, they moved through the debris, their footsteps echoing in the silence that enveloped them. Each toy they found told a story—a story of laughter and joy, now silenced by the roar of the flames. A melted dollhouse, its once cheerful facade now warped and twisted. A singed teddy bear, its fur blackened by the heat. A scorched ball, its vibrant colors reduced to ashes.

With each discovery, Colossus felt the weight of the tragedy pressing down on him. These were not just toys—they were symbols of innocence lost, reminders of the lives that had been shattered by the fire. He clenched his fists, his metal fingers digging into the charred earth, a sense of helplessness washing over him.

Beside him, Dick Trickle moved with a quiet determination, his movements deliberate as he gathered the toys scattered amidst the debris. Though his heart ached for the family who had lost everything, he knew that there was still hope amidst the ashes.

As they worked, a sense of camaraderie grew between them—a silent understanding forged in the face of tragedy. Though they came from vastly different worlds, they shared a common bond—a bond rooted in compassion and empathy.

Hours passed, the sun sinking lower in the sky as they continued their task. The charred remains of the house loomed over them, a haunting reminder of the fragility of life. But amidst the destruction, there was also resilience—a resilience embodied by Colossus and Dick Trickle as they moved through the wreckage, gathering the remnants of a life once lived.

Finally, as the last rays of sunlight faded from the sky, they stood amidst the ashes, a small pile of toys gathered at their feet. Though the weight of the tragedy still hung heavy in the air, there was also a sense of peace—a peace born from the knowledge that even in the darkest of times, there is still hope.

Colossus turned to Dick Trickle, his metallic features softened by the faint glow of twilight. "Thank you," he said simply, his voice a rumble that seemed to echo through the silence.

Dick Trickle nodded, a weary smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "No need for thanks, big man" he replied. "I'm just doing what I can to help."

Together, they stood in the fading light, their shared humanity a beacon of hope amidst the darkness. And as the stars began to twinkle overhead, casting their gentle light upon the earth, Colossus and Dick Trickle knew that though the road ahead would be long and difficult, they would face it together—united in their resolve to bring light to the darkest of places.

The smoldering remnants of what had once been Colossus's childhood home lay scattered across the scorched earth, a haunting testament to the destructive power of fire. Colossus, his massive frame towering over the desolation, stood amidst the wreckage with a heavy heart. Beside him, Dick Trickle, his weathered face etched with concern, surveyed the scene with a mixture of sadness and understanding.

The acrid scent of smoke hung thick in the air, mingling with the faint echo of distant sirens. Charred timbers jutted out from the ground like accusing fingers, and blackened walls stood as silent witnesses to the devastation that had unfolded here.

Colossus felt a knot form in his chest as he surveyed the destruction before him. This was more than just a house—it was his childhood home, the place where he had spent countless hours playing and dreaming. And now, it lay in ruins, consumed by the flames that he himself had unleashed.

He closed his eyes, trying to push back the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. The sound of crackling flames, the heat of the fire licking at his skin—it all came rushing back with a visceral intensity that left him reeling.

Beside him, Dick Trickle placed a hand on his shoulder, a silent gesture of solidarity. Colossus looked up, meeting the older man's gaze with a mixture of gratitude and guilt.

"I sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the crackle of embers. "I never mean for this to happen."

Dick Trickle shook his head, his expression filled with empathy. "Sometimes, things happen that are beyond our control," he said softly. "What's important is how we choose to move forward from here."

With those words echoing in his mind, Colossus took a deep breath and steeling himself, he began to sift through the debris, his movements slow and deliberate. Beside him, Dick Trickle followed suit, his movements mirroring Colossus's own.

Together, they moved through the wreckage, their footsteps echoing in the silence that enveloped them. Each charred remnant they unearthed told a story—a story of a childhood lost to the flames, a past consumed by regret.

Colossus's heart ached with every discovery—a melted toy truck, its once vibrant colors now muted by the fire. A singed teddy bear, its fur blackened and brittle. A scorched photo album, its pages warped and stained.

With each item he retrieved, Colossus felt the weight of his past bearing down on him. These were not just objects—they were fragments of a life that he had destroyed, reminders of the pain and suffering that he had caused.

Beside him, Dick Trickle moved with a quiet determination, his movements a silent reassurance that Colossus was not alone in his grief. Together, they worked in silence, their shared humanity a balm for the wounds that still lingered.

 The charred remains of the house loomed over them, a silent reminder of the havoc that had been wrought.

But amidst the destruction, there was also resilience—a resilience embodied by Colossus and Dick Trickle as they moved through the wreckage, gathering the remnants of a life once lived.

Finally, as the last rays of sunlight faded from the sky, they stood amidst the ashes, a small pile of mementos gathered at their feet. Though the weight of the tragedy still hung heavy in the air, there was also a sense of closure—a closure born from the knowledge that even in the darkest of times, there is still hope.



The flames had long since died, leaving behind a desolate landscape of charred ruins and broken dreams. Colossus stood amidst the ashes of his childhood home, his metallic frame a silent witness to the destruction he had wrought. Beside him, Dick Trickle, his weathered face etched with understanding, surveyed the scene with a mixture of compassion and determination.

