Telenovela

[Kamden]

OOC: Excuse any typos-- super tired and writing on the go. This isn't what I initially started with so I hope it's alright. Good luck Tony!
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PROLOGUE

[Narrated in the voice of Enzo Amore]

The vast spaces of the EBWF universe appeared to be within a wrinkle of time. Mercury was most definitely in retrograde. Jimmy Havoc would face friend turned enemy, Braun Strowman. The world was topsy-turvy! But this was not the best of it. No, not at all. It was like when a baby skipped straight to walking instead of learning how to crawl. Enzo Amore, the Certified G, would soon make history. How, you ask? Well maybe if you watched some TV or used social media, you’d know what the f*ck is happenin’, bro. Get with the times. After a victory over the so-called CHAMPION OF THE WORLD, Enzo Amore demanded a title shot, and rightfully so. Trent also tried to get one but didn’t even get a response which was kind of wack… Anyway, back to the story… Go back in time to last Monday night, July 24th after Warfare. Then go two days after that, so Wednesday, the 26th… It’s reaaal late at night, so ACTUALLY… It was probably already Thursday. You know what, who knows? Not Enzo. He can’t keep his days straight, or even know where he is. It’s UNIMPORTANT! Live in the moment. The point is, you’re here to hear me… So read on, and let these words of wisdom penetrate into the deepest bowels of your mind. Or whatever sounds smart to you.

***

AND THEN THERE WAS LIGHT.

Enzo had flipped open his laptop, sitting up in bed in the completely dark hotel room he occupied. He put on a pair of glasses (they weren’t prescription).

As keys began clicking on the keyboard, we hear his voice once again narrating what is being typed on the screen.

CHAPTER I

ONCE upon a time, there were three grown men. None as buff as the third, but that’s ok. What they lacked in muscle, they made up for in baby oil. The first man’s name was Alex Riley. Two first names because if you only gave him one, everyone would forget who Alex was. He would have to have his name changed to ‘Alex Who’.

Now, Alex Riley wanted to build a house. So he built his house of equally oily men, who had sawft baby babies and bad hair styles. These men’s names were Darren Young, Titus O’Neil, and Miz. Just Miz, he doesn’t have two names like the rest of the geeks. But he’s still an annoying rat. Now, when you try and build a house made from frizzy, weak hair, a human seal, and vermin, you ain’t gonna get a very strong house. So like Alex Riley does despite not having any good resources, he runs his big fat baby mouth, and goes for the big bad DAREWOLF!

He flew in from the sky, a parachute on his back. He came and stood on the doormat, which happened to be the Miz. Then WHACK WHACK WHACK. Three raps on the door, which was Darren Young’s face and would explain why it looks like it’s smashed in.

“Alex… Who? Oh, Alex RILEY! Let me in, let me in.” cried the Darewolf.

“Not by MY hairless chinny chin chin, you ugly mutt! My granny’s mutt is prettier than yours and she’s a bulldog! Geez, you’re ugly--”

“SHUT UP! You talk too much. Come on, just let me in!” whined the Darewolf, interrupting Alex Riley.

“No”.

“That’s okay I’ll just go ahead and destroy you.”

And the Darewolf broke through the man-baby facade that was Alex Riley’s house. Broke him in half after kicking his ass and double backhand-springed away, cuz he’s a daredevil and does flips and shit. We know this ‘cuz he always says it.

CHAPTER II

Now, we move on to the second man. The name of the second man is Randy Orton. He seems like one bad ass dude. He has eyes like a snake and a bunch of tattoos and his head is a little lumpy because we all know he’s been through some shit and beat it against the mat a lot and probably had some bottles broken over it since he can also be an asshole. He is a lot smarter than Alex Riley. He built his house out of sticks. But we all know sticks ain’t shit. Now, he was allowed to challenge the Darewolf. So he did, and whence he came, falling from the sky like a shooting star, while doing the move itself. He planted himself on the doorstep, and knocked on the door. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. The knocks echoed off the wooden floors. Someone answered the door. Another man-- not Randy.

“Who are you?” the man asked, with a deadpan tone.

“What?! How can you not know who I am?! WHY DOES NO ONE RESPECT ME!” complained the Darewolf.

“Uhh, I was just stepping out. Randy said he was expecting company, so you can talk to him. I was just leaving.” And out stepped Edge.

Randy Orton had followed up behind his house mate to the door. He took one look at the Darewolf, shook his head with a sly smirk, and slammed the door in his face.

“HEY, LET ME IN, LET ME IN! I DEMAND THIS DOOR BE OPENED BECAUSE I DESERVE EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD!” yelled the Darewolf.

“Get off my property before I RKO you back into the sky you fell from.”

“I didn’t even fall, dude… I landed on my feet… People never take me seriously.”

The Darewolf kicked the door in, the kicked Randy Orton’s ass. It was bizarre and not how the story should typically end.

But the third house… The third house was different.

CHAPTER III

The third man is categorized as a unique individual. One who overcame all odds. The one who flipped the books and ruined bets all in ten minutes. You could call him, The Realest Guy in the Room. His name?

