A cold open. Or, as I like to refer to it, a chilly intro. It doesn’t get any frostier than putting forth a wintry exordium as a new face stepping into an unfamiliar realm with an objective of facing not just one, two, or three, but several individuals.

And that’s if and ONLY if we’re allowed passage via someone else dropping the proverbial handegg. I’m not one for freezing preambles, they always feel so forced. But, when in Rome step into that bathhouse, disrobe, and get ready to thrust and brace.

So, how does this go? Do I rip my opponents apart? I don’t even KNOW who they are. There are so many. I guess I could look at a lineup. Yes, that’s a good idea. I’ll look at a lineup.

Record scratch.

WAIT.

I don’t HAVE any opponents. I’m a damn alternate.

Okay, so some names that stand out.

Felix Jones. I always wondered what happened to the kick returner from Dallas. His career seemed to hit a rough patch after a handful of years. It’s good to see he’s landed on his feet.

Jim Jimson. Now here’s a good, solid name. A man who is plain-spoken and focus driven. I wonder if his son is named Jimmy.

Robbie Bourbon. With a name like that you either love or hate alcohol. There is no in-between. Is this man an open book or a super creative character with a surname contradicting his very existence? Maybe we can have a drink and find out.

Chris Chaos. Simple. Effective. Sounds like the name of a person I might get a shot at replacing.

Shawn Warstein. He wasn’t very nice to me during my first few days around the XWF offices. But that’s okay. His name is WARstein. So he’s an educated warmonger. Or something.

Big D. I mean, it’s a name.

Le Strange. Probably my favorite name of the bunch. This is a man, person, transgender of culture, and sophistication. A provocateur of fine cutlery, too.

Thunder Knuckles. These names are getting better. With a name like Thunder Knuckles, I’d imagine five finger, open-handed slaps are out of the question. A backhand may remain in the cards, though.

Lowmo. Dropped the S, moved into the left lane, and put the hammer down! This is a man that gets low while moving fast. Probably. Again, I don’t know him. OR HER

Brian Storm. Reads like Brain Storm. Is a name like this supposed to be clever? Always makes me think his mother or whoever named him couldn’t spell.

AND THEN THERE’S MASTERMIND. I’M COMING FOR YOU MASTERMIND. YOU WILL BE MINE. I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU SUFFER. SUFFER WORSE THAN A GYSPY BITCH CHAINED TO A STOVE IN THE BASEMENT BELONGING TO SOME GUY NAMED zane norrison. IF I HAVE ONE GOAL IN LIFE IT IS TO RUIN YOU, MASTERMIND.

What does it all mean?

It means there are many names I’m unfamiliar with. Every name will be looking to win War Games. Meanwhile, I, THE WIZARD will simply be looking to establish some solid footing (ALL THE WHILE MAIMING MASTERMIND). Will it happen? I sure hope so!

THINGS START TO HEAT UP AS WE REACH THE MIDDLE OF THIS WIZARD PRODUCTION.

It’s the woods. They are dark. They are damp. And, yes, they reek of elderdom. IT IS THE WOODS OF ELDERDOM. The Wizard is spotted sneaking around, staff in hand. His entire body is cloaked in a grayish, blue robe and hood. The hood has a point extending toward the sky, as though pulled toward the stars. His staff is wooden and crooked. Expenses were spared.

A suspicious tree catches his eye. The Wizard approaches.

“Hello, tree.”

The tree doesn’t reply. I mean, why would it?

The Wizard nods. “Ah, I see.”

Okay, so maybe the tree IS responding and only THE WIZARD can hear.

“Yes, yes, the days have grown longer of late. It is June, you know. The month named after the lady Juniper of Maracas from 1675. Yes, she was a fine dame, to be sure. Quite saucy. Some might have called her hot. Hence the month of June.”

This is inaccurate. Or, maybe it’s the most accurate thing ever said. Point is, if you looked this up in ‘history’ books, you’d find nothing of reference.

