♪Ooooh whoo hoo hoo!♪
The upbeat, head-bobbing tune of the Rentals’ “Friends of P.” sends the MGM Grand audience in a tizzy, signaling the arrival of one of wrestling’s most anomalous families. A close-in shot of a fan alongside the barricade of the entranceway reveals a sign to mark the arrival, holding it just above his forehead.
SIT HERE MURIEL I HAVE KFC
Richard Parker: Oh NO. Pass the barf bucket.
Nick Stuart: Here we go! They may not be as orthodox as some of the other wrestling families in the business today, but that certainly doesn’t mean they’re not as entertaining! Here comes Muriel and Tapioca Puddings!
Emerging from behind the curtain, Muriel Puddings is being carried to the ringside area via wheelbarrow by her brother: another part of his “training regimen” to bulk up. Always one to ham it up for any audience willing to tolerate her, she points at the sign and licks her lips seductively, eliciting cheers from the fan and those nearby him.
Tapioca, despite his struggles with the lawn equipment and the human debris held within, does seem genuinely glad to be there. Whether that’s due to the fact that he’s not wrestling tonight or that it’s the first time in his career that the crowd is actually applauding his appearance isn’t known. But, we’ll take it.
Richard Parker: It’s like he’s hauling fertilizer to the garden.
Nick Stuart: Well, farming is a great way to build up strength and discipline, Richard.
Richard Parker: So’s a prison yard.
Directing her transportation in a zig-zag pattern to greet her adoring public, Muriel is generous with her high fives. However, MGM security has a near panic attack when she invites a particularly attractive redhead to climb over the iron bars and join her on her lap inside the wheelbarrow. The woman obliges and the two embrace while Tapioca further struggles to make his way down to ringside. Eventually, the guards have enough of the shenanigans and lift her out, escorting her back to her seat.
♪If you’re friends with P., well then you’re friends with me.♪
♪If you’re down with P., well then you’re down with me.♪
Richard Parker: I’m glad she thought enough of our big relaunch to dress appropriately for the occasion, Nick. Seriously, bedroom shoes and yoga pants?
Nick Stuart: Well, to be fair, she is wearing a tuxedo…t-shirt.
Once at the apron, Muriel climbs out of the wheelbarrow and commands Tapioca to get down on all fours, opting to use him as a step stool instead of simply rolling under the bottom rope. He nearly buckles under her, but musters up the strength to follow her inside the ring where she has been presented with the house microphone.
Muriel Puddings: PRIMEates, what you doin’ later?
Muriel Puddings: A lot of people said that this company would never come back. But it goes to show that if you put somethin’ in the hands of my BFF of all time Lindsay Troy? Well, I’ve got one thing to say on that subject. She did it, bae…
AND THAT’S…THE TEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
An enthusiastic crowd is always a plus, but it appears as though this Vegas audience came well-prepared to deliver catchphrases and provide cheap pops. That said, it certainly helped that Muriel was standing at the entrance to the venue before the show with a bullhorn repeating said phrase over and over so that “everyone remembered it.” The bubbly blond affectionately known as Crush Limbaugh smiles, continuing.
Muriel Puddings: Before we came out there, the Queen came up to me and said ‘Chick, I want you to make sure when you and Tapioca go out there to talk to these fans, that you set the tone for what PRIME is gonna be all about. Also, please don’t get naked.’
There are a smattering of boos at the last line of direction, obviously from the more deranged section of the PRIME Faithful. Most did not want her to remove her jeans and form-smushing baby tee with the organization’s logo on the chest.
Muriel Puddings: Gotta save something for the pay-per-view, I guess. Tonight, I’m out here to be a good brand ambassador to both PRIME and the MGM Corporation. A partnership that will take over not just the wrestling industry, but the city of Las Vegas as a whole! And that is why I am pleased to deliver a special announcement to all of the guests of the Grand!
Muriel purses her lips and pauses, building up the suspense to what was sure to be huge news for everyone listening.
Muriel Puddings: In order to provide PRIME with what we need to succeed, MGM has decided to make a few changes to their in-resort entertainment options. I’m sure when you all walked in, you might have noticed a much smaller line forming outside of Brad Garrett’s Comedy Club.
There is somewhat of a dull roar that follows, but not much of a reaction. Which is exactly what Muriel was counting on as she delivered her next line.
Muriel Puddings: Well, I’m pleased to announce that Everybody Loves Raymond’s older brother needs to go home and PACK HIS BAGS, because his residency here is OFFICIALLY TERMINATED! That’s right, Brad. You’re outta here. Take that six-foot-eight bod of yours with the massive hands, feet and that ol’ bulging honker between your legs and hit the bricks. Unless of course you want to come on down right now and give me a big fat smooch, because I’ll be more than happy to ride up to my hotel room on a silver fox tonight! Brad Puddings has a nice ring to…hey, what the?
Unfortunately (or thankfully), Muriel’s 8th fantasy of bedding and wedding a B-list celebrity of the night is interrupted by a gasp of the crowd and the sight of her brother knocked out in the dead center of the ring. She leans down to smack him awake, only to learn that the projectile that had struck him in the forehead was nothing more than an…
Muriel Puddings: Egg?
