THE IMMACULATE McCEPTION
As ReVival 20 rolls on, a familiar, yet narrowly tolerated member of the roster finds an envelope with his name written on the outside taped to the locker room door. Mr. Middle Management, Mike McGee himself, looks both ways twice before reaching up to take it off the door.
He pulls out a custom gilded sterling silver letter opener with the McGee family crest on it from his singlet (don’t ask from where, you don’t want to know) and slices the envelope open with great care. “Ripping open envelopes is for Philistines,” his father Richard McGee would have said. Mike reads the words on the card aloud for nobody to hear, because of course he talks while he reads.
Mike McGee: Mike, I know we have had our differences, but in the spirit of the holidays, I thought maybe I could extend an olive branch and get you an appropriate present. It is waiting for you in the parking lot – Eddie Cross.
Mike flips the card over in his hand and shrugs his shoulders.
Mike McGee: Well, what a nice gesture. After all, nothing bad has ever happened in a parking lot during one of these wrestling shows.
As Mike makes his way out to the parking lot, he smiles as he spies the love of his life, his alluringly crimson cherry red Kia Sorrento. He spies something on the hood and walks briskly to the SUV. What he sees is a middle aged man and woman who are very familiar to him in the throes of rapturous coitus.
Mike McGee: Wait… that… that image… Those are my incredible parents Richard and Emily McGee of Maplewood, New Jersey, making passionate love as they are wont to do… but this metallic canvas is…
Mike’s face drops precipitously. Tears well in his eyes as he realizes this is not, in fact, a generous holiday gift.
Mike McGee: On… no… my… my… my KIAAAAAAAA! NOOO! NOOOOOO! NOT MYYYY KIIIIAAAAAA! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!! MY BEAUTIFUL CHERRRRRY RED KIIIAAAAA SOREENNTOOOOO!
McGee, already in his singlet with his protective amateur-style ear gear, collapses to his knees and puts his hands over his head, his eyes bulging as he starts to openly weep. The hood of his Kia Sorento is blurred to the viewing audience with just the faces of Richard and Emily McGee showing. Richard appears to be amid his vinegar strokes.
Mike McGee: WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME YOU NON-JUDGMENTAL EPISCOPALIAN GODDDDD?! NOOOOOO! I EVEN LISTENED TO THE GIRL PASTOR AND MY WONDERFUL PARENTS MADE DONATIONS THAT THEY COULD WRITE OFF THEIR TAXES!!!
McGee collapses fully on the asphalt parking lot, pounding his fists and feet as he lays face down, weeping and trembling frantically.
Much to his dismay, the situation only gets worse, as the low rumble of an engine and the snap-hiss of brake lines herald the arrival of a large charter bus. It lurches to a stop near the Sorento, and McGee turns blanche as the door folds open, and bounding out into the parking lot is none other than Rezin.
Rezin: HAHAHAHA, I MADE it!
The Escape Artist glances reproachfully into the black sky above him, no doubt locking eyes with the government-controlled satellite following his every move.
Rezin: Take THAT, Uncle Sam! Thought ya could CLIPS MY WINGS and put me on the NO FLY LIST… but YET AGAIN, this ol’ Dopesmoker has ESCAPED YOUR GRASP!!
Following him out of the bus is a long and slow-moving line of old women, oohing and aahing at the grandiosity and splendor of Sin City.
Old Woman: Excuse me, Mr. Driver… are we at the TAAHJ MaHAAL??
The Goat Bastard shakes his head.
Rezin: Nah, Irma, ‘fraid not! After your old driver’s terrible mishap in that gas station men’s room where he slipped and got his head inexplicably stuck in the toilet, so we took a left turn at Albuquerque for a quick lil DETOUR!
Old Woman: WHAAHT??
Rezin: Look, we ALL benefit from this situation, KAY?? All ya gotta worry about is that the SLOT MACHINES are o’er THATTAWAY!
With an excited rustle, the gaggle of grannies herd themselves on toward the casino. Rezin’s eyes, already maniacal by nature, now fill with rabid purpose as he eyes the entrance to the arena.
Rezin: In the meantime, I gots BUSINESS with a certain…
He trails off when he notices the Sorento’s hood, and more accurately the artwork evocative of Melvin’s stash of 70’s Hustlers Rezin may or may not have stolen.
Rezin: Ooh… some exquisite shading in those pubes, my dude! Is that chiaroscuro?
McGee looks up to see The Goat Bastard eyeballing this abomination and Mike then jumps on the hood of the Kia Sorento, rolling around on it attempting to shield the harm done to his beloved Kia Sorento. Rezin looks both ways with his eyeballs before stepping away and heading for the building, leaving Mike McGee rolling on the hood of his Kia in agony.
Mike McGee: (wailing) My cherry red Kia Sorrento is more than just a car with sleek, smooth, and dare I say sexy Korean designs. My Kia Sorrento is a totem. It is a manifestation of all I have accomplished in this life — a stellar amateur wrestling career combined with my providing Human Resources Excellence to America’s finest clothing retail chains. And it has been sullied…
Mike stands up and peers once more at the hood of his beloved SUV. It is still blurred out to the viewing audience, sans the faces of Richard and Emily McGee which are both howling with sweet passion. He wipes the tears from his eyes and gathers himself.
Mike McGee: IT SHALL NEVER BE SULLIED AGAIN!
He remembers he still has to go have a match with Eddie next. The look of disdain and self hatred that adorns every retail middle manager in the country creeps over his face.
Mike McGee: You’re going to pay for this! And I don’t just mean an increase to your car insurance premium! I can see now not even a write up is sufficient punishment. Oh no… EDDIE CROSS, YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS IN BLOOD!
Mike stomps off toward the ring as the fans get ready for him to take on Eddie Cross next on ReVival 20!