Post by Dr. Remus Micayle on Jan 11, 2014 23:59:12 GMT -5
Potential threat detected.
- Logan (?l?-g?n): John or James ( Tah-gah-jute ) c1725–80, leader of the Cayuga tribe. Joshua, 1908–1988, U.S. playwright, director, and producer. A mountain in Canada, in the Mount Elias Mountains: second highest peak in North America. 19,850 feet (6050 meters). A city in N Utah. A male given name. First Known Use: 1730.
Potential solution found.
- Hot Dog (?hät-?do?g): A frankfurter heated and served in a long split roll. A person (such as an athlete) who performs or plays in a way that is meant to attract attention: a person who hotdogs First known use: 1895.
Application of solution in progress.
www.wcfwrestling.com/doctor.remus.micayle/blog/post=2
Good morrow ladies and gentlemen, dear readers, critics, one and all. It's the Second Coming Of Darwin Himself, the The Perspicacious One taking his time to allow some knowledge to pervade into your minds, enriching your vanilla, plain ho-hum, wretched lives to the best of my adroit mind once again.
I've noticed that ever since the first Team Science video went up on Slam after my match with Mr. Jack UnHappy on Slam last week, I have received much calumny on social media from various members of the general public. I must admit; I was baffled as to why my patriotic actions were subject to criticism and hate online. But then, after much deliberation and though, I realised what was the rationale behind these actions. Once again, it is a lack of proper education amongst the good people of America, as I should have guessed from the very start. I therefore apologize for my mistake in showing you all the scientific footage of what a true American and human being should be.
Instead, I should have made an EVEN more concise effort to show you the consequences of disobeying my words and continuing on with your lives of transgression and immoralities. From here on, I shall redouble my efforts onscreen to spread my message of justice and proper tutelage! Indeed, I believe all you lovely people will enjoy this week's Team Science lesson even more. It'll air immediately after my bout on Sunday, so do stay tuned! You really don't want to miss my educational videos after a week of restless plodding about in your one-horse lives.
Oh, and no more fear on your part that public disapproval will prevent me from furthering the goal of Team Science. I promise that I will disregard the blind and continue to use science to lead the way to a brighter future for America!
And speaking of which, this week, I will be participating in a Champion of Champions match live on Slam. A fracas between the WCF's triumvirate, where three champions of the federation square off in a three-man fight for the ages. No longer do I have to contend with forlorn and pudgy clowns desperate for a title shot. No, no, no. Instead, I finally get some decent competition in the form of the WCF Hardcore Champion and the WCF Peoples Champion - Logan and Night Rider respectively. And I could not have been any happier at this fixture.
I mean, it may be a tad pushing it to label the duo as decent competitors, given that I have yet to enter a ring with either man. For all I know, they could have just lucked into winning their championship, much like how Ryan did before I deservedly obtained the United States Championship at ONE. Both Logan and Night Rider appear to be well-training competitors, but we'll see how they adapt to facing a fresh face in the ring. If Jack could gather his wits and recover from his induced vegetative state (no thanks necessary, I was merely doing my job) in time to inform them about my ring style, perhaps it would then be a fairer fight. But until then, I daresay neither of these two 'champions' has what it takes to pin my shoulders down on that canvas or make me submit.
Hey, I am not one to randomly insult and dehumanize my opponents, no matter how abhorrent their lifestyles are or how obtuse they appear to be. Contrary to what many may think of me, I do hold a certain level of regard for them. Logan, in particular, may prove to be the more difficult opponent, as his numerous championships in the company may pay testament. Hot dogs appear to be some of his favourite things to consume in the world, judging by the number of times he has appeared on national television munching one in his corpulent chops. I cannot quite prove it at this point in time, but judging by my intuition, I suspect that some performance-enhancing substances have been added into the meat, thus conferring on to him the ability to be so dominant in the ring as he has been throughout the years. How else can you explain the fact that he is able to defeat more competent opponents in his storied career? Sheer luck can only bring you so far, as the math shows. I highly recommend an extensive drug test be conducted on this man. Professional wrestling cannot afford another scandal to occur, especially not while I'm United States Champion.
