12-20-2023, 10:15 PM
“GAVEL GAVEL! ALL RISE!”
The gallery stands as the judge walks enters.
As he sits down in his chair before the court, he swings his empty hand twice against nothing.
“GAVEL GAVEL! BE SEATED!”
The judge straightens a stack of papers on his desk.
(These papers are unrelated to court matters and, in fact, the judges’ top ten Laser Tag scorecards).
The judge shuffles these sick memories to the side.
“We will hear arguments today for Docket Number 2023-420-6969-707, The People versus Steve Sayors.”
The judge points his non-existent gavel towards the table to his left.
“Prosecution, are you ready?”
Oswaldo Cunningham bows in mock humility with a grin that oozes smugness.
“Naturally, your honor.”
The judge nods, before pointing to the opposite table.
“Defense, are you ready?”
…
“Defense?”
Steve Sayors clears his throat.
“Uh, actually… Could I possibly get... an extension?”
…The judge’s eyes narrow with suspicion.
“Why, Mister Sayors, would I grant you an extension?”
…Sayors nervously clears his throat.
“Well, uh… Mister Your Honor… sir… It’s just that… My attorney… The man preparing my defense…”
The Judge nods with a smile. “Ah, yes, that rather charming fellow that’s always shouting…”
Suddenly, the judge squints, as if he only *just* noticed something is amiss. “Wait! Why isn’t he here? The trial is set to begin today!!!”
Sayors nods, swallowing down nerves.
“Right. You see… uh… he was… electrocuted.”
…
“Bulk Logan… sorta, kinda… kicked him into an electric chair and… fried him.”
…
The judge sighs, shaking his head.
“Mister Sayors, I have been a judge for over TWO MONTHS.”
…
“Wait, *only* two months?” Sayors mutters, perplexedly.
“And do you know how many times an accused murderer has wheeled out the old ‘My attorney was fried to death in an electrical chair battling for the Television Title’ excuse?” The judge disappointedly shakes his head, as if Sayors just tried to claim that a dog ate his alibi homework.
Cunningham shakes his head disappointedly as well.
As does the entire gallery.
Sayors scratches his head. “...Is that excuse really used that often?”
“Like FOUR TIMES, Mister Sayors!”
“B-b-but!” Sayors stutters! “It did happen, though!”
“And do you have proof?” The judge challenges Sayors. “Perhaps some… recording of the match?”
…
Sayors sweats.
In fact, the match went unrecorded (because the XWF didn’t want to televise a man’s death (fuckin’ woke culture bullshit, man)), hence why the audience only received a one-paragraph description of what happened.
…
They didn’t even read it on the XWF website.
If you bought a ticket to Spooky Savage Rise? You opted in to receive a FAX.
They FAXED the results of that Television Title match!
THE WHOLE POINT OF THE TELEVISION TITLE IS TO TELEVISE THE M-
“GAVEL! GAVEL! SILENCE IN THE COURTROOM, NARRATOR!” The judge slams his non-gavel down, stopping the narrator from his diatribe.
Sayors looks around confusedly. Unfortunately, with his 20/300 vision, he cannot see through the fourth wall and has no idea that his horrible life is constantly being narrated.
He’s the only one who doesn’t know.
“...Who are you tal-”
“AND THAT GOES FOR YOU AS WELL, MISTER SAYORS! GAVEL! GAVEL!”
The judge angrily collects himself as Sayors sweats bullets.
“Mister Sayors… Under the Federal Rules of Wrestling Procedure, you must have an attorney or you are AUTOMATICALLY FOUND GUILTY!”
“Wh-wh-what?!?”
“So! Unless your attorney makes a dramatic entrance in the next five seconds, you will be going away for a l-”
SMACK! The backdoor of the courtroom is kicked open!
“HAHA! I’M HERE, YOUR HONOR!”
The crowd breaks into gasps and whispers!
As YKW steps through the gallery, he delivers a pair of finger guns to each stunned face he passes.
Sayors is amazed!
“W-w-where’d you come from?!? I thought you died!”
YKW grins! “ALL PART OF MY PLAN FOR A PERFECT DEFENSE, STEVE!”
YKW slides into the seat next to Sayors.
“SORRY TO CUT IT SO CLOSE, STEVE! BUT THE HERO ALWAYS ARRIVES AT THE LAST POSSIBLE SECOND!”
“...Actually” Steve clears his throat. “The judge hadn’t even started the five-count…”
…
“OH.”
…
“HOLD ON. I’LL GO BACK OUT AND WE’LL DO IT O-”
Sayors clings onto his attorney’s arm.
“JUST DEFEND ME!”
YKW salutes. “WILL DO!”
YKW spins toward the judge. “YOUR HONOR! THE DEFENSE IS PREPARED TO MAKE ITS OPENING STATEMENT!”
Cunningham raises a hand. “Your honor, this is quite unorthodox! Typically, the prosecution makes the opening statement first…”
…Cunningham looks over at YKW, currently copying him.
