Sektor-The Emasculated Blob

Sektor-The Emasculated Blob

Posted on October 27, 2021 at 12:09 am by Jatt Starr

LIVE FROM THE MARIODOME…also known as Mario Maurako’s house….this is STARR TALK WITH JATT STARR sponsored by HOW Hall of Fame Salads!   Are you tired of the unknown contents contained in Hot Dogs?  How about that heavily processed gloop that passes for Nacho Cheese?  The Starrabian Knight is!  At HOW Hall of Fame Salads, we offer you a wide selection of healthy salad options including the Cecilworth Pearthington, the Conor Fuse-Cous, the Chico Chickpea, and the El Nutso!   HOW Hall of Salads is introducing a new salad, named after an HOW legend….the Black Mamba!  

 

Romaine, arugula, cherry tomatoes, shredded carrots, sliced salami, yes, we know all about James Ranger’s salami, topped with black garlic vinaigrette.  That’s right!  HOW Hall of Fame Salads is offering a non-vegetarian option and this new salad will be offered at the HOW Hall of Fame Salad stand at “Rumble at the Rock”.     

 

Welcome to the show!  This episode which we will call “THE HARSH TRUTH OF COAL MINES” is not for my forty-three subscribers.  This show is for an audience of one…maybe two, we will see how it goes.

 

Hello John.

 

Did you know that the Ruler of Jattlantis has a need to be the center of attention?   Several years ago, someone, let’s call him Doctor Quckenstein claimed it has to do with the attention my parents gave my two brothers and sister when I was a wee little laddy.   Did you know that I am constantly seeking approval from others due to my own insecurities?  That’s why, I was told, I have created so many nicknames for myself.  

 

Did you also know that the Thane of Starrkarth has abandonment issues?   Apparently, I was left to fend for myself in a department store….which one was it?  It was one of the old ones.  I think it was A & S.  Apparently, I was there for two hours before my parents realized I was missing and came and got me.  Did you know that it happened three more times?  Not all at A & S, mind you, but other places.

 

Then there is the fact that I always struggled at making friends to the point where the ones I did make, I was fiercely loyal to, but….yeah, there’s always a but….apparently, said friendships were decidedly one-sided and I was humiliated in some fashion.  That, allegedly, contributes to certain elements of my social anxiety.  

 

I used to think all that psychotropic mumbo jumbo was bullshit but lately….these feelings of being rejected in some fashion have been bubbling up, so maybe there’s merit in that.

 

For example, Lee Best, a man that I consider to be somewhat of a father figure, for example, abandons me.  Does he call or text to let me know how he’s doing?  Nope.  All I get from him is what everyone else gets, an announcement of a nine hundred and seventy thousand page contract that essentially states that the Best Alliance is no more.   

 

You know what I got from that?

 

“For all your years of loyalty and service, Jatt Starr, you are no better than anyone else, you, like the fans, are basically human feces, but here, just to make you feel better, have an HOW Championship match.”

 

Sound familiar?

 

Look, I took that HOW Championship match as an honor.   I initially thought I was being recognized for being the best…pun intended…and that I was entering the match against someone I held a victory over, Conor Fuse.  What the Jattlantic City Idol was being given was….a pity title shot.  It took me a long time to figure that out.

 

Luckily, Mario Maurako, the only real friend I have, by the way, helped me see the truth.

 

I admit it, I was lost.  My confidence was shattered.  No matter how hard I trained, no matter how many times I tried to beat you in a simulated ninety-seven minute Ironman match, I kept losing.   My support system wasn’t being very supportive, including my own daughter.

 

So what did the Champion of Jattanooga do?

 

Hopped a Greyhound from Chicago to Minneapolis.   That’s some moxie, right there, John.  To sit in a Greyhound bus for damn near nine hours, four of which were spent next to a rather heavily bearded man who belched as he slept, smelled like bologna, and, to make matters worse, wore a Nickelback t-shirt, that is some determination, right there, “bromano”.  

 

Luckily, when I knocked on Mario’s door at one in the morning, he was gracious enough to let me in.  He stood there in his red satin pajamas spouting equal rights opportunities for women as if he were the Bizarro Hugh Hefner.  To be fair, a lot of what he said makes sense.  You should really take stock in how you treat women, John.  You can’t be a man whore forever.

 

I don’t want to get off track here, John.  We were sitting, Mario and I, at his kitchen table sipping some Turban, and I was laying it all out there.  How I was feeling miniaturized and disrespected.  How absolutely desperate I was to beat you.  He asked me something that I didn’t really have the answer to….he asked “Why?”

 

I could think of a number of reasons “why” but were they the right reasons?   Was it because you betrayed me?   Was it because you humiliated me?  Was it because you never apologized?  Was it because you never visited me in the hospital?  Was it because you clearly didn’t give a shit about what you did to me?   

 

I really couldn’t give the Lee’s honest truth, as they say, as to why.  

 

As I was really pontificating that question, we sat around and came up with different strategies forr our match, John, and I don’t mind telling you a few of the ideas that the Sultan of SeaJattle may or may not manifest themselves at “Rumble at the Rock”.

