2ND COMING: 3-18-22
The entrance way lights up with a dark blue lighting as smoke starts to dance across the rampway. About halfway down the entrance runway a panel starts to slide open revealing a stairway. The lights go out, and the arena fills with the sound of boots walking on a hard pavement echoing as if in a hallway the crowd starts to murmur. A chant breaks out.
HOYT HOYT HOYT HOYT
Nick Stuart: I hope the crowd is wrong, we don’t need this crap.
Richard Parker: I’m giddy!! I’ve never been giddy in my life but right now Stuart, I’m GIDDY!!
Nick Stuart: I hear you, why are you yelling?
Suddenly the walking stops.
REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH….
The first line of Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus” starts cold. Suddenly a strobe light starts flashing to the rhythmic beat of the song. The crowd pops loudly.
Holy Shit…Holy Shit….Holy Shit
The camera cuts to the crowd who are all on their feet holding up their cell phones like sheep waiting for their Shephard. The camera focuses on two guys in their freshly purchased “I was there for the 2nd Coming 3-18-22” shirts. The song gets to the weird panting part as from the stairs emerges the former Universal Champion Hoyt Williams.
Nick Stuart: Welp, he’s here.
Richard Parker: The Prophesy is fulfilled “Your Personal Jesus” Hoyt Williams has returned Nick!! Holy Hoyt in the highest!!
Nick Stuart: Not my personal Jesus.
Wearing an all-white perfectly fit suit with a long flowing black cape, white ostrich skin boots, elegant long brown hair, and a well-trimmed biblical beard Hoyt stands holding a black cane with a golden skull head that looks a lot like Sebs, PRIME’S first booker. A white owl sits up his shoulder. He takes a moment to bask in the cheers for a moment mustering up a Mona Lisa like expression.
Richard Parker: I have seen the Stones, but this is bigger and better!! Amazing!! Praise be to the Hoyt!!
Nick Stuart: To our new fans, beware, this is the biggest bullshit artist to ever step into a ring, plus he’s offensive, and I might as well apologize now for whatever group he’s about to piss off.
Richard Parker: Blasphemy. The people are about to witness the SAVIOR of WRESTLING!
Nick Stuart: I would also like to apologize for Richard Parker who is normally a somewhat sensible and reasonable broadcast partner, but for some reason he has drank this man’s Kool-Aid.
Richard Parker: Don’t be silly Nick, he doesn’t have Kool-Aid he sells Faith Juice, and you need to take a swig.
The crowd is still cheering as Hoyt makes his way to the ring. He stops to encourage a group of frat boys in the front row doing Jumping Jacks for Jesus, motioning with his cane for them to jump higher. Hoyt finally makes it into the ring spinning around and dancing the Gavotte before noticing the microphone waiting for him in the center of the ring. He picks it up and basks in the crowd’s response for a moment. The owl looks around ominously.
THIS IS AWESOME *Clap Clap ClapClapClap* THIS IS AWESOME…
The savior takes a moment to smile before putting his hand up signaling for them to stop.
Hoyt Williams: You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to pretend like you’re happy to see me after you all turned your back on the church. The pews are empty and each and every one of you are to blame. Where were you when they fired me, and told me I would never be welcomed back here in my temple that is PRIME? Not so Awesome. Where were you when I went to Hollywood and made the reboot of Dr. Detroit? You certainly didn’t come to the theaters to see me. You are NOT Hoyt’s Witnesses; you are frauds and fakes, a feckless cluster of humanity. Your hallow hoots and hollers are insulting to me. So, remain silent while I speak because sinners of Sin City, you are certainly raw sewage and not worthy of my time.
The savior talks over to talk directly into the camera.
Hoyt Williams: To you new viewers who don’t know who I am, my name is Hoyt Williams. I am the PONFTIFF OF PRIME, the Pope of the Piledriver, the King of Kings, the Savior of Wrestling, the Deity of Destruction, the Allah of Everyone, the Almighty Agitator of Evil, thee Eternal of the Squared Circle, former Universal Champion, PRIME Hall of Fame icon, PTC Hall of Fame member, the current GOD’S Champion, and “Your Personal Jesus”.
Hoyt unbuttons his vest to show off God’s title sparkling around his waist.
Hoyt Williams: That’s right, redesigned by the After Life’s top fashion designer, Joe Burro, using Wooly Mammoth ivory tusks and the skin of seven virgin Italian angels. Very hard to get. Replicas are now available at SHOPHOYT.com.
A shot of a fan holding up a replica of the old God’s title is flashed one the screen for a second.
Richard Parker: AMEN! I’m ordering one tonight.
Nick Stuart: He should give you one for free for all the cheap plugs you give him.
