THE ONE WHERE THEY TALK A LOT
There’s a certain amount of training one has to do to prepare for the Gentleman’s Games that goes beyond the simple visits to the gym that all professional wrestlers (non-Bandit division) partake in. A lot of gentlemanly behavior is ensuing, and at the center of such behavior are three men, and one… we’ll get to that.
You all know the first two. Joe Fontaine and Sid Phillips are gathered around an old office chair, which has the initials “CSWA” on the back. Well, it did, but now it’s been crossed out and replaced with a post-it note that reads “VERY COOL GUYS”. Sid is seated uncomfortably in the office chair, which seems a little too small for him. And Joe is pushing him around.
Sid Phillips: I feel like this shouldn’t be our configuration.
Joe Fontaine: What do you mean?
Sid Phillips: I think that since you’re lighter than me, we’d get more speed if you were the one sitting and I was the one pushing.
Joe Fontaine: We tried that when we took the office chairs, remember? You kept trying to powerbomb the chair with me in it.
Sid shrugs his broad shoulders.
Sid Phillips: I don’t remember this.
Joe turns to the third man in the room, an eyebrow raised.
Joe Fontaine: Fabby, you remember this, right?
The Fabulous Gold Mask, dressed as he is in his plain gold mask and his cheap ash-gray suit, only shrugs his shoulders.
Joe Fontaine: Yeah, he remembers this.
Next to Fabby is a vending machine, but not just any vending machine. No, this one has big googly eyes on it. Really big, dumb anime eyes, the kinds that makes the peoples go “kawaii~”. It might even be able to generate sparkles if you stare at it long enough. Oh, and it has a beret on it, and it’s full of nothing except wrapped baguettes.
We’re not saying that Joe Fontaine has completely lost the plot on what FLAMBERGE is supposed to be, because that suggests that Joe Fontaine ever went to a library to look for any plots to begin with.
Anyway, things are fine with Team Glue and there’s no sense in questioning anything that isn’t fine right now. We’d be here all night if we were.
Joe gives Sid a big push, and he goes down the hallway lazily like a piece of driftwood along a calm stream.
Before crashing into… something.
See? Told you.
“OI! BLOODY HELL!”
Sid comes wheeling back into the picture, courtesy of Jamaal Ingram and Cory Kensington, two members of KING (the K and I, to be exact). Cory seems to be rubbing his leg as Jamaal keeps his eyes on the powerbomb-happy man. Sid seems to be doing mathematical equations in his head, trying to figure out what is the best angle to powerbomb everyone in his vicinity, including the chair.
Jamaal Ingram: Mate, these things aren’t toys! You could’ve hurt someone.
Cory Kensington: Yeah, like me.
Jamaal Ingram: Yeah, like him.
Cory and Jamaal look at one another and then back at Joe who seems confused. Surely, he’s heard of the British accent, right? I’m sure he has, Cecilworth speaks it. Still, he’s confused about something. Maybe the accents? Maybe not?
Jamaal Ingram: What the ‘ell are you lot doing anyways? Racing chairs? Come off it.
Cory Kensington: Yeah, I thought this is where serious things happen. You know, like wrestling.
Jamaal looks over at Cory.
Jamaal Ingram: Like wrestling? Why not just wrestling?
Cory Kensington: Bloody hell bro, fine. Just wrestling. It doesn’t look like they’re just doing wrestling though, innit?
The brothers look back at the Glue Man Group.
Cory Kensington: What’s your deal? Out with it. You owe me, running into my leg and all.
Sid calmly stands up from the chair, and utters the one word that defines his entire being.
Sid Phillips: Powerbombs.
Joe Fontaine: His deal is powerbombs.
Sid Phillips: Pretty obvious, when you think about it.
Joe Fontaine: His list of powerbombs and powerbomb-related nicknames requires its own dedicated server space on the PRIME website, after all. Everyone knows what Sid’s all about.
Sid Phillips: The word is on my dick when I go to wrestle.
Joe Fontaine: That’s how you know he’s all about it.
The Glues nod amongst themselves. So does the Fabulous Gold Mask, who joins them. So does Cardsworth, who has inexplicably appeared by Fabby’s side and is only nodding enthusiastically because Fabby is willing it to happen. VENDBERGE does not nod because he is one bad motherf– sorry, I’ll shut my mouth. Even if we’re just talking about VENDBERGE and you should dig it.
Joe looks Kensington and Ingram up and down for a few moments, then exchanges awkward glances with the rest of the retiglue.
Joe Fontaine: So, you guys must be new here. Because this kind of thing happens all the time around these parts. Hi. I’m Joe, this is Sid, and we’re the Glue Man Group.
Fabby wordlessly holds up his hand.
Joe Fontaine: Oh, right. That’s Fabby, he’s our intern.
