Sixteen Tons

[Cory]

The camera flashed the RKO logo before fading in Randy Orion, who stood leaned up against the gorilla position at Warfare. He was in his full wrestling gear, with an unzipped sleeveless Rated RKO hoodie. He looked up at the camera and smirked.

Randy Orion: Just a couple second away from my match against the Marty Jannetty of the Dudley Boyz, D-von. I think he says something about testifying or whatever, I haven’t actually paid attention to him since the early aughts.

Randy shrugged.

Randy Orion: Tonight is my first round of King of the Ring tournament. I drew an opponent that would appeal to my shtick of being the Legend Killer, if he was, in fact, a legend. Suffice to say, his stock rises only as high as Bubba Ray’s career, a guy who inexplicably is still in the conversation in wrestling as a talking head.

He shook his head.

Randy Orion: I have to be honest, there are a lot of things I expected to do this week. Hang out with my dog, take my daughter to the park, play Call of Duty with Edge, or take my amazing wife out to a Michelin 3-star restaurant. Did not think that I’d be having a match with a guy who wasn’t relevant even when he was relevant. Is this what it’s like to clock in to a 9-to-5 job? Punching my card and working a match with an aging novelty act?

Randy tapped the tag team championship title that was clasped around his waist.

Randy Orton: Well, I guess it’s time to go to work.

Randy gave the camera a wink as he turned towards the curtain.

“GO BACK TO SLEEP!’

His music played as he stepped out for the biggest challenge of his career: A fifty year old who’s got more rust than a sunken boat.