SO THAT’S HOW IT IS
Joe Fontaine: We cut backstage after the thrilling conclusion of the Fighting for Nora and Masters of the Multiverse B-Team match to discover that Jared Blueberry’s pp has been stolen, and the culprit is suspected to be El Hijo del Super Cool Guy!
Baron von Blackberry: Ah. So that’s how it is.
Okay, but seriously. ReVival 12 indeed cuts backstage after that match, and we’re treated to the sight of Joe Fontaine, Baron von Blackberry, and Sid Phillips walking. Each of them are dressed in their entrance attire, and they’re on their way to stand by for their match with the eGG Bandits.
Sid Phillips: Are you eight or something? Nobody calls it a “pp” at our age. We use more sophisticated words like “tallywhacker” and the eggplant emoji now.
Joe Fontaine: Look, I have opinions that have to be stated, and they all involve the 16th letter of the English alphabet and how they relate to that terrible man and his even more terrible mannequin, forged from the worst Canadian malice ever found in a Tijuana Macy’s.
Baron von Blackberry holds his hand out and physically stops Joe Fontaine from walking further. Joe actually continues walking for several seconds, genuinely confused as to why he wasn’t making any more progress in walking, until he realizes that Blackberry is actually stopping him. So he stops.
Baron von Blackberry: Back up. Time out. Perhaps you could enlighten me a bit on how El Hijo del Super Cool Guy could be forged from Canadian malice when it is a Mexican mannequin?
Joe Fontaine: I don’t know. How do you explain all of the Canadian destroyers he’s done on me? I’m sick of it. I’m sick of seeing his stupid, featureless face. I’m sick of your weirdo friend who keeps shoving him in my path, too. He is a big mean jerk. I hate him. A pox on his soul!
Sid Phillips: Uh, we’re still talking about the mannequin, right?
Joe Fontaine: No! I’m talking about that Jared Blueberry. He’s a dumpster man most foul. I hope he stubs his toe. I hope his car gets towed so he has to spend the whole day at the DMV. I hope he gets deported to Fruitsylvania.
Blackberry grabs Joe by the shoulders, shaking him a bit. He ragdolls quite a bit as he’s been shaken.
Baron von Blackberry: Okay. Stop. I am the only native Fruitsylvanian here. Jared Blueberry is not from Fruitsylvania. That’s a terrible stereotype to assume that everyone with a fruity name comes from Fruitsylvania, and I will have you apologize for your berryist behavior before I have you sent to the Exploding Soul Mines for your treachery and your berryism.
Joe Fontaine: …Sorry?
Baron von Blackberry: Good. I’m glad that we have settled this like adults. Or something resembling adults. Something within a hemisphere of adulthood. You foolish child.
The camera draws back just enough to reveal two additional figures standing off to the side. Both in fruit-themed masks, one because he makes bad decisions, and the other because she’s supportive of her friend who makes bad decisions, even if sometimes those choices come with their own blast radius large enough to kill the dinosaurs and create a black hole into which slowly falls all hope of rational thought. If you think there’s not a part of her that’s counting the days until she can take the damn thing off, then you’re fooling yourself, and probably not doing a very good job at it.
They’re also chatting with each other, just loud enough for the cameras to hear. Think of it like Mystery Science Theater 3000 if someone thought, “you know what would be cool, filming this with crazy people at a farmer’s market.”
Reina Raspberry: Are any of them actually adults, is my question.
King Blueberry: I mean, you are. The rest of us not so much, no.
Reina Raspberry: And does he really think your name is ‘Jared Blueberry’?
King Blueberry: No idea. I thought about asking, but they were all mid-monolog, and then we got into berry racism and at that point I just needed to see where that train went.
She nods, as if this is a perfectly normal conversation for fruit-themed Gen X’ers to have. It isn’t, but you know what they say: When in Rome… fuck a Roman.
Reina Raspberry: Joe’s got a point though. You are most certainly a dumpster man. Maybe even THE dumpster man.
King Blueberry: Look, that’s just sound logic. No arguing with the truth.
Reina Raspberry: Do you think they can hear us?
King Blueberry: Cal, they’re staring at us, so I’m going to go with a hard ‘yes’ on that one.
Joe Fontaine looks around for several seconds, and then turns to his compatriots.
Joe Fontaine: Anyone else hear that?