“JINX! PERSONAL JINX! YOU CAN’T TALK UNTIL I SAY YOUR NAME!”
…Cunningham’s eyes go wide.
He looks at the judge! He tries to scream!
…
But no sound comes out!
…
YKW grins.
“HAHA! LOOKS LIKE OPPOSING COUNSEL IS SPEECHLESS! WHILE HE FINDS HIS VOICE, I’D BE HAPPY TO OPEN THINGS UP!”
The judge nods. “Very well. Proceed.”
YKW walks forward.
“YOUR HONOR!”
He spins toward the jury.
“MEMBERS OF THE JURY!”
…
“I DIED.”
“MEDICALLY. I WAS KICKED INTO AN ELECTRICAL CHAIR AND FRIED WITH FIVE THOUSAND VOLTS.”
“WHY?”
“TO GET THE TRUTH.”
“STRAIGHT FROM THE MOUTH OF THE VICTIM HERSELF!”
The courtroom lets out a collective GASP!
“THAT’S RIGHT! I WENT TO THE AFTERLIFE (the correct religion is Zoroastrianism)! AND I ASKED MISS CLAUDETTE DU TOILETTE THE QUESTION ON EVERYONE’S MIND!”
Cunningham, still jinxed, raises a sign he had prepared for exactly this occasion: ‘OBJECTION!’
“GAVEL! OVERRULED!” The judge calls. “I’ll allow this counselour… But, you better be going somewhere with this!”
YKW nods.
“I ASKED THE QUESTION ON EVERYONE’S MIND…”
…
“WHY IS CENTURION SO BORING?”
…
“Wait… You didn’t ask her how she died?”
“NO! AND DU TOILETTE SAID CENTURION IS BORING BECAUSE HE HAS ZERO ACTUAL QUALITIES.”
“HE’S TOO MENTALLY DULL TO OUTTHINK AN OPPONENT..”
“HE’S TOO RUSTY TO OUTWRESTLE AN OPPONENT.”
“HE’S TOO SMALL TO OVERPOWER AN OPPONENT.”
“HE’S AVERAGE.”
“HE’S THE TAP WATER OF THE XWF.”
“FUNCTIONAL.”
“AND.”
“FLAVORLESS.”
…YKW bows.
And takes a seat.
…
"THAT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THE MURDER!!!"
The gallery stands as the judge walks enters.
As he sits down in his chair before the court, he swings his empty hand twice against nothing.
“GAVEL GAVEL! BE SEATED!”
The judge straightens a stack of papers on his desk.
(These papers are unrelated to court matters and, in fact, the judges’ top ten Laser Tag scorecards).
The judge shuffles these sick memories to the side.
“We will hear arguments today for Docket Number 2023-420-6969-707, The People versus Steve Sayors.”
The judge points his non-existent gavel towards the table to his left.
“Prosecution, are you ready?”
Oswaldo Cunningham bows in mock humility with a grin that oozes smugness.
“Naturally, your honor.”
The judge nods, before pointing to the opposite table.
“Defense, are you ready?”
…
“Defense?”
Steve Sayors clears his throat.
“Uh, actually… Could I possibly get... an extension?”
…The judge’s eyes narrow with suspicion.
“Why, Mister Sayors, would I grant you an extension?”
…Sayors nervously clears his throat.
“Well, uh… Mister Your Honor… sir… It’s just that… My attorney… The man preparing my defense…”
The Judge nods with a smile. “Ah, yes, that rather charming fellow that’s always shouting…”
Suddenly, the judge squints, as if he only *just* noticed something is amiss. “Wait! Why isn’t he here? The trial is set to begin today!!!”
Sayors nods, swallowing down nerves.
“Right. You see… uh… he was… electrocuted.”
…
“Bulk Logan… sorta, kinda… kicked him into an electric chair and… fried him.”
…
The judge sighs, shaking his head.
“Mister Sayors, I have been a judge for over TWO MONTHS.”
…
“Wait, *only* two months?” Sayors mutters, perplexedly.
“And do you know how many times an accused murderer has wheeled out the old ‘My attorney was fried to death in an electrical chair battling for the Television Title’ excuse?” The judge disappointedly shakes his head, as if Sayors just tried to claim that a dog ate his alibi homework.
Cunningham shakes his head disappointedly as well.
As does the entire gallery.
Sayors scratches his head. “...Is that excuse really used that often?”
“Like FOUR TIMES, Mister Sayors!”
“B-b-but!” Sayors stutters! “It did happen, though!”
“And do you have proof?” The judge challenges Sayors. “Perhaps some… recording of the match?”
…
Sayors sweats.
In fact, the match went unrecorded (because the XWF didn’t want to televise a man’s death (fuckin’ woke culture bullshit, man)), hence why the audience only received a one-paragraph description of what happened.
