::::”MISTER STARR! MISTER STARR!”…..
Ah, the nasally irritating whine of the species “Skippus Internicus”. A rare breed of mammal that is associated with taking a low paying job and then attaching itself to the inner sphincter region of HOW Hall of Famers like an ass tick.
The Ruler of Jattlantis is taking a brief moment outside of his modestly priced hotel located in Manchester. He stands underneath the awning as a high gust of wind blows the misting rain in his face. The intern is running towards him from across the street. The Baron of Boca Jatton secretly hopes that he gets hit by one of these automobiles. Perhaps that Mini Cooper that is making a hard right turn onto the street on which his hotel is located.
No such luck.
Maybe Skippy will slip on paved roads and break his hip like an octotgen— octaginistician— old person. That would give the Sheriff of Jattingham a nice case of the giggles.
No such luck.
Skippy runs up to the Earl of GlouStarr, winded, wheezing like an asthmatic that just ran the Boston Marathon. Jatt Starr cannot help but roll his eyes because this is the last thing he needs right now: Some smarmy little yes man kissing his ass. Although, there is a level of flattery and confusion as to why more people do not act in a similar manner when they are in the presence of HOW’s only Tournament of Champions Winner.
The Grand Overlord of Jatturn lets out a long, exaggerated exhale feeling frustrated.::::
JATT STARR: What?
SKIPPY (gasping): Hold…(wheeze)….on….I….ran….(cough, wheeze)….all the way here.
JATT STARR: Why?
::::Skippy puts up a finger as he hunches over coughing as if he had just smoked an entire carton of cigarettes. Oh, how the Mayor of ManJattan would love a Marlboro Light resting between his index and middle fingers in his right hand. Inhaling that foul yet intosicating tar tasting smoke. Given how many years it has been since his last cigarette, he just knows he would get that light headed almost euphorically dizzying feeling. Lord knows having this nerdy little twit constantly on his ass at almost every turn, he deserves one.::::
JATT STARR: Chop! Chop! Let’s go! The Duke of Jattmandu does not have time for you, especially if you pass out. But, let’s be honest, that might be preferable.
SKIPPY: One hundred percent! You are absolutely right! I shouldn’t be bothering you.
JATT STARR: And yet, here you are.
SKIPPY: I bring you news from the offices of Lee Best.
JATT STARR: Who the hell do you think you are, Lord Stanley bringing me news from the Battle of Baskerville or something?
SKIPPY: Sorry! It must be the English environment affecting me.
JATT STARR: What do you want?
SKIPPY: I have information that might be useful.
JATT STARR: And the news still has not made it to me yet.
SKIPPY: Of course! I heard from Kathy in Accounting who heard from Joe in Marketing who heard from Denny in Maintenance who overheard Skyler, the Assistant Vice President of Media Relations for HOTV tell Bill whose brother-in-law works side by side with Margaret in Legal or does she work in Talent Relations, or maybe—-
JATT STARR: Get on with it!!!
SKIPPY: Right! Yes! Anyway, the word is that Lee Best does not care who wins the HOTv Championship as long as Joe Bergman loses.
JATT STARR: Really????
JATT STARR: Like for real FOR REAL??? You better not be yanking the Hero of Jattlanta’s chain!
SKIPPY: Not at all! I would never yank anything of yours without the appropriate permissions!
JATT STARR: You are a dumbass. Everyone knows that already! Lee Best does not give a rat’s rectum who walks out the HOTV Champion! Even Scott Stevens. Scott Stevens, if you can believe that!
SKIPPY: I just, uh, thought that you might be concerned with Dan Ryan and—
::::The Thane of Starrkarth slaps Skippy on his shoulder. The young man yelps and cowers away like a scared puppy. Jatt Starr throws up an admonishing finger at Skippy (whose real name the Jattinum Standard knew two weeks ago but, with his life on the line, if asked, he would have a bullet in his magnificent skull).::::
JATT STARR: Skippy! That is your first mistake. You had a thought. News flash: No one cares what you think!
SKIPPY: Absolutely, sir! I overstepped my bounds!
JATT STARR: Joe Bergman holding the HOTv Title is an affront to all things HOW. Did the Champion of Jattanooga win a War Games so a guy like that could disrespect an HOW Title belt? Did the Starrabian Knight win the ONLY Tournament of Champions so Joe Bergman could defile a championship by wearing one around his waist, including but not limited to the HOTv Championship?
JATT STARR: NO!!! Joe Bergman is a liar, a cheat, a sexual pervert, and all around scumbag. The Starrson City Icon does not care what Lee Best wants to happen. The HOTv Championship SHOULD end up around the waist of either Dan “The Danaconda” Ryan or the Jattinum Standard. Even Scott Stevens, that painted penis, would be disastrous. What? Does he think that by winning the HOTv Championship that Lee will suddenly rise up from his seat and scream “SCOTT! MY BOY! YOU HAVE DONE IT! ALLOW ME TO LICK YOUR TEXAN SCROTE!”
SKIPPY: Not to argue with you, sir, but I don’t think Mister Best would say that?
JATT STARR: Of course not! Because there is no way in Hell that Scott Stevens will win this match. It would be a sign of the apocalypse! Scott Stevens, the HOTv Champion! Then, suddenly, Jace Parker Davidson will grow a new eyeball, Max Kael will be resurrected from the dead, Chris CK and his fifty eyepatch covered eyes makes a return to wrestling that no one wants, and Mike Best will become a Buddhist monk. An actual Buddhist monk, not some fake ass undercover poppycock just so he plant a bomb made from nails, dynamite, and farts because the Dalai Lama is not actually a llama!
