SHOWTIME
The live feed cuts down to the ring.
Nick Stuart: Up next is a triple threat matchup featuring Sage Pontiff, Crash Jackson, and Rich Patterson.
Richard Parker: Crash still works here? I would have lost that bet.
Old Saint Nick rolls his eyes.
Nick Stuart: Of course he does Richar– wait. Wait just a moment. I’m being told our broadcast is going backstage because the eGG Bandits have FINALLY arrived at the Bridgestone Arena, and an absolutely livid Lindsay Troy is waiting to greet them!
Richard Parker: This is going to be good! Please let her fire him. Not Don’s him, either. You know who.
The feed jumps to the back and picks up with Lindsay Troy. She is pacing in front of the talent entrance, ready to unleash on the Bandits as soon as they walk through the door.
Nick Stuart: Apparently the Bandits were slated to open the show inside the ring, and obviously that didn’t happen since they are just getting here now.
Richard Parker: Forget that I said good. I meant murderous.
The door opens and in walks Sir Robert of Honalee in his funeral blacks. He catches Mother Hen’s stern gaze, but before she can cluck in his direction is able to find refuge in a nearby empty dumpster.
Coral is the next man through. He’s got on an EB tracksuit and his forehead is all shined up for hunting bounties. When he catches the ire of Lady Troy, he freezes like he made eye contact with Medusa.
Thankfully, pulling up the rear and not leaving a Bandit out to dry for once, is Cancer Jiles. He, his EB tracksuit, his ghost white hair, his T-shades, and the full girth of his bravado, walks through the door and steps in between Jester and Queen.
Lindsay Troy: Just where in the hell have you Pizmo crumb bum bandits been?! The show started over an hour ago!
Cancer Jiles: The show doesn’t actually start until the main attraction gets here, and now that I…
A drowned out clearing of the throat sounds from behind Jiles’ back, causing him to smile. It came from inside the dumpster.
Cancer Jiles: Now that *we’re* here, the show can start.
The Queen’s ears plume smoke.
Lindsay Troy: YOU BANDIDIOTS WERE SUPPOSED TO DO THE COLD OPEN!
Jiles ponders. The look on his face while doing so reads, oh that’s what we were forgetting to do. Bobby ever-so-slowly peeks his head out from his hiding place, but quickly realizes his presence is not needed and retreats. Coral, having conditioned his brain to unfreeze over the past month, quickly recovers and tosses his innocent hat into the conversation.
Coral Avalon: Well, if I may, and please keep in mind that I’m still learning the ropes here, but I think I can help clear up some of the confusion.
Lindsay Troy: Coral, come on. There’s no confusion, there’s Dipshits Dipshitting as Dipshits Do.
Coral Avalon: Be that as it may, technically, if I’m not mistaken, the show doesn’t start until the Bandits show up. So, the cold open should still be in play, no?
Shellshocked, The Golden Ticket’s eyebrows explode over the brims of his T-shades. Bob releases the most nervous fart ever, so nervous in fact that it reverberates inside the dumpster for over ten seconds. However putrid, or shocking, or putrid it all might seem, it does not phase the Queen. Instead of flight, she takes a step towards the Crownless King.
Lindsay Troy: What did you just say?
Coral Avalon: I’m sorry.
The Royal Eyes narrow into slits.
Coral Avalon: …I’m sorry that even our beloved eGG Queen sometimes forgets the rules.
Coral blinks as though he’s surprised himself by the words that came out of his mouth. Jiles’ eyes bounce out of their sockets, against the lenses on his T-shades, and back into their sockets three times over. Bobby of course farts again.
And Lady Troy is silent. And stunned.
It happens.
Women can be left speechless.
Cancer Jiles: So, yeah, we’ll go out there in a little bit and make it up to you. Just gonna settle in real quick, and get Bobby out of the trashcan. Talk to you later!
In an effort to hastily flee the scene, King Crumb pushes Coral in the opposite direction of Lindsay Troy. Then, he hurries over to the dumpster to get Bobby out. However, it turns out to be a gigantic mistake since he winds up inadvertently crop dusting himself when he lifts the lid.
He also gets backdoor Dutch Ovened.
The pungent aroma causes the former Uni Champ to instantly sour. He reels backward like he’s been punched in the face by both Stanislob and Crumblood.
At the same time.
Soon thereafter, Bobby, like a cruiserweight, escapes the dumpster, wrangles up the Maestro, avoids LT like social distancing is back, and the two follow in Coral’s wake.
The shot ends on Lady Troy, Queen of PRIME, too aghast to do a thing.
Including smell.
Lucky her.
Cut back down to the ring.