Post by 'The Shine' Brent Alpine on Jul 31, 2016 16:46:19 GMT -5
This is the converted factory that played home to the recent 'Let's Get Physique' but the set has been rearranged to something equally garish and resembling an 1980s Madonna video. The backdrop is covered in patches of zebra patterned felt material with posters of Teddy Blaze, Gemini Battle, Thomas Uriel Bates and Kevin Bishop spread out in between.
There are three podiums which appear to be giant marble statues shaped as hands with open palms stretched towards the audience. The inner and outer statues are white. Percy Micro is strapped on the palm of the left podium and 'The Vulture' Dallas Culture stands behind the right hand podium. He is shirtless and only clad in an orange turban, a large crystal medallion and bright green pajama bottoms. He gazes intently into the camera as though his next assignment will direct the course of global history.
Behind the central podium, this time a black hand, is 'The Shine' Dallas Culture who proudly displays his TV Title on his broad shoulders. A quick shot around the studio reveals the same rent-a-crowd from the 'Let's Get Physique' show - a collection of middle aged women who probably thought they were there to see Oprah. The light jazz theme music softens to cheers and whoops from the crowd as the words 'Solid Hands - The Great Debate' momentarily flash on the screen.
Alpine looks expectedly to the host Hank Brown, who is standing on the edge of the stage with his back turned to the audience.
Hank Brown: Good afternoon and welcome to Solid Hands - The Great Debate. This is brought to you by Wrestling Championship Federation, mere hours from tonight's spectacle Ultimate Showdown, live on PPV. Erm...
Brown gestures towards Alpine with a bewildered shrug. Alpine simply nods and smiles encouragingly.
Hank Brown: Well, I've been assigned here at the behest of Team Alpine and was briefed with only 'Be a pro, you'll know what to do'. But here we are, live studio audience and I have absolutely no idea what brings us to this studio. Brent, can you fill us in?
Brent Alpine: Absolutely Hank. No drama. Percy...
Percy Micro: I'm afraid I'm also none the wiser...
Brent Alpine: Dallas?
Dallas Culture: I could lead us all in a guided meditation to meet our spirit animals, if you like?
Brent Alpine: Yeah how about no? We'll stick to the original plan, I got this. We've hired out this building for another few days and we have another promo to film so let's trust in our awesomeness and do this... What was it again?
Percy Micro: Solid Hands - The Great Debate.
Brent Alpine: That's it. But first, let's talk about some less solid hands.
Percy Micro: Slane, McMorris and Chambers, I presume?
Brent Alpine: Indeed. I've exhausted ripping those imbeciles many new arseholes but their shit continues to fly from dirty crevices. The likely outcomes of this Ultimate Showdown match are being made evident by the promos that have preceded it. We're able to gauge a wrestler's state of mind and attitude towards the contest. Obviously I've been in stellar and sparkling form but that's a given. Stuart Slane, our esteemed World Champion, has really shown his hand. He delivered a weak 'I'm going to win... err, honest!' promo and has now crawled back in the hole that he'd barely crawled out from to participate in his freakish fairy tale. He has now consigned himself to failure and is preparing to be rudely awakened from his dream. Smart. I respect that.
Percy Micro: Shame Zombie and Chambers have not been so astute.
Brent Alpine: Instead they've each dumped upon us 5, and counting... of the most generic pieces of turd they could muster. Chambers seems to have filmed one terrible, half asleep promo and had the production team cut it into 5 to make it seem like he's actually done some work. Anything to distract us from the fact that he took his eyes off the ball and left all his promo filming to the final 24 hours for the biggest match of his life. He's bland at the best of times but these recent efforts are tantamount to 'BLAH BLAH BLAH I'M PERFECT, I'M SO PRETTY, SCREW MOMMY, I WILL WIN'. His one trick is running tired and the pony needs shooting.
As for my old friend Zombie, it's the same shit he's been putting out for years. 'LOL FUCCBOI HONEY BADGER GUNNA FUC WID CHU WITH DA THICKNESS SANDBAG FGT'. His advocate Buddy Roman needs to commission him a t-shirt pronto - 'EAT SLEEP REPEAT THE STREAK (of crap)'. I naively expected him to raise his game for a battle with his old friend The Shine but he fell back into his coked up delusions. Only this time it was more Coke Zero than full fat, full thickness. I refuted all of his tired insults and insinuations eruditely and comprehensively but, predictably, he couldn't respond. He could barely even resort to infantile bullshit - he went into his shell.
Hank Brown: So what's this debate all about? Am I supposed to be posing you questions?
Brent Alpine: Relax, Hanky Panky. I have this under control and am about to get to the thrust of the issue.
Alpine lays his belt down on his podium and commandingly steps out in front of it to the centre of the stage.
Brent Alpine: Let me verbalise what everyone's thinking. I am not only going to win Ultimate Showdown, I will author it.
There are 7 titles of the line. Needless to say, the WCF World Title is mine. Let's not be silly enough to consider any other possibility. What then happens to the other 6 titles? As the standard bearer and global representative of the company, it would be neglectful of me to let the proverbial chips fall where they may. Especially considering my great sentiment towards the TV Title I currently hold.
In total frankness, if I were booking the match, I would not choose any of these men to compete for such prestigious prizes; myself excluded of course. I would instead fill the match with the newly emerging crop of developmental workers that I am currently mentoring. They have not appeared on WCF television yet but my tutelage will prove invaluable to them and they are already surpassing my so-called peers. Yet we'll have to make do with what's available.