Sid Phillips: College accredited.
Joe points at Cardsworth.
Joe Fontaine: Oh, and this is Cardsworth – the official Glueminati secretary…
…and then at VENDBERGE.
Joe Fontaine: …and this is FLAMBERGE.
Sid visibly looks like he has a headache from spending so much of his time trying to correct Joe on the situation, and has made a conscious effort to not even bother.
Jamaal looks at Cory.
Cory looks at Jamaal.
They then look at Joe, Sid, Fabby, Cardsworth, and VENBERGE.
They then look back at each other before Jamaal looks back at Joe.
Jamaal Ingram: Sidebar, give us a moment.
Jamaal and Cory then turn their backs to the Glueminati, usually a dangerous proposition, but they could care less in this moment.
Cory Kensington: So, I know Rose said these blokes were daft, but bloody hell.
Jamaal Ingram: No cap, they lost the plot a long time ago.
Cory Kensington: Do you think that was before or after they started hanging around with a vending machine that they’ve named?
Jamaal looks over his right shoulder and eyes Joe and Sid momentarily before returning to his original position.
Jamaal Ingram: Definitely before, mate. And they seem chuffed about it.
Cory Kensington: So, what do we do?
Jamaal Ingram: Follow my lead.
Cory Kensington: ‘ight.
Jamaal and Cory turn around, as if they just returned to the room.
Cory Kensington: You lot are definitely a bit of odds and ends, we can understand that now.
Jamaal Ingram: Odds and ends that should be locked up in the asylum.
Cory Kensington: This bloke over here wearing his jim jams–
He points at Fabby.
Jamaal Ingram: Jim jams is right, he might be the least weird of you bunch.
Cory Kensington: And that’s barely. You lot are hanging out with a cardboard version of the vanilla ice cream man–
Jamaal is pointing at Cardsworth.
Jamaal Ingram: Which could be talking about his sexual style if, you know, he looked like a person who got any.
Cory Kensington: You don’t think he’s like that Argentian guy, you know, the one who went on that talk show and said he only finishes once every three months?
Jamaal shakes his head.
Jamaal Ingram: That bloke? Nah. That guy is nutty and this cardboard cutout of the most bland man in PRIME — and that’s saying something — somehow looks crazier than that. He looks like he did a year of hard grafting and gave up on ever being loved. Like he sits on 8chan and bemoans the fact that he can’t get any.
Cory Kensington: Right, right.
Jamaal then walks over to the VENDBERGE.
Jamaal Ingram: And this thing?
Jamaal then begins to beat on the side of the vending machine, causing Sid’s hips to involuntarily start moving alongside the beat.
Jamaal Ingram: Don’t even got no snacks.
Cory Kensington: With this lot, that shit tracks.
Jamaal Ingram: We might have given you some slack.
Cory Kensington: But your whole shtick is wack.
Jamaal then stops and looks at the vending machine oddly, something off about it.
Jamaal Ingram: Did y’all eat the snacks in this thing? It makes a funny sound.
Cory looks at Joe.
Cory Kensington: Yeah, this walking talking cock-up probably ate them all.
Jamaal chuckles as he returns to Cory’s side.
Jamaal Ingram: That’s my brother, Cory Kensington.
Cory Kensington: And that’s my brother, Jamaal Ingram. We are…
Jamaal and Cory: [together] KINETIC! INNOVATION!
They then smile at the Glue Man Group and their assorted minions.
Jamaal Ingram: You may have seen us in such popular programs such as–
Cory Kensington: UltraViolence, the night where The Anglo Luchador was drugged and left laid out on the main stage.
Jamaal Ingram: Yeah, yeah. And now, starring in your segment.
Cory Kensington: That’s right brother, we are, aren’t we?
That would be an impressive feat, considering they weren’t in the segment at the start of it and we all know that the person that opens the segment is the star of said segment.
Cory Kensington: We came here to wrestle from a far off place that definitely… you
He points at Fabby.
Cory Kensington: — have never heard of. It’s called England. Should we spell it out for you? Jamaal, spell it for this aloof looking motherfucker.
Jamaal Ingram: E-N-G… LAND!
Cory Kensington: Good shit, good shit.
Jamaal Ingram: And yet, we find you two milquetoast boys out here rolling around in chairs like you got stoned and ate all the snacks.
Cory Kensington: So what the fuck gives?
Jamaal Ingram: Yeah, what the fuck gives?
They then cross their arms and look at the lot assembled before them, giving them the patented ‘what the fuck gives’ look.
You know the one. It’s the one that precedes the owl coming for your throat.
Joe Fontaine’s daft-ass smile never falters in the middle of all of that. Instead, he gestures at VENDBERGE.