SKIPPY: That seems very specific.
JATT STARR: If Scott Stevens wins, that is what will happen. Mark my words, it will be the End of Times. Therefore, it is just as important for Scott Stevens to lose as it is for Joe Bergman to.
SKIPPY: You astound me, sir.
JATT STARR: Obviously. Do not think for one second that Joe Bergman did not map out every step of his plan.
SKIPPY: His plan?
JATT STARR: Think about it. What does an Evil Empire do?
SKIPPY: As I was told not to think I—-
JATT STARR: You are listening. Good! An Evil Empire does Evil Empire things.
JATT STARR: World Domination. Joe Bergman, HOTelevision Champion. TELEVISION CHAMPION. Joe Bergman is seeking Media Magnate status. His sick, twisted, diabolical plan is to send mind controlling radiowaves to the mass public via television screens. How else was he able to convince me to possibly turn on Dan Ryan at “March to Glory”? But, he underestimated the superior intellect of the Thane of Starrkarth.
SKIPPY: Fascinating, sir! Dare I say, riveting!
JATT STARR: So, what does he do? He manipulates circumstances and elements of the space time continuum which he opened causing Xander Azula and Darin Zion to hop between multiverses at some point. By doing so, a beam of invisible light shot through a stinky, smelly, booze swilling homeless man, a jolt struck him, he may have thought it was the whiskey or the barrage of tampons being thrown at him, being a former HOW wrestler and all, Scott Stevens became the key to the End of the World.
SKIPPY: That is—-
JATT STARR: Who do you think rigged the Hall of Fame voting to get Scott Stevens elected? Joe Flipping Bergman! Now, you may question why? Why would he do that for Scott Stevens knowing the fate of the world rests within him?
SKIPPY: Among many other questions, Mister Starr.
JATT STARR: Well, please allow the Rembrandt of Wrestling to paint you a little picture. Joe Bergman, the dastardly villain that he is, believes that if he fails at “March to Glory” to retain his HOTelevision Championship, then he is placing his hope that in the point zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-one percent chance that Scott Stevens does win, the world ends because if he cannot dominate this little rock we call Earth, then by gum, no one can!
SKIPPY: I think, uh, that is an absolutely plausible and, ah, not-at-all outlandish perception, Mister Starr. I do, however, because, as you mentioned, I should, um, not think, need to inquire as to what evidence you have?
JATT STARR: Um, maybe you have heard of a little thing called the Internet?
SKIPPY: Of course, sir. That is, ah, clearly a, uh, a relevant tool. But perhaps, um, maybe something more, uh, substantive?
JATT STARR: You do not have proof when you have faith.
SKIPPY: Forgive my, uh, ignorance, sir? But, uh, you need a little more than, ah, faith.
JATT STARR: And what, pray tell, would you like the Ruler of Jattlantis to do? Throw the match so your piddly ass can watch as Tibetan monks get blown to smithereens and Max Kael launch North Kaelrean missiles containing nuclear tapioca pudding?!
JATT STARR: Oooo Max knew how much the Jatti Master despises Tapioca pudding.
SKIPPY: Absolutely, sir. Tapioca pudding is, uh, the shits.
JATT STARR: Too much information there, sport. I do not need to hear your bathroom stories.
SKIPPY: No! That’s, uh, not what I—-
JATT STARR: Shut up. Now, was there anything else or did you just come over here to waste the Ruler of Jattlantis’s precious time?
SKIPPY: Well, um, ah, sir, that was, I guess, all I, um, needed to say.
JATT STARR: Get lost.
SKIPPY: Yes, Mister Starr, sir.
::::The little turd bows as he backs away from the Baron of Boca Jatton. There is a little of Jatt Starr that Skippy was being a bit sarcastic with his exit. But yet, he is still a little turn in the eyes of the Starrabian Knight. The kind of turd that floats on the top and no matter how many times you flush it will not go down the drain. It just circles perpetually around the toilet no matter how powerful the whoosh.
It is clear that the little turd is watching out for the Sovereign of Starrgentina. Although, Jatt Starr does believe, that deep down, the little turd has the potential to be the type of toady that would slit his throat just to move up the corporate ladder.
If the fate of the world did not hinge the HOTelevision Championship match at “March to Glory”, the Marquis of MadagaStarr would keep a close eye on Skippy. That is Monday Jatt Starr’s issue once he becomes the true HOW Media Magnate and HOTelevision Champion. The last belt he has yet to place around his waist. He never considered himself a completionist (especially since the Cross Continental Championship was retired before he even had the chance to compete for it!) but having that belt is an accomplishment not even Max Kael or Mike Best can claim.
But there is a mission.
Joe Bergman. The malevolent, festering cancer of the HOW. Jatt Starr prevented Joe Bergman from walking out of “ICONIC” the LSD Champion (by refusing to submit to that scum weasel when he locked in that chokehold) and the Tag Team Champion (thanks to his completely fair and impartial officiating which was done by the book until Bergman took his book and threw it away). It is only right that the person to prevent Joe Bergman retaining his championship is the Champion of Jattanooga.
After all, Lee Best has personally told both he and Dan Ryan that, in no uncertain terms, Joe Bergman CANNOT leave England the HOTelevision Champion.
A noble mission to be sure. But there is something else…..
Unbeknownst to them, there is a far deeper mission, more of a crusade…..
Stop the impossible.
Prevent the Miracle.
Under no circumstances can the Rembrandt of Wrestling allow Scott Stevens to win the match. END SCENE.::::