Enzo Amore.

Enzo’s house was made of solid gold and Nether Brick. This made it indestructible against at least one attack from the Darewolf. With the brains of Trent, who surprisingly made for a great architect, and the big headedness of Enzo, the two were able to outsmart the Darewolf and skin his rear til it was bare before kicking it square.

GTA hung out in their golden nether brick home, chillin’.

A letter had just been delivered, slipped in through the mail slot. Enzo had already picked it up, opened it, and read it. His eyes bugged widely, as if they’d pop out of his head. Trent dropped his nintendo 64 controller and jumped up from the couch he sat upon, sensing the urgency behind Enzo’s eyes.

Enzo Amore: Bro…

Trent: Bro?

Enzo Amore: I have a match against PJ Black.

Trent: For the title?!

Enzo Amore: Nah…

Trent: Well that’s… Boring. Lame. Pointless.

He shrugged and sat down again, completely unbothered by the news. But Enzo remained standing with a glimmer in his eyes. They were now back in their proper position in their sockets. He ran to the front door, swung it open, and yelled out to the world.

Enzo Amore: HEY YOU, DAREWOLF. I HAVE BONE TO PICK WITH YOU. AND THE PUN IS INTENDED BECAUSE YOU ARE A CANINE.

The Darewolf 450 splashed from the sky to Enzo and Trent’s doorstep. He grinned menacingly, his red eyes narrowing and his yellow fangs showing. Enzo took a step back and had a disturbed look on his face.

Enzo Amore: Back up, bitch.

He shoo’ed the Darewolf away and a few steps back he took.

Enzo Amore: Do dogs that are female always invade personal space?

Trent appeared beside Enzo, biting his nails nervously. He pointed a shaky finger at the Darewolf.

Trent: Dude… This boss is level 99 and OP. He’s at the top of the world. He doesn’t even live on our planet. He lives outside it. It’s why he’s called “champion of the world”.

Enzo Amore: Bro, I will skin this mutt’s face while he is alive and have him look in the mirror while I’m doing it. I will break his back legs so he has to walk in a handstand 24/7, or has to get training wheels. I will yank out his teeth one by one, and shove them in his ears and then clip them. I’m not scared of him.

Trent: PETA would hate that…

Enzo Amore: FUCK PETA!!!

The exclamation came with a slamming of the door in the Darewolf’s face. He roared with anger, clearly displeased. PING PING PING. Three taps at the door. No one answered, so he knocked some more. After the last knock, the Darewolf appeared to retreat. But no, it was a trick! He turned around and broke into a sprint. He charged at the door, head on with the speed of lightning, until he stopped and fell over at the sound of a whack. A ruffle of paper was heard as the Darewolf fell flat on his back. Enzo Amore stepped off of his doorstep, wiping at a bead of sweat on his forehead. He rolled up his newspaper and sighed in satisfaction, clearly proud of what had just happened. Victory! He beat the nastiest thing you could ever think. Trent joined Enzo at his side and together, they held up their newspaper to the sky. Enzo’s hand came down slowly, along with his eyes, to the Darewolf who had suffered from defeat as he lie down on the ground at GTA’s feet. A steady finger from Trent also pointed at this dead meat.

GTA: BADA. BOOM!

Fin

EPILOGUE

And now we are here, on the morning of Sacrifice. Not like some satanist shit where you kill lambs. It was the day of the EBWF pay-per-view. Enzo had finally checked his calendar. It was barely 2am Sunday morning. He needed to rest. In a few hours, he’d have to go out and address his people. And in a few hours, he did just that.

***

Out of the world of semi-fiction and into real life. You could dub this an episode of “True Life: I surprisingly managed to earn an EBWF title shot”. It didn’t surprise anyone more than Enzo himself. He, the smaller but larger than life tough guy from New Jersey, would be going for THE gold. And on top of that, he had been wished good luck by Edge and Jimmy Havoc of all people. Maybe he had ingested mercury by accident instead of the planet being in retrograde. Trent had to smack Enzo several times throughout the day to bring him back to the moment. This exact moment, Enzo was set to be interviewed by Matt Striker. Enzo was an inch taller, and his hair added a few extra inches, so he looked taller than Matt. Trent advised Enzo to choose Striker for this exact reason, though the logic was flawed because Enzo chose to wear a conservative man-bun hair style, losing those 5 inches in hair height. They now looked the same standing next to each other.

Matt Striker: I’ve got Enzo right here with me. He’s already wearing gold around his waist now, but tonight he plans on walking out with more.

The Certified G simply looked over at Matt, and nodded his head. He was strangely quiet.

Matt Striker: Anything to say, Enzo?

It was clear something wasn’t right. Enzo wasn’t saying anything and Striker began looking uneasily to the camera. Trent stood behind the producer, putting his hands up since he didn’t know what was going on. The producer looked to Trent, who then looked to Striker, and Striker looked to Enzo. Enzo stood staring at the camera, blankly. He scratched at the side of his head. At this point, Striker looked like he was about to walk off. From behind the camera, Trent gave a thumbs up to Enzo and in a split second, the script flipped.

