Trentzo Amoretta

[Kamden]

The door swung open rapidly. In came one half of the most fly EBWF teams ever to exist; Trent. Behind him he dragged a massive sack which seemed to weigh a ton. Clad in his classic Black tights with the word “TRENT?” printed upon his bottom in neon Yellow and the face of Dave Murray on his left knee. Trent dragged the sack with considerable effort, lifting it up and almost slamming it on top of the nearest table. The table at which the other half of the fliest teams to ever make their presence known in the EBWF was seated.

Enzo Amore: When I said I was hungry enough I could eat a horse, I didn’t actually wanna eat a horse, bro.

Enzo was holding a knife in one hand, fork in the other. Trent nodded.

Trent: I was going to get dinner… But then it hit me, right across the face.

He reached into the sack to pull out two familiar looking football shoulder pads with spikes on the shoulders. Leopard Printed and Neon Yellow.

Trent: If we’re going to be a team, we need to build our identity!

Enzo scratched the side of his head of messy bleach blonde hair with is fork.

Enzo Amore: An identi-team. I like how you think, Trent. We’ll be the next Dario and Luigi and have our own video games. That’s the shit you like, right?

Trent fought hard for his brain aneurysm not to Pop at the mention of ‘Dario’.

Trent: Uh… Exactly! We’d be like Sonic and Knuckles.

He put his head in between the Neon Yellow Shoulder pads before reaching into the big sack.

Trent: Do you want baby oil or tanning spray?

Enzo looked understandably insulted as he stood from his chair behind the table, putting on his pair of leopard printed shoulder pads.

Enzo Amore: If you have to ask if I need tanning spray I guess I’m getting pale.

He started shaking his head furiously and took the tanning spray from Trent’s hand.

Trent: Macho Man Randy Savage, Ultimate Warrior, Hulk Hogan… Do you Think they went through just one can of tanning spray?

Trent reached for the Baby Oil.

Trent: I am going to go on this harder than Paul Heyman on an open buffet. I’m buying gallons of this shit in costco the moment I’m out here… Is there even a Costco in this state? Where are we even?

Enzo Amore: It’s not about where we’re going or where we’re at, it’s how we get there my friend.

Enzo shook his can of tanning spray and unleashed an unhealthy amount through the air and over his arms, torso, and a little on his face as well.

Trent: Wait a minute… How did we get here in the first place?

Trent shook his head.

Trent: Not important… Do you feel it now? Do you feel the power? Do you feel the Identity burning up in your skin? Or… It might be the Spray.

Enzo had started to breathe a little faster, and his head was trembling, causing the hair on his head that was sticking up to wave back and forth.

Enzo Amore: FIRE! I feel it. We’re about to light this place up. Burn this building to the ground. Kick some asses all around town and spend our money on some hunnies. BOOM!

He slapped both hands on Trent’s shoulder pads. Trent looked hyped and slapped Enzo’s back, his oily hand prints were left marked upon the shoulder pads.

Trent: Brother! Who are we even facing?

Enzo Amore: I feel like we used that macarena Zelda uses in that video game you told me about, where he can travel through time, because it’s just like something I’ve done before… We are facing that dopey dope Matt Sydal. And a friend of his.

Trent hummed the Macarena Song for a Minute.

Trent: Matt Sydal and his sidekick or whatever… This ain’t Macarena, This ain’t Ballet… We don’t dance! Wait, I do play Dance Dance Revolution, and Enzo does this SSSIIICK shuffle, but that’s not the case. We’re more focused than the particles of a laser beam and we’re coming for you Naggers!

Trent began shuffling in a poor attempt to emulate Enzo, probably a sight as sad as Enzo trying to grasp the basic rules of Dungeons and Dragons. Enzo simply looked straight ahead into the camera, avoiding the sight of Trent’s offbeat feet.

Enzo Amore: We’ll show you two clowns that there’s nothing funny about being certified, cock-eyed sissies. When someone looks like they’re so drunk they’d lock themselves in their car trunk it’s time to start packin’ your bags and preparing for the worst. WORRY NOT. We’ll call you a cab… that’s in the shape of a hearse.

Trent: On the hipside, Matt Sydal can have as much medicinal cannabis and yoga as he wants… But not even DDP Yoga is going to heal you up. Now let’s go grab dinner… Who was that other guy we’re facing? John Johnson?

Enzo Amore: Mark Andrews… A man with two first names because no one could remember him with just one. Like you. TRENT. Like ULTRAMAN! Wait, is that one name or two?...

Enzo looked to Trent for confirmation, but was met with a burning stare.

Trent: Ultraman is a Japanese super…

Trent shook his head.

Trent: Mark Andrews, you’re the worst mark Ever… You’re worse than Mark Jindrak, Mark from Blink 182, Markiplier from youtube, Mark Wahlberg, Karl Marx, Karl Malone… Wait! The Mail man was really good… Shoutout to Karl Malone… Are we in his hometown? Do I get the cheap pop?

Enzo Amore: We are in a room. That is as much I know. UNIMPORTANT. Just like Matt Sydal and Andrew Marks smackable faces. I think Andrew has been hitting the wrong kind of dab. The kind that gets you in trouble. That’s what you call… What’s Donald Trump always saying? SAD!

Trent: The fact of the matter is, Sydal… Marky Mark Markus… You don’t stand a chance against this Brotherhood of G’s... This Crusade of Dudes… This Multiplayer Extravaganza… This… ENZO AND TRENT! Now, let’s go have some horse tenderloin my good man.

Trent patted Enzo on his newly acquired Leopard printed shoulder pads. As the pair was walking out of the room, their conversation could be heard as it continued while the screen faded to black.

Enzo Amore: We really need a team name, bro…

Trent: Is the Megapowers taken?

The door was heard clicking closed as the segment came to its end.