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(Gravy_Xtreme_5000) · (06-18-2024)

Michael Graves and Pussyfoot Pete sit near the back of a Greyhound bus.

Destination—Denver, Colorado!

The bus is packed with various travelers (illegals) from all over (literally!!!), but Gravy’s loud, abrasive voice cuts through the hum of conversations and the drone of busses engine.

The camera slow crawls to the back of the bus, where we find Gravy puffing on a vape pen, the mild yet pungent odor of weed emitting from his person.

Pussyfoot Pete, in full gimmick (cat costume), is oblivious to Gravy's ramblings, instead focused on cleaning himself like a cat.

Gravy: (exhaling a big-ass cloud of vapor) Man, this THC-A stuff I got at that Exxon is just like the real deal! Probably even stronger. You know, Pete, they say it's basically the same as weed, just, like, without the legal hassle. Perfect for a mastermind like me! I can buy this shit in bulk at that CBDWHOLESALE website, and sell the shit from town to town like it's real! Think about it, the effects are spot on, and if we get caught with it, THC-A test NEGATIVE for THC... until you spark it!!! Between this shit and your wrestling gig, we're gonna be RICH!

Pussyfoot Pete continues licking his paw, clearly not paying attention. Gravy rolls his eyes and slaps him on the butt, causing a few nearby passengers to turn and stare.

Gravy: Hey! Quit that, you moron. We’re in public. Show some damn respect. I don’t need everyone here thinking we’re a couple of loons!

Pussyfoot Pete pauses, looking slightly embarrassed, and sits upright, brushing his cleaning spit across the seat next to him. Gravy takes another puff from his vape and leans back with a smug grin spreading across his face as he scratches his jock itch.

Gravy: So, here’s the plan, genius. I’m gonna exploit my old bowling brotherhood connection with baby Duke. We get you on the show, you make it to the big time, and we split the spoils. Of course, I get 85%, and you get 15%. Fair deal, right? Just remember, you're nothin' without me! I trained you and I'm getting your gig. You ever think of reneging on our deal, and it's gonzo for you—so don't be a dummy—DUMMY!

Pussyfoot Pete nods, possibly absentmindedly, as he still seems more interested in his paw than Gravy's scheming. Gravy narrows his eyes and leans in closer with a threatening whisper.

Gravy: Listen up, Pete. You’d better do good Monday. Otherwise, I’ll replace you with one of the other students. Maybe... Miss Furry? Yeah, she’s got potential. Modify that supervillain schtick into a furry cult leader or something... I don't fuckin' know, but I do know that she won’t be cleaning herself like a damn cat in public!

Pussyfoot Pete’s eyes widen as Gravy's hand slaps across his face. He straightens up, nodding vigorously and now offering his full attention.

Gravy smirks.

Gravy: Good, now let's get ready to make some history. you beat whatever jobber bitch they through at you. Probably Big Preesh or Chuckles. Easy-Peasy! Then we get Duke to reward you with a spot in the Leap of Faith. Don't worry about qualifiers, it just takes one good Tonya Harding to free up a spot. Then—we work towards winning RIGGING a case for ourselves!

CHA-CHIIING!!!

Ain't no money like that championship money!

And the longer you hold it—the more we get paid!

Gravy takes another drag from his vape, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke that causes a few passengers to cough and glare in their direction.

The bus continues to rumble down the highway, carrying them ever closer to Warfare LIVE FROM BALL ARENA, DENVER, COLORADO (totally not C/P from the card).

Gravy: (muttering to himself) We’re gonna make Warfare our playground, and make shit-tons doing it! Anyone gets in our way, well, they’ll just have to deal with the consequences... And how GRAAAAVE they'll be!

Rubbing his hands together, Gravy leans back in his seat, a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face as the bus speeds toward their destiny...

after a few seconds of silence, Pussyfoot Pete begins to clean his hiney...

but as the high (from like 300 hits of that vape) really begins to sink it, time seems to come to a pause around Gravy.

Taking notice of this phenomenon, Gravy's high ass decides it the perfect opportunity to spit out a promo for his non-match appearance at this weeks Warfare.

Duke... I'm here whether you like it or not, and I'm bringing someone with me. My student, Pussyfoot Pete. This kid's got more potential in his little finger than half your roster combined. You might think you can ignore me, and by extension him, but you’re dead wrong. I simply won't allow it! I've been a part of the XWF for years! This is my second tour, and just counting it, I'm the most experienced full-timer this side of Robbie Bourbon!

As Gravy lays eyes on Pussyfoot Pete, who is frozen in time licking himself, his expression shifts from anger to something that isn't quite a fondness, but similar... I think...

Graves: Listen, Duke, Pete's got heart, he's got drive, he's a good boy, and even if I'm not, with me backing him up, he's got a hell of a shot at becoming the biggest name on that rinky dink Warfare 2024 roster... It sucks Duke. Your show sucks. Whimpy one-way promo's about last weeks news. God... Just pull the plug already! No amount of paint's gonna cover that sore spot.

BUT!! Pussyfoot here sure could! When you see him in action, Duke, you'll have no choice but to sign him. You'll see the fire, the passion, and the raw talent burning in his heart. He's like the Luke Skywalker of wrestling... Or were you a Star Trek guy? Well he's whoever the fuck is Neo/Jesus/Superman in that one too! His ring skills are poetry in motion. Just wait!

Suddenly, Graves grin turns threatening.

Graves: So, you best make a spot for my boy, because once Pete steps into that ring, he's gonna leave you no choice but to offer us the highest contract Jefferson Jackson will allow. Though I heard a rumor he's dead, and we did *go to the moon, so maybe the budgets WIIIDE open? should I ask for (Mr Evil pinky pose) ONE-BILLION-DOLLARS?

He leans back as the sounds of the bus come rushing back.

Graves: (muttering) See you soon, Duke.

With that, the camera pulls back from the fourth wall of Gravy's dream/mind's eye (or something) and closes on Gravy's sleeping face (Pete's still licking his hiney).

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