I have verbally obliterated 3 men in my previous promos and that has been a deliberate and chronological decimation. The first man I will eliminate is Stuart Slane. The joke's over now and it's time for him to be put down like the decrepit old dog he is. That slut Esther can lick his wounds, for all I care. I'm consigning him to one of the Tag Titles.
For my amusement alone, I am choosing to eliminate Zombie McMorris next. The combination of Slane and Zombie as Tag Team Champions would be comedy gold. It would be a nightmare for both men as they exist on completely opposite ends of the same cheap and rotting coin. They would end up killing each other. Or, more accurately, slapping each other like girl guides.
Next, I will be eliminating Nathan Chambers. He is marginally preferable over the other 2 because I initially mistook him to have a glimmer of talent. In a supreme twist of irony, he will become People's Champion. The irony being that the people don't give a monkey's rectum about him. Good luck, Nate!
Beyond that, it really doesn't matter to me in what order I eliminate the remaining 4 men. They have absolutely no personal significance to me. They're not especially irritating or endearing. In fact, being extremely kind, I'd be inclined to anoint them 'Solid Hands'.
So let's take this to the democratic process. The big consolation prize is this, right here.
He steps back behind the podium and holds the TV Title in his palm. The camera zooms in to capture its majesty. I must say, it sparkles a little more brilliantly these days.
Brent Alpine: So Hank, if you can direct us, myself, Percy and Dallas will all provide an argument for 'Who should be the next TV Champion?'. Please allow interjections and counter-arguments as you see appropriate.
Hank Brown: That's fine, if I must. Let's start with Brent's cousin, Dallas Culture. Make your case, Dallas.
A spotlight falls on Culture. Initially dazzled, his pupils readjust and he grips the thumb of the hand statue podium earnestly.
Dallas Culture: My pleasure, cherished one.
My choice for Television Champion is none other than 'The Plague' Kevin Bishop.
After hours of going into the stillness and silencing my mind to reach oneness with the divine present, it became clear to me that Kevin Bishop as TV Champion is in the highest good. He has the deep knowingness of Duality - that good and evil live in perfect oneness with the Universe. Many onlookers were outraged that he led the reporter Leah to her demise but he did this in the awareness that death is merely an illusion. Leah needed to transcend to her next soul lesson.
Kevin is a truth seeker, an indigo child, a guru. His philosophy is so evolved and he wants nothing more than to lead his disciples along the path of consciousness ascendance.
Percy Micro: But what actually IS his philosophy?
Dallas Culture: You know, like... Opening people's eyes. Vision. Truth.
Percy Micro: What IS his truth?
Dallas Culture: Err... you know... the Brotherhood. Unity. Plus he has a wife called Karma so of course I'd like him. I hear she goes around and comes around.
There is silence.
Hank Brown: Are you done, Dallas? (Dallas nods) Ok, any rebuttals?
Percy Micro: Such a weak argument doesn't need a rebuttal but I will oblige nonetheless.
Kevin Bishop tries to convince everyone that he's a leader but he's the biggest follower in the federation. After all, was there not 'The Original Plague' Darren Knight, who apparently now is baying for the new pretender's blood? Bishop entered the WCF with loud proclamations of philosophy and vision which, Dallas has inadvertently exposed as hollow and meaningless.
If his message held such weight, why would he be so hinged upon the validation of the mindless WCF fans? Whatever it was meant to communicate, it was compromised by his new found union with the people. However, the truth is it was all hot air from the outset. Bishop's only goal was to make friends and influence people. In what, he didn't care. He associates himself with a bizarre cast of losers such as Karma, Nathan, Zander, Ken, Steven the keyboard jockey, Sean Craven and what's his name at the Silver and Gold Talent Agency. He's trying to cosy up with anyone he can in the WCF - Zombie McMorris, DRG, Severan King. This is not a man secure on his own.
He will try to form alliances in the Ultimate Showdown match. He won't be eliminated early because he'll be too busy opportunistically arranging double teams. With everyone so fearful of Mr. Alpine, I wouldn't be surprised if he orders a lynch mob against my precious commodity. But this will not last and he will be destroyed like the rest. He talks about ridding the world of weak minded people. He can start with himself after he is exposed as such by Mr. Alpine.
Brent Alpine: Sorry Dallas but I'm going to have to agree with Percy. Bishop is the ultimate follower and he'll follow Slane, ZMAC and Chambers out of the match.
There is another line he will follow. It is the lineage of highly rated young wrestlers whose careers have been shattered by The Shine. Remember Caleb Ronan? No, me neither. Psychopomp? Greybeard? Vic Viceroy? I ended another newbie career recently too... I think his name was Stefan Orbitch or something. Heh heh. Hell, has anyone seen Neforian since I took my TV Title off him? Earth to Neforian, come in Neforian?
Hank Brown: Actually, he's Henry Spearman now.
Brent Alpine: I eviscerated him too. Last week on Slam in fact.
It makes no sense to me why the WCF's not protecting these faint hopes a bit better. Perhaps the officials are punishing them for some backstage indiscretions. Any rookie who sees their name on the opposite side of 'Brent Alpine' on a WCF show must surely realise 'OK, they're burying me now'. Predictably, none of them have been quite so prominent and crowing as loudly after I have been through with them.
