”WREST-ling!?!”

”L, would you keep your voice down?”

”It’s out-RAG-e-ous, Eugene!” delivers Sir Lionel Pennyfarthing, his mouth half-ful of salted breadstick, ”You will find me another opportunity worthy of my re-SUME! I am a classically-trained actor! I’ve received a bloody knighthood! OBE!”


”What was that, Bron-*cough*...?” Pennyfarthing tries to turn on Bronagh accusatorily… Unfortunately, the free Olive Garden breadstick he was stuffing down his gullet ruined his dramatic delivery.

…Though, it did nothing to prevent his left hand from sliding the remaining pair of breadsticks into his jacket’s coat pocket…

”I was SAYING.” Gene Bronogh, Lionel’s agent, pinched the bridge of his nose. ”That there is not ‘another opportunity’, Lionel! There’s NO opportunities! No plays, no movies, no guest appearances on television! I couldn’t get you on a PODCAST right now!”

…Bronagh picks up his water and sips it dejectedly. ”And believe me, i TRIED.”

”...*phew* Impossible!” Lionel barks, having opened his gullet like a pelican to finish swallowing the breadstick… Immediately after which, their server brings out two plates of fettucini alfredo…

Immediately, Pennyfarthing is loosening his belt… And dumping the pasta down his trousers for later.

”Lionel, for GOD’S sakes, if you want it to-go, they’ll box it for you!”

”Oho! I’d bet they’d like that, wouldn’t they!” Lionel turns to the OG server, filling their water glasses. ”Disappear with my food behind yon door to take your fill! A slurp of mine sauce! A snip of mine angel hair! Purloiner! Thief!”

”ShhhhhhhHHHHH.” Eugene hushes desperately… before snatching his glass from the server. ”Thank you! That’ll be all, PLEASE!”

…The server quickly revokes his pitcher… Before raising a small tower from his tray. ”Fresh pepper?”

…Lionel loosens his belt once more.

…The server twists the shaker several times over his pants. ”Say when.”

…

……

………

”LIONEL.”

”When!” The server stops twisting, before extending the shaker over Gene’s dish.

”Nooooo. No-no.” Gene cradles his water. ”I’ve lost my appetite.”

”Aha! