From the best to the worst, we present… the Bandits!
Cancer Jiles finds himself sitting in front of his locker, bent over in his chair as he runs the laces through the eye holes of his salt white boots. He appears calm, COOL, and collected as if he’s not about to have one of the biggest matches of his career, because to him, it’s just another day at the office.
Presumably his last day at the office, and he’s taking the stapler with him.
Next to King COOL and sprawled across two chairs is a slumbering Doozer. Already dressed in his gear, he lies there with his head slumped down, his chin to his chest, and an open laptop resting on his lap. He must have taken his Metamucil and figured it was the perfect time for a cat nap.
Cancer Jiles: There there old boy, get your rest. If you guys lose my chances go up….
Suddenly the door to the locker room bursts open and a frantic looking Bobby Dean steps in, looking around crazily, as if he’s lost something. The sudden arrival of the large man causes Cancer Jiles to casually look up, a single eyebrow quirked above his mirror reflecting T-Shades.
Bobby Dean: Where is he? Have you seen him?
The future Universal Champion sighs before turning his attention back to his boots.
Cancer Jiles: I don’t know who or what you’re talking about. I want you guys to win. Whoever was whispering otherwise is a jerk.
Bobby Dean: Doozer of course! Flamberge and Nate are about to begin and we’re on deck. I can’t find him anywhere!
Cancer Jiles: Dooze? Nope, I haven’t seen him in a week or so. In fact the last I heard he was going to a wedding but he swore he’d meet up with us after. No big deal. Not a big show or anything.
Bobby Dean: Dang it! If he makes me go out there by myself we’re doomed.
Cancer Jiles: Bobbo, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t like your chances even if you CAN find the Old Bull. No offense.
Before Bobby can respond, the door to their locker room opens once more as Annabelle Dean makes her grand entrance. Walking in with a mischievous twinkle in her eye and a smirk on her face, she casually walks across the room holding the largest cotton candy on a stick either man has ever seen.
Bobby Dean: Where’d you get that?
Little ‘Belle ignores her questioning father as she walks up to the sprawled out Doozer and roughly shoves his feet off the spare chair before plopping herself down. With his feet falling to the ground, Dooze jerks awake.
Doozer: Huh. Wha. Whe.
The old man begins to sputter as if it takes a minute for his brain to reboot and wake from sleep mode. Bobby never tears his eyes off the neon pink cotton candy, watching as his daughter slowly brings it up to her mouth to tear off a bite with a chomp of her pearly whites.
Cancer Jiles: Oh look there he is. Who knew?
Bobby Dean: Hey! I asked you a question young lady, where did you get that?
Doozer: Wait, what time is it!?
The laptop drops to the floor with a clatter as Super-Doozer jumps out of the chair and to his feet, frantically looking across the room to the large wall mounted clock. Seeing that it was almost time for their match, Doozer offers a very un-Doozerly curse under his breath, before quickly rushing towards the exit.
Bobby Dean: I swear, if you don’t tell me where you got that I… and if they are running some sort of a deal where the more you buy the cheaper it is—
The rest of that sentence is cut off as Doozer grabs Bobby by the lapels of his robe as he passes, dragging the big man behind him as he makes his way out the door.
Doozer: Why didn’t you wake me up, BOB?! Let’s go already. We’re gonna be late!
Jiles and Annabelle are left alone in the room together, so what could possibly go wrong?
Cancer Jiles: You know, diabetes is hereditary.
Annabelle Dean: How many title shots can you lose before you accept the fact that you suck?
Cancer Jiles: How’s about one more than the amount of pimples on your face. That number alone should keep me in the good graces of the main event for the next decade or so of wherever I wind up.
Annabelle Dean: Yeah, all of us are really gonna miss you.
Sarcasm. What a joy.