Toilet play

[Juan Ramirez]

[Wrote this with Jay! Enjoy.]

A dripping fawcett echoed around the room, the camera panned across what looked like a cell, vertical metal bars and a silhouette laying back on a pipe-framed bed. The clinking sound of a nightstick against the bars over and over.

Guard: Hey!

The nightstick struck the bars harder.

Guard: I’m talking to you, punk!

The silhouette on the bed barely tilted his position on top of the mattress. The rails of the cell were heard, opening the cell.

Guard: Don’t you want out? You’ve been bailed.

A guilty looking Lance Storm appeared from behind the guard.

Lance Storm: Usually I wouldn’t care, but this is one serious oversight on my part.

Trent: WHAT. THE. FUCK. LANCE! I WAS ARRESTED LIKE TWO WEEKS AGO DAMMIT! TWO WEEKS OF PISSING ON A FUCKING POT!

Trent ran a hand along his face rather desperately. He then nodded his head and chuckled.

Trent: Was this a test? Did you think I was better off having Jericho think he can hold me behind some stupid bars and a couple of dumb guards?

Lance looked thoughtful for a moment.

Lance Storm: ........YES! And you passed! This is why I chose you, Trent! Now, tell me - DID THEY TOUCH YOU?! LET HIM OUT SO I CAN LOOK AT HIM PROPERLY.

Trent narrowed his eyes at Lance. The guard allowed Trent to leave the cell.

Trent: So you didn’t just forget? Yeah… They touched me.

Lance Storm: Oh good. At least you had some fun, right? Can we get out of here? It’s like The Wire in here.

Trent: I did not, some guy wanted to touch my Bill Murray kneepad, he’s still eating tuna through a straw. The Wire, as in the crappy TV show?

Lance Storm: You get everything wrong when it comes to entertainment. GUARD, LOCK HIM AWAY FOR CRIMES AGAINST OPINIONS.

Trent: WHAT? NO! I can’t spend another night dodging pee cups!

Lance shook his head and left the holding cell area. Trent followed. Trent’s belongings were returned to him and they both were sent on their way, Lance and Trent walked towards the parking lot. Silence made tension even bigger.

Trent: Some scare we gave Jericho, didn’t we?

Lance came to a halt and turned to Trent.

Lance Storm: A scare? I’d be surprised if he remembered who you are! You’ve been in a CELL for two weeks - what sort of difference can you make from there?!

Trent: Didn’t I fuck up some developmental wrestlers really badly? And by developmental wrestlers I mean experienced, real life police officers.

Lance Storm: You sure did. Hey, you’ll be Ring of Honor World Champion in no time!


Trent: FPI Heavyweight champion wouldn't be so bad.

Lance slapped Trent.

Trent: WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?

Lance Storm: I dunno, it seems like the type of thing an upset mentor would do.

Trent: Oh. There I was, thinking I was a total badass for being in a cell. Well, we better get our asses to work.

Lance Storm: Before we do.. There’s a battle royal. And as much as I fucking HATE battle royales, the winner gets a shot at that goofy man who has the world title.

Trent: Flair, Hogan? You’d have to be more specific… So many goofy men have held the World Title.

Lance Storm: Well I can confirm nothing has changed while you’ve been inside. Cena is still champion. So I was thinking, why don’t we split tasks? You take out Cena, I’ll take out Jericho.

Trent: Am I even booked in this match? Or do I have to force my way in?

Lance Storm: Of course they didn’t book you. But you have to learn to just take what you want in this company. You think they ever wanted me to be World Champion? You think they ever wanted YOU to be World Champion?

They both got into Lance’s car.

Trent: Of course not. We’re totally not goofy. And we actually know more than four moves. So, who is on this match anyway?

Lance Storm: Does it matter? Do you even care? Just win it. We’ve lost a lot of momentum lately.

Trent: Yeah, being in Jail because your mentor forgot to bail you out for some Harry Potter audiobooks really, really takes a toll on your momentum. It doesn’t matter, because no one in the roster knows his way around the ropes like me… And most importantly, no one in the roster has a sweet, sweet t-shirt of themselves kicking an ostrich in the head… Hey, I think we’re missing something. You don’t happen to have an announcer in the trunk of your car, do you?

At that moment a car pulled up alongside Lance’s. In the driver’s seat was Dean Malenko.

