THE ELEMENTS OF WRESTLING SUCCESS
THE FOLLOWING SEGMENT WAS RECORDED YESTERDAY
Ah, a deviation from the standard location for our next ReVival segment. Instead of the hustle and bustle of the backstage, we are in a spooooooookier setting. Not a soul for miles aside for the members of Me & My Black Metal Friends.
Miserée: You had one job, Lipschitz. Find a dismal, clandestine location for us to actually do a real promo this time. And yet again, you fail me.
Just kidding. They are the parking lot of a seafood buffet, surrounded by vehicles owned by northeastern transplants and tourists. Most of whom were inside stuffing their faces with crab legs and hush puppies, save for a few interested spectators within view in the background.
Abe Lipschitz: But I was hungry. Besides, we’re in Saint Pete. What did you want me to do, find us a snowy mountaintop?
Abe’s wearing a pair of white swim trunks, flip flops, and a black T-shirt that advertised “Brennan Devlin’s Book Club,” complete with a picture of a cartoon worm reading Charlotte’s Web. For whatever reason, he’s also holding the same winter hat he attempted to buy at Michael Kors upright in his hand. As for Rée and the Norwegian Sea Monstress, they are not exactly in the beachy spirit. Nor are they ever. It’s black on black on more black once again for PRIME’s grimmest of the grim. That said, SELMA looks a little more upbeat than usual albeit hard to tell from her grotesque scorched skin makeup. (Later, sources would discover that this location was actually her idea, as she loves their blackened snapper!)
Miserée: I wish you would have found somewhere with a large hole. So that I could bury you in it.
Abe Lipschitz: I think I saw one when we pulled in – oh, wait, yeah! It’s between your BUTT CHEEKS!
Miserée visibly grits her teeth in Abe’s direction. He ignores it and instead lifts his hand up for a high-five from SELMA, who in turn steps on his exposed foot with the heel of her combat boot.
SELMA: Dritthode.
Abe Lipschitz: OW! God damn it, SELMA…
The yelling of his colleague’s name elicits a couple of startles from the extras in the back.
Abe Lipschitz: …stop trying to turn my tootsies into mini-Eggos! Ah crap, and I just got a pedi two days ago!
Miserée laughs. Or at least what would constitute a laugh from her, which is a slight upturn of her lips. She does not laugh, as laughter isn’t black metal.
Miserée: Serves you right for what you’ve done. How is anyone in PRIME going to take us seriously now? For the second show in a row, you’ve ruined our aura. SELMA, step on the other foot.
SELMA lifts her leg to plant down on the Babe’s other foot, which he dodges by jumping up on the hood of the nearest car. Miraculously, the hat remains in his hand held upright. These catlike reflexes are what will eventually make him a mid-card attraction!
Abe Lipschitz: Can’t catch me, I’m the Melbatoast Man!
Unfortunately for Abe, he hadn’t considered that his tag partner and sadistic roommate was a real trailblazer of offense. She grabs hold of his good foot with her left hand and punches like hell with her right. Lipschitz yelps in pain, kicking SELMA away (which only makes his foot hurt worse.)
Abe Lipschitz: JEEZ LOUISE! I’m in pain! Now how am I going to enjoy fin-based kosher seafood?
Miserée: I have a better question. How are we going to make our presence felt, where our darkness matters now that we’ve no mystique?
Abe gives a “pshhh” and waves off the inquiry.
Abe Lipschitz: Big flashy intros are fucking laaaaaaaaaame, Mizzy. It’s 2024…
Miserée: …it’s 2023.
Abe Lipschitz: …and all wrestlers really need to do now is engage in a blood grudge to build their intrigue. The fans want a little less talk and a lot more action, as Toby Keith once said. They want to see a boot in an ass, it’s the American Way, as Toby Keith also once said. These are the elements to wrestling success.
Miserée shakes her head in frustration, throwing her hands up in the air.
Miserée: Fine. But if we’re going to do it that way, we need to be tactical. Find the nemesis that will fall the quickest to the black, propelling us closer to the top of the organization. We need to do some more scouting tonight.
Abe nods his head, giving his shoulders a slight shrug.
Abe Lipschitz: Yeah, we could do that. Or we could just pick a name out of this hat.
SELMA and Miserée exchange looks, then both turn back to Abe and shake their heads.
Miserée: So you put the entire roster on a piece of paper, cut out each individual name, and put them in there just for this terrible idea? To decide what could make or break our entire career path, all by random draw? No. There is no way in…
Lipschitz, who up until this point has ignored everything his manager was saying, slowly unfolds the slip of paper that he’d just pulled out of the hat.
Abe Lipschitz: Friends, our first victim is none other than…Abe Lipschitz.
SELMA gives a thumbs up, apparently pleased with the decision. Abe crumples the paper and flicks it in the direction of Miserée, bouncing off of her arm and onto the ground. Determined, he pulls yet another name from the hat, reading it to himself first and smiling.
Abe Lipschitz: Well, well, well. Looks like there’s about to be a world of trouble for a man named Ned Reform! Ladies, it looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us. Thankfully, there are three of us and only one of him, right?
Both SELMA and Miserée again exchange a look and shake their heads.
Abe Lipschitz: C’mon. We’re in this together. As one! ARE YOU WITH ME?
The response does not change from his two cohorts. Sighing, he crumples the piece of paper and flicks it in the direction of SELMA, who catches it in her mouth and swallows it.
Abe Lipschitz: Fine. I guess once again, I’ll do all the work myself. Feel free to try carving your own path to wrestling success, and we’ll fucking see who had the better idea at the end, then!
The video fades out and we cut back to ringside.