Kevin Bishop is the latest boy wonder. The US Champion. Congrats Kevin but the same pattern will be repeated. You will fade into obscurity and insecurity after encountering the most radiant superstar in this world. Luckily for you, there are 6 other losers to share the stage of shame with, so perhaps you'll be less exposed. You say I haven't been challenged. Well, CHALLENGE ME. I welcome your pathetic little attempt but, so far, I'm less impressed by you than I was by Neforian... and that wasn't much, by the way. He's retreated back to curtain jerker and runs his mouth a lot less these days. He was a puppy pretending to be a wolf but now he's back in the dog house playing fetch with Mikey eXtreme. I suggest you join them and stop barking at the moon.
Several of my opponents have tried to pre-empt my attacks this week and you did just that in saying 'you’re probably planning on throwing this whole cult thing back in my face' but the fact is, it's already on your face. Your defensive anticipation not only shows me that you are petrified of my silver tongue but that you simultaneously underestimate me if you think my riposte could be so mild.
Hank Brown: Moving on to Percy Micro.
Percy Micro: Picking the next TV Champion is like choosing what sadistic form of torture one wishes to endure.
This prompts a mistaken audio cue - 'HELLLLOOOOOO IT'S ME!'.
Percy Micro: That's an even worse Torture. But, with no other option than to participate in this charade, I reluctantly pick Thomas Uriel Bates.
Hank Brown: Would you like to tell us why?
Percy Micro: No.
OK, OK, I choose Bates because he's the only one of these 4 supposed 'solid hands' to have a semblance of intellect. Take that praise with a giant pinch of salt and in the spirit of hyperbole, of course. Bates has some rudimentary, archaic and idealistic political views but at least he is engaging with the process. He's apparently a former history professor which somewhat appeals to my love of the academia. What's less reported is that, rumour has it, his history lessons were delivered to pre-schoolers and mostly comprised of papier mâché figures being knocked together to cries of 'WAR WAR WAR'.
He's harmless, unthreatening and not totally mentally deficient. Is that justification enough?
Hank Brown: Not really but it's probably the best we'll get from you. Dallas, a response?
Dallas Culture: What most intrigues me about the venerable T.U.B. is the fact he's a foot shorter than his father Andre. This can't be anything other than a poor karmic inheritance. Men are spiritually and literally supposed to surpass their fathers. It's a rites of passage that is sacrosanct to Yang energy. Yet Thomas has not grown beyond Andre or his uncle in any measure whatsoever. His wrestling career can be defined by disappointment. He may be 6 feet 9 inches but everyone here sees him as a diminutive underdog. He's seemingly the only remaining member of DRG but at least he's the leader I suppose. That's one person for him to feel superior over.
Unfortunately, it appears his vital life lesson is to overcome the curse of inadequacy. I don't see him doing that this Sunday as there are still too many etheric barriers in the spiritual realm. He clings onto his idealist doctrines but that is most naïve. The Universe can not be anything but what it is in the sacred Now moment. Bates loves history because it is his comfort zone. He will never lose the greatness that has gone before him in the Bates/James dynasty but he will never attain even a measure of those rewards in his future.
Brent Alpine: I actually don't mind TUBBY too much. In some ways, he reminds me of Stuart Slane. They're both big old American boys with conservative and Christian values. They're 'nice' guys. Despite numerous failures, they still hang on in there. In a perverse way, I can admire someone who so frequently has to confront their own overwhelming inadequacy.
There's two key ways in which T.U.B. and Slane differ, though. Firstly, I believe Thomas is genuine. He is just a nice, simple boy. While Slane parades in his sheep's clothing hoping desperately that anyone will believe him, Thomas is just a big do-gooder. He's weak but GENUINELY weak. Secondly and most importantly, Slane had his miracle, his fairy tale moment with the World Title. Although Slane greatly stretched the realm of probability, it would be far too implausible to suggest that Bates can even come anywhere close. This 'Impassable Mountain' has been climbed over far too many times now and too many people have pissed on the summit.
Hank Brown: So, with that being said Brent... who is your pick as your successor? Who will you 'allow' to win the TV Title this Sunday?
Alpine signals left to a sound technician out of shot. This summons a drum roll.
Brent Alpine: I urge you to vote as the next TV Champion... Teddy Blaze!
Hank Brown: WHAT?! He pinned you a few weeks ago.
Brent Alpine: And didn't you think that curious, Hank? How could I, The Shine, allow myself to be pinned by perennial jobber Teddy Blaze? Didn't you think that an anomaly of some kind? Because I certainly did.
The night I faced Teddy and Mikey eXtreme in a triple threat match, I felt compelled in every compassionate bone in my genetically awe-inspiring body to give Teddy a confidence boost. At the time, I had no idea what moved me to such an act of kindness. This curiosity lingered with me all the way up until a few days ago when Percy helped me to remember my previous WCF incarnation. Then, everything came flooding back.
It was late May 2014. A couple of my Sequitus partners were raving about this new wrestler they had seen while scouting the developmental territory for new members for our stable. His name was Teddy Blaze. I asked one of them... possibly Ciserano... to invite Blaze in for a chat with me. However, when they went back to the developmental training academy, Blaze was gone. He had rage quit as he knew deep down he was light years away from my talent. One year later after I had departed, the fed looked a much less competitive place. He signed a pro contract, donned a mask and Teo Del Sol was born.