Hoyt Williams: If you did not bare witness to your savior’s first coming, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you lack initiative to seek out my greatness, I’m sorry your education didn’t get you here, I’m most sorry for your parents for raising you in such a sheltered existence you don’t even know my glory. As a matter of fact, if you don’t know who I am I’m casting all your parents with Chron’s Disease. So, it is spoken, so it is truth.
Hoyt raises his arms and looks to the heavens as he casts the poop plague upon the parents of the ignorant.
Hoyt Williams: I hope to answer all your questions while not talking up too much time, but understand it’s been a long time and I have a lot to say. They told me I would never be allowed in PRIME again.
First off, I have returned. The prophesy of the 2nd Coming is fulfilled BUT I will never wrestle in this ring again.
Nick Stuart: So why is he even here?
Hoyt Williams: I’m perfectly healthy and can go. Hell, I just beat Mictlāntēcutli the Aztec God of the underworld, taking his kingdom along with his mask which is here in PRIME on the face of the recently departed John Kennedy Royko Jr. The only way I will step into this ring and wrestle again is if you all line up, pay $25 dollars each, and kiss my boots apologizing for abandoning me. But everyone must buy in, or it won’t happen, and since I know all, and see all, I know most of you can’t pay the $25 tithing.
ASS-HOLE ASS-HOLE ASS-HOLE
Hoyt shakes his head in disgust as he looks out at the crowd. The owl seems offended too.
Hoyt Williams: Wow, the scatological humor and gross language is rampant here in PRIME. I will pass collection baskets around for the apology taking. Also, be known I am keeping all the money and not donating it some foolish pro-literacy charity. PRIME has insulted me for the last time by not naming this poorly officiated tournament in my honor. It should be the Duke Williams and Mary with Her Cherry brackets in the Hoyt Williams Invitational instead of the sinners it’s named after. Then to add further insult to injury you donate money to help people read?
The Pontiff of PRIME makes a disgusted face as the jeers of the crowd are heard.
Hoyt Wiliams: This world needs less literacy. Let the theologian’s read the words of Hoyt to the followers, because that’s all the knowledge they need. Look at you sinners. You have the loudest voice of any group of common individuals in the history of the world, yet you choose to use those idiot boxes in your pockets to go on the sinner-net to babble on Jabber about wrestlers, who that scamp Pete Davidson is having relations with, and to brag about your daily Wordle score. How pathetic is that? Martin Luther would have taken over the world if he had Jabber, while you cancel your fellow man and bitch and moan about airport baggage handlings. Get over yourselves, stop it, go to church, or get on your knees right now and pray for forgiveness. You people disgust me.
Nick Stuart: I’m sorry to our fans, this man is a maniac.
Richard Parker: Start praying Stuart it’s not too late.
Hoyt Williams: The only good in this place is Dick Parker! Stand up Dick! After the disgusting way the people have celebrated Saint Patrick’s Day, we are officially removing it from the calendar, decanting Patrick of the title of Saint. Officially replacing him on the calendar will be the freshly canonization Richard “Big Dick” Parker. Saint Parker congratulations, your nimbus is in the mail.
The announcer stands up excitedly as his broadcast partner buries his face into his hands, annoyed as the crowd boo’s appropriately.
Richard Parker: This is like getting recognized by the President at the State of the Union!! Saint Parker!!
Nick Stuart: Ok, Dick.
Richard Parker: Not sure of all my biblical powers but I’m going to ask Hoyt to give you Chron’s disease if you keep this up.
Hoyt Williams: PRIME has become filth a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah. From the dopey ref who egregiously DQ’ed Balaam costing him a title run, to the MGM Grand Continental breakfast of a roster running around…from the Eggs, and the puddings, to the blue berries, to Dusk with the personality of plain white toast. I mean enough is enough. Youngblood? Old Testament, and it didn’t end well for him. Jason Snow I see is still a delinquent and I have some friends in the Clark County penile system I plan to make some calls to.
The savior pulls out his iPhone.
Hoyt Williams: Hey Siri set a reminder for Monday at 9:44am to give Snow’s parole officer a call to speak to his lack of character.
Siri: OK my savior a reminder is set for 9:44am.
Mr. Williams puts his phone away.
Hoyt Williams: PRIME needs a flogging and that’s why I am here. The jokes, the good nature fun, the survivor contest, the backstage ribs, the friendly tournament for the title, the sitting on people’s faces, the gluttonous goofball, the cheap masks, the nasty old woman, the Old Testament redemption tours, and the yet to be defined dullards searching for an identity and they all must pay. I will destroy what PRIME is, and mold it into God’s vison. MY vison. It’s why I took PRIME’s blue chip NFL recruit. A spokesman for decency. A lost soul doing charity work instead of cracking skulls with his massive hands, and I’ve made him a monster. From a loser to a God’s Knight among mortals. He is the golem you all need in your lives. Balaam will reign havoc upon thee. I have breathed life into him giving him the power of myself, and the fallen gods before me. It’s going to get bloody as the wrath of Hoyt will be felt by all non-believers and geriatric refs.