“Mhm, yes, yes…”

The conversation is getting deep. The tree is airing some grievances. A gust of wind blows. A few leaves fall from the tree, landing at The Wizard’s feet.

“Ahhh…”

Bending over, he picks the leaves up and gives them an uncomfortably long sniff before tossing them into the air. “I see. Nefarious activity is threatening your way of life. Well, as The Wizard and protector of these Woods I will seek out and eliminate the culprit. The Mastermind, if you will.”

A branch snaps off and hits The Wizard in the head. It hurts. He stumbles side to side for a moment before regaining his equilibrium. He tugs at his robe, annoyed.

“Well, that was unnecessary. I said I was on it. Good day, Jamal.”

He leaves Jamal the Tree behind. His trek into the woods deepens.

“Oh rumshire. Oh rumshee. Oh rumshah. Oh rumshaka…”

The crinkling of debris snatches The Wizard away from his spell cast. His head jerks to the right. What could it be?

Growling. Snarling. It’s a wild dog. It approaches The Wizard. It’s afraid but unwilling to run. The Wizard doesn’t back down. These are his woods. He’s sworn to protect them.

The dog appears foreign. Its demeanor indicates it is not comfortable with the surroundings. That and the collar and name tag which hangs from its neck. The Wizard raises his staff and yells, “BE GONE WITH YOU, NEFARIOUS INTRUDER!”

The dog lunges at The Wizard. The Wizard yelps, “Oh shit!” and thrusts his staff in the way. Fortuitously, the dog’s menacing bite clamps down on the center of the staff. A battle of strength and determination ensues. The dog growls, tossing its head back and forth, attempting to rip the staff free. The Wizard grunts, “Let go, stupid dog! LET GOOO!”

An epic war is waged. Man versus beast. Protector versus invader. The Wizard fears a loss might put the woods in GREAT jeopardy. And then, as if the heavens opened up allowing giant eagles to swoop in and save a hero from certain death, a whistle calls out. The dog’s angry demeanor flips on its head. Its tail wags. It releases the staff, barks, and sprints off.

The Wizard backs up against a tree, breathing heavily. The tree is large. It is wide. Looking over his shoulder, The Wizard recognizes the tree, “Oh, Bertrand. So nice of you to offer this weary old man respite.” The Wizard slouches to the ground, catching his breath.

Footsteps.

They approach. The Wizard grows quiet. He grips his staff. Is it the dog? It can’t be. These steps are too methodical. They have to belong to a biped. A human. Hopefully.

The steps grow closer and closer and closer. The Wizard, seated on the ground, brings his knees to his chest, using the staff as a safety bar, keeping them close. He leans his back against the trunk of the tree, lowering his head and closing his eyes – attempting to increase his sense of hearing. The steps are right behind him, on the other side of the tree. The Wizard weighs his options. Remain motionless? Leap to his feet and attack? Or, run?

He can’t run. These are HIS woods.

He decides to remain vigilant in his own, silent way. See if anything happens that might cause him to step in and prevent calamity.

A stream of water strikes the side of the tree. The Wizard’s increased sense of hearing catches it running through the bark, trickling into the ground.

“Ahh,” a sound of satisfaction emanates from the biped’s throat.

The Wizard is perplexed. What is going on over there?

The stream of water builds into a puddle next to a root protruding from the ground. The Wizard looks to his left, catching the increasing puddle. It won’t be long before it overflows and dampens his area.

“Is the creature...is it...relieving itself?” The Wizard wonders internally. “How...how much does he have in there?” The stream is as strong as ever. The puddle is about to flow over the root, which is acting as a dam between the creature’s waste and The Wizard’s robe. “Will it never stop?”

“Ohhh yeah!” the biped exclaims, “breaking the seal!”

The Wizard’s eyes are lit ablaze with the fire of audacity. He leaps to his feet and spins around, seconds before the dam breaks, allowing the giant puddle of waste to infect his spot. He turns around, holding his staff high above his head.