 

One, and I really liked this one, whack you in the head with a chair or a hammer, take the disqualification, pin you twice, and then handcuff you to the bottom rope and spend the next ninety five minutes reading the New York Post or the entire collection of Calvin and Hobbes.  Granted, it would make for a boring match, but it’s about winning the LSD Championship, is it not?   Who gives a rat’s rectum if the fans get bored?  As long as you are no longer the champion, I am sure the Baron of Boca Jatton will be forgiven.

 

Another great idea would be to have the Wabid Wabbit and Anton break up any pinfalls or submissions by eliminating the ref.   Hell!  Mario had this genius idea of having my own people turn against me and just maul me with a chair, thereby earning you the disqualification.  If they do that enough times, it would be quite the uphill battle for you.   But, my issue with that is….getting repeatedly hit with varying implements.   But it is something to consider because a win is a win.

 

(A brief pause followed by a resigned sigh)

 

I have resignated myself to the fact that you might just be a better technical wrestler than the Earl of GlouStarr.   

 

However, John, knowing that I might not be able to outwrestle you?   That gives me the edge.  What I can do is “Starrvivor: Maurako” you.   Outwit, Outplay, Outlast.  

 

John, whilst you might be better than me in the ring technically, which is highly debatable since you lost us the Tag Team Championships, not me……I know, I know, I am beating a dead horse….but I am smarter than you.

 

The point is, I am telling you up front what plans are floating out there for me to beat you in this LSD Championship Ironman match….like a dead horse, if you will….not because I am being cocky or arrogant, not because I am so sure of myself….but because I am Jatt Fucking Starr and I want to beat you knowing that you know going into this match what strategies that I may or may not employ.

 

But going back to my discussion with Mario, as we plotting and scheming, it hit me like a lightning bolt striking a chicken standing on a compass.

 

Part of what my problem with you is….you are a coward.  A snivelling petty little man who knows that the only way you can keep the LSD Championship around that waist of yours is by changing the meaning of it.   You want the championship to fit your style.  

 

You want the LSD Championship to be the ICON Championship Lite, fine.   But let’s be real here.  You are swinging your micro-dick around making yourself feel good when all you are doing is disrespecting the LSD Championship.  By trying to rebrand it, you are basically pissing on the people who have given that title meaning like Kostoff, Silent Witness, Jace Parker Davidson….and I know, it’s sickening to say this, but yeah, Darin Zion.   Speaking of which, those people I mentioned, including DARIN ZION?   They are all better LSD Champions than you will ever be because they respected the title.   You know who else respected the title and therefore is a better LSD Champion than you?  Ryan McKenna….and I have no fucking idea who that is!   

 

See, the LSD Championship should go to someone who respects the lineage, it should go to the most brutal and most versatile fighter.  Someone who can wrestle a ninety-seven minute Ironman match one week and then a House of Pain match the next week.

 

Like someone who, maybe, got impaled with a rusty old hook at ICONIC while on a scaffold, for example.  And that someone with the scar from said hook, once they become the LSD Champion….AGAIN….that person will restore the LSD Title to it’s previous glory.

 

(sound of ice clinking in glass followed by a brief slurping sound)

 

I guess, what I realized is that for all the support, friendship, and hell, even idolizing, that I had for you, the truth is……you got no backbone, John.

 

And no balls.

 

You allowed Chloe to get kidnapped by Max Kael and you did nothing.  I’m no shrink, but maybe you thought you were a bad father and figured better she stayed with Max Kael than you….which only proved your own self-fulfilling prophecy of being a bad father.   But that’s old news, you must have snorted that out of your system by now, right?

 

You’re a drunk and an addict, you sure liked to throw that in my face, didn’t you?  But you know what?  I chose to drink, that’s my choice.  I own that.  No one is responsible for my behaviour but me.   But John, man, what better way to show what a coward you are than by dulling the pain with drugs, booze, and sex.    

 

Let’s talk about that wall you build around yourself for those who might actually care about you.  I tried to get you to open up and I get told to go “fuck” myself.  Classy.  And now you are dating some chick…er…young lady, although are what you two doing considered “dating”?  Doesn’t matter….a whore is a whore is a whore….that is not a reflection of your….”Friend with benefits”…..she seems nice, but you just can’t commit because you are afraid of feelings.  And you don’t have the cajones to step up in any meaningful way as far as a relationship goes….because once that honeymoon period is over, she’s gonna drop you like I dropped that chair on your old flame all those years ago….you know, what’s-her-name….

 

Oooo.   Probably shouldn’t have gone there.   I promised myself this wouldn’t be a slam piece.

 

My apologies.  I went too far there.  I’M SORRY.

 

Wow!  That was easy!  You might want to try that sometime, John.

 

Damn!  Come on, Jatt…..focus.

 

(The faint sound of smacking and grunting….likely from Jatt Starr slapping himself in the face.)

 

Sorry about that, where was your esteemed Sovereign of Starrgentina?   Ah, yes!   The cowardice of John Sektor.

