BRO, WE NEED MORE FRIENDS
We cut backstage where we could see a cardboard cut-out of Max Kael? however a picture of Jason “Crash” Jackson’face is crudely taped over Max’s face. It also had a “Hello, my name is Crash” sticker taped to the chest.
Max Kael?: Oh why fancy meeting YOOOOU here!
The man who had the same general energy as a hotbox fart wafted on screen wearing a coy, self-important grin.
Max Kael: Hi, we’ve never met before but I’m Max Kael?. It’s not a question.
He goes to shake his own cut-outs hand only to realize it has its arms crossed behind its back. After a few moments of consideration Max bumped elbows with the cut-out with Crash’s face.
Max Kael: You’re probably right, Covid is still a thing. Anyway I’ve been hoping to run into you before our match tonight. You know I instantly thought when I saw we were going to have a match? I said to myself you can always trust a guy who has the word rash in their name.
Kael scratched his chin nervously as he looked pensive for a moment. He turned to look at the camera, panicked suddenly by realizing it’s there, odd given this is a recorded wrestling segment. Quickly he looked back at the cut-out before rolling the dice.
Max Kael: Look, I’ll be honest. I was checking my history and apparently I used to have two best friends. Then one killed me and the other kicked me out of my jizz pod so he could have spare organs so I’m on the look-out for some new ones. So what do you say, Crash? Down to make a rash decision?
Max stares intently at the piece of inanimate cardboard cut-out. The face falls off, Crash’s facade tumbling to the ground. Kael’s shoulders slump slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
Max Kael: Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. Gotta weigh your options given you’re the new kid in school, I get it, I get it. Don’t want to get saddled up to a soft ol’Lemon. Maybe that was why Mike killed me and Cecilworth let it happen. Maybe I was the bad friend? Gotta keep yourself safe. I get it.
He who was once dead but now alive again somehow let out a sign as his whole demeanor seemed to shift into that of a beat dog.
U.N. Couth: What the HELL is going on over here?!
The shrill voice of Max Kael?’s legal handler jolted Max out of his momentary depression. He snapped to life, reflexively lifting his hands ready to punch the diminutive old woman. Suddenly a very sturdy looking woman with bright red head bolts into frame, standing between Couth and Kael. His new bodyguard, Violent Purple. Max immediately relaxed his stance.
Max Kael: She startled me! Can’t you see I’m in the middle of my therapy!?
Couth glared at Max with a raised eyebrow as Violent Purple took a step back.
U.N. Couth: You don’t have a therapist. You don’t need therapy!
Max Kael: I mean, I don’t have a therapist I pay but I was watching some youtube videos about self-care and I think I’m mak-
Couth cut him off by snapping her fingers loudly.
U.N. Couth: You don’t think. You wrestle and you make money. Leave the thinking to me. Speaking of which I just dropped a ton of your new merchandise revenue on a totally revamped entrance.
Max perks up.
Max Kael: Did you get the song?!
U.N. Couth: Yes but I submitted the paperwork late. Let’s go see what they play for you when you walk out and find out.
Kael claps excitedly, his depression pushed away by a cloud of giddy excitement. Probably nothing wrong with that, red flags just means you’re near Switzerland, right? Couth and Violent Purple exited the frame leaving Max who pretends to follow them before stopping. He quickly turns around and pulls his wallet out.
Max Kael: Here is a coupon for 10% off a purchase of twenty dollars or more at Golden Coral. If they’re still a thing, treat yourself. I’ll be back at the same time next week, thanks doc!
He threw the coupon at the cut out before scrambling away to catch up with his handler and bodyguard.