Enzo Amore: GIMME THAT YOU PIPSQUEAK!

Enzo grabbed Striker by the collar of his shirt, yanking him back. He had a hand wrapped around Matt’s head as he pried the microphone from his hand. He then clipped him hard with the handle, laying him out on the ground. The camera shook as a struggle between the operator and Trent ensued. Lots of yelling could be heard. A loud slap was the final sound heard as the camera crashed to the ground, before being picked up again to focus on Enzo, who now held the microphone up to speak.

Enzo Amore: 10 out of 10 superkick, bro.

Trent: Gotta pay respects to my Indy friends, brother.

With all the official crew incapacitated at the moment, all that was left were GTA.

Trent turned the camera around to his face, and gave a thumbs up with a smile. He began adjusting the bandana on his head, and began smoothing out his sideburns. He was taking a little too long, because Enzo had to call him back to action.

Enzo Amore: TRENT. Bro. Focus. Like, actually focus if the video is fuzzy. I need people to see me. I need them to hear me. Do you feel me?

Trent: Yeah, I smell you too. That AXE gel is really strong. Now all I need is to taste you and that’ll cover the five senses!

It was too late. Trent realized the awkwardness of his statement.

Trent: I can edit that out.

Enzo Amore: Yeah… Do that.

Enzo removed the hair tie from his bun, and put only the top half of his hair up into a vertical ponytail, allow the rest to stick out haphazardly on the bottom half of his head. Trent gave another thumbs up to call for the proper start of the “interview”.

Trent: Shoot.

Enzo Amore: My name is Enzo Amore, and tonight I am one thing. I am a future world champ, and ya CAN’T TEACH THAT!

Enzo pointed to Matt Striker, who was still laid out on the ground. Trent followed with the camera as he also panned around to the unconscious cameraman. The camera came back up to Enzo as he spoke into his mic.

Enzo Amore: And this guy named PJ Black, my opponent? Man, this guy is somethin' else I tell you. So I had to get a little crazy, like him. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I don’t care what I gotta do tonight. To make sure I walk out EBWF Champion. Even if it means I’m champ for one night. All I wanna be able to say is I did it. I’m a one-time world champ. So no one ever gives me shit again. I wanna be the big fish in a small pond. The one that eats all the littler ones and stays STACKED! That ain’t PJ Black, man. This guy, he’s gonna come out here and say it’s all a conspiracy that I beat him. Just like it’s always a conspiracy when he loses. Well LOOKIE HERE YOU OVERGROWN MAN BABY! I WHOOPED YOUR ASS AND YOU SHIT YOUR DIAPER AND NOW I’MA SLAP A BINKY IN YOUR WHINY LITTLE MOUTH AND SHUT YOU UP FOR GOOD! You ain’t shit my man. You think you are so special because you jump out of planes and do flips and comb your hair sideways and got a girlfriend you like to smack around. I ain’t your girlfriend, bro. I will knock that shit back right into your face, because most of it comes from your mouth, and force it to come out the right end. I’m gonna punch you so hard on the side of your head that your Taylor Swift bangs will swing to the back and become a mullet. I will kick you so hard in your gut that your intestines will be Jersey jerkin’ out your ears. I will plant your skull so hard into the mat, they will have to pack you in the trailer with the ring because you’ll wanna be permanently stuck there after I beat you so bad.

Enzo pointed to the camera.

Enzo Amore: I have never met a man that complains so much. Because that ain’t a man, that’s a baby! I oughta carve you up like a half rack and call you BABY BACK BITCH! Even Jimmy Havoc wouldn’t eat that because it would taste spoiled rotten! You wanna know why no one respects you, boy? Think back to that story, the Three Little Pigs… The Big Bad Wolf likes to huff and puff, and huff and puff, and huff and puff… You like to bitch and moan, bro. It’s why no one wants to even challenge you. Nobody’s scared of you bro. They just don’t respect you enough to wanna deal with you. If steppin' in that ring means I could be top dog I'll go for it. They should call me the ultimate opportunist instead.

Trent: That'd probably be a copyright issue, I'll look into that.

Enzo Amore: PJ Black. Your new name is gonna be FORMER WORLD CHAMP. Tonight you will lose to me. You will lose your girl 'cuz you'll prove you're an even bigger bitch than Clifford. You will lose everything you say you worked so hard for. Then you can be like Jesse Ventura and start a conspiracy channel or whatever weird shit that is with the government and EBWF you always say. I will 450 flip your neck and call it a Sacrifice to the EBWF gods as a peace offering for blessing me with this moment. Can I get an AMEN, BRO?!

Trent: AMEN, BROTHER!

Matt Striker started to stir from all the yelling.

Trent: Shit.

All of the sudden the camera fell to the floor and static came across the screen before returning to normal.

Enzo Amore: We gotta go man, they're waking up!

The camera shook as it was picked up, but within seconds it was shut off again. A "technical difficulties" still shot popped up, bringing the interview to an end.