I think of Teddy the same way as I do Sequitus. He evokes a certain sympathy in me. Like someone might have for a dying rat perhaps. You might see him in the same way that Teddy saw his ill fated student Jorge Juarez. You know he's a lamb heading for slaughter but a big part of you wants him to have some small mercies along the way. That's why my subconscious kicked in and gifted Blaze a win. I recognised his already feeble confidence had plummeted since his heydays as Teo so I wanted to give him a boost. It will not happen again but I will permit him the grace of being the last person I eliminate. He can finally graduate from the People's Title he loves so much.
Percy Micro: But where's he BEEN, Mr. Alpine? What did the victory do for him? It was too late. He has given up finally trying and now barely puts his head above the parapet. He's only filmed 3 promos in his entire time as Teddy Blaze.
Dallas Culture: That's because he has shame issues embedded deep in his aura. He wore a mask to try to hide himself. He tried to be Teo - an otherworldly super hero figure but, deep down, he knew he was only the sewer dwelling Teddy Blaze. Although he has removed his mask, he still bears a spiritual mask. He doesn't know his own divinity. He is sinking in a quicksand of shame. It is truly the lowest level of consciousness. Even murderers and thieves have some life energy, even if they are aligned with all that is fallacious and outside of love. Teddy has flat lined in apathetic slumber. No wonder he's barely shown up recently. I doubt he will even attend Ultimate Showdown.
With that, Alpine makes another signal to the sound desk. A quiz show bell blares out.
Brent Alpine: Good arguments gentlemen. Now it's time for the audience to vote. Who do YOU believe should be the next TV Champion?
Hank Brown: Whoa whoa whoa, hold up a minute! Doesn't Gemini Battle get some sort of representation here?
Brent steps out in front of his podium and holds his finger up to his lips.
Brent Alpine: We mustn't, Hank. Gemini got a bit sensitive and accused me of always representing my opponents in some sort of parodied form. We cannot be seen to do this. I am far beyond such childishness.
But SUDDENLY, a walking Aardvark's Anus rushes out from the back. He runs through the audience like Ultimate Warrior on (even more) steroids. He chest bumps the much bigger Australian athlete.
Aardvark Anus: Well I am NOT beyond such childishness. I AM GEMINI BATTLE!
But SUDDENLY, the 1990s boy band namesakes, still dripping in gayness, abseil in from the rafters and crush the man in the Aardvark Anus suit.
1990s Gay Band: NO FUCK YOUS WE'RE GEMINI BATTLE!
But SUDDENLY, an obese ginger haired lady in the crowd runs onto the stage and eats them whole.
Obese Ginger: NO I'M GEMINI BATTLE!
There are three podiums which appear to be giant marble statues shaped as hands with open palms stretched towards the audience. The inner and outer statues are white. Percy Micro is strapped on the palm of the left podium and 'The Vulture' Dallas Culture stands behind the right hand podium. He is shirtless and only clad in an orange turban, a large crystal medallion and bright green pajama bottoms. He gazes intently into the camera as though his next assignment will direct the course of global history.
Behind the central podium, this time a black hand, is 'The Shine' Dallas Culture who proudly displays his TV Title on his broad shoulders. A quick shot around the studio reveals the same rent-a-crowd from the 'Let's Get Physique' show - a collection of middle aged women who probably thought they were there to see Oprah. The light jazz theme music softens to cheers and whoops from the crowd as the words 'Solid Hands - The Great Debate' momentarily flash on the screen.
Alpine looks expectedly to the host Hank Brown, who is standing on the edge of the stage with his back turned to the audience.
Hank Brown: Good afternoon and welcome to Solid Hands - The Great Debate. This is brought to you by Wrestling Championship Federation, mere hours from tonight's spectacle Ultimate Showdown, live on PPV. Erm...
Brown gestures towards Alpine with a bewildered shrug. Alpine simply nods and smiles encouragingly.
Hank Brown: Well, I've been assigned here at the behest of Team Alpine and was briefed with only 'Be a pro, you'll know what to do'. But here we are, live studio audience and I have absolutely no idea what brings us to this studio. Brent, can you fill us in?
Brent Alpine: Absolutely Hank. No drama. Percy...
Percy Micro: I'm afraid I'm also none the wiser...
Brent Alpine: Dallas?
Dallas Culture: I could lead us all in a guided meditation to meet our spirit animals, if you like?
Brent Alpine: Yeah how about no? We'll stick to the original plan, I got this. We've hired out this building for another few days and we have another promo to film so let's trust in our awesomeness and do this... What was it again?
Percy Micro: Solid Hands - The Great Debate.
Brent Alpine: That's it. But first, let's talk about some less solid hands.
Percy Micro: Slane, McMorris and Chambers, I presume?
Brent Alpine: Indeed. I've exhausted ripping those imbeciles many new arseholes but their shit continues to fly from dirty crevices. The likely outcomes of this Ultimate Showdown match are being made evident by the promos that have preceded it. We're able to gauge a wrestler's state of mind and attitude towards the contest. Obviously I've been in stellar and sparkling form but that's a given. Stuart Slane, our esteemed World Champion, has really shown his hand. He delivered a weak 'I'm going to win... err, honest!' promo and has now crawled back in the hole that he'd barely crawled out from to participate in his freakish fairy tale. He has now consigned himself to failure and is preparing to be rudely awakened from his dream. Smart. I respect that.