Baron von Blackberry: Yes. I’m going out on a limb and say that my fellow Popsicle monarchs are right here. Watching us. Talking about us. And definitely questioning why we call one of them Jared Blueberry, as though that isn’t his full legal name that I thought about on a whim one day in the MGM Grand in a story that was definitely cut for time.
Sid Phillips: …What?
Baron von Blackberry: Let’s just go say hi.
The three of them walk up to the Kings of Popsicles. For a moment, there’s silence between the five of them. A tension in the air that comes from months of mannequin-based psychological warfare. You know how it goes. First it’s just an innocent little Canadian Destroyer from a mannequin, next is sparklers and roller skates, and then we may get into some thermonuclear mannequins if we mess around and find out.
Anyway, it’s Blackberry who breaks the silence.
Baron von Blackberry: Hi.
Raspberry uncrosses her arms just long enough to offer a little wave.
Reina Raspberry: Hi.
King Blueberry: Yeah, so, hope you don’t mind but we were thinking of doing a little scouting tonight. Not planning on getting anywhere close to the ring, and you don’t have to worry – there won’t be any mannequins. Dude is staying in his storage locker tonight. Granted, we’ve got a defense on the next show, so there’s a chance you’re wrestling someone else at UltraViolence, but…
Reina Raspberry: You wouldn’t believe the amount of tears when I told him he had to actually act like a professional for this.
King Blueberry: …dude.
Reina Raspberry: Seriously, it got pretty uncomfortable for a while. Like I thought he was going to dehydrate, or something.
King Blueberry: Cool. Can’t wait to live with this meme forever.
Baron von Blackberry: Ah, the dreaded raisin situation. I’m familiar. ‘Tis what claimed my grandfather, Corbin von Blackberry, now interred in the Grand Blackberry Mausoleum. He now permanently haunts the place, always screaming. Never ceases screaming. We had to soundproof the walls. To be fair to him, to heck with raisins. I wouldn’t want to become that.
Joe and Sid, ignoring the ramblings of a possibly insane berry, eyed the other two berries suspiciously.
Joe Fontaine: So, no mannequins?
Sid Phillips: And no shenanigans?
Joe Fontaine: No.. shemannequins?
Sid Phillips: Why do I find that hard to believe?
King Blueberry: I don’t know if you’re aware, but we have this rumor report that comes out every few weeks…
At this, Reina Raspberry tries to stifle a laugh, fails, and within seconds it takes her over.
King Blueberry: And apparently there’s someone in the company that believes I am harboring a – what was the phrase? – oh, yeah, “penis gremlin” that has stolen and run off with, you know… things.
She is all but doubled over, howling at his misfortune.
King Blueberry: So the absolute last thing that I need right now is to be seen in public with him.
Baron von Blackberry: Ah, yes. I am quite familiar with this filthy sheet, full of dirt and other pieces of the earth. Honestly, they should clean it up before they send it out. This is what happens when you trust owls to deliver the news to you. Anyway, I also saw something shocking in that same report.
He brings his voice down to a whisper, which is to say that it’s still at conversational volume.
Baron von Blackberry: It said that Timo has a jet.
Joe and Sid both gasp audibly.
Joe Fontaine: No way.
Sid Phillips: That Timo?
Baron von Blackberry: The same!
Reina Raspberry: (under her breath) At least no one “stole his pp”.
And then she’s back to laughing.
King Blueberry: So that’s how it is.
The King pivots and begins walking away, mumbling something to himself that the camera can’t pick up. Not one to let an opportunity like this slip away, his partner offers another shot.
Reina Raspberry: Make sure and let everyone know if you find it!
Eventually the laughing stops, and she’s able to compose herself. Her attention returns to the other collection of man-children before her.
Reina Raspberry: No, but seriously, no mannequin tonight. It’s creepy, and it’s weird, and to be honest if I had my way it would have been thrown in a wood chipper by now. So we’ll see you out there, from a distance so that no one gets distracted, but now I should probably go track him down before he… You know it’s probably safer if I don’t imagine what he’ll get up to.
And then it’s her turn to exit the frame.
The Winds of Change watch her go, and then Joe points in the direction that she departed towards.
Joe Fontaine: Okay, I like her.
Sid Phillips: Stop.
Joe Fontaine: What? She doesn’t like the mannequin either. A+ in my book.
Let’s… go back to the ring.