GLORIOUS CHAINSAW METHOD
If you were thinking, “You know, we should go backstage, because I bet there’s some bullshit going on right now,” well buckle-up and brace for a bucket of disappointment. There’s no nonsense here. I mean, there probably should be considering the people we’re looking at right now, but at least one of them has the good sense to act like an adult. Also there’s not a whole lot of nonsense you can get up to when you’re just casually strolling through the labyrinthine corridors of the MGM Grand (now with 100% less minotaur… we think).
You already know who they are, because their official PRIME glamor shots are right there above the title. One of them is a blueberry man who recently had the kind of glow-up that makes you want to lick your monitor. The other is a gray blob of featureless clay in the rough shape of a human, but for the purpose of this exercise imagine instead that she’s a dark-haired woman reluctantly dressed like a raspberry.
They have belts. They are walking with those belts. They’re also surprisingly quiet. Honestly, given the people involved it’s not that interesting, at least not yet.
King Blueberry: I forgot what this feels like.
Look, they weren’t going to stay quiet forever.
King Blueberry: I haven’t done this walk – the whole “carry a title into an arena” thing – in what feels like forever.
Reina Raspberry: If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t done this ever, so I think I win.
King Blueberry: You worried?
Reina Raspberry: Nope. The hard part is done. Already dove into the pool head-first at Great American Nightmare and survived that. I’m not ready to let this go so soon. If Solid Gold Rock ‘n Roll think they’re taking this away from me, then they’ve got another thing comin’.
The Blueberry stops dead in his tracks.
King Blueberry: Did you… did you quote Judas Priest at me?
Reina Raspberry: Maybe. I’m serious though. If they think they’re winning tonight… (singing) Then it’s just part of their rock and roll fantasy.
King Blueberry: Oh god.
Reina Raspberry: (still singing) It’s all part of their rock and roll dream.
King Blueberry: Alright, settle down, Paul Rodgers. I’m the one who’s supposed to make the really bad jokes, remember?
Do you know what’s more nonsensical than two berries? Let’s try three.
Baron von Blackberry: Ah, the beautiful tones of old rock, dancing forth across the hallways of the MGM Grand! How my blackberry heart swells! Which is different from a black heart, by the way, because I think you need to see a doctor about black hearts. Hearts aren’t supposed to be black. Or blue. They’re definitely a reddish color. Unless it’s a blackberry heart, which is definitely not a vital organ anyone should have, really.
He pauses, as the camera has long panned over to bear witness to the self-proclaimed Benevolent God-King Emperor Sensei of the scenic, yet diabolical nation of Fruitsylvania. He dresses in his normal attire of a lab coat, no shirt, and black pants. He has two trinkets on the lapel of his lab coat. One is the Hello Kitty mascot. The other is a strawberry wearing a turban.
Baron von Blackberry: Anyway, hi.
King Blueberry: Oh, hey. Fancy meeting you here.
Reina Raspberry: (deadpan) Yes. Fancy meeting him. At the place we all go every two weeks. Because we work together.
King Blueberry: So, what brings you to our corner of the hallway?
What Reina Raspberry thinks is, “Probably because assuming we survive tonight’s defense against Barry and Trent, then our next defense is against Joe and Sid.”
What Reina Raspberry says is…
Reina Raspberry: Probably because assuming we survive tonight’s defense against Barry and Trent, then our next defense is against Joe and Sid.
Yes, those are the same thing.
King Blueberry: Right. That makes sense.
Baron von Blackberry: Indeed, it is so. I should tell you, in advance, that Joe and Sid will be witnessing the spectacle of your first championship defense. They will be bringing popcorn, apparently.
As Blackberry speaks, and unbeknownst to any of the berries, some activity is happening further down the hall. Joe Fontaine and Sid Phillips are sneaking across the hallway. Joe is doing the Looney Tunes style of tiptoeing, his hands out in front of him like a T-Rex. Sid is walking like a normal person, paying no heed to anything resembling stealth or caution. As quickly as they appear, they’re gone.
Baron von Blackberry: After all, it is only fair. You watched them take on the Bandits What Steal Eggs. Or eh-Goo-Goos.
Reina Raspberry: Wouldn’t expect anything less. And you’re right, fair is fair. I know that with Jared here there is, unfortunately, decades worth of film to watch, and study, and roast with a room full of friends over a couple beers. But I’m the new kid in class. Not much out there on me yet.
Her partner nods along as she speaks.
Reina Raspberry: I know tonight’s going to be hard…
Maybe a poor choice of words when talking about Solid Gold Rock ‘N Roll.
Reina Raspberry: …but I just got my first shot at all of this, so I’m not looking to go out quietly. And I know that Joe and Sid are young, and they’re hungry. I remember what that feels like, because I feel it a little bit myself right now. So if we get that far, I don’t expect that to be a walk in the park either.
King Blueberry: What flavor popcorn?
Reina Raspberry: (quiet) Oh for fuck’s sake.
Baron von Blackberry: You know, I never asked. It appears to be the normal, everyday type of popcorn, but… I am no popcorn aficionado. It could be some sort of diabolical popcorn that tastes of pure doom.
In the background, Joe and Sid walk past the corridor again. Joe is still walking like he’s the Pink Panther, and Sid is still walking like a normal person. Trailing behind them, though, are the Jimmy Bonafide Dancers. For what purpose, we don’t know.
