Post by colossus on May 27, 2024 23:30:29 GMT -5
Future EPW Manager of the Year Dick Trickle sat down with lead reporter from Anarchy because fuck you that's why, Taylor Mayde to discuss the upcoming match against Anarchy roster member, and professional clown, Je$tyr Seryou$.
Taylor: I am here with Dick Trickle, the manager and mouth piece for the man billed as the "Van Meter Monster", Colossus. Dick, you told the world it was only a matter of time before your client became a champion, and that statement came true. Now you claim that you are going to win this match, enter the Revival Title match at Revival, and cash in for another title shot of his choosing. You have arguably the most dangerous man on the roster coming onto out show with ill intent, I was just hoping to get your thoughts on the matter.
Dick scoffs.
Dick: Nobody wanted to listen, and now they’re paying the price. Nobody wanted to read the fine print, and now they want a refund! I told all of you that this was coming, and you wrote it off. Now you’ve gotta pay it back, two fold. Anyway……Colossus and I are not worried about Yucko coming over from WGWF for some real competition. We’re more worried about the fine we receive for his medical bills. Just look what we did to Blakely. Let’s get something straight now, toots, Colossus fears NO-ONE. No mortal on this planet can rattle his resolve. What makes anyone with half of a brain cell think some juiced up turd in facepaint can make him second guess?
Taylor: Well……that explains that. What about the rumors swirling that your methods of motivation may not be in your clients best interest?
Dick laughs again.
Dick: People are so stupid. They fail to see the bigger picture, they fail to understand metaphors. They are too worried about being “woke” to be right. My methods may be unorthodox, but they work, as you see. I get Colossus ready to face anything by giving him real-world situations pertaining to the match he is in. You best believe I have him good and ready to face Johnny-be-Suck this week…….and when he does, I expect hand written apologies from all of you.
Dick grinned as he surveyed the lobby of the Indiana Convention Center. This would be perfect practice for Colossus. He made his way outside and to the van where he told the big man to stay. He knuckle-taps the window, and Colossus, who was finishing a meatball sub, hits the button to roll it down.
“Finish that sub big man and come inside, I have something you need to see.”
Colossus didn’t need to be asked twice. He polished off what would have taken a normal person 20 minutes in two massive bites, and stepped out of the car as crumbs and sauce rolled down his front like soot and lava off an active volcano.
“This week, we have Jestyr Seryous on the menu. He is a clown, and I know you hate clowns.”
They began to walk towards the front door of the convention center.
“Clown bad!” Colossus said.
“Yes. And this isn’t the Khloe Cox think-you can conquer the world but haven’t managed to conquer your own own gimmick yet-type of clown. This is an actual clown. Like squeaky horn and face paint.”
“Clown bad!”
Dick grinned a wicked grin. This was going swimmingly.
“So what I need from you this week, is to keep your head on a swivel. This prick can pop up from anywhere, he’s like fucking herpes. To prepare for this week, you need to be crystal clear that it’s not him so he can’t sneak attack you. Any clown you see–any clown–is a threat. Take them down.”
“CLOWN BAD!”
Dick opens the door of the convention center and leads his monster into the main lobby. They walk past a poster on the wall for the evening's show, “INSANE CLOWN POSSE”. Dick purposely makes sure he doesn’t see it–don’t need a rage before they even get inside.
He leads Colossus smack into the middle of the juggalo convention, who had traveled to see the show. The big man stops in his tracks. Dick looks up to see his eye twitching.
“Uh oh.”
“CLOWN BAD!”
Just as the event organizer was about to ask him where his juggalo paint was–as this was a closed event–the big man lets out a deafening howl and charges. He superkicks the event organizer, sending him flying as the papers on his clipboard scatter. He charges like a Roman into battle and begins to take out every juggalo in his path. He throws one through the window, and chokeslams others through the snack tables.
Kick
Punch
Throw.
Kick
Punch
Throw
Roar.
Rinse, repeat.
When he was done, over 100 juggalos lay on the carpeted convention center lobby floor, all in various states of consciousness. Dick walks over to his monster, patting him on the back.
“Good job, big man. Now let’s go get you a big ol’ pretzel, I think the Auntie Anne’s is still open in this shithole town.”
Just then, Shaggy 2 Dope and Violent Jay walk through the front doors to see their entire show audience on the floor.
“This place is deteriorating before our very eyes, isn’t it? Our general manager has to lower herself to a catfight with her wizards sleeve of a sister because of petty female jealousy, a majority the damn roster can’t cut a half-decent promo if they paid someone else to do it for them, our Rise Up! champion is one bad night from a dive bar bender and a one way ticket to rehab, Easton Alexander would rather stay home than keep kicking the ass of that that Gen Z science experiment he's been stuck in the mud against, and now we have to bring over Shaggy 2 Dope from ICP to fill in the Main Event picture. I thought it was bad before? This is Biden White House bad.
Jestyr, poor Jestyr. Taking one for the team I see. Coming over here from WGWF to get some real competition for once because the four letter sack-party has been more of a revolving door than the Cleveland Brown’s quarterback room. Ahh yes, a sport that isn’t taking pies to the face, I don’t expect you to get it. Look it up if you need to, and find a new gimmick while you’re at it. The crazy clown, that hasn’t been done 100 times before. John Wayne Gay-see over here oozes unoriginality. Clown gimmicks are like socialism....they fail everywhere their attempted, every single time. You think because you paint your face like a two dollar whore and wear cut off tee shirts that everyone on planet earth is obligated to be afraid of you? You’re an overused cliche, and not a very good one at that. You and SYNN sure have made a name for yourselves, over there, and now want to come here and think you run the block because you won a couple matches. You're a star! You were a star there, you'll be a star here, right?! They can’t get enough of you. Let's face it, this rubbish heap had a clown as their headliner for two months and her vagina isn’t nearly as wide as yours–and they seem to like wide vaginas, just ask our owner–so they come clamoring to you like the horse stables on down syndrom visit day, but on a REAL show with REAL wrestling you’re nothing but a hack with a Sephora gift card. Nice try, Chuckles. Now get back in your skit!
You’re a hardcore wrestler with the heart of a baked potato. What will happen when this 450 pound genetic freak connects with that first right hand to your temple?
You’ll drop like a fucking rock, that’s what.
You aren’t even doing the clown thing right. I can’t tell if you’re smirking or if you just genuinely look stupid.
Don’t worry folks. Before ‘professional clown’ he was professionally unemployed, and after the lights go off on Danger, he’ll be going back to his best sleight of hand trick by trick by making his quarter size micro penis disappear into his hand. I just hope he makes it to the hotel first, lord knows we don’t need ANOTHER PR disaster.
I can sit here and make clown jokes all night funny man, but that would be a waste of precious oxygen. The only true joke here is you, and I don’t need to honk a little horn after the punchline. You’re a sad sack of shit whose in cahoots with a mentally deranged sociopath who can’t tell left from blue half the time, and get off on kidnapping like a shitty mid-afternoon Lifetime Movie. You belong in an asylum, not a wrestling ring. Wednesday Night, consider it your sanitarium because my monster is coming with a purpose–to dunk the clown, if you will.
Except there is no prize to be won, because beating you isn’t a prize. There’s no ticket limit for a Jestyr bust on the wall, because nobody wants that.
Honestly, I’d rather get gonorrhea.
So come one, come all, witness the grand finale as another steps up to the strongest man in the world, only to be crushed like an ant at the blunt end of a sledgehammer.”