But until that fateful day comes, I must learn to adapt to such dirty tactics used by Logan. The self-proclaimed 'Boudle Slayer' will step in the ring with the Scientist of the WCF this Sunday, and the world shall pay witness to what will happen when one of the federation's oldest and most bizarre deviant squares off with a future WCF legend. Spoiler alert: chances are that the new blood comes up on top after smashing him in the neck with The Formula.
Trust me, it'll happen.
But then, I cannot discount the presence of my other opponent. Night Rider, though he does not hold the same credentials as Logan, is nonetheless an equally savage combatant. His skills in the squared circle are no doubt honed by his years of experience as a delinquent of the law. From what I understand, Night Rider was (is?) a former biker with quite the reputation on the streets. Witnessing and very likely participating in barbaric acts like murder, burglary, arson, and cocaine smuggling on a daily basis have rendered a man such as himself numb to life as a whole, and mere acts of violence in the ring should be of no consequence to him. That... I need to look out for. As a civilized man of America, I genuinely fear that such gangsterism would result in the future generation of mankind adapting his style of life. It now falls to me to ensure that such a thing never happens.
And in order to do so, I must first analyse the situation at hand. What does one do when faced with a felon? Simple. Taking advantage of his no-doubt traumatizing experience in federal prison, or while still in service in the gang should prove quite effective. Using my experienced eye as a former researcher, I suspect that Night Rider has been a recipient of sexual assault in his past. This explains his unsettling fascination with recovering his former tag team partner Denise. He must have had committed or suffered some sort of unspeakable carnal abuse along with her, and is afraid that under duress, she would spill the beans to a third party, which might halt his journeyman wrestling career for good. Yes, that must be it.
But Night Rider's mind working overtime offers me an advantage in our impending bout. No doubt he'll be more concerned with recovering his fellow outlaw Denise D'evil and preventing her from (un)intentionally blackmailing the both of them from active competition. If I could take advantage of a momentary lapse of concentration - which would no doubt occur at some point in time - I could easily level him to the mat with The Formula, and pin him for the win. Or should I introduce him to Darwin's Touch, and show him why evolution has passed him by? A true dilemma indeed, if you ask me.
When it comes down to crunch time, to be perfectly honest with all you readers, I really don't mind which of these two men I defeat to come up on top this Sunday. Both of them have their own strengths and weaknesses, and it is extremely difficult for me right now to decide whom to target. A win is a win, and as unprofessional as it may sound, I have no choice but to play the match by ear, engaging whoever seems to be weaker at that point of time. After all, it is a Triple Threat match, which means that I might not even be involved in the decision-making process. I cannot let that happen. Not on my honor as a scientist, and definitely not as the WCF United States Champion.
I will not lose on Sunday.
Cheers to all, and stay tuned to Slam for my inevitable victory.
Remus Micayle, Ph. D.
Secondary threat detected.
- Biker (?b?-k?r): Bicyclist or motorcyclist; especially one who is a member of an organized club or gang. First Known Use: 1883.
Potential solution found.
- Sodomy (?sä-d?-m?): Anal or oral copulation with a member of the same or opposite sex; also copulation with an animal. Middle English, from Anglo-French sodomie, from Late Latin Sodoma Sodom; from the homosexual proclivities of the men of the city in Genesis 19:1–11. First Known Use: 13th century.
Application of solution in progress.
The sound of platform shoes impacting upon marble echoes loudly around the lobby of what could be Raleigh's most luxurious hotel. At this time of the night, it is not surprising that there's not a single soul strolling about; most of the inhabitants are probably in lalaland already. Save the grumpy looking clerk sitting at the help desk who's dozing off in his chair at the moment, the entire place seems devoid of human life. Even the lighting shows off this fact; instead of a bright, welcoming colour, the lamps are now emitting a sleepy florescent yellow, giving the hotel a relaxed, tranquil aura.
Despite the lateness of the day, Doctor Remus Micayle strolls with his luggage in tow, still dressed in a smart-looking purple suit and tie. He makes his way to the receptionist's desk at a swift speed, clearly wanting to get into his room as quickly as possible.
Doctor Remus Micayle: Hello there.
