PETE WHEALDON vs. CANCER JILES
As feedback careens into pounding drums and a maximalist wall of guitars, synthesizers, bass, and vocals, the lights begin to oscillate in white seemingly random number pattern generations.
Pete Whealdon steps into the chaos of sound and light. A cigarette hanging gamely from his lips, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, zipped up over his bare chest.
He stands still as the chorus of “All Futures” By The Armed is screamed out by gang vocals..
With that, he makes his way down to the ring, removing his hands only to ash his cigarette.
Vince Howard: This match is scheduled for one fall! Making his way down the aisle, from Los Angeles California, standing five foot eleven and weighing in at two hundred and twenty seven pounds…PEEEEETEEEE WHEEEALDOOOOON!
Reaching the ringside area, the next chorus explodes out of the growing chaos again. Whealdon puts his cigarette out on the sole of his boot and slides under the bottom rope, before moving to his corner, and replacing his hands in jacket pockets.
Nick Stuart: Pete Whealdon is here and looks to be ready for a fight.
The lights slowly draw to a dim.
A COOL, unnerving chill moves through the air.
The PRIMEates occupying the MGM Grand Garden go upright, eager to uproariously pound on their chests.
Then, Screamin’ Jay takes it away.
I’m the one your mama warned you about
When you see me, I will leave you no doubt
I’m the coolest man that ever walked this earth
I’ve been the coolest since the day of my birth
Usually there’s a series of pyros here but since this contest is a slap in the face dark match, Jiles gets a sparkler and a couple of bang snaps instead.
I am the cool
Out from the back steps Cancer Jiles, only one of his name.
Richard Parker: HAHAHAHA! This loser looks like he’s lost.
Nick Stuart: My guess is since it’s not the MAIN EVENT he’s acting like he doesn’t know where to go.
Richard Parker: As if it weren’t possible for me to hate him even more! That’s exactly what’s going on here!
The COOLYMPIAN lumbers down the aisle like he’s Frankenstien’s creation. He breaks character to argue with a MESSIAH sleeper incel sitting ringside, and then quickly picks back up with his bit.
Vince Howard: And his opponent, from Philadelphia, PA, standing six foot one and weighing in at two hundred and eighteen pounds…CAAAAANCEEEER JIIIIIILES!
Before sliding under the bottom rope, Jiles stumbles towards the ringside camera and in his best caveman voice says, “ME TIMO! ME LIKEY THE FACE PAINTY CHIPS. YUM-YUM! WHICH WAY MAIN EVENT IS?”
Nick Stuart: One of these days he’ll get what’s coming to him. And not for nothing, but Timo would know which way the MAIN EVENT is. He is officiating it later tonight.
Richard Parker: Timo should throw that shitfuck out of his jet. While it is moving. From ten thousand feet in the sky. With a cinder block tied around Jiles’ waist just to be sure.
Jiles ditches his shades, mocks Timo a bit more, and awaits the bell from the comforts of his corner.
Timo checks both competitors and we are underway.
Jiles circles around, like Apollo Creed, and Whealdon just looks to be confused. After several long moments of showboating, Timo finally looks at them both and motions for them to get the match underway.
Whealdon moves to lock up and Jiles sidesteps him while yelling like a matador and continues to dance around the ring.
Nick Stuart: Timo is already side-eyeing Jiles for his walk out, I can’t imagine he is going to take much of this pageantry.
Richard Parker: He reminds me of one of those stupid yappy dogs that is dancing around the kitchen when they have to take a leak.
Whealdon puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head. He steps forward again and Jiles lunges forward peppering Pete with a short jab. Timo motions for the closed fist, but Jiles does it again anyway. Jiles steps in to pop Whealdon again, and he tries to guard his face. This prompts Cancer to step into a mighty THWACK to the shin! Pete grabs his leg and hops around in pain.
Nick Stuart: A deft maneuver, albeit pretty shoddy in the morals department.
Cancer’s had enough and steps forward with a resounding superkick straight into the mush of Pete. Whealdon drops to the canvas like a sack of week old potatoes and Cancer is there for the pin immediately.
Timo drops to the mat and just as he begins to start for the count, Cancer pops up. Timo stands up slowly, not knowing what to make of the showboating. Cancer quickly drops to the mat again and hooks Whealdon’s leg. Timo moves into position on the mat and goes for the count once again, only to have Jiles roll off and sit up again!
Nick Stuart: What on earth is he doing? Nobody wants to see this kind of poor sportsmanship!
Richard Parker: Just pin the guy and get it over with! I have a VHS of Matlock in the back with more intrigue than this!
Timo glares at Cancer and as he is about to stand up, Cancer dives back in for the cover.
Timo drops to the mat and manages to count a ONE! Before Cancer pulls Whealdon’s shoulders up and then pins him again.
Pull up, repeat.
Roll off and stand, prompting Timo to sit up on his haunches and put his hands on his hips. His face paint is scrunched into a definite growl. Cancer fakes dropping for the pin and Timo, anticipating, dives into position from his seat, and slaps the mat without Jiles having actually pinned Whealdon!
Nick Stuart: Cancer has managed to trick the Senior Officiant and he is quite happy with himself!
Richard Parker: Jon Rhine needs to write a Rumor Mills about Cancer getting beaten by a pack of angry lowland gorillas live on a pay per view. Imagine the buy rates we could get for that.
Timo stands up and waves off the count profusely, obviously embarrassed that he miscounted in front of a live crowd. Jiles is, for all the world, laughing in the corner while Whealdon begins to stir again. Jiles is slapping his hand mimicking a counting referee while Pete gets back to his feet slowly.
Cancer stares at Timo and without breaking eye contact, superkicks Pete once again and dives to the mat for the cover.
Cancer Jiles: (yelling) Count it, Crumb!
Timo drops once more and slaps the mat.
DING DING DING
Vince Howard: The winner of this match…CANCER JILES!
Cancer slides out of the ring, retrieves his sunglasses from the corner, and makes his way up the ramp as Screamin’ Jay plays him out.
Nick Stuart: Well that was, thank the maker, short.
Richard Parker: And yet it still took entirely too long.
Cut to commercial.