Pancakes, podcasts and proclamations

Pancakes, podcasts and proclamations

Posted on February 17, 2024 at 12:28 pm by Silent Witness

Chicago, IL. Tuesday, February 13th, 2024.

 

“Get to fuck with that bollocks, mate. Go on – fuck off” said Mickey Gibson, gesturing for Silent Witness to step away from the stove top. The LSD Legend backed away with his arms aloft, protesting his innocence.

“Alright, alright. Do it your way” he said, chuckling gently, as he walked around the kitchen island and took a seat. “I don’t see what the problem is. Pancakes are pancakes.”

Mickey turned to face his client; disgusted. He picked up the bottle of pancake mix and held it aloft. “This isn’t fuckin’ pancakes, mate. This is pre-made, over-processed garbage. Fuck. That.”

He launched the bottle towards the sink, punctuating his point. Before heading towards the fridge, he turned and pointed a finger at Silent Witness. “I’ll make you some fuckin’ pancakes that will put hair on your bollocks” he insisted. Silent Witness smiled, enjoying the Brit’s over-the-top outrage at such a trivial topic.

“Ok, show me what you’ve got,” he said, before reaching across the counter-top for a bottle of SC:01 Port Charlotte whisky. He held up the bottle; examining it. A 2012 vintage – not too expensive, but fuck me that’s a good whisky. Heavily peated whiskeys from the Islay region of Scotland had been a favorite of his since the LSD Legend had visited Edinburgh, several years ago. He took off the lid and began pouring it into a glass.

“That’s a hundred quid a pop” bellowed Gibson, his back still to The Greatest LSD Champion of All Time™, as he continued creating his pancake batter from scratch. “And it’s the fuckin’ bollocks, so don’t gulp it down like a thirsty cunt, alright?”

Silent Witness laughed. “You got it,” he said, before taking a sip. As he savored the Bruichladdich distillery’s masterpiece, his appreciation for what he lovingly called Scottish water was interrupted by what he equally as lovingly often called an English cunt.

“Listen, I’ve got you a new gig” said Mickey, turning towards Silent Witness, spatula in hand, pointing it towards the HOW star. “I’ve got you a podcast.”

Gibson turned back towards the stove top with baited breath, anticipating a negative response. What he got instead was a moment of silence where, unbeknownst to the agent, Silent Witness was nodding in contemplation. “That could work,” replied the HOW veteran, eventually. “The Witness Report.”

Gibson stopped what he was doing; stunned. He had not expected Silent Witness to go along with the podcast idea. He smiled, and turned towards the LSD Legend. “That’s the fuckin’ one, mate. Glad you’re on board. I’ve got you a hell of a fuckin’ co-host, too. She’s really fuckin’ talented, mate. Proper good broadcaster, and she looks-”

“She looks what, dear?” came a voice from the other side of the room, interrupting the conversation. Silent Witness and Mickey Gibson immediately turned their heads, as Tamara Klein – Mickey’s beautiful, ultra-stylish wife – strutted into the room, her heels echoing loudly as they clicked against the cold kitchen tile. She approached her husband with a smile, embracing him with a kiss.

“She looks half as beautiful as you, my dear” replied Gibson. Cheesy as fuck, right? Well it worked, anyway – Tamara (or Tammy, or TK, depending on how one knew her) smiled and kissed him again. Pulling away, she playfully slapped him on the shoulder. “Keep that up and it won’t be your pancake batter I’ll be tasting later…” she said, before taking a step back and sitting down at the breakfast bar next to Silent Witness. For his part, the LSD Legend had become accustomed to that kind of talk between the two, and it was just water off a duck’s back nowadays. 

Mickey looked at her with a mischievous smile and a twinkle in his eye, before suddenly realizing he was close to burning the pancakes. “Ah, fuck!” exclaimed the Englishman, turning back towards the pan as TK and Silent Witness chuckled. Tammy turned towards the HOW veteran, as Mickey scrambled to save his creation.

“Cardio tomorrow morning” she asserted, to which Silent Witness nodded his understanding. Tammy was Silent Witness’ personal trainer, a career path she had taken up after her dream of becoming a professional wrestler in her own right had proven to be limited. 

“Nope” came the response from Gibson. “He’s doing his podcast. You’ll have to switch to the afternoon” he explained, before flipping a pancake perfectly in his frying pan. He turned to face TK and Silent Witness with a smile; pleased with himself. TK rolled her eyes, while Silent Witness nonchalantly took another sip of his drink. Unimpressed by the lack of acknowledgement for his feat, Gibson turned back to the stove; disappointed.

Tammy rolled her eyes at the LSD Legend, who replied by chuckling silently. Mickey quickly turned and shoved a plate in front of Silent Witness, with a pancake on it. “Get that in ya’ gullet” he demanded, before placing a jar of Nutella next to the plate. “Proper fuckin’ pancake, that.”