Joe Fontaine: Bro, bros. Look closer. Look into FLAMBERGE’s cold, dead mercantile eyes, and see all of the delicious baguettes within him. This is a man… machine… manchine that clearly is the snack that attacks back.
Sid Phillips: Hang on. England? Unimpressive. England is the third-most powerbombable country after Terry Blackquill and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. There’s a rating scale. Actually, a tier list. I’ve been to Tier Maker, so I know how that works.
Joe Fontaine: Wait, Terry is a country?
Sid Phillips: He is now.
Joe Fontaine: Oh. He’d be so thrilled.
Sid Phillips: His screams of horror when my hands wrap around his waist and hoist him high into the air towards his certain doom definitely suggests that he’s very thrilled.
Joe has taken to spinning the office chair around idly, by the way. He turns his attention back to Kinetic Innovation.
Joe Fontaine: Sooo, you guys work here, or something? I mean, a lot of people have beaten up the Anglo Luchador, that’s not really, like… indicative of being employed or anything. Fabby’s probably done it and he’s… you know, just here for the college credits.
The Fabulous Gold Mask vehemently shakes his head.
Joe Fontaine: Oh, you beat him up twice? Cool, cool, cool.
Fabby continues shaking his head.
Joe Fontaine: Yeah, so our gluentern can do it, too. Thrice! And I’m pretty sure our gluentern can beat up your intern, so there. QED, thus it is proven!
Fabby throws his hands up in the air and storms off with Cardsworth in tow, officially giving up on the matter.
No one notices or cares.
Jamaal Ingram: Yeah, we work here.
Cory Kensington: Impressed the boss lady against… what do they call them, bro?
Jamaal Ingram: Sworn enemies?
Cory Kensington: Can you be sworn enemies if you keep losing against them? Like, over and over again?
Jamaal Ingram: Probably right. These two are more like insects to them.
Cory Kensington: True, true. Let’s call them sparring partners. Your sparring partners. You know, Jared Sykes and Justine Calvin.
Jamaal Ingram: Yeah, Eminence.
Cory Kensington: I understand that you’ve had some problems… beating them. Judging by your training regiment, can’t say I’m none too surprised.
Jamaal Ingram: Even your chair racing technique is shit. Do you two just half-ass everything you do?
Cory Kensington: More like no ass it.
Cory extends his hand for a low-five from his brother and Jamaal does it out of instinct at this point in their lives.
Joe can only laugh.
Joe Fontaine: Oh, man. Look at the tryhards over here.
Sid Phillips: Maybe they have to practice that routine in a mirror.
Joe Fontaine: Probably has to be a big mirror with all of the assery going on over there. Says a lot when our half-assing is better than your double-assing.
Joe shrugs his shoulders.
Joe Fontaine: Anyway, you two, it’s pretty clear that you don’t actually work here. But if you’re looking for work, and I know you are, I think they offer Enemigo masks over in HR. I hear the benefits are pretty good and you get to hang out with a lot of like-minded individuals who don’t have any secret underground Enemigo races that I’m definitely not privy to.
Sid Phillips: I’m not allowed to powerbomb those.
Joe Fontaine: The Enemigos, the races, or…
Sid Phillips: Any of it. You powerbomb a man against a boulder twenty-three times to make it go faster, and they hold it against you for all time.
Joe Fontaine: Ah.
Joe taps Sid on the shoulder. Sid takes the hint and rises from his seat.
Joe Fontaine: Anyway, great chatting with you guys. Really. Looking forward to seeing what you do in Enemigo masks! I think there’s going to be fierce competition for that LXIX mask, you know what I mean? But really, look at the time! Hayes is gonna need our valuable moral support soon against the Russians in a minute.
Sid Phillips: Kenny is from Los Angeles.
Joe raises his fist into the air.
Joe Fontaine: Russian Los Angeles!
With that, Joe and Sid depart from the scene. After a few moments, Joe comes back to retrieve the office chair before rolling it out of the scene.
Jamaal and Cory look at one another.
Jamaal Ingram: Like in one ear and out the other.
Cory Kensington: For sure. We ask them a question, they acted like squirrels in the park who can’t decide where they want to go.
Jamaal Ingram: And no apology for crashing their chair into us.
Cory Kensington: Rude.
Jamaal Ingram: So, let’s chalk this up as a failure.
Cory Kensington: That’s fine, we’ll get them next time. Too busy focusing on racing chairs against the Masters of the Moscowverse.
Jamaal Ingram: Yeah. Not like they’re going to be wrestling anytime soon.
They begin to walk away as the camera watches them as they become smaller on the screen.
Jamaal Ingram: You know, I think mentioning Eminence to them set them off.
Cory Kensington: Yeah, they’re soft as fuck.
We then cut to ringside for our next match.