Richard Parker: The good book speaks of a violent and vulgar flogging to all disbelievers upon the 2nd coming.
Nick Stuart: Stay out of the BDSM section of your bookstore, “saint,” and for the sake of all of us don’t read Dianetics.
Richard Parker: Look at that! A few minutes of Hoyt and you’ve seen the light, and are anti-literacy too!
Hoyt Williams: One mortal man with a cheap mask decided to use Jabber to insult me. To question my return. To make childish sexual innuendos of my second coming.
The owl looks displeased and Hoyt makes a disgusted face.
Hoyt Williams: This entire company has become an example of juvenile culture with fart jokes and bathroom talk. At Culture Shock, damnation will rain down upon The Anglo Luchador and his cheap mask. Balaam will violate cheap mask for all to watch!
YOU SICK FUCK….YOU SICK FUCK…
The savior of wrestling is not amused by the vulgar crowd.
Hoyt Williams: Security throw out anyone swearing openly, this is a family show! Do your damn jobs, ushers.
Your Personal Jesus waits for MGM Security to do something but nothing happens and the chant dies down.
Hoyt Williams: My MONSTER, bring him to me!!! Show these malefactors that we’re not playing games and a vengeful God is a horror to the unbelievers!
From the back the limp body of The Anglo Luchador comes flying through the curtain before landing with a hard thud. Behind him enters Balaam the 6’7” monster, who is being trailed on a chain by the Harbinger of Malice, Duke Williams. Joe Burro holds a golden bible high above his head as he lags behind.
Nick Stuart: What is this?
Richard Parker: The first flogging!
Hoyt Williams: God made the seas, and the seas are violent. God made the skies, and the skies are violent with storm. God made man, and man has proven his violent nature through history. I made Balaam and Balaam is the definition of Violence and Destruction all done by my will and more deadly than anything before him.
The monster picks up Anglo easily raising him above his head as he walks with him towards his God, Hoyt Williams. The nose of the Anglo Luchador is bloody, staining his mask and creating quite an uncomfortable picture that the camera keeps trying to cut away from. Balaam again picks up the beaten body of the Anglo Luchador lifting him over his head and walking towards the ring slowly. When he finally reaches the ring, Balaam throws the Anglo Luchador over the top rope where his beaten-up body lands near the feet of Hoyt Williams. The monster rolls into the ring and immediately goes after the Anglo Luchador, strangling him with his massive hands. The Harbinger of Malice laughs, leaving slack on the chain as Hoyt just watches down with a sick look upon his face. Blood is still coming from the fallen Luchador’s nose, Icy-Hot still evident around his mouth.
Nick Parker: We need some help down here.
Richard Parker: Would you rather be watching Royko kissing ass and doing a lame dick in the box segment?
Nick Parker: This is unfair.
Duke starts stomping on the Anglo Luchador’s body as the monster keeps strangling him.
Hoyt Williams: Enough.
Both men stop the beating. The monster stands up and Hoyt slaps him hard in the face just because he can.
Hoyt Williams: IF he rises again at Culture Shock, Balaam will be waiting. If he wants to retire, I understand for the crucifixion of the cheap mask is imminent.
The former Universal Champion shows the Sebs cane has a sharp tip, which he pushes down hard into the palm of the laid-out luchador. Blood starts to flow from the area around the cane. Hoyt pulls out and laughs as the Anglo Luchador lays unconscious bleeding now from the hand and nose. Duke stands behind Hoyt hooking something up to him.
Hoyt Williams: CHEAP MASK! Take this stigma is a warning for all who disbelieve or face my knight and meet your destiny. Be saved or be gone. Now I must leave you, where I will watch down upon PRIME not from the heavens but from the owner’s box above.
Hoyt starts floating away high above the ring, over the crowd, and towards a luxury suite near the top. Duke pulls Balaam away from the fallen body harshly by the chain as they exit the ring by foot, leaving The Anglo Luchador a bloody mess for all the fans to soak in.
Richard Parker: He’s flying, it’s a miracle!
Nick Stuart: I can see the wires.
Richard Parker: I spoke to Hoyt before the show and he was so mad that because this is a union arena, he had to have safety wires added to his flying for insurance reasons. He was miffed about it, but they said they could stop the show if he didn’t use the wires and we know Hoyt is a team player.
Nick Stuart: You’re so dug in “Saint”. Let’s get this man some help.
Medical personal push past the exiting monster and Hoyt’s entourage as they make their way to the ring to help the lifeless Luchador, whose mask is blood stained and hand is bleeding profusely leaving a nasty puddle.