Quote:
![[Image: Screenshot-2023-12-21-at-12-01-32-AM.png]](https://i.ibb.co/XYJ1Mhn/Screenshot-2023-12-21-at-12-01-32-AM.png)
…
They didn’t even read it on the XWF website.
If you bought a ticket to Spooky Savage Rise? You opted in to receive a FAX.
They FAXED the results of that Television Title match!
THE WHOLE POINT OF THE TELEVISION TITLE IS TO TELEVISE THE M-
“GAVEL! GAVEL! SILENCE IN THE COURTROOM, NARRATOR!” The judge slams his non-gavel down, stopping the narrator from his diatribe.
Sayors looks around confusedly. Unfortunately, with his 20/300 vision, he cannot see through the fourth wall and has no idea that his horrible life is constantly being narrated.
He’s the only one who doesn’t know.
“...Who are you tal-”
“AND THAT GOES FOR YOU AS WELL, MISTER SAYORS! GAVEL! GAVEL!”
The judge angrily collects himself as Sayors sweats bullets.
“Mister Sayors… Under the Federal Rules of Wrestling Procedure, you must have an attorney or you are AUTOMATICALLY FOUND GUILTY!”
“Wh-wh-what?!?”
“So! Unless your attorney makes a dramatic entrance in the next five seconds, you will be going away for a l-”
SMACK! The backdoor of the courtroom is kicked open!
“HAHA! I’M HERE, YOUR HONOR!”
The crowd breaks into gasps and whispers!
As YKW steps through the gallery, he delivers a pair of finger guns to each stunned face he passes.
Sayors is amazed!
“W-w-where’d you come from?!? I thought you died!”
YKW grins! “ALL PART OF MY PLAN FOR A PERFECT DEFENSE, STEVE!”
YKW slides into the seat next to Sayors.
“SORRY TO CUT IT SO CLOSE, STEVE! BUT THE HERO ALWAYS ARRIVES AT THE LAST POSSIBLE SECOND!”
“...Actually” Steve clears his throat. “The judge hadn’t even started the five-count…”
…
“OH.”
…
“HOLD ON. I’LL GO BACK OUT AND WE’LL DO IT O-”
Sayors clings onto his attorney’s arm.
“JUST DEFEND ME!”
YKW salutes. “WILL DO!”
YKW spins toward the judge. “YOUR HONOR! THE DEFENSE IS PREPARED TO MAKE ITS OPENING STATEMENT!”
Cunningham raises a hand. “Your honor, this is quite unorthodox! Typically, the prosecution makes the opening statement first…”
…Cunningham looks over at YKW, currently copying him.
“JINX! PERSONAL JINX! YOU CAN’T TALK UNTIL I SAY YOUR NAME!”
…Cunningham’s eyes go wide.
He looks at the judge! He tries to scream!
…
But no sound comes out!
…
YKW grins.
“HAHA! LOOKS LIKE OPPOSING COUNSEL IS SPEECHLESS! WHILE HE FINDS HIS VOICE, I’D BE HAPPY TO OPEN THINGS UP!”
The judge nods. “Very well. Proceed.”
YKW walks forward.
“YOUR HONOR!”
He spins toward the jury.
“MEMBERS OF THE JURY!”
…
“I DIED.”
“MEDICALLY. I WAS KICKED INTO AN ELECTRICAL CHAIR AND FRIED WITH FIVE THOUSAND VOLTS.”
“WHY?”
“TO GET THE TRUTH.”
“STRAIGHT FROM THE MOUTH OF THE VICTIM HERSELF!”
The courtroom lets out a collective GASP!
“THAT’S RIGHT! I WENT TO THE AFTERLIFE (the correct religion is Zoroastrianism)! AND I ASKED MISS CLAUDETTE DU TOILETTE THE QUESTION ON EVERYONE’S MIND!”
Cunningham, still jinxed, raises a sign he had prepared for exactly this occasion: ‘OBJECTION!’
“GAVEL! OVERRULED!” The judge calls. “I’ll allow this counselour… But, you better be going somewhere with this!”
YKW nods.
“I ASKED THE QUESTION ON EVERYONE’S MIND…”
…
“WHY IS CENTURION SO BORING?”
…
“Wait… You didn’t ask her how she died?”
“NO! AND DU TOILETTE SAID CENTURION IS BORING BECAUSE HE HAS ZERO ACTUAL QUALITIES.”
“HE’S TOO MENTALLY DULL TO OUTTHINK AN OPPONENT..”
“HE’S TOO RUSTY TO OUTWRESTLE AN OPPONENT.”
“HE’S TOO SMALL TO OVERPOWER AN OPPONENT.”
“HE’S AVERAGE.”
“HE’S THE TAP WATER OF THE XWF.”
“FUNCTIONAL.”
“AND.”
“FLAVORLESS.”
…YKW bows.
And takes a seat.
…
"THAT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THE MURDER!!!"