The receptionist does not respond to his call, instead vocalizing a soft snore. An eyebrow twitching in annoyance, Micayle raps the surface of the desk with his knuckles.
Micayle: Hello there. Hello. Wake up.
But in an incredible act of unprofessionalism, the young lady still fails to wake up from her nap! Could it be that she is too exhausted to even man the desk? Or is she simply too lazy to entertain a paying customer at this time of the night?
Micayle: Perfect. Simply perfect.
The Scientist harrumphs in exasperation and shakes his head, before making his way to a nearby couch to sit down. Micayle leans back and rests his head against the plush cushion, closing his eyes as he reflects on his attempt to re-educate the world. His first Team Science video had been a roaring success, and he is nothing but eager to show the live crowd his next tape this week. El Taco De Genial, that Caucasian who despite his heritage, decided to fight tradition and embrace Mexican culture, has successfully been purged of his traitorous impulses. And Micayle could not have been prouder of being the architect of that beautiful work.
Sure, some may see his masterpiece as a tad violent. Abducting and then torturing the taco lover was not the most elegant method to accomplish his task, but the results don't lie. And in science, the results are all that matter. Truth be told, he could have talked to El Taco nicely, but that would have never worked. In this case, brute force was the only way that he could get the Judas of a jobber to renege on his love for foreign culture. Those whips he brandished on to his body were painful, but hey, sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. If one man's suffering could mean that an entire country be united... so be it. No jobber is a--
: Hey, Remoose!
Micayle's eyes shot open as a familiar-sounding voice reaches his ears. He quickly sits up and swivels his head towards the entrance. A small smirk appears on his face as he saw who it was.
Micayle: Well, well. Isn't it quite the surprise to see you in this part of town? What are you doing here at this time of the night, old friend?
A hearty chuckle greets him, as one hundred and seventy-five pounds of NBA point guard goodness crashes down onto the couch directly opposite him. Dressed casually in a tee shirt and jeans and wearing a silly smile on his face is Chris Paul, star player for the Los Angeles Clippers.
Chris Paul: Yo, so wassup my homie! Been a long time since we saw each other!
The Scientist chuckles. Boy, could Paul's bubbly personality be contagious.
Micayle: What is up indeed. How come you are here? I didn't even expect you to be back in your hometown, with you being in Los Angeles and all. What, your fledgling basketball career finally flamed out?
Paul flips Micayle the middle finger.
Paul: Nuh-uh! I'm back for the weekend to pay my folks a visit. Been a while since I've seen them too, you know? Been busy with the kids and the lady, not to mention trying to contend in the league. I'm staying in this hotel too! So imagine my surprise when I walked in and bumped into the spectator who spouted a bunch of bull to me when Stanford met Wake Forest all those years ago in the NCAA! Ha ha! So, enough about me, I saw you got yourself quite the gig in wrestling! United States Champion and all, eh?
Intrigued, Micayle raises his eyebrows at Paul. The point guard noticed, and shakes his head in mock pity.
Paul: Oh come on there big boy, I may be busy, but there ain't a lot to do in LA now that I'm a married man. The kids and I occasionally switch on the TV, and sometimes we spot WCF on! Imagine my surprise when I laid eyes on you last week? But anyways, congratulations on retaining that belt against that clown guy. Was it tough?
Micayle: Barely. Sure, he presented a little more of a challenge than I expected, but you saw who got his hand raised by the end of the night.
Paul nods in agreement.
Paul: Truth tea. Sipping that truth tea right there homie. But you sure lucked out, didn't cha? Tapping out and all, but just so coincidentally the referee missed it out. Jack Happy could have taken that shiny gold belt away from ya.
Micayle's smile fades somewhat. His retort has a tint of harshness to it.
Micayle: No such thing occurred, Chris. I retained that title legitimately and with honor. I mean, c'mon. You know me as an individual with exceptional ethnics and integrity. If I - ahem- tapped out, and the referee didn't ring the bell, it simply means that I didn't tap out. Simple as that. Plus, Mr. Jack UnHappy will never in his life have the caliber to touch someone like me. Facing a genius like me in the ring is a privilege to him, enough said.