Percy Micro: Shame Zombie and Chambers have not been so astute.
Brent Alpine: Instead they've each dumped upon us 5, and counting... of the most generic pieces of turd they could muster. Chambers seems to have filmed one terrible, half asleep promo and had the production team cut it into 5 to make it seem like he's actually done some work. Anything to distract us from the fact that he took his eyes off the ball and left all his promo filming to the final 24 hours for the biggest match of his life. He's bland at the best of times but these recent efforts are tantamount to 'BLAH BLAH BLAH I'M PERFECT, I'M SO PRETTY, SCREW MOMMY, I WILL WIN'. His one trick is running tired and the pony needs shooting.
As for my old friend Zombie, it's the same shit he's been putting out for years. 'LOL FUCCBOI HONEY BADGER GUNNA FUC WID CHU WITH DA THICKNESS SANDBAG FGT'. His advocate Buddy Roman needs to commission him a t-shirt pronto - 'EAT SLEEP REPEAT THE STREAK (of crap)'. I naively expected him to raise his game for a battle with his old friend The Shine but he fell back into his coked up delusions. Only this time it was more Coke Zero than full fat, full thickness. I refuted all of his tired insults and insinuations eruditely and comprehensively but, predictably, he couldn't respond. He could barely even resort to infantile bullshit - he went into his shell.
Hank Brown: So what's this debate all about? Am I supposed to be posing you questions?
Brent Alpine: Relax, Hanky Panky. I have this under control and am about to get to the thrust of the issue.
Alpine lays his belt down on his podium and commandingly steps out in front of it to the centre of the stage.
Brent Alpine: Let me verbalise what everyone's thinking. I am not only going to win Ultimate Showdown, I will author it.
There are 7 titles of the line. Needless to say, the WCF World Title is mine. Let's not be silly enough to consider any other possibility. What then happens to the other 6 titles? As the standard bearer and global representative of the company, it would be neglectful of me to let the proverbial chips fall where they may. Especially considering my great sentiment towards the TV Title I currently hold.
In total frankness, if I were booking the match, I would not choose any of these men to compete for such prestigious prizes; myself excluded of course. I would instead fill the match with the newly emerging crop of developmental workers that I am currently mentoring. They have not appeared on WCF television yet but my tutelage will prove invaluable to them and they are already surpassing my so-called peers. Yet we'll have to make do with what's available.
I have verbally obliterated 3 men in my previous promos and that has been a deliberate and chronological decimation. The first man I will eliminate is Stuart Slane. The joke's over now and it's time for him to be put down like the decrepit old dog he is. That slut Esther can lick his wounds, for all I care. I'm consigning him to one of the Tag Titles.
For my amusement alone, I am choosing to eliminate Zombie McMorris next. The combination of Slane and Zombie as Tag Team Champions would be comedy gold. It would be a nightmare for both men as they exist on completely opposite ends of the same cheap and rotting coin. They would end up killing each other. Or, more accurately, slapping each other like girl guides.
Next, I will be eliminating Nathan Chambers. He is marginally preferable over the other 2 because I initially mistook him to have a glimmer of talent. In a supreme twist of irony, he will become People's Champion. The irony being that the people don't give a monkey's rectum about him. Good luck, Nate!
Beyond that, it really doesn't matter to me in what order I eliminate the remaining 4 men. They have absolutely no personal significance to me. They're not especially irritating or endearing. In fact, being extremely kind, I'd be inclined to anoint them 'Solid Hands'.
So let's take this to the democratic process. The big consolation prize is this, right here.
He steps back behind the podium and holds the TV Title in his palm. The camera zooms in to capture its majesty. I must say, it sparkles a little more brilliantly these days.
Brent Alpine: So Hank, if you can direct us, myself, Percy and Dallas will all provide an argument for 'Who should be the next TV Champion?'. Please allow interjections and counter-arguments as you see appropriate.
Hank Brown: That's fine, if I must. Let's start with Brent's cousin, Dallas Culture. Make your case, Dallas.
A spotlight falls on Culture. Initially dazzled, his pupils readjust and he grips the thumb of the hand statue podium earnestly.
Dallas Culture: My pleasure, cherished one.
My choice for Television Champion is none other than 'The Plague' Kevin Bishop.
After hours of going into the stillness and silencing my mind to reach oneness with the divine present, it became clear to me that Kevin Bishop as TV Champion is in the highest good. He has the deep knowingness of Duality - that good and evil live in perfect oneness with the Universe. Many onlookers were outraged that he led the reporter Leah to her demise but he did this in the awareness that death is merely an illusion. Leah needed to transcend to her next soul lesson.
Kevin is a truth seeker, an indigo child, a guru. His philosophy is so evolved and he wants nothing more than to lead his disciples along the path of consciousness ascendance.
Percy Micro: But what actually IS his philosophy?
Dallas Culture: You know, like... Opening people's eyes. Vision. Truth.
Percy Micro: What IS his truth?
Dallas Culture: Err... you know... the Brotherhood. Unity. Plus he has a wife called Karma so of course I'd like him. I hear she goes around and comes around.
There is silence.
Hank Brown: Are you done, Dallas? (Dallas nods) Ok, any rebuttals?
Percy Micro: Such a weak argument doesn't need a rebuttal but I will oblige nonetheless.
