STRonk Godson PWA-Related Not PRIME-Related But Kind Of Anyway

“STRonk wants to face me on a PWA show?” Coral Avalon asked.

He was sitting at his desk, staring blankly at his computer screen. In truth, he wouldn’t have known about STRonk Godson’s challenge if everyone and their mother hadn’t called him to tell him about it.

He had so many questions.

“So, wait… are we sure that ‘THE REEF MAn’ is referring to me, and not someone who’s really high on the weed? ‘Cause, to be honest, that could refer to a lot of people in this sport of ours. Including PRIME. Especially PRIME,” he asked.

He looked over to his right to get an answer from the person sharing the office with him.

Or, rather, people.

“Pretty sure he’s referring to you.” Beef from Mega Job said, “So, good luck with that. He looks strong.”

“I dunno, man,” El Janito (also from Mega Job) said, “He’s clearly the son of a god. It’s in his name. That doesn’t seem like a good opponent for anyone. You mess with the son of a god, then daddy comes home, and then you will wish he’d stayed out looking for cigarettes for the last thirty years!”

A lot of eyes stared blankly at El Janito. Including a few that weren’t even in the room with them. The walls had eyes, possibly because they were nurikabe. Look it up.

Beef chimed in, “Yeah, man, he might crumple you up into a basketball and dribble you and then take you to the Space Jam where you can hang out with Michael Jordan or LeBron James or Bugs Bunny or Bill Murray in your perfectly spherical state. Hey, you think STRonk Godson knows what the Chaos Dunk is?”

“Okay, Beef, he’s not Charles Barkley and he is not going to Chaos Dunk me.” Coral said. Then he paused for a beat, and then asked, “Wait. I thought you were my wife for a second. Why are you two in my office?”

“We started messing with narrative flow, and it got out of hand,” El Janito said, as he suddenly appeared from a trash can with absolutely no warning, “We could really just wind up anywhere right now.”

“Why the hell are you in my trash can?” Coral asked, alarmed.

“I dunno,” Janito admitted. “It’s kind of uncomfortable in here, though. Pretty sure I’m bending in ways I’m not supposed to in order to fit in here. And I have an itch in a place I’m not comfortable with sharing.”

“Well, I, for one, am not in a trash can,” Beef said from the ceiling.

Coral raised his eyebrows in alarm. Beef didn’t belong on the ceiling, because gravity would’ve had a disagreement with him over that. Clearly, causality was having issues right now. We’re going to blame the twin magics of television and narrative combined with the sorcery that was Mega Job’s entire existence.

Really, why did he decide it was a good idea to invite them into his home just because they happened to be in the Seattle area, anyway? When did they even get here? Why is Beef on the ceiling?

Coral decided to do the best course of action in this situation: He ignored Mega Job.

“Okay, well… STRonk Godson…” he said, and then he paused, testing the name “STRonk” several times to find the right inflection for the name, “For whatever reason, you chose to call the Crownless King out. You… seem as unclear about why you did this as I am, but I’ll be happy to bust you back down to lowercase letters, if you so desire. I guess what I’m trying to say is… see you soon. Thy kingdom come.”

From the ceiling, Beef added in his own unique brand of wisdom, “You know, the existence of the Roman Cancel implies the existence of the Byzantine Cancel.”

I never said it was wisdom that was pertinent to the discussion.

Either way, Coral was done here.

“Get off of my ceiling, Beef.”