HE AIN’T A HORSE, BUT I’LL PUNCH HIM
They say that a smile can make someone’s day… that it can change the World. In any other case that just may be true, but not with this damn smile. No, this damn smile can ruin a wet dream… make you want to destroy the World just to get rid of it. Like a damn cockroach, and the asshole it belongs to, it would probably survive. Fans of PRIME know him well, and hate him just the same. Yet, his name is written in the PRIME Hall of Fame.
You know the name, and the damn smile permanently scarred into the left side of his face, they belong to the man currently holding a cell phone to his ear with a look of disgust reserved for someone ready to destroy the world.
Tony Gamble: How is my vehicle’s warranty going to expire!? It’s been expired for eight years already!
Tony “The Grin” Gamble jerks the phone away from his ear and presses the end button to hang it up, furious that these calls; much like the war on drugs, will never end.
Tony Gamble: I swear, if I ever find someone who worrrrks.
The Permascar Superstar turns around and stands eye to chin with a man wearing a black luchadore mask. What is it with Tony and masked men?
Mortimer Kjedelig: You pocket goombah fuck! You got some fuckin’ balls, you know that?
The larger, physically imposing masked man looks down at Tony Gamble, his face getting redder and redder through the mask. But the shorter, more well renown PRIME wrestler does not look intimidated at the least.
Mortimer Kjedelig: I have a good mind to kick said balls so hard, the New York Jets would offer me a fuckin’ contract!
Tony Gamble: Who’re you trying to kid, we both know the Jets would sign a cross eyed old man that couldn’t kick a can tied to his shoe before someone that could actually help the team. Although you’d probably have a better chance at winning a championship there than here, if you don’t mind me being honest.
The Grin folds his arms across his chest, looking up into the ice cold stare of the man with the silent K in his name. His eyes wide with rage as his chest heaves with each inhale.
Tony Gamble: I could represent you if you’d like, at my usual forty five percent of course.
Mortimer Kjedelig: What? You think I’m some kinda jerk off? You smarmy motherfucker, I should…
Mortimer Kjedelig suddenly headbutts Tony Gamble, whose eyes grow wide from surprise. Mortimer proceeds to kick Tony Gamble in the scrotal region thus causing him to “grin” no more. A pained wince is etched across the PRIME Hall of Famer’s face. Mortimer grabs Tony and throws him into the wall. Gamble hits the ground and Mortimer begins kicking him repeatedly and viciously.
In this moment, almost serendipitously, a PRIME intern by the name of Jerry. Jerry is hurriedly delivering an armful of Anna Daniels t-shirts, that fell out of their cellophane bag (it was totally Jerry’s fault), to the nearest concession stand. One such t-shirt falls to the ground.
Mortimer stops kicking Gamble long enough to pick up the t-shirt and wraps it around Tony’s neck and begins pulling him up. From behind he lifts Gamble off the ground, strangling him with the t-shirt.
Mortimer Kjedelig: SMARMY….MOTHER…..FUCKER!!!!
After another two seconds, Mortimer releases the t-shirt and Tony Gamble drops to the ground. Mortimer’s breathing is heavy, almost labored as if he had been the one getting choked. After catching his breath, Mortimer crouches down over Tony.
Mortimer Kjedelig: Zach Wilson with his torn mens-discus, Becton on IR, what a bust he is. Don’t get me started on Ashtyn Davis, that prick needs to get cut last week. Fuckin’ Jets, am I right?
The masked PRIME wrestler chuckles a bit to himself before lightly slapping the Grin in the face. Mortimer slowly rises up and starts walking off whilst whistling “Luck Be a Lady Tonight” from Guys and Dolls.