Silent Witness looked at the jar, somewhat disgusted. Gibson clocked it immediately. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me you’ve not had a pancake with Nutella on it, mate. That’s a fuckin’ tragedy” he said, before grabbing a spoon and scooping a huge glob of chocolatey goodness onto the pancake. “There ya go…” he said, as he spread it over the pancake, before rolling it up. “Fuckin’ beautiful, that is” he said, proudly.

Silent Witness looked at the pancake apprehensively, then looked up at Mickey, then back at the pancake. He took a deep breath. “Alright, here we go…” he said, before picking it up and taking a bite. Instantly, the LSD Legend realized he had been missing out for his entire life. He stared at Mickey, who smiled back at him. “… This is incredible” he said, much to Gibson’s delight.

“I fuckin’ told ya!” he said, gleefully. “Proper fuckin’ pancakes. None of that store-bought shite. Now you’ve got something to talk about on the podcast if you run into dead air” said the delighted Brit, before turning back to the stove; pouring in more pancake mix for the next one.

“I don’t think that will happen” insisted the LSD Legend, taking another sip of whisky. “I’ve got a lot of things to get off my mind” he continued, as the trio continued their conversation into the rest of the evening…

 

 

Chicago, IL. 14th February, 2024.

 

“Alright, folks, welcome back to The Witness Report with me, Shyla Adams and the star of the show, the HOW Hall of Famer… The LSD Legend… Officially THE… Greatest LSD Champion of All Time™… the one and only; Silent Witness” beamed Shyla Adams, the young broadcaster Mickey Gibson had hired to steer his client’s new podcast.

“Stop it, stop it” insisted the HOW veteran; embarrassed. He could talk himself up a fucking treat, but if someone else did it? Well, that was just uncomfortable. “What are we talking about next, Shyla?” he added, swiftly moving the conversation on. He looked to his left, where Mickey Gibson and the producers, or showrunners, or… whoeverthefuck were sitting. Mickey gave him a thumbs up, endorsing what he was doing.

In truth, Silent Witness didn’t really have a fucking clue what podcasting was. To him, it looked like he was in a radio studio – which, to be fair, he kinda was – and this was just like a radio show. Is this what passed or entertainment now? People made a living doing this? Sure, he was aware of the existence of podcasts, but he had never paid much attention to them. He had been missing a trick! He should have done this bullshit years ago!

“Well, it’s Valentine’s Day…” replied Shyla. “We’re asking our listeners to send in what they are doing to celebrate with their significant other this evening. Reply in the com-”

“Wait…” said Silent Witness, cutting her off. “Is this live?” he asked, incredulous. He really didn’t have a fucking clue how this shit worked.

“No!” laughed Shyla. “But we can respond in the comments on YouTube, Spotify,iHeartRadio, or wherever the fine folks out there get their podcasts, and we can come back to it next week,” she explained. Everyone in the background of the studio laughed, and Silent Witness looked around. He shrugged; nonplussed.

“Oh, of course,” he said, pretending he knew what she was talking about. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” added the HOW veteran.

“No apology necessary” she continued. “Now let me ask you – do you have any plans for tonight? Is there a lucky lady being wined and dined by the legendary Silent Witness?”

The HOW star shook his head. “No, not tonight, Shyla. I’m focusing on the LBI tournament and nothing else,” he replied.

Shyla Adams used the opportunity to pivot. “Speaking of which,” she began. “You have a match this week against Noah Hanson. You were around for some of Noah’s darkest times in HOW. How do you feel going into this match?” she asked.

Silent Witness adjusted his seating position; leaning forward towards the microphone slightly. “I feel great,” he began. “Hanson had a great showing against Evan last week, really pushed him hard. But if I’m honest, I didn’t see anything from either of them that I can’t handle” he added, confidently. “That’s not to say that I’m underestimating Noah – not a chance. He’s a damn good wrestler, but if he wants to stay relevant in the LBI, he is going to need to step up his game this week.”

“Like I said, you have quite the history with Noah Hanson,” replied Adams. “Do you have anything to say to him, on a personal level?” she added, quickly. Silent Witness took a moment, rubbing his chin, as he thought about what to say.

“I guess everyone has had their laughs at the man since he came back, publicly or privately” he began. “He even managed to get Michael’s attention for a few seconds, after that stunt with the bucket…” Silent Witness shrugged. “I guess, for me, when it comes to Noah… I remember my battles with Shane Reynolds in the early days of HOW, or fighting John Sektor when we were all coming through the ranks in the early days. I remember Graystone, Omar Rasheem, Smokey… Hell, I even remember Splinter…” he continued, shaking his head. 

“But I barely fucking remember you, Noah. I know I should care more, and part of me wishes I did. Really. I vaguely remember that you thought you were Nic Cage, or… thought you looked like Nic Cage, or… some bizarre shit like that, and you had an obsession with KFC – which I can see hasn’t gone away. But honestly, all I really remember you as…” he shrugged again, before continuing. “… is just another guy that came through the toxic shitpipe that was PWX.”

Silent Witness sighed. In truth, when he had been thinking about who the mystery group member might be, Hanson hadn’t even crossed his mind. He had hoped that whoever it was, would have been someone with a little more… star power than what he assessed Noah Hanson to possess. Someone that could create a buzz, that the fans actually cared about.

