
OH SHIT, IT’S DAVID LYNCH
The camera checks in backstage. Standing before a PRIME backdrop and appearing in his ever-snazzy azure blue suit, the microphone-brandishing junior reporter Simon Tillier greets us with his boyish smile.
Simon Tillier: Thank you for joining me, fellow PRIMEates, as the action continues here tonight at ReVival Oh-Five! Earlier tonight, we witnessed the first of two Five Star Scramble matches to determine who will go on to the Pay Per View mega-event CULTURE SHOCK, for a chance to–
Rezin: HEYY THERE, Simple Simon!!
Simon Tillier: Oh, uh… hi, Rezin. Sorry, I’m a bit–
Rezin: Yo, you think you can be a pal and spot your ol’ buddy Rezin a few dollars?
Simon Tillier: You still owe me the eighteen I lent you! Anyway, if you don’t mind, I was actually here hoping to get a word with–
The Goat Bastard suddenly cuts off the junior reporter and his face fills with starstruck amazement as soon as he sees someone off-camera.
Rezin: Oh… my… VOID… it’s HIM!!
Dusk, who we may presume is Simon’s original interview subject, enters the frame. He’s still in his ring attire.
Rezin: Wow… just… WOW!! I never thought I’d get to meet you in person!
Before he can react, Rezin seizes Dusk by the hand and shakes it enthusiastically.
Rezin: Sir, I don’t say this about many people, but it is an ABSOLUTE HONOR to meet you! I am SUCH a fan of your work!
Dusk looks over at Simon, trepidatiously.
Dusk: Thank you?
Rezin: I don’t care what anybody says; you are a fucking LEGEND! What you’ve done over your career has been a major influence in everything I do! I gotta ask though, now that I’m actually standing here before you because this is something I’ve always wondered about: how in the hell did you guys make that baby in Eraserhead? Is it true you guys used a cow fetus?
Dusk now looks confused. He looks appealingly over to Simon for any kind of hint on what this guy is babbling about. The junior reporter simply looks back at him and shrugs.
Rezin: Nah nahhh, I get it… a master can’t reveal his secrets! Anyway, what are you doing in Vegas? Wait… what ELSE would you be doing here? You’re filming Twin Peaks SEASON FOUR!! Do we get to see the long-awaited return of MISTER JACKPOTS!? GODDAMB, I am so stoked!
Simon Tillier: Rezin, do you have any idea who this is?
Rezin: Whaddya mean? That’s OBVIOUSLY visionary filmmaker and artist, David Lynch!
Dusk opens his mouth and then shuts it. He looks over at Simon.
Dusk: Am I being punked? Is King Blueberry behind this?
He looks back at Rezin, his hands on his hips, the sweat still dripping off his body.
Dusk: Look, I’m not particularly in the mood for this. Just finished this match, you see. Now I need to go wash off the stink of another loss. Did you not just see me? Out there wrestling? I think you have a match coming up as well–
Dusk takes a deep breath in and starts coughing.
Dusk: Well, that explains everything.
Now it’s time for Rezin to look at Simon with a look of confusion. The junior reporter sighs.
Simon Tillier: Rezin, allow me to introduce you to PRIME legend, Dusk.
Rezin blinks.
Rezin: …WHO?! Wait, do you mean… the Kanye guy?
Simon Tillier: Uhh, sure, I think?
The Escape Artist’s eye twitches. He shudders from head to toe. His face contorts into funny shapes. He is seemingly mustering up the few working brain cells he has left to keep his mind from going into a full meltdown.
Rezin: Uggghhhh, Yeezy… literally the LEAST PUNK ROCK human being on the planet…
He turns his attention back to Dusk, now with much, much less adulation in his demeanor.
Rezin: PRIME legend, EHH?? So WHAT, that gives you some sort of VIP status around here? Like, you can just swoop in and hijack any shmuck’s interview, whenever you please?!
Simon Tillier: We weren’t having–
No longer having any use in this exchange, Rezin relieves Simon of his microphone and shoves him out of the shot as he inches closer to Dusk, looking daringly into the eyes of the seasoned ring veteran.
Rezin: Well ya know what I think, DOPPLEGANGER? I AIN’T THE ONLY ONE STANDIN’ HERE THAT REEKS OF PISS!! And lookin’ at you, I see EXACTLY what I think of this company’s legacy: a DEAD and FADED MEMORY! Just coastin’ by on nostalgia points until you inevitably get DEVOURED in the FIRES of the coming NUCLEAR A-PUNK-OLYPSE!!
The Goat Bastard leans in even closer, inches away from Dusk’s stoic, unflinching face. A fiendish, sneering grin is spread across Rezin’s own.
Rezin: The PAST ain’t anything but KINDLING to light up MY FUTURE, OLD MAN!!
Dusk swipes the mic from Rezin’s hand. Instantaneously.
Rezin: G’AAHH!!
Rezin sputters and tumbles to the floor in bewilderment as Dusk clears his throat.
Dusk: Nothing I enjoy more than people haven’t done shit in this industry talk about my legacy, talk about my age, and think they’re going to get away with it. You can talk about what your future is, but the way I see it is this.
Dusk holds up one finger.
Dusk: One, you win your match out there tonight and you’re competing for the 5-Star Championship. Good for you. Not quite certain you’ll get past Nova, but crazier things have happened.
Dusk is clearly referring to Cancer Jiles defeating Nova just a couple of shows previously. Dusk then holds up two fingers.
Dusk: Two, you lose your match and I have to come around to collect on the bullshit I had to just listen to. Don’t worry, I will. Maybe not at Culture Shock, but before long I will come and remind you just exactly who I am.
Dusk puts his fingers down and shrugs his shoulders.
Dusk: Either way you look at it, I’m coming for you. So, why don’t you brush yourself off and get your ass out there, because your match is next. Just know, you just signed yourself up for an ass-kicking of a lifetime.
The Escape Artist is left huffing angrily through his nostrils and Nic Cage staring after Dusk. He spies Simon still lingering nearby.
Rezin: Fuckin’ DOPPLEGANGERS, am I right?! Sorry, to cut this interview short, Simon! But there’s a match to STRIKE…
He strikes the head of a match to light a ritual pre-fight joint which he plucks into his mouth.
Rezin: …and a match to WIN…
Rezin wanders off in the opposite direction, leaving the junior reporter to stand there looking somewhere between dumbstruck and annoyed.