 

More than anything else that I have talked about here…you, John, are afraid of being irrelevant.  That LSD Championship, that’s what keeps you going.  As long as you have that championship around your waist, you are no longer kneeling down neck to Clay Byrd tonguing Lee Best’s wrinkly old ball sac.   As long as you have that LSD Championship over your shoulder, you can tell yourself “I’m somebody”!   And that’s why you hold on so tight to it because you know if you lose it, Lee Best will call you in for ball lickin’ duty.   

 

I don’t need a belt to be relevant.  I know who I am now.  Sure, when I was younger, at least three to six months or so, I would have done anything to get Papa Lee notice me and to have you continue to be my bestest friend the world, but after talking with Mario, I have come to realize that I don’t need you or Lee Best to tell me what I’m worth.  

 

I know what I’m worth.  And so do the HOW fans.  

 

Did you hear how many people were chanting “Suck-Turd” at my request?   All those people at Alcatraz that will be squarely behind me, rooting me on while at the same time praying that you fail, that’s my relevance.   

 

In fact, I might just hand out free “Suck-Turd” t-shirts to the fans just to show them how much I appreciate their support.

 

Face it, John…..I am Jatt Fucking Starr and you are just an imasculated blob of fear.

 

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::::SCENE:  The Marquis of MadagaStarr stops recording and takes a sip of the 7-Up in his glass.  Mario Maurako looks at Jatt Starr with disapproving eyes, as if Jatt Starr came to him with a Menudo cassette he purchased for fifty bucks and asked to play it….Jatt knows damn well Mario does not own a cassette player that works!   The Grand Overlord of Jatturn has a satisfied grin on his face, almost ignoring the Marvelous One’s facial expression.:::::

 

JATT STARR:  Well?

 

MARIO:  It was alright.

 

JATT STARR:  Alright???  I spoke from the heart like you told me to!

 

MARIO:  But you didn’t do the voice.

 

JATT STARR:  I don’t know, isn’t it a bit juvenile?

 

MARIO:  Yeah, that’s what makes it funny.  You nearly had me peeing in my new skivvies.

 

JATT STARR:  An impression of Lee Best getting blown by Suck-Turd, I dunno, it seems unnecessary and maybe offensive.  

 

MARIO:  But—

 

JATT STARR:  Yeah, yeah, yeah!   It’s Lee and Sektor, they may deserve it.

 

MARIO:  You’d probably get more views with it, all I’m saying.

 

::::The Ruler of Jattlantis spins in the office chair and then stops and proceeds to look at the ceiling and just chuckles to himself.::::

 

JATT STARR:  You know, this is the first time, Mario, that I am actually doing something for myself in a long, long time.   “War Games”, the LSD Championship at ICONIC, StarrSek Industries….I was doing it for Lee or the Best Alliance or Sektor or some combination of the three.  I want to beat Sektor for me.  Or at the very least score that first pinfall, really get into that warped mind of his.  In a sense, I’m free.

 

MARIO:  Certainly more free than those women who have shown to be better than their masculine peers only to be denied comparable wages for comparable jobs.  Do you think Blaire Moise gets equal pay to Brian Bare?  I bet she doesn’t!

 

JATT STARR:  Are you really doing this right now?

 

::::Mario holds up his hands as if the Baron of Boca Jatton was sticking him up.::::

 

MARIO:  Alright!  No women’s rights talk this afternoon.

 

JATT STARR:  What happens next?

 

MARIO:  Oh!  We go out, hit a nice little art gallery.   Maybe go for steaks.

 

JATT STARR:  You know I cut out red meat.

 

MARIO:  Lobster!  Chicken!  Whatever!  

 

JATT STARR:  I was referring to the long term.  I win the LSD Championship, then what?  There’s no Best Alliance anymore.  And with the rumors that Lee Best is coming back, does that mean the Best Alliance returns and if it does, do I join or respectfully decline?  

 

MARIO:  My opinion?  You gave’em all you had and they treated you like garbage, those are your words and that’s that.

 

JATT STARR:  Fair enough.

 

::::The King of Jatten Island spins back towards the computer and begins posting his latest podcast, number ninety-one.  As he does so, there is a certain level of calm that washes over him.   Becoming a Two Time LSD Championship would be an accomplishment, but robbing Sektor of his HOW identity, that would be even sweeter.  As much as he wants to hurt Sektor, deep down, he still wants to help him, even after all this time.  By ripping away his identity, Jatt Starr hopes Sektor can confront his own faults and shortcomings.   This time, however, the Savior of Starrkham is wiser and shall leave Sektor be.  Besides, he wouldn’t want Sektor thinking that he is gloating at taking the LSD Championship from him….

 

….and the Ruler of Jattlantis would, oh he so totally would, just for five or twenty minutes.   An hour tops!  Just knocking that cocky prick down a few pegs would be the guiltiest of pleasures.  Jatt Starr smugly grins as he posts his less than successful podcast and powers down the computer as the scene ends.::::

 

  

 

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