AN (UN)EXPECTED CONVERSATION
Tony Gamble stomps his way through the backyard area, a man on a mission to be certain. His eyes narrow as he locates the object of his aggression.
Tony Gamble: I know you and the rest of the peanut gallery despise me, but I can’t seem to put my finger on why you have chosen to turn your back on Rhine.
Said object of aggression already seems exasperated by the first two words that have passed through his lips. Seriously, becoming the PRIMEporium is hard enough along with trying to fix broken timelines with duct tape and bubble gum and a Five Star title shot on top of it. But now, this nonsense. After reorganizing the PRIME Wrestle Buddies just so, the vessel of Anna Daniels rolls her eyes over the complaint. She graciously unpacks an entire box of Bolamba style goggles (because demand requires supply!) while giving a rather rational reply.
Anna Daniels: For the eighty-seventh time, Johnny Gamble, we didn’t turn our back on Rhine. We are turning our back on a product that makes fun of a man who can’t or won’t stand up for himself.
A beat.
Anna Daniels: No pun intended. And how did you get our phone number to make all those stupid voicemails anyway? Don’t tell us Rowan-Mortimer-Painintheass actually did something useful for a change?
Gamble’s mouth widens as his hand goes to his chest.
Tony Gamble: I don’t think you understand how offended I am right now. I’m pretty sure I spent at least five to ten minutes rehearsing those voicemails before I left them, and you’re going to stand there and diminish their value like this.
His other hand wipes non-existent tears from the corner of his eyes.
Tony Gamble: Then, to top it all off, you criticize the craftsmanship that me and a team of the best graphics artists that twenty dollars could buy on Fiver brainstormed for over two hours on, because you all only think the worst when it comes to me.
Anna Daniels: Well, first of all, you make that very easy to do given that you revel in being an absolute shithead. Which would be admirable if it wasn’t so…
For a moment, she seems to pause from polishing the lenses as the Multitudes debate over the exact word.
Anna Daniels: Annoying?
Whoops. Said the quiet part out loud. A nod.
Anna Daniels: Yes. Annoying.
Bless her. She tries to walk away from Gamble towards what could only be called the Sid Phillips collection. Outside of the rapidly selling POWERBOMBOLAMBA shirt from the Infinity Gauntlet string of limited edition shirts, there is also POWERBOMB: The Cologne, POWERBOMB: The Necktie, and concept art for POWERBOMB II: POWERBOMB HARDER which is mainly just an MS Paint masterpiece of Sid powerbombing a bear. Unfortunately, Gamble has followed her into the palace of powerbombs. She blinks for a moment, staring at him.
Anna Daniels: And secondly, you paid twenty bucks for that?!
Yes. She does point to the offending shirt in question. Or to be more specific, the graphic design.
Anna Daniels: You got ripped off.
Tony Gamble: Trust me when I say that BROLEX GRAPHICS came highly recommended, and this is high quality artwork that people would pay double…
A brief pause.
Tony Gamble: No wait, TRIPLE! What ever someone paid to make that awful POWERBOMB HARDER poster. I’ve seriously seen better finger paint pictures in a preschool classroom. But all pleasantries aside, I’m here to tell you that I refuse to rob the masses of their chance to own a shirt that will go down as one of the most highly sought after classics ever printed, in memory–no honor–of a sure as shit hall of famer one day.
Tony stares at her, that cheesy used car salesman like grin practically glinting at the corners. Anna shakes her head.
Anna Daniels: Listen. You wanna drag your shitty little van and your half-assed merch in here and try to sell it? We can’t stop you. Odds are that’s what you’ll do anyway no matter how many times we say no. But we wash our hands of this stupidity. With any luck, you might get a few sales from a few edgelords and fellow dickheads before you get sued out of your asshole. And good luck getting them on the website. We don’t even run that damned thing.
Just to match Tony’s cheesy grin, there’s a smirk.
Anna Daniels: Besides if the lack of sales don’t stop you or losing what little you have doesn’t, an army of owls or a Molotov Cocktail will. If nothing else, this exercise of futility will give us a laugh. Now if you will excuse us. We have some last minute prep to do. Matches to wrestle. Ya know. Better uses of our time. Byyyyeeee.
The Muse exits stage right, leaving Gamble in the dust.
Tony Gamble: Was that a yes? I’m going to take it as a yes.