Kevin Bishop tries to convince everyone that he's a leader but he's the biggest follower in the federation. After all, was there not 'The Original Plague' Darren Knight, who apparently now is baying for the new pretender's blood? Bishop entered the WCF with loud proclamations of philosophy and vision which, Dallas has inadvertently exposed as hollow and meaningless.
If his message held such weight, why would he be so hinged upon the validation of the mindless WCF fans? Whatever it was meant to communicate, it was compromised by his new found union with the people. However, the truth is it was all hot air from the outset. Bishop's only goal was to make friends and influence people. In what, he didn't care. He associates himself with a bizarre cast of losers such as Karma, Nathan, Zander, Ken, Steven the keyboard jockey, Sean Craven and what's his name at the Silver and Gold Talent Agency. He's trying to cosy up with anyone he can in the WCF - Zombie McMorris, DRG, Severan King. This is not a man secure on his own.
He will try to form alliances in the Ultimate Showdown match. He won't be eliminated early because he'll be too busy opportunistically arranging double teams. With everyone so fearful of Mr. Alpine, I wouldn't be surprised if he orders a lynch mob against my precious commodity. But this will not last and he will be destroyed like the rest. He talks about ridding the world of weak minded people. He can start with himself after he is exposed as such by Mr. Alpine.
Brent Alpine: Sorry Dallas but I'm going to have to agree with Percy. Bishop is the ultimate follower and he'll follow Slane, ZMAC and Chambers out of the match.
There is another line he will follow. It is the lineage of highly rated young wrestlers whose careers have been shattered by The Shine. Remember Caleb Ronan? No, me neither. Psychopomp? Greybeard? Vic Viceroy? I ended another newbie career recently too... I think his name was Stefan Orbitch or something. Heh heh. Hell, has anyone seen Neforian since I took my TV Title off him? Earth to Neforian, come in Neforian?
Hank Brown: Actually, he's Henry Spearman now.
Brent Alpine: I eviscerated him too. Last week on Slam in fact.
It makes no sense to me why the WCF's not protecting these faint hopes a bit better. Perhaps the officials are punishing them for some backstage indiscretions. Any rookie who sees their name on the opposite side of 'Brent Alpine' on a WCF show must surely realise 'OK, they're burying me now'. Predictably, none of them have been quite so prominent and crowing as loudly after I have been through with them.
Kevin Bishop is the latest boy wonder. The US Champion. Congrats Kevin but the same pattern will be repeated. You will fade into obscurity and insecurity after encountering the most radiant superstar in this world. Luckily for you, there are 6 other losers to share the stage of shame with, so perhaps you'll be less exposed. You say I haven't been challenged. Well, CHALLENGE ME. I welcome your pathetic little attempt but, so far, I'm less impressed by you than I was by Neforian... and that wasn't much, by the way. He's retreated back to curtain jerker and runs his mouth a lot less these days. He was a puppy pretending to be a wolf but now he's back in the dog house playing fetch with Mikey eXtreme. I suggest you join them and stop barking at the moon.
Several of my opponents have tried to pre-empt my attacks this week and you did just that in saying 'you’re probably planning on throwing this whole cult thing back in my face' but the fact is, it's already on your face. Your defensive anticipation not only shows me that you are petrified of my silver tongue but that you simultaneously underestimate me if you think my riposte could be so mild.
Hank Brown: Moving on to Percy Micro.
Percy Micro: Picking the next TV Champion is like choosing what sadistic form of torture one wishes to endure.
This prompts a mistaken audio cue - 'HELLLLOOOOOO IT'S ME!'.
Percy Micro: That's an even worse Torture. But, with no other option than to participate in this charade, I reluctantly pick Thomas Uriel Bates.
Hank Brown: Would you like to tell us why?
Percy Micro: No.
OK, OK, I choose Bates because he's the only one of these 4 supposed 'solid hands' to have a semblance of intellect. Take that praise with a giant pinch of salt and in the spirit of hyperbole, of course. Bates has some rudimentary, archaic and idealistic political views but at least he is engaging with the process. He's apparently a former history professor which somewhat appeals to my love of the academia. What's less reported is that, rumour has it, his history lessons were delivered to pre-schoolers and mostly comprised of papier mâché figures being knocked together to cries of 'WAR WAR WAR'.
He's harmless, unthreatening and not totally mentally deficient. Is that justification enough?
Hank Brown: Not really but it's probably the best we'll get from you. Dallas, a response?
Dallas Culture: What most intrigues me about the venerable T.U.B. is the fact he's a foot shorter than his father Andre. This can't be anything other than a poor karmic inheritance. Men are spiritually and literally supposed to surpass their fathers. It's a rites of passage that is sacrosanct to Yang energy. Yet Thomas has not grown beyond Andre or his uncle in any measure whatsoever. His wrestling career can be defined by disappointment. He may be 6 feet 9 inches but everyone here sees him as a diminutive underdog. He's seemingly the only remaining member of DRG but at least he's the leader I suppose. That's one person for him to feel superior over.
Unfortunately, it appears his vital life lesson is to overcome the curse of inadequacy. I don't see him doing that this Sunday as there are still too many etheric barriers in the spiritual realm. He clings onto his idealist doctrines but that is most naïve. The Universe can not be anything but what it is in the sacred Now moment. Bates loves history because it is his comfort zone. He will never lose the greatness that has gone before him in the Bates/James dynasty but he will never attain even a measure of those rewards in his future.
