DC 2/5: Stop Making Sense

[Derek]

The camera fades in on a wall of quivering peacock feathers. They separate to reveal the Party Peacock Dalton Castle in the nondescript backstage interview space.

He smirks. “Well, boys, it certainly seems that we picked an interesting time to make our return to EBWF. New champions everywhere you look, the landscape is changing around us. Good thing we're here to make sure it stays colorful, eh?” He brushes the back of his hand on one of the boys' cheeks.

“And what a MOMENT for ME! Standing in the ring during my first Royal Rumble match across from a living legend, an ICON in this business, Mick Foley, and knowing that I was the only one with the fortitude, the STRENGTH OF CHARACTER, necessary to do what we all knew had to be done. So I looked him in the eye, I wiped away the tears, and I said...I'm sorry. I love you.....and then I gave him one of THESE!” He punches the air in demonstration, drawing applause from the boys.

“Now the rest of the rumble went by in a blur. Probably because Tommy End KICKED ME IN THE HEAD. VERY HARD. And for a while everything was colors and shapes. Which isn't the worst way I've spent a Sunday night, to be sure. Just say no.”

He flips his hair and continues. “But now it's time to get back to BUSINESS. Because we are on the Road to Wrestlemania and unlike Kenny Omega who can waltz in at number 30 to toss out all the TIRED PEOPLE and punch a ticket to the big dance, The Party Peacock has to EARN his spot. But I'm not afraid of a little hard work, OH NO. I'm gonna be tossing fools left and right, there's a FIRE SALE on BANGARANGS and I got enough for EVERYONE! Starting with you, Thomas O'Champa. Your fancy Irish name doesn't impress ME!”

“Now, I'm not one to spread rumors,” Dalton says while placing a hand to one side of his mouth conspiratorially, “But some people are saying that Champa is a...psycho killer. Qu'est ce que c'est. But I don't care how mean and tough and angry and violent and hard and rough and dangerous and I'm starting to convince myself this is a bad idea but I will NOT run run run run run run run away, NO sir! If he's a psycho, then I have the perfect therapy for him, and that's a prescription strength Dalton Castle Butt Whuppin'!”

Castle is practically vibrating. “Oh, and I know your game, Champoo. You're a hard-hitter, yeah? A real bruiser. You think that'll make me back down? Well I hate to disappoint you but I'm not JUST a pretty face. This is a body carved OUT OF STONE and filled with dairy product, and I've been preparing it just for this occasion. Boys....show 'em!”

The Boys put away their fans, pull out rolled up newspapers, and begin swatting Dalton about the face and upper torso. The Party Peacock laughs maniacally. “Hahahaha! See, Chomper, I AIN'T EVEN FLINCHIN'! And that's why, ENOUGH WITH THE NEWSPAPERS, that's why come Warfare, you can do your worst, but like the late Tom Petty I will NOT. BACK DOWN. You want to spout your gibberish about some High One, well I'm going to give you a high five....Five fingers.....Wrapped in a fist.....I'm going to punch you. And start punching my ticket to Wrestlemania. AND THAT'S HOW YOU BRING IT FULL CIRCLE, BOYS!”

The boys applaud a beaming Castle while the camera fades out.