Paul simply shakes his head, no doubt used to Micayle's grand claims throughout the years.
Paul: Yeah, yeah, I ain't hating on you homie. Just stating facts. So this week, you got what, a match against two champions? Make sure to win this time with gusto yeah? My two kids who watched last week were asking whom that Doctor was, and why so many people were booing him. If you don't step up your ball game, I won't know how to explain to them the next time Uncle Micayle visits them in LA. Plus, if you don't win decisively, how can you expect to defend against the lights of Violet at the PPV? That lady sure looks good, dayummm...
Micayle: Please, no one even knows if she can defeat Benjamin Atreyu this week. She's got skill, I'll give it to you, but Atreyu is a beast in the ring. To me, she doesn't possess that calib--
Sleepy Receptionist: Oh shit!
Alarmed, the two men turn towards the help desk. Apparently, the young lady must have woke up from her stupor and panicked, especially when she saw two visitors waiting in the lobby. Rolling his eyes at the scene, Micayle stands up and raises a hand in farewell to his friend.
Micayle: Well, looks like we have to cut this conversation short. Miss 'About-To-Get-A-Letter-Of-Termination' over there seems to have woken up, and I do need to get some sleep. A long day ahead, you see?
Chris Paul stands up and offers a handshake to Micayle. The United States Champion grasps it.
Paul: I get you, homeboy. Stay strong yeah, and continue sending that message of science. You know I'll be supporting ya. And oh, don't tap out this week, you dig? Ha ha!
Micayle: Shut up Paul. I'll catch you in LA soon.
Micayle smiles in annoyance before releasing the handshake. He turns away and starts walking towards the desk, where a very frantic looking receptionist is trying her best to retain her composure and get everything ready.
Sleepy Receptionist: Um... I'm so sorry sir, but I must have dozed off. May I have your particulars so that I can direct you to your room? A free upgrade of course, apologies for the delay.
Micayle smiles. Not in humour though, but in anticipation of what is to occur on Sunday. Team Science will no doubt reign again. He'll show Paul.
Micayle: Perfect, my dear lady. Simply perfect. Lead the way.
- Logan (?l?-g?n): John or James ( Tah-gah-jute ) c1725–80, leader of the Cayuga tribe. Joshua, 1908–1988, U.S. playwright, director, and producer. A mountain in Canada, in the Mount Elias Mountains: second highest peak in North America. 19,850 feet (6050 meters). A city in N Utah. A male given name. First Known Use: 1730.
Potential solution found.
- Hot Dog (?hät-?do?g): A frankfurter heated and served in a long split roll. A person (such as an athlete) who performs or plays in a way that is meant to attract attention: a person who hotdogs First known use: 1895.
Application of solution in progress.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Good morrow ladies and gentlemen, dear readers, critics, one and all. It's the Second Coming Of Darwin Himself, the The Perspicacious One taking his time to allow some knowledge to pervade into your minds, enriching your vanilla, plain ho-hum, wretched lives to the best of my adroit mind once again.
I've noticed that ever since the first Team Science video went up on Slam after my match with Mr. Jack UnHappy on Slam last week, I have received much calumny on social media from various members of the general public. I must admit; I was baffled as to why my patriotic actions were subject to criticism and hate online. But then, after much deliberation and though, I realised what was the rationale behind these actions. Once again, it is a lack of proper education amongst the good people of America, as I should have guessed from the very start. I therefore apologize for my mistake in showing you all the scientific footage of what a true American and human being should be.
Instead, I should have made an EVEN more concise effort to show you the consequences of disobeying my words and continuing on with your lives of transgression and immoralities. From here on, I shall redouble my efforts onscreen to spread my message of justice and proper tutelage! Indeed, I believe all you lovely people will enjoy this week's Team Science lesson even more. It'll air immediately after my bout on Sunday, so do stay tuned! You really don't want to miss my educational videos after a week of restless plodding about in your one-horse lives.
Oh, and no more fear on your part that public disapproval will prevent me from furthering the goal of Team Science. I promise that I will disregard the blind and continue to use science to lead the way to a brighter future for America!