Brent Alpine: I actually don't mind TUBBY too much. In some ways, he reminds me of Stuart Slane. They're both big old American boys with conservative and Christian values. They're 'nice' guys. Despite numerous failures, they still hang on in there. In a perverse way, I can admire someone who so frequently has to confront their own overwhelming inadequacy.
There's two key ways in which T.U.B. and Slane differ, though. Firstly, I believe Thomas is genuine. He is just a nice, simple boy. While Slane parades in his sheep's clothing hoping desperately that anyone will believe him, Thomas is just a big do-gooder. He's weak but GENUINELY weak. Secondly and most importantly, Slane had his miracle, his fairy tale moment with the World Title. Although Slane greatly stretched the realm of probability, it would be far too implausible to suggest that Bates can even come anywhere close. This 'Impassable Mountain' has been climbed over far too many times now and too many people have pissed on the summit.
Hank Brown: So, with that being said Brent... who is your pick as your successor? Who will you 'allow' to win the TV Title this Sunday?
Alpine signals left to a sound technician out of shot. This summons a drum roll.
Brent Alpine: I urge you to vote as the next TV Champion... Teddy Blaze!
Hank Brown: WHAT?! He pinned you a few weeks ago.
Brent Alpine: And didn't you think that curious, Hank? How could I, The Shine, allow myself to be pinned by perennial jobber Teddy Blaze? Didn't you think that an anomaly of some kind? Because I certainly did.
The night I faced Teddy and Mikey eXtreme in a triple threat match, I felt compelled in every compassionate bone in my genetically awe-inspiring body to give Teddy a confidence boost. At the time, I had no idea what moved me to such an act of kindness. This curiosity lingered with me all the way up until a few days ago when Percy helped me to remember my previous WCF incarnation. Then, everything came flooding back.
It was late May 2014. A couple of my Sequitus partners were raving about this new wrestler they had seen while scouting the developmental territory for new members for our stable. His name was Teddy Blaze. I asked one of them... possibly Ciserano... to invite Blaze in for a chat with me. However, when they went back to the developmental training academy, Blaze was gone. He had rage quit as he knew deep down he was light years away from my talent. One year later after I had departed, the fed looked a much less competitive place. He signed a pro contract, donned a mask and Teo Del Sol was born.
I think of Teddy the same way as I do Sequitus. He evokes a certain sympathy in me. Like someone might have for a dying rat perhaps. You might see him in the same way that Teddy saw his ill fated student Jorge Juarez. You know he's a lamb heading for slaughter but a big part of you wants him to have some small mercies along the way. That's why my subconscious kicked in and gifted Blaze a win. I recognised his already feeble confidence had plummeted since his heydays as Teo so I wanted to give him a boost. It will not happen again but I will permit him the grace of being the last person I eliminate. He can finally graduate from the People's Title he loves so much.
Percy Micro: But where's he BEEN, Mr. Alpine? What did the victory do for him? It was too late. He has given up finally trying and now barely puts his head above the parapet. He's only filmed 3 promos in his entire time as Teddy Blaze.
Dallas Culture: That's because he has shame issues embedded deep in his aura. He wore a mask to try to hide himself. He tried to be Teo - an otherworldly super hero figure but, deep down, he knew he was only the sewer dwelling Teddy Blaze. Although he has removed his mask, he still bears a spiritual mask. He doesn't know his own divinity. He is sinking in a quicksand of shame. It is truly the lowest level of consciousness. Even murderers and thieves have some life energy, even if they are aligned with all that is fallacious and outside of love. Teddy has flat lined in apathetic slumber. No wonder he's barely shown up recently. I doubt he will even attend Ultimate Showdown.
With that, Alpine makes another signal to the sound desk. A quiz show bell blares out.
Brent Alpine: Good arguments gentlemen. Now it's time for the audience to vote. Who do YOU believe should be the next TV Champion?
Hank Brown: Whoa whoa whoa, hold up a minute! Doesn't Gemini Battle get some sort of representation here?
Brent steps out in front of his podium and holds his finger up to his lips.
Brent Alpine: We mustn't, Hank. Gemini got a bit sensitive and accused me of always representing my opponents in some sort of parodied form. We cannot be seen to do this. I am far beyond such childishness.
But SUDDENLY, a walking Aardvark's Anus rushes out from the back. He runs through the audience like Ultimate Warrior on (even more) steroids. He chest bumps the much bigger Australian athlete.
Aardvark Anus: Well I am NOT beyond such childishness. I AM GEMINI BATTLE!
But SUDDENLY, the 1990s boy band namesakes, still dripping in gayness, abseil in from the rafters and crush the man in the Aardvark Anus suit.
1990s Gay Band: NO FUCK YOUS WE'RE GEMINI BATTLE!
But SUDDENLY, an obese ginger haired lady in the crowd runs onto the stage and eats them whole.
Obese Ginger: NO I'M GEMINI BATTLE!
But SUDDENLY, an emo with long black hair and gothic attire appears out of thin air. He points a magic wand towards Obese Ginger and disappears her.
Emo: NO I'M GRAYSON PIERCE! BWAHAHA Gemini is dead!
But SUDDENLY, the emo takes his mask off, revealing a true face that bears more than a passing resemblance to The Joker.
Joker: NO I'M GRAYSON PIERCE! I mean GEMINI BATTLE! Err... whoever the fuck I feel like this week.