“When it became clear that the man behind the X was Noah Hanson, honestly, I had to wrack my brain to remember who the fuck you are. And it took a minute.” Silent Witness paused, allowing his words to breathe and resonate within his Chaos opponent’s mind. “You’re a fine wrestler, Noah, I won’t take that away from you. But in the annals of HOW history… You’re nothing.

“And yeah, sure, coming from a guy that hasn’t had any real success stories in HOW since 2013, that might seem like I’m catapulting rocks directly at the window panes in my own glass house. But I saw you call me out in your promo last week for Evan Ward, so I feel obliged to tell you that the difference between you and me, Noah, is that I have been successful at the tippy-top of this industry. Sure, you’ve got your accolades – four times inducted into halls of fame in the minor leagues, including your beloved PWX – but you’ve never even made a dent in HOW. Now, you’re back in The Show with your Triple-A hall of fame rings, looking for one last go at making it in the bigs…” he paused again, before turning to look directly into the camera in front of him – speaking directly to his opponent.

“Noah, I know you thought you had dethroned the king when you blindsided Mike and cracked his head open with that insane bucket of yours. But, truthfully, this is your chance. You’re facing a HOW Hall of Famer. A World Champion. Five time LSD Champion and THE Greatest LSD Champion of All Time™. This is your opportunity to swing for the fences and see if you can slug it out the park. In fact, it’s your last chance, Noah. Because after me, your only chance to make a name for yourself here, before you inevitably skulk off back to make b-rate porn movies in Hollywood, or ‘dominate’ in some minor federation somewhere else, is to beat Scottywood. But I’ve already broken him, there’s nothing left in that tank. 

“So, to continue this baseball theme that I seem to have stumbled into: Your attempt on Mike was a whiff. Losing to Evan was strike two. Now, I’m at the mound, ready to close this shit out like Mike Montgomery in 2016.” Silent Witness paused and smiled, taking a moment to remember that glorious November night when the Cubs finally broke The Curse.

“Now, among all the doubts in your mind, one question should be pounding in your brain after all those swings and misses, like a hangover after a night out with Benny Newell: ‘Do I belong here?’. It’s a fair question, Noah. Now, the cynic in me might say that, if your first time around in HOW was that forgettable, what chance do you have in 2024? But you know, I can empathize with you. Hell, our paths aren’t all that dissimilar, really…

“But only one of us can keep marching to glory, Noah, and I don’t intend to fuck my LBI chances by losing to you. I’m on a trajectory to Madison Square Garden, to test myself against the absolute best wrestlers in this industry. So, while I am your last chance to show that maybe there is a place for you in HOW, all you are to me is just another guy in my way, and I intend to put you down and keep marching.”

Shyla Adams, Mickey Gibson and the rest of the crew in the studio looked around at each other; stunned into silence. Silent Witness, meanwhile, continued.

“I’ll give you some advice, Noah. On Tuesday morning, when you wake up and your head is pounding – not from a hangover, not from all your doubts – but from the ass whooping I will have given you on Chaos that has answered all the questions in your head about whether or not you belong here… Just remember that it’s OK to try and fail, so long as you learn from it – and it’s doubly OK to lose to the man that will dethrone Mike Best as World Champion at March 2 Glory.

“Because let’s not get this shit twisted, Noah. Yes, I am focusing on you. Yes, I am taking this match very fucking seriously. I have to go through you to get to M2G – and I will fucking go through you at Chaos, make no fucking mistake about that. But you are just the next man standing in the way of me returning to the main event at a HOW PPV and getting my shot at the HOW World Championship again. So if I have to run straight through you like I’m Reginald fucking Franklin, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Shyla chuckled at the reference to A-Train literally running through another human in “The Boys.”

“And that’s what you will learn from it, Noah. You’ll learn that some people are destined to be also-rans; footnotes in history. But others… Well, we are the ones made to topple thrones. So while you’re busy selling your merch and eating your KFC, I’ll be busy becoming the MFK:”

The HOW veteran’s expression turned to an intense scowl, as he leaned in, focused on the camera in front of him.

“The…

Mother

Fucking.

King.”

Silent Witness leaned back; concluding his monologue. He continued looking directly into the camera, as though he was staring straight at Noah Hanson, as the studio fell silent for a few moments.

“Well…” began Shyla. “I think this is a perfect time to take a break. We’ll be right back after this!” she added, emphatically, before taking off her headset. “Well, damn!” she exclaimed, causing the rest of the studio to laugh. “I’m glad I’m not facing you, man,” she added, as she stood up from her chair.

Mickey walked towards the LSD Legend, his face beaming. Silent Witness stood up and the pair slapped hands, before a quick embrace. “Well, one thing is for sure…” began Silent Witness, before trailing off.

“What’s that?” asked Mickey, confused.

Silent Witness broke out into a beaming smile. “I won’t need to talk about your fucking pancake recipe…”