And speaking of which, this week, I will be participating in a Champion of Champions match live on Slam. A fracas between the WCF's triumvirate, where three champions of the federation square off in a three-man fight for the ages. No longer do I have to contend with forlorn and pudgy clowns desperate for a title shot. No, no, no. Instead, I finally get some decent competition in the form of the WCF Hardcore Champion and the WCF Peoples Champion - Logan and Night Rider respectively. And I could not have been any happier at this fixture.
I mean, it may be a tad pushing it to label the duo as decent competitors, given that I have yet to enter a ring with either man. For all I know, they could have just lucked into winning their championship, much like how Ryan did before I deservedly obtained the United States Championship at ONE. Both Logan and Night Rider appear to be well-training competitors, but we'll see how they adapt to facing a fresh face in the ring. If Jack could gather his wits and recover from his induced vegetative state (no thanks necessary, I was merely doing my job) in time to inform them about my ring style, perhaps it would then be a fairer fight. But until then, I daresay neither of these two 'champions' has what it takes to pin my shoulders down on that canvas or make me submit.
Hey, I am not one to randomly insult and dehumanize my opponents, no matter how abhorrent their lifestyles are or how obtuse they appear to be. Contrary to what many may think of me, I do hold a certain level of regard for them. Logan, in particular, may prove to be the more difficult opponent, as his numerous championships in the company may pay testament. Hot dogs appear to be some of his favourite things to consume in the world, judging by the number of times he has appeared on national television munching one in his corpulent chops. I cannot quite prove it at this point in time, but judging by my intuition, I suspect that some performance-enhancing substances have been added into the meat, thus conferring on to him the ability to be so dominant in the ring as he has been throughout the years. How else can you explain the fact that he is able to defeat more competent opponents in his storied career? Sheer luck can only bring you so far, as the math shows. I highly recommend an extensive drug test be conducted on this man. Professional wrestling cannot afford another scandal to occur, especially not while I'm United States Champion.
But until that fateful day comes, I must learn to adapt to such dirty tactics used by Logan. The self-proclaimed 'Boudle Slayer' will step in the ring with the Scientist of the WCF this Sunday, and the world shall pay witness to what will happen when one of the federation's oldest and most bizarre deviant squares off with a future WCF legend. Spoiler alert: chances are that the new blood comes up on top after smashing him in the neck with The Formula.
Trust me, it'll happen.
But then, I cannot discount the presence of my other opponent. Night Rider, though he does not hold the same credentials as Logan, is nonetheless an equally savage combatant. His skills in the squared circle are no doubt honed by his years of experience as a delinquent of the law. From what I understand, Night Rider was (is?) a former biker with quite the reputation on the streets. Witnessing and very likely participating in barbaric acts like murder, burglary, arson, and cocaine smuggling on a daily basis have rendered a man such as himself numb to life as a whole, and mere acts of violence in the ring should be of no consequence to him. That... I need to look out for. As a civilized man of America, I genuinely fear that such gangsterism would result in the future generation of mankind adapting his style of life. It now falls to me to ensure that such a thing never happens.
And in order to do so, I must first analyse the situation at hand. What does one do when faced with a felon? Simple. Taking advantage of his no-doubt traumatizing experience in federal prison, or while still in service in the gang should prove quite effective. Using my experienced eye as a former researcher, I suspect that Night Rider has been a recipient of sexual assault in his past. This explains his unsettling fascination with recovering his former tag team partner Denise. He must have had committed or suffered some sort of unspeakable carnal abuse along with her, and is afraid that under duress, she would spill the beans to a third party, which might halt his journeyman wrestling career for good. Yes, that must be it.
But Night Rider's mind working overtime offers me an advantage in our impending bout. No doubt he'll be more concerned with recovering his fellow outlaw Denise D'evil and preventing her from (un)intentionally blackmailing the both of them from active competition. If I could take advantage of a momentary lapse of concentration - which would no doubt occur at some point in time - I could easily level him to the mat with The Formula, and pin him for the win. Or should I introduce him to Darwin's Touch, and show him why evolution has passed him by? A true dilemma indeed, if you ask me.
