BULLY FOR YOU
The camera is trained on the wrestler’s entrance at the Footprint Center in Phoenix. It creaks open, and stepping through is one Arthur Pleasant, carrying his duffel bag, followed by the massive Russian Yuri Reznikov. They walk with purpose until they aren’t anymore. Their stoppage is because something is in their path.
Or more like someone. The camera reveals The Anglo Luchador, arms crossed over his uncharacteristically plain gray t-shirt.
Arthur Pleasant: Oh look, it’s The Mask. Are you here to end my career outside of the ring, you bully? I listened to that podcast and…
TAL: Shut the fuck up. It’s my turn to talk now.
Yuri lurches ever so slightly forward as if he’s going to take care of a problem before it becomes one, and the Luchador is just as ready to swing on someone even though he has a foot and several pounds on him. Before the tension can spark, Pleasant holds his charge back.
Arthur Pleasant: All you do is talk…
TAL: No, we’re not doing this again. I said shut the fuck up you gaslighting piece of shit.
The luchador shoots Yuri a look pointed with daggers at the end before continuing.
TAL: I’ve had fucking enough of this bullshit. I can take you trying to gaslight me like I’m some kind of wet-behind-the-ears groundling, because you’re stupid enough to try and play games with someone who can put you in the ground. But you fucked with my family. And that “can” is teetering dangerously close to “will.”
Arthur swiftly jams his words into the minuscule breath between beats in the Luchador’s monologue.
Arthur Pleasant: See, Yuri? He’s bullying me again! I’m surprised since this isn’t Ja-
TAL: I said shut. Up.
He picks up a water bottle and flings it past Pleasant and Yuri with Jose Alvarado speed and Ricky “Wild Thing” Vaughn proximity to their ears.
TAL: You put my family in danger, and all this bully talk? It’s about to become real. Too real. I will show you how much of a goddamn bully I can be. Whether or not you can comprehend it afterwards depends on how well your body can recover, but I’m sick of this shit. Sick of it. There’s a contract waiting for you for a match at Tropical Turmoil in Lindsay Troy’s office. You will sign it.
There’s a pause. Arthur looks around mockingly before answering.
Arthur Pleasant: Well then. And if I don’t? Hmm.
TAL: I didn’t think you’d be brazen or stupid enough to dodge the challenge since you fucking with me is sign number one that you wanted this match in the first place. But you know what, I’ll humor you for a second. Look me in the eyes.
Arthur Pleasant: Oh geez, now he’s going to act tough…
TAL: I fucking said LOOK ME IN THE EYES, YOU SPINELESS SACK OF SHIT.
Yuri grumbles again looking to get into a fight backstage, but again, Arthur holds him back.
Arthur Pleasant: I get it. I get it. Fine. I’ll go sign your stupid contract. And…
TAL: Save it for someone who still has a capacity to listen to you. I’m done. You’ve talked to me enough, dickhead. See you in San Diego.
The Luchador turns around and walks off with purpose. Arthur turns to Yuri, who is looking pensively for the first time in this run. Arthur, however, grins like the Cheshire Cat.
Arthur Pleasant: Yuri, my boy, I think we’ve got him right where we want him.
The camera cuts to elsewhere in the arena.