Meanwhile, Blackberry shrugs.
Baron von Blackberry: This is important information, however. It should be researched for science.
As he says this, the last of the Dancers, Biff, manages to appear and take his sweet time getting to the other side before he also disappears.
King Blueberry: So if Joey Man-bun and Powerbomb Siddy are going to hang out and watch…
The grin on his face is an explosion of mischief. Professional wrestling’s version of Loki is thinking, and that never ends well for anyone involved.
King Blueberry: Then maybe I should have Mark get the mannequin out of storage. Maybe have the Bonafides bring it to ringside.
Reina Raspberry: Did we ever figure out why you have access to your own dance troupe?
King Blueberry: Nope.
Baron von Blackberry: The mystery of the Jimmy Bonafide Dancers is truly mystifying. Who is their true master? Clearly, it’s not Mr. Bona-fee-day. Are they even paid? Where did they come from? It’s a mystery to everyone. More research is required.
In the background, Joe and Sid are sneaking by again. Joe stops for a moment to cast a glance towards the berries, but then Sid bumps into him and he’s forced to keep going. Moments later, most of the Jimmy Bonafide Dancers are following behind them, lugging a couch with them as they go.
Baron von Blackberry: Anyhoodle, how serious are we about this whole Berry Civil War thing? I know a guy with some catapults. Actually, two guys. Alright, it’s three. Maybe we could get some pillow forts together, make it a whole thing?
Just after Blackberry says this insane thing, one of many, Biff laboriously makes his way across the hall. One could say it’s almost a heroic effort. Except it’s Biff, and nothing he does is particularly heroic.
King Blueberry: Depending on who that is, you might know four people with access to catapults. Because I’m one of them, which is to say… Well, I have a weird history with this company, is the thing. Forklifts are just the tip of the iceberg, which when heated reveals the armory of siege weaponry concealed within.
Reina Raspberry: You know what? I’m going to go stand over there.
There is only so much nonsense a woman can handle, and really it’s a miracle she’s lasted this long. Raspberry takes a few steps back, turning away from the conversation. There is a brief moment where she thinks she just witnessed something unusual, a suspicion that will be confirmed later in the night. But for now she’s left wondering if what she saw was real, or simply a hallucination.
King Blueberry: As for an actual civil war? Tricky subject. Is this like the one in the comics, and we have to argue over which of us gets to be Captain America – spoiler, it’s me; I am America’s ass – or the much more problematic other Civil War? Feel like that’s how we all get fired.
Blackberry considers the notion.
Baron von Blackberry: I’d let you have Captain America as long as that doesn’t make me Iron Man. Pfft. Iron Man. What a foolishly foolish fool what fools around with his powered armor. Actually, we should have powered armor. Imagine a series of berry-themed powered armor, brought together to fight against the horrors that encroach upon the very edges of the fabric of our reality. Yours would have forklift power, of course. Mine would make my limbs become like swords that are actually like chainsaws.
He shakes his fist at the camera.
Baron von Blackberry: Make it happen, PRIME!
Can we not and say we did?
Baron von Blackberry: Bah. They should heed my request if they ever give that Anglo Luchador lunatic a sword.
King Blueberry: Okay, back it up a minute, because you had me at chainswords. I don’t know if this is your thing, but in the grim darkness of the far future there is only war, and just by saying that a lawyer from Nottingham is probably writing a Sternly Worded Letter about the intellectual property of their client, but whatever.
Well, we had a good run folks, but it’s time to pack it in. King Blueberry is about to nerd out over Warhammer because of an off-handed remark, so we’re all fucked. In the grim darkness of the right now there is only this moron and his opinions.
King Blueberry: Hey, I just realized… You think Youngblood plays? I mean it’s in his theme song and everything. “Blood for the blood god,” and all that. Doesn’t strike me as a hardcore Khorne guy, though. Probably leans hard Ultramarines.
He strokes his chin contemplatively for a moment. There is no beard there, this is just to look intelligent. Do I need to tell you it’s unsuccessful, or can we all just assume?
King Blueberry: Yeah. Definitely an Ultramarine.
Reina Raspberry: What the hell are you talking about?
King Blueberry: Oh, Cal. Right. Hi.
Yes, he forgot his partner was there a minute. Yes, he thinks he played it off well. No, Jared, not even close.
Reina Raspberry: You know what? I don’t care. I’ve decided that standing over here isn’t far enough away, so I will be walking now. To the ring. For that thing we’re supposed to do.
Baron von Blackberry: Oh. Right. You have a match. How silly of me to forget that we actually get paid to wrestle, and stand around backstage talking about whatever comes to mind.
He looks down the hall. Joe and Sid are peering at the three of them from around the corner, apparently trying very hard not to be seen. Which is likely tough when one of them wears the loudest-colored suit possible and the other one is the powerbomb made manifest.
Baron von Blackberry: Well, alas, I’m exclusively being paid to do the stand around backstage thing, for now. Go forth, successfully defend your titles, and then we’ll get some doom up ins.
King Blueberry: What kinda doom, specifically? Classic Doom? Doom 2? Doom 3? Doom 64? Doom 2016? Doom Eternal? Doom on a Texas Instruments graphing calc-
Reina Raspberry: JARED!
Her voice sounds like a gunshot, and Blueberry snaps to attention.
King Blueberry: I, umm, need to go follow her now.