BACKSTAGE BETTIES
Backstage–and this ain’t no set, bud. In fact, it would be hard to tell you exactly where this is–the walls look familiar to the frequent observer, but where we might normally find combatants ready to rumble, we instead find a motley assortment of babes in various styles of dress, all of which could aptly be prefaced with “sexy.” Librarian? Sexy Librarian. Goth tattoo artist? Sexy Goth tattoo artist. Latvian national dress? Buddy, it’s Sexy Latvian time. And at the center of all of these various electrons are two men. Blonde and Brunette. Stallion and Stud. Proton and Neutron. Solid Gold Rock and Roll–in the flesh. Trent pulls himself from the embrace of a (sexy) actuary and extends his arms wide, his considerable wingspan filling the frame.
Boots: Hey hey hey, baby baby bay-bay! I know all you tasty Courtesans out there in TV-land and you are just shivering in anticipation of more action, but catch the alley-oop here, suckle quads…are you really?
He smiles a smile that’s all millions of dollars and sin, both tax-free. He even winks–in another time, another life, Trent would be the premier Albanian exotic dancer and underwear model. As is, he’s fine with being a golden god.
Boots: I know, I know. Bound to be at least a small percentage of you want to see The Hollywood Bruvs…Boogie, what’s the math?
Emerging from the scrum is the boy, the man, the beefcake, the absolute unit himself: Barry Delgado. His existence seems to strain at reality itself, to say nothing of his pants, which are hitting critical mass in specific areas. He strides over, pantomiming counting on his fingers.
Boogie: Ha, what, low double digits?
Boots: And the people who wanna see Dangerous Mix?
Boogie: Single digits, golden voice!
They exchange a fist bump.
Boots: Ay-yay-yow! But lest you think we took up some of this precious television time just to point out how unliked those other teams are, we actually do have a point. Boogie man with the boogie plan–give them that funky backbone, thoroughbred!
Delago steps to the forefront, leaving Trent to whisper some sweet nothings to a sweet nothing. He rubs his hands together, grinning. The mustache is…perfection.
Boogie: ‘Open challenge’ seems so…passe. ‘Throwing down the gauntlet’–what are we, Bill Wallace? We hear the accolades and we see the adoration, it does not go unnoticed. But these other folks are…eh! But how are you gonna know that unless someone gives you that truth like the magic mirror? Who’s the hottest team in the land?
From behind, the only tiem Electric Boots sings backup.
Boots: Solid Gold, baby!
Boogie: Who’s the sexiest pair of dudes stalking these hallways?
Boots: Stallion and the Stud, sweet honey!
Boogie: Who is everybody duckin’ because they don;t wanna taste the pure Rock and Roll fury?!
Boots: Electric Boots and the Boogie Woogie Man!
Boogie: So what do we do, Trent? We call ’em all out by name? Nah, waste of time. Cause we aren’t talking to any one of you and we aren’t about to let anyone feel left out. Nah, this is just so all them other crews know that we’re about to treat these shows like it’s West Side Story. Like it’s The Warriors. Players…come out to play!
Trent executes an aggressively flamboyant rooster strut, cock of the walk baby, and executes a spin move before exclaiming in a pure angelic trumpet burst.
Boots: Ooooh baby, come out to play-yay!
Stomp, stomp, stomp.
Boots: You hear me, babydolls? Come out to plaaaaay-yay! You got a fightin’ bone in your spines, then I wanna see you come battle time! 2 Become 1? About 2 Become None, baby! Winds of Change? Too far out your range, dudes! Give us champions, give us scrubs, aint no discrimination to who can catch this love! Long-standing partners, we’ll take it. Two randos ya pulled from central casting? Mama feed us! I wanna see them all, across the ring from the Stallion and the Stud, the pinnacles of Rock and Roll and the pinnacles of this tag team show–timeless, bold, Solid Gold!
Boogie slaps him on the shoulders and they both laugh before returning to the throng. Not just being welcomed, but being cheered, simply for wading into a sea of humanity full of hangers on and the easily impressed. Cold drinks are provided. Life is good. We cut away…