The creature, as it turns out, is a young man with a beer in one hand and his dick in the other, relieving the excess waste produced by a night of heavy drinking. His depressed reflexes slowly turn, catching The Wizard and his aggressive act.

“The fuck?” he stumbles back, dick hanging out of his pants, still streaming with piss. “Who...the hell is this shit?”

“Begone, intruder!! Take your filthy, contaminated waste elsewhere! Leave these woods now!”

The Wizard slams his staff into the ground. The drunkard spins around and sprints off, piss still streaming from his dick. The Wizard grabs his robe, pulling it from the ground and gives chase. He moves at a far slower pace. He must ensure that this invader clears these woods for good.

Outrun, trailing hopelessly behind, The Wizard follows the trail of piss like a dog hot on the scent of a suspect. It eventually leads him to the edge of the Woods of Elderdom. The Wizard is slightly impressed that such an inebriated individual could find his way out of the mystical woods of elderdom with such ease. This must be no ordinary man.

Reaching the edge of The Woods of Elderdom, The Wizard casts his magical gaze downward. He stands at the edge of a steep hill. His suspect is tumbling down the hill. It’s a safe tumble, albeit turbulent. The suspect comes to rest...his dick spurts out the final few droplets of piss.

That was one hellacious piss.

He stumbles to his feet and looks at his can of beer, it’s near empty. “I spilled my fuckin beer, man!”

“PARTY FOUL!” a voice beckons behind him. There is a campfire and group of young people engaging in illegal albeit fun activities.

The Wizard notices he is outnumbered. But, these are HIS woods. So he does his best to shoo them away to protect the sanctity of the Woods of Elderdom.

“BE GONE I SAY!” he slams the bottom of his staff into the ground.

The pisser stands, dick hanging out of his jeans. A couple of friends approach, standing at his side. They look down. One observes, “Bro, your stupid dick is hanging out. Zip that shit up.”

He does as instructed. Pride a bit wounded. So, he fires back, “I don’t know why you’re staring at my dick, but okay.”

“I SAID BE GONE!” The Wizard slams his staff into the ground once again. The drunk, young patrons look on, a bit confused. The Wizard holds the staff above his head. It’s time to cast a spell.

He starts to sway, in harmony with the cool, evening breeze.

“What the fuck is that, man?”

“I don’t know. He was hiding behind a tree while I pissed. He then chased me back here.”

“Oooohhhh….wooooohhhh...rumshala! Rumshaka! Rumhilda! Rum…” The Wizard’s spell continues to be cast.

“Seems kinda lame to me. Like one of those roleplaying geeks.”

The pisser steps forward, trying to discern the legitimacy of this ‘wizard’, “Yea, maybe.” He looks down and spots something, “Dude, he’s wearing Crocs!”

His two friends exclaim, simultaneously, “Are you serious, bro?”

“Look!” the pisser points.

The other two step forward. They identify the crocs covering the Wizard’s magical feet. They break into hysterical laughter.

“Don’t let them get to you,” The Wizard tells himself, internally as his chant continues.

“What a fuckin loser, man!” the pisser points and shouts, throwing his empty beer can at The Wizard. His friends chug the rest of their beers, throwing the empty cans at The Wizard. The rest of the campers, having kept their distance due to fear of the unknown, grab a bunch of trash, run forward, and throw it at The Wizard.

A beer can hits him in the head, “Ow!” He stops his chanting, “Hey! That’s littering!”

“Fuck you, Wizard!” the pisser fires back, throwing a full beer at him. The Wizard is struck in the jaw...he staggers, nearly tumbling down the hill.

A friend slaps the pisser in the chest after his excellent throw, “Bro, that was a full beer.”

“Relax, man.”

The Wizard is wobbly. He feels disoriented. His sense of hearing recognizes an all-too-familiar sound. The sound of laughter. And, not just any laughter...THE LAUGHTER OF MOCKERY. He regains his balance and points his staff at the campers, “STOP THAT LAUGHING!”