When it comes down to crunch time, to be perfectly honest with all you readers, I really don't mind which of these two men I defeat to come up on top this Sunday. Both of them have their own strengths and weaknesses, and it is extremely difficult for me right now to decide whom to target. A win is a win, and as unprofessional as it may sound, I have no choice but to play the match by ear, engaging whoever seems to be weaker at that point of time. After all, it is a Triple Threat match, which means that I might not even be involved in the decision-making process. I cannot let that happen. Not on my honor as a scientist, and definitely not as the WCF United States Champion.
I will not lose on Sunday.
Cheers to all, and stay tuned to Slam for my inevitable victory.
Remus Micayle, Ph. D.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Secondary threat detected.
- Biker (?b?-k?r): Bicyclist or motorcyclist; especially one who is a member of an organized club or gang. First Known Use: 1883.
Potential solution found.
- Sodomy (?sä-d?-m?): Anal or oral copulation with a member of the same or opposite sex; also copulation with an animal. Middle English, from Anglo-French sodomie, from Late Latin Sodoma Sodom; from the homosexual proclivities of the men of the city in Genesis 19:1–11. First Known Use: 13th century.
Application of solution in progress.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Scene: The Umstead Hotel And Spa, Raleigh, North Carolina, USA (Friday, 0100hrs, 10th January 2014)
The sound of platform shoes impacting upon marble echoes loudly around the lobby of what could be Raleigh's most luxurious hotel. At this time of the night, it is not surprising that there's not a single soul strolling about; most of the inhabitants are probably in lalaland already. Save the grumpy looking clerk sitting at the help desk who's dozing off in his chair at the moment, the entire place seems devoid of human life. Even the lighting shows off this fact; instead of a bright, welcoming colour, the lamps are now emitting a sleepy florescent yellow, giving the hotel a relaxed, tranquil aura.
Despite the lateness of the day, Doctor Remus Micayle strolls with his luggage in tow, still dressed in a smart-looking purple suit and tie. He makes his way to the receptionist's desk at a swift speed, clearly wanting to get into his room as quickly as possible.
Doctor Remus Micayle: Hello there.
The receptionist does not respond to his call, instead vocalizing a soft snore. An eyebrow twitching in annoyance, Micayle raps the surface of the desk with his knuckles.
Micayle: Hello there. Hello. Wake up.
But in an incredible act of unprofessionalism, the young lady still fails to wake up from her nap! Could it be that she is too exhausted to even man the desk? Or is she simply too lazy to entertain a paying customer at this time of the night?
Micayle: Perfect. Simply perfect.
The Scientist harrumphs in exasperation and shakes his head, before making his way to a nearby couch to sit down. Micayle leans back and rests his head against the plush cushion, closing his eyes as he reflects on his attempt to re-educate the world. His first Team Science video had been a roaring success, and he is nothing but eager to show the live crowd his next tape this week. El Taco De Genial, that Caucasian who despite his heritage, decided to fight tradition and embrace Mexican culture, has successfully been purged of his traitorous impulses. And Micayle could not have been prouder of being the architect of that beautiful work.
Sure, some may see his masterpiece as a tad violent. Abducting and then torturing the taco lover was not the most elegant method to accomplish his task, but the results don't lie. And in science, the results are all that matter. Truth be told, he could have talked to El Taco nicely, but that would have never worked. In this case, brute force was the only way that he could get the Judas of a jobber to renege on his love for foreign culture. Those whips he brandished on to his body were painful, but hey, sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. If one man's suffering could mean that an entire country be united... so be it. No jobber is a--
: Hey, Remoose!Micayle's eyes shot open as a familiar-sounding voice reaches his ears. He quickly sits up and swivels his head towards the entrance. A small smirk appears on his face as he saw who it was.
Micayle: Well, well. Isn't it quite the surprise to see you in this part of town? What are you doing here at this time of the night, old friend?
A hearty chuckle greets him, as one hundred and seventy-five pounds of NBA point guard goodness crashes down onto the couch directly opposite him. Dressed casually in a tee shirt and jeans and wearing a silly smile on his face is Chris Paul, star player for the Los Angeles Clippers.
Chris Paul: Yo, so wassup my homie! Been a long time since we saw each other!