Dean Malenko: Well I’m here, Lance. What’s this about? I brought Renee Young, as promised.


Renee had gotten out of Malenko’s car and got in the back seat behind Lance and Trent.

Lance Storm: THANKS. BYE.

Lance started his car up and drove off quickly.

Lance Storm: There you go.

Trent: Damn, I couldn’t ask him about why he’s called Ice man, I bet it’s got to do with X-men.

Renee Young: ARE YOU GUYS KIDDING ME?!

Trent: Hey Renee… Apparently Malenko was late to deliver you for my conjugal visit?

Lance Storm: You’re here to do your damn job, Renee. Look it up in your contract - you do INTERVIEWS.

Renee Young: NOT-

Lance Storm: Here will do!

Lance pulled the car over not far from the jail, at what appeared to be a public toilet.

Lance Storm: Perfect.

Trent: Because John Cena is shit?

Lance Storm: And because the EBWF is a toilet.

Trent: What does that makes us, clogbusters?

Lance Storm: Mr and Mrs Muscle. Right, Renee - INTERVIEW TRENT!

Renee threw a quizzical look at the whole situation, they soon stood out of the car, right in front of the public toilet. Renee had no microphone, something Trent fixed by giving her the cardboard of a toilet paper roll.

Trent: Do your thang. Damn, this place reeks!

Renee: What in the world is going on here? What on earth are you two up to?

Trent: Haven’t you noticed Renee? Lance and I share a vision… A vision of an EBWF universe where hardworking, deserving superstars are on top, unlike jerks with smug smirks who grant wishes and sign autographs but can’t wrestle their way out of bed every morning. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that morale backstage is low, lower than it has ever been… People know deep down that no matter how early they arrive, no matter how late they leave, how hard they work, how much effort they put in their ring work… At the end of the day the Nickelodeon stand up comedian in the goofy shirt reigns supreme… Until now. It has been brought to my attention that a Battle Royal is taking place at Warfare, to choose who is going to be fed to the rhyming moron next. Let me ask you something, Renee. How many people have announced their intentions of going after John Felix Anthony Cena?

Renee looked doubtful.

Renee Young: Actually, there has been no buzz regarding the Battle Royal to determine the number 1 contender for the World Title.

Trent: Figures. Just as I expected… The EBWF locker room stopped believing in themselves. Now, I couldn’t care less about the EBWF locker room… If they want to wave a white flag at John Cena, they’ll become of the problem, not the solution. They want to be subdued, FINE. Lance and I are not having that. The recent history of the EBWF world champions has been full of Manwhores, Bag crappers and steroid junkies… I honestly believe EBWF can do better. After Survivor Series, EBWF will do better with me once again as the reigning World Champion. Instant, make-a-wish come true for thousands of kids.

Renee Young: You seem confident about winning this Battle Royal.

Trent: Let me ask you something Renee… Who could possibly pose a threat for me in this battle royal? Miz? DiBiase? Randy Orton? Edge? Chris Jericho? None of them stand a chance against me, not in my worst day, not in my best day. Renee, I have had the luck of having someone as talented as Lance Storm not only to notice my talent, but also to guide me, to help me remove that blindfold from your eyes… All those losers I mentioned… Their time has gone by… When was the last time any of them was relevant for the EBWF universe? I on the other hand pose a serious threat for Chris Jericho and his established order… The truth is, we’ve all been held back by Chris Jericho, by the board of directors, Lord Voldemort and the deatheaters, call them however you want. Someone, up there wants everything to be about John Cena… Well, I’m about to burst that bubble, and I intend to do it with a swift knee to John’s face, picking him over my shoulders and planting is flat top stupid head in the center of the ring. Damn, Renee… Did you notice you did absolutely nothing on this interview? Still more easy on the eye than The Coach or Michael Cole though.

Lance looked at Renee, piercing a hole through her with his eyes.

Trent: Lance, don’t!

Lance turned his back on Renee and then swiftly superkicked the cameraman.

Lance Storm: God Bless cameramen!

The camera fell to the ground, aiming at the blue sky... Footsteps of the two mean could be heard, followed by an engine roaring off and away from the camera.

Renee Young: DON'T LEAVE ME!

[Jay]

TRENT WATCHES YOU READ THIS FROM THE BANNER UP THERE ^^^^

[Kamden]

Woowowowowo this was nice. You guys are hilarious!