Re: Xavier Reed vs. "The Fallen Angel" Stephen Waltz
[Chicken tostadas. The buffet cart is serving up chicken tostadas to the entire camera crew today, but not a single one of them are standing anywhere near the buffet cart or enjoying any of the fine chicken tostadas at this exact moment. That is, because they are all standing and ogling the two half-naked girls who are gyrating their hips and doing just about everything outside of dry humping… no wait, scratch that. They just did dry hump their solid brass poles. The girls continue their seductive dancing and make their way over towards the man in the half silver, half black mask wearing a bright yellow tiger stripped silk pimp suit who is sitting in a large fluffy pink chair – it’s totally pimped out, too.
The two women begin to give the guy a serious lap dance, but in a total calm and cool voice he speaks up.]
MAN: Allow me to introduce myself.
[With that he reaches into his yellow tiger stripped silk pimp suit and pulls out a remote control. With a single push of the button down lowers a massive neon sign with reads across the front in various neon colors “Mr. Wrestling VIII.”]
MR. WRESTLING VIII: Now that we are properly introduced, I can go ahead and tell you all that I am going to be crashing this little otherwise boring party known formerly as the Xavier Reed versus Stephen Waltz match.
[The girls stop dancing, the neon sign which still reads “Mr. Wrestling VIII” turns off.]
MR. WRESTLING VIII: Exactly my thoughts too. So, I am here to save it, I am going to make this party actually interesting, I am going to make it worth watching. Because that’s what I do, and that’s why I am Mr. Wrestling.
Want more proof? Turn it all back on. Ladies, do your thing.
[The sign lights back up, the ladies again begin to grind up and down on Mr. Wrestling, one even wraps her legs around his shoulders and grinds down on his chest – a truly talented lady, I must say. Again, very calmly the man behind the mask speaks.]
MR. WRESTLING VIII: Even now, I am thinking of a ring. Not a pink ring, not the branch of mathematics known as ring theory, and not even a ring made of gold carried by a furry midget into the depths of Mordor. No, even with these beautiful half-naked women who smell just incredible and are about to tear through my clothing and answer every prayer a man could possibly have... I'm still thinking of a wrestling ring.
[The girls shove their ample chests into his face.]
MR. WRESTLING VIII: Still thinking of it.
[They nibble at his ears.]
MR. WRESTLING VIII: Still thinking of it.
[The one rubs his mask slowly, while the other one licks the end of a cigar and begins to light it.]
MR. WRESTLING VIII: Yeap, wrestling is still number one thing on my mind.
[The one girl stops rubbing his head and brings up a frosty mug of beer while the other one places the cigar into the mouth of Mr. Wrestling VIII. He tags a long drag of it and exhales smoke rings.]
MR. WRESTLING VIII: Again that's why I'm Mr. Wrestling, and you're not.
[And still, not a single chicken tostada was served that day.]