The Scientist chuckles. Boy, could Paul's bubbly personality be contagious.
Micayle: What is up indeed. How come you are here? I didn't even expect you to be back in your hometown, with you being in Los Angeles and all. What, your fledgling basketball career finally flamed out?
Paul flips Micayle the middle finger.
Paul: Nuh-uh! I'm back for the weekend to pay my folks a visit. Been a while since I've seen them too, you know? Been busy with the kids and the lady, not to mention trying to contend in the league. I'm staying in this hotel too! So imagine my surprise when I walked in and bumped into the spectator who spouted a bunch of bull to me when Stanford met Wake Forest all those years ago in the NCAA! Ha ha! So, enough about me, I saw you got yourself quite the gig in wrestling! United States Champion and all, eh?
Intrigued, Micayle raises his eyebrows at Paul. The point guard noticed, and shakes his head in mock pity.
Paul: Oh come on there big boy, I may be busy, but there ain't a lot to do in LA now that I'm a married man. The kids and I occasionally switch on the TV, and sometimes we spot WCF on! Imagine my surprise when I laid eyes on you last week? But anyways, congratulations on retaining that belt against that clown guy. Was it tough?
Micayle: Barely. Sure, he presented a little more of a challenge than I expected, but you saw who got his hand raised by the end of the night.
Paul nods in agreement.
Paul: Truth tea. Sipping that truth tea right there homie. But you sure lucked out, didn't cha? Tapping out and all, but just so coincidentally the referee missed it out. Jack Happy could have taken that shiny gold belt away from ya.
Micayle's smile fades somewhat. His retort has a tint of harshness to it.
Micayle: No such thing occurred, Chris. I retained that title legitimately and with honor. I mean, c'mon. You know me as an individual with exceptional ethnics and integrity. If I - ahem- tapped out, and the referee didn't ring the bell, it simply means that I didn't tap out. Simple as that. Plus, Mr. Jack UnHappy will never in his life have the caliber to touch someone like me. Facing a genius like me in the ring is a privilege to him, enough said.
Paul simply shakes his head, no doubt used to Micayle's grand claims throughout the years.
Paul: Yeah, yeah, I ain't hating on you homie. Just stating facts. So this week, you got what, a match against two champions? Make sure to win this time with gusto yeah? My two kids who watched last week were asking whom that Doctor was, and why so many people were booing him. If you don't step up your ball game, I won't know how to explain to them the next time Uncle Micayle visits them in LA. Plus, if you don't win decisively, how can you expect to defend against the lights of Violet at the PPV? That lady sure looks good, dayummm...
Micayle: Please, no one even knows if she can defeat Benjamin Atreyu this week. She's got skill, I'll give it to you, but Atreyu is a beast in the ring. To me, she doesn't possess that calib--
Sleepy Receptionist: Oh shit!
Alarmed, the two men turn towards the help desk. Apparently, the young lady must have woke up from her stupor and panicked, especially when she saw two visitors waiting in the lobby. Rolling his eyes at the scene, Micayle stands up and raises a hand in farewell to his friend.
Micayle: Well, looks like we have to cut this conversation short. Miss 'About-To-Get-A-Letter-Of-Termination' over there seems to have woken up, and I do need to get some sleep. A long day ahead, you see?
Chris Paul stands up and offers a handshake to Micayle. The United States Champion grasps it.
Paul: I get you, homeboy. Stay strong yeah, and continue sending that message of science. You know I'll be supporting ya. And oh, don't tap out this week, you dig? Ha ha!
Micayle: Shut up Paul. I'll catch you in LA soon.
Micayle smiles in annoyance before releasing the handshake. He turns away and starts walking towards the desk, where a very frantic looking receptionist is trying her best to retain her composure and get everything ready.
Sleepy Receptionist: Um... I'm so sorry sir, but I must have dozed off. May I have your particulars so that I can direct you to your room? A free upgrade of course, apologies for the delay.
Micayle smiles. Not in humour though, but in anticipation of what is to occur on Sunday. Team Science will no doubt reign again. He'll show Paul.
Micayle: Perfect, my dear lady. Simply perfect. Lead the way.
