A BIT OF THE OL’ REZZLE-DAZZLE
“SIII-MUUHHN!!”
Hard cut to backstage, before the interview backdrop. Standing there is the Five Star Champion REZIN, impatiently tapping his foot with a smoking doob clenched into the corner of his sneering mouth. Tonight, the Goat Bastard is thankfully covering up his chest, albeit barely, with a Nails muscle shirt.
The Five Star Title is strapped around his waist, upside down.
Rezin: HERE I AM, Simon, ya turd! But where are YOU?!
Sighing with what can be considered a heroic amount of patience, Simon Tillier steps into the frame with mic in hand.
Simon Tillier: …hello, Rezin.
Rezin: THERE you are! What’s this business makin’ me WAIT all the time?! I swear, ya should be FALLING OVER YOURSELF for the opportunity to interview a CHAM… pee…
He trails himself off and double-takes, noticing something different about the junior reporter. Uncharacteristically, he’s not wearing his traditional blue suit, but instead wearing a more casual gray sweats and blue polo combo.
Rezin: HhhWHAT… the hell is THIS?!
Specifically, he’s referring to the plastic face shield worn on the junior reporter’s face.
Simon Tillier: You mean this? This is protection. In case you decide to… you know, project more bodily fluids during this interview. I took my suit to the dry cleaners twice now, and they still can’t get that stain out!
Rezin rolls his eyes.
Rezin: Ugh… you need not worry about basting in my salivary glory anymore, Simon! I’m OVER IT! Especially after I found out some other dude does it. Kinda ruins the fun of it…
Simon Tillier: That’s a relief. Although, I’m pained to say, I feel the damage has already been done. Thanks to your impulsive and provocative nature, you have incurred the wrath of the challenger to your Five Star Championship tonight, GREAT SCOTT!
Rezin scoffs. Thick and wet, as usual. Fortunately for Simon, the face shield catches most of the spray.
Rezin: Ya mean GREAT SCUM? BAH! Let him bring the wrath; I got plenty of my OWN to give HIM in that ring! I’ll have you know, I ain’t the old, beaten DOORMAT this company took me for when I first arrived! Not anymore! I’ve been working hard to take myself to a HIGHER level!
Simon Tillier: Yes, Rezin, we all know by this point that smoking marijuana is the only thing you work hard at.
Rezin: NO, NOT THAT! …I mean, yes, BUT NO!! I’m talking about hittin’ the gym! Improvin’ my game in the ring! Pushin’ my limits and honin’ my skills! Gettin’ help from none other than Rocko Daymon in my off-time!
Simon Tillier: Rocko Daymon?!
Rezin: Yeah! The man himself!
Simon Tillier: …is that literally his name?
Rezin: I mean… yeah? I think so?
Simon Tillier: It must be Italian!
And just like that, our “A Christmas Story Reference Quota” has been fulfilled. In bars across Vegas, dude-bros watching the live broadcast cheer and take their shots.
Rezin: My point is, SCOTT may be “GREAT,” but ya know what, Simon?!
His grin widens as he runs his hands across the belt on his midsection.
Rezin: I can be BETTER than GREAT! That’s why I’m wearin’ this NOW, and why I’ll still be wearin’ it TOMORROW!
Simon Tillier: So you say, but against my better judgment, I really have to ask, what happens in the unfortunate scenario where you aren’t wearing that championship tomorrow?
The Escape Artist flashes him a glare as a warning.
Rezin: Careful now, Simon! I may be done spittin’, but I will gladly PISS all over you if ya push me hard enough!
Simon’s face contorts into revulsion. Still, Rezin’s entire demeanor seems to soften. No more wild eyes and growls and sneers; perfect composure. He unstraps the Five Star Title from his waist and holds it in his hands, looking it over like it encapsulated his entire life struggle for acceptance.
Rezin: …but I’d be lying if I told ya the thought has been spinnin’ around my mind. Could this be it? Could this ol’ Five Star Dopesmoker just be a one-hit wonder? Will I come to regret pokin’ the bear? Figuratively, not literally; I ain’t goin’ anywhere near that friggin’ animal. I’ve seen Grizzly Man.
And just like that, our ‘Werner Herzog Film Reference Quota’ has been fulfilled. In bars across Vegas, nobody is cheering, because nobody knows who the hell that is.
Rezin: I know I have this rotten habit of gettin’ triggered and actin’ out of turn. Been a curse my whole lifetime. Trynna work on controlling these emotions, but it’s an uphill battle. Hard as any fight in that ring… but in there, that curse can be my strongest weapon!
He drapes the belt over his shoulder.
Rezin: It’s the exact reason why I’m holdin’ onto this. So tonight, against SCOTT, I’m fixin’ to scrape up a bit more of that ol’ REZZLE-DAZZLE once more. To prove to PRIME, regardless of how long it lasts, this championship run is the real deal.
He looks point blank into the camera.
Rezin: …and regardless of what anyone thinks, so am I.
Rezin plucks the spliff, burned down to a roach by this point, out of his mouth and flicks it into Simon’s face shield before wandering off camera. Even with the added layer of protection Simon can’t help but flinch.