The acrid scent of smoke still lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the inferno that had consumed everything in its path. Charred timbers lay scattered around them like the bones of a fallen giant, and blackened walls stood as silent monuments to the devastation that had unfolded here.

Colossus's gaze lingered on the remains of the house, his mind replaying the events of that fateful night. He had been consumed by anger and regret, lashing out in a moment of desperation. And now, he was left to confront the consequences of his actions—a past consumed by fire, a future uncertain and unknown.

He closed his eyes, trying to push back the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. The heat of the flames, the roar of the inferno—it all seemed like a distant nightmare, a shadow of the man he once was.

---

“I knew Damage wasn’t the smartest Neanderthal in the cave, but I didn’t give him enough credit for just how dumb he truly is. He takes the entire cake, sprinkled with petulant child flakes and a side of down syndrome dipping sauce. Color me shocked when this big buffoon went to Britt to have the match changed. I thought maybe he was playing the politics game, maybe he was trying to get one over on my monster. I was about to applaud him for doing what it takes to give himself the advantage, but instead I needed to go refill my Exederin from facepalming so hard I gave myself a migraine.

I guess “Damage” is short for “Brain Damage”. Who woulda thunk?

I can hear his rock brain rattling in his skull from here. You see this double sized donut got embarrassed last week by my monster, and in his butthurt rage decided he wanted to get playground revenge. Playground is being generous.

This big dumb bastard goes to the boss and asks for the match to be changed to an Inferno Match.

A motherfucking I-N-F-E-R-N-O MATCH.

You went for shock value because you’re butt hurt. You went for a career-altering match because you’re salty. You turned the gun upon yourself.

You may think my monster is just a hulking brute, and in many cases he is, but even he knows what is at stake in the future. He was the Rise World Champion before we consolidated the shows, and he’s run roughshod through this roster. He takes what he wants. He hasn’t put himself in bad positions, and I have been here to guide him. He has gotten as far as he has because he hasn’t made the dumb mistakes like you. Everything we do is calculated.

While you were so busy stomping your feet and snorting, you never took the time to understand the end game. You never took the time to think of the ‘What If’. Every great heel needs a what if. Reckless abandon won’t get you far in this game. You want to burn Colossus so bad that you didn’t stop to wrap that empty head around that fact that HE could burn YOU. What if he lights you on fire? What if your little title shot at the Pay Per View gets ruined? What if Colossus lights you on fire, and takes your place, and you have to watch Shockwave from a Cleveland Burn Unit while he beats that overrated sack of oranges John Blaze for a title you don’t even deserve anyway. You’re the best of a bad situation. A few wins on a swiss cheese roster. Britlyn needs to pack the cards with title matches to make her little endeavor look less like a waste of time, so she threw your big bumbling ass in the ring with a bunch of mid carders and told ya to go make something of yourself.

But last week you showed your true self, didn’t ya?

On your back, looking at the lights, while the biggest, meanest, hungriest son of a bitch on this roster squashed you like the cockroach you are. You tried to play the hero, captain save-a-hoe, and where did it get you? Brooke is in physical therapy for the foreseeable future and you’re over here booking yourself in matches with FIRE. It’s almost like you WANT a short career.

An excuse.

So what happens when Colossus beats you, Damage? What then? Have you even thought that far ahead? I am banned from ringside because Britlyn thinks she’s slick but I will make damn sure Colossus has his marching orders before he walks through the curtain. I am instructing him to burn that mullet right off your useless scalp and when he does, we are going to march into Britlyn’s office and demand to be put into that match with Blaze. You can preach all you want. You can tell your lies and promise your false truths but when it comes down to brass tacks Colossus is the most dangerous man on this roster and you just made him ending your career completely legal. You can mutter incoherently and try to put together full sentences all you want but at the end of the day, the buck stops here. You’ve signed your own death warrant.

If brains were gasoline you couldn't fuel a fly's motorcycle for a trip around a drop of water.

Your dumb ass is so consumed with revenge, you can’t even get the Pay Per View name right. Wrestle Wars? I am not sure who dropped you on your head as a kid but they should have done it harder. The more I hear you talk every week, the more I am beyond certain that high school was the hardest nine years of your life. Literally, you’re so stupid you could fuck up an anvil. They are going to let you play with fire?!

I hope this shiny new company comes with some shiny new insurance.

This 7 foot Greg Allman has it coming to him. He wants to play the hero but scream about being a bad guy. He wants us to think he’s tough as nails when he’s as soft as Yoplait. Couldn’t whip cream with an outboard motor. When it rains, Damage is in his front yard eating soup.

So I guess we’ll see you in Cleveland, and we’ll see what happens

You want to teach us how to finish what we started?

You Bucky Beaver Mother Fucker, we INVENTED finishing the job.

So we’ll see ya in Cleveland, and when CFD has to extinguish your ass in front of 20 thousand people just know, your pasty skin isn’t the only thing being extinguished.”