It could have been that Tapioca’s 20-hour a day “workouts” had finally taken their toll on his energy levels, as all that was needed to put him in R.E.M. was a well-aimed chicken fetus. Or, he was really just that weak. Either way, our view shifts to the ringside area where the sniper is revealed. (Honestly, not very necessary, as there were only a couple of probable outcomes in the wrestling world that would fling an egg at someone.) Climbing the barricade and making his way up into the ring was the T-shade wearing and yolk-dyed hair of none other than the COOL himself.
Cancer Jiles, complete with satisfied smirk on his face, retrieves a microphone and approaches Muriel for a stare-down. Only to back away several steps and wave his hand near his nose in repulsion at the hint of either her breath or her $10 Versace perfume.
Cancer Jiles: Jesus CHRIST, Muriel. You STINK. Have you been porking Zeb Martin in the pigpen again? How is he doing, anyway? Tell him I said hi the next time you see him at the Dollar General. Or the tractor pull. Or the welfare line. Or the family reunion.
Muriel pouts, preparing to address the insult, but is immediately cut off at the pass by the Maestro.
Cancer Jiles: Wrestling’s glad to see you back, though. I mean, no one with a functioning brain thought that your bulbous ass would last very long as a competitor. Besides, the fatso demographic on the roster is already covered. Irony of that is it’s the first time Bobby Dean hasn’t broken a sweat over the thought of losing his spot. Or broke a sweat because of anything, really.
Despite his name coming out of Jiles’ mouth, a huge cheer rumbles through the MGM Grand at the mention of the fellow eGG Bandit.
Cancer Jiles: So, you’re back in business here at PRIME as a mouthpiece for this little twig, huh? Really scraping at the bottom of the trough, Puddin’. What’s the matter? Jenny Craig not returning your calls to be the ‘before’ model?
Muriel begins to fume a bit, inching a little closer to her antagonist and visibly balling her fist.
Muriel Puddings: I’m on Keto, you son of a…
Cancer Jiles: Whoa whoa whoa! I didn’t come here to fight, hick. Besides, you might want to save a little energy to wail around in two weeks!
Jiles laughs, his shade-covered eyes drifting out to the audience with a slight hint of a blond brow pointing out.
Cancer Jiles: Get it? Wail. Whale. Because you should be hunted for your blubber and used for soap. That joke’s got several layers when you think of your bathing habits. Oh man, did I just say ‘layers,’ too? I’m on a roll now! Like what you shut down the buffet line for eating too many of!
The expression on Muriel’s face turns from one of rage to one of self-conscious defeat, which is not received well at all by the PRIMEates, letting Jiles know exactly what they think of his body-shaming antics towards the Barbeque Bae.
Cancer Jiles: Oh, shut up! What do any of you know about comedy? You were just out here cheering on someone who SULLIED the great name of Brad Garrett, and I for one am not going to stand by and let her get away with that. You see that stain on the mat right now, Muriel? Take a good look at your brother’s future. It’s going to be right back to Idaho with the both of you in yet another failed attempt for the Puddings’ to glom onto this industry like desperate men do to your disgusting chest udders for a Taco Bell gift card. Now get him out of here before I change my mind and earn myself a bye right here tonight.
Muriel, hoping that this would just be a night to have a little fun at the expense of a sitcom star, begins to “help” Tapioca by rolling him out of the ring slowly with the tip of her Winnie the Pooh slippers to his sides. He is able to muster enough strength to simply crash down onto the thin padding of the arena floor next to the apron as his sister watches him from the rope.
Cancer Jiles: Almost forgot. One other thing, Muriel…
It was the oldest trick in the book, and one she immediately fell for as she turned around to face Jiles. As her attention was diverted, yet another egg came flying with laserlike precision, this time aimed at her.
Jiles had failed to account for one thing, though, as the crowd went from shock into delight…
Richard Parker: BOOBY BOTOX!
Yes, instead of shattering into a gooey mess, the egg simply careened off of Muriel’s chest, allowing her reflexes to kick in and catch it gently into her awaiting hands. Cancer’s smug grin vanishes at the sight of turned tables, and slowly begins to plead off the anticipated counter attack. However, Muriel does not wind up to hurl it back at him…
…but instead devours the entire egg, shell and all, with one bite. She smirks as she chews, which simultaneously repulses and intimidates the Maestro.
Nick Stuart: Well, she did say she was on Keto!
Richard Parker: It’s just delaying the inevitable, Nick. Those rubbery mammaries won’t save Tapioca Puddings from the beating he’s been promised here tonight by the COOL!
Nick Stuart: That remains to be seen. We may have just caught the youngest sibling in a moment of weakness, so you can’t count out the Chubbuck grappler just yet. Now, let’s take you backstage to hear from Jacob Mephisto and the Family!
Before the quick cut, the camera zooms in first on Jiles who waves off the situation and heads for the opposite corner. We are then left with an image of Muriel, now smiling with an open mouth and bits of shell and yolk visible on her teeth.