But SUDDENLY, a nerdy balding dwarf comes out from the audience carrying a computer keyboard. When he gets on stage, he points it and Joker and CLICKS DELETE. The Joker melts down to a sulphuric sludge right by Alpine's feet.
Nerdy Balding Dwarf: No I am William Simmons. The genius behind all these creations. My proudest moment was the 1990s boy band but I've not reached to such glories subsequently.
Alpine shakes his hand.
Brent Alpine: Nice to meet you, William.
William Simmons: Who's William?
Brent Alpine: You apparently.
William Simmons: Oh yes, so I am. You'll have to forgive me. I frequently forget who I am. My wife Doris gets most perturbed by my identity issues. She is affected most. Sometimes I call her Invidia, sometimes Kat, Eve, Vanessa, Cathy or even Denise D'Evil. She really doesn't like it. Especially when I recently tried to deliver a Capuan baby from out of her vagina. Only problem was that it wasn't a baby. It was Mae Young's hand covered in Sexual Chocolate. But at least it was a solid hand.
You know Brent, I've always liked you. I think it'd be fair to say that you've had identity issues of your own. Is it possible that we might be kindred spirits? Would you like to join my army along with Roscoe, Marcus, the Unicorn, Egg, Damien, Larry the bear and Cliff? Team meeting in my brain in one hour. Are you in?
Brent Alpine: I'm sorry, I really can't comprehend what you're saying. You talk a lot but you don't make much sense. In fact, you've barely been around for months and you've just returned with 3 incomprehensible, long promos in a desperate bid to regain some form of relevance. Where had you been all that time?
William Simmons: I've been moonlighting as a Warehouse worker in Chicago. I'm exploring my skillset. I tried being a wrestler, a musician, a space traveller and Danny DeVito's stunt double but I just can't find the right fit, y'know?
Brent Alpine: I can't relate. I thrive in everything I do.
Simmons begins to sob. Dallas Culture hugs him. He speaks over Dallas' shoulder.
William Simmons: Well I don't. K?
Life's been so hard on me. I've lost so many matches in the WCF and promised so many false dawns. Ultimate Showdown is my last shot, my last shred of opportunity. I'm a hero in Panspermia but here on Earth I just suck. It HURTS SO BAD!!!!!!
Moved by a rare twinge of compassion, Alpine awkwardly pats Simmons' shoulder.
Brent Alpine: There there. It could be worse. You could be Thomas Uriel Bates.
The very mention of the name cheers Simmons up.
Williams Simmons: He's my real life friend! We hold the Tag Titles.
Brent Alpine: No, no, he thinks you're a loser too. He was just running out of DRG members to help him sneak into Ultimate Showdown.
But you know what... I am here to offer you my kindness, Mr. Man of Contradictions.
Simmons' eyes light like a Christmas tree.
William Simmons: REALLY?
Brent Alpine: Really. For your productivity this week, I have decided to award you the Internet Title. This is the perfect domain for you! On the internet, you can hide behind a screen and be anyone you want to be at any time! No one will know any differently.
William Simmons: That is SO COOL! Thanx. LOLOLOLOL LMAO.
Brent Alpine: See, you're a pro already. You'll love the Internet division. But be careful, a troll lives there... but he's harmless really.
William Simmons: You have represented me so well. I love you Brent Alpine.
Brent Alpine: Alright, steady on kid.
Alpine gestures again to officials off camera. One of them (who looks suspiciously like Steve from the Jerry Springer Show) brings out a toy replica Internet Title belt and drapes it over Simmons' shoulder. The nerdy balding dwarf laughs gleefully like a kid in a candy store and is escorted out of the studio.
Hank Brown: Can I go now?
Brent Alpine: No Hanky Panky, you have to coordinate the audience vote of course! We still need to determine the NEW Television Champion.
An irritable Hank sighs as we head for a short intermission. Go and get a drink and some popcorn. But hurry back in two minutes.
Welcome back. Hank Brown is now with Brent Alpine on the centre of the stage and reads from some scrap paper.
Hank Brown: Ladies and gentlemen, the results are as follows...
Another drum roll.
Hank Brown: In third place with 15% of votes... and STILL United States Champion... 'The Plague' Kevin Bishop!
Polite applause.
Brent Alpine: Bishop last. Always the follower.
Hank Brown: And in second place with 30% of votes... the NEW Hardcore Champion... Thomas Uriel Bates!
More mild clapping.
Brent Alpine: TUBBY always in the middle. Work rate legend.
Realising the outcome, all the old women in the crowd scream and cheer. A 'TEDDY' chant forms.
Hank Brown: Therefore, with a mighty 55% of audience votes... the new TV Champion... Teddy Blaze!!!!!!!!
'GO TEDDY', 'GO TEDDY', 'GO TEDDY'.
Percy Micro: Ah Teddy, always the people's choice.
Brent Alpine: Shame he can never actually win something on his own merits, hey?
The women in the audience get up and dance to their own chant.
Brent Alpine: There's enough titles for the solid hands to hold but the WCF World Title cannot be simply HELD. For the future of the WCF, the World Title must simply SHINE. At Ultimate Showdown, the solid hands will be unable to reach high enough to... hit the lights... because The Shine's too bright.
With this, the studio lights cut to pitch black.
Hank Brown: Err... can someone get me out of here? I can't see in the dark.
1990s Gay Band: OOOH! We'll take you home, big boy!
