With Refueled LX heading inbound and Refueled LIX already far into the rearview, Arthur Pleasant has decided to make a statement in the form of a NEWS Press Conference! Like, holy shit! Someone other than SRK actually doing something newsworthy?!
The Provocateur stands at the podium, looking a bit bewildered. Looking out into an array of news columnists and dirt sheet pseudo-journalists, Arthur Pleasant clears his throat before taking a sip from a very blue looking, unlabeled sports bottle with the words “DARIN’S TEARS LOL” typed out in a white font on a black strip from a label maker.
Tap, tap, tap.
Similar to the sounds that Brian Hollywood’s little girl hands will be making in the coming days, Arthur raps his fingers against the black foam covering for a mic check.
“Check, one, two? AllllllllRIGHT! Ladies and gentlemen! First off? Let me preface what I’m about to say with this: I am AY-OH-KAY after receiving that chair shot at Refueled. Secondly, yes, Yuri WAS by my side last week and witnessed Brian Hollywood’s, I guess you could say “attack”. Why he didn’t react is beyond me, but, rest assured, we’ve had a conversation about it. Oh, and finally… yes, I AM feeling fantastic after that Executive… Promise? Executive…Promise, is it?”
Everyone looks around at each other in the conference room as equally confused as the next person.
“Wait, what? What the fuck is that? Uhhh one second, folks!”
Holding his hand over the microphone but strategically parting his fingers so everyone in the “conference room” can hear him loud and clear, Arthur looks to the side at Yuri, his bodyguard, and a few others wearing lanyards and the blazing HOW logo – who are probably nothing more than low wage indie workers just looking to stick their likeness on something related to a real wrestling company. Arthur says in a purposefully loud whisper, “Is that correct? Did I flub up his fi- oh. Okay. Fair enough.”
He sighs.
“Let me restart here. YOUR ProvocaTEUR is doing well! So well, in fact, that I have decided to show up to REFUELED LX!
There’s a distinct, piped in “RAAAAAA!” from a phantom audience.
“Why, you might ask? Well… since Brian Hollywood is OBVS soooo triggered by the fact that a newcomer to HOW called him out that he deemed it necessary to sneak attack me?”
He pauses and closes his grip around the mic, blowing a big, wet, raspberry into it.
“I think I’ll get an up close and personal view of his ‘fight’. So let the games begin! And after Mike Best eats his fucking breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. Also known as a moral pity fuck.
“I think I’ll go to that cage, help him up, and give him some dessert! A very delicious and JUST dessert, if you will.”
He kisses the points of his fingers and sends them off into the air with a Chef’s Kiss.
“See you soon, Hollz! Oh and, a big thank you to all who came out in support of my well-being and shit. Hehehe.”
The screen fades with a custom-made graphic of someone shitting into Brian Hollywood’s open, wanting mouth with the words, “This important message brought to you by The goRe!” written in (pick something other than Wing Dings) underneath his stupid, empty head.