The campers grab a bunch of trash and charge the hill. The dog from earlier exits a tent. It belongs to them. The Wizard, noticing he’s about to get trounced, lets out an “oh shit” and turns, running back into The Woods.

“I must cast them out! I must find a way!” he says to himself, while holding his robe and staff, charging through the forest, avoiding branches, roots, and spiderwebs.

He can feel them on his heels. He’s anticipating a devastating blow at any moment. The laugher torments his ears.

Finally, safety! An island acting as a haven for a man lost at sea. He reaches the edge of the Woods of Elderom to spot a Chevron Gas Station. He turns over his shoulder, breathing heavily. The campers are gone.

In truth, they turned back halfway up the hill. It just wasn’t worth the effort.

“My speed was too much for them. People always underestimate the stealth of a wizard.”

The Wizard, looking down a similar hill at the lone illumination belonging to a highly commercial yet strangely isolated gas station, marches down, holding his robe to prevent tripping.

He struts across the Chevron parking lot, using his staff for guidance. He enters the store. A bell chimes. The mid-20s employee rolls his eyes, “Dude, I told you we are all out of salt and pepper slim jims.”

“May I use your phone my good man.”

“MY phone? No.”

“The store’s phone, then.”

“If you do, will you leave?”

“Of course...the Woods of Elderdom cannot remain unprotected for long.”

“Fine. Here’s the phone. But make it quick.”

The Wizard snatches the phone and looks out the store’s window, into the sky, “It is time to call on the elders. It is time to reach out to the gods. It is time to punish those who seek to destroy that which is natural.”

The employee decides to take a bathroom break.

The Wizard places the receiver to his ear. He takes his magical finger, hovers it over the number pad, and dials the very succinct series of numbers ‘9-1-1’.

Moments later, he marches across the parking lot and back up the hill. An empty slim jim wrapper falls from his robe. He enters the foliage and treks across the Woods of Elderdom. He reaches the opposite side and stands, haughtily watching the youngsters drink, philander, and do drugs.

“Victory will soon be mine,” he whispers.

Sirens sound in the distance. The youngsters don’t hear. The music they are playing along with their altered mental state has lowered their situational awareness.

In the distance, where their cars are parked atop a thin yet sturdy field of grass, cop cars appear, bursting onto the scene.

The pisser, reaching into the cooler for another beer looks up. “OH SHIT, IT’S THE COPS!”

They try to scatter but wind up running into each other and-or tripping over stuff. The police are on them in a flash. The partiers are tackled, shackled, and escorted into the worst place a person their age can be placed – the back of a cop car.

“My mom is gonna be pissed,” the pisser says, head down, staring out the back of the cop car window.

A friend, seated next to him, tries to figure out what happened, “Were we too loud? We come out here all the time? What the hell, man?”

The pisser’s forehead leans against the window. His eyes look ahead. He spots a figure dancing in the distance, waving its staff in the air.

“It was the fucking Wizard.”

His friend leans ahead, spotting the same dancing Wizard. “That fuckin nerd.”

“I’m gonna fuck him up when I get out.”

The friend nods in aggressive agreement.

They are all driven to jail.

The Wizard re-enters the Woods of Elderdom. He is a vision of satisfaction.

“I am the Wizard. And I shall be feared.”

“I am the Wizard, protector of all that is natural.”

A huge gust of wind blows through the Woods of Elderdom. Trees moan. Branches shriek. Leaves scatter. Creatures and critters scurry about. The Wizard raises his staff high in the air.

“BASK IN MY AURA!” he yells at the top of his lungs. A bit of an off-pitch, high shriek corrupts the otherwise fairly masculine ululation.

We pull back. “Guile’s Theme” plays. The Wizard stands triumphant within the Woods of Elderdom. The frame freezes.

‘The Wizard’.