A FIVE STAR SEGMENT
Just moments before tonight’s Five Star Title match, the camera cuts backstage to a video monitor displaying a live feed of the show. Standing slightly sideways, as is customary in professional wrestling, is pro wrestling savior and overall swell guy Tyler Adrian Best. His arms are crossed in front of his chest, fresh tattoos running down into his inner forearms.
TAB: Dry Toast Colton versus Dr. Who Cares. Easily the most highly anticipated match in the history of not only PRIME Wrestling, but maybe pro wrestling itself.
He turns toward the camera, wearing a smirk that is a near carbon copy of that of his father, the CEO of High Octane Wrestling.
TAB: A literal clashing of the titans. Actual Gods. This match could have headlined any wrestling pay-per-view of the last two thousand years, and we’re getting it on free television! This thing could have broken box offices. Children around the world, foaming at the mouths and breaking down into excitement induced seizures. This match is an epidemic. Literally the most exciting thing to ever happen in the entire history of the world, and I am alive to see it. WHAT A WORLD.
A long, exaggerated yawn rolls out of Tyler’s mouth, as he continues on in faux excitement.
TAB: I have goosebumps man. Just thinking about what a historic night this is. Just thinking about how no matter WHAT happens out here in this ring tonight…
The false enthusiasm falls out of his voice, as the smirk widens.
TAB: …it won’t mean a goddamned thing.
The eighteen year old professional jackass laughs, a cruel sort of chuckle as he turns all the way toward the camera now, squaring up with the screen.
TAB: Oh boo hoo, Tyler is bad for business, he’s burying the main event. Shut up. I don’t care. I honestly don’t. This is a placeholder match. Neato Nate and Anna Montana are about to make a whole dog and pony show out of deciding who gets to hand me my first Five Star Championship. Honestly, I hope Anna wins. I really do. I think it would be really funny to watch her work her ass off tonight, just to get on her fucking knees and present me with my first PRIME championship. I think that would just be swell.
He turns his attention back to the screen, getting ready for the main event to begin. Before he dials in though, he glances back at the camera in annoyance.
TAB: The fuck are you still doing here? Don’t you have some meaningless, time filler garbage to film? Go check on the Blueberry family. I’m sure they have seventeen minutes of Must See TV brewing over in who gives a fuck land.
He waves the camera off with a dismissive hand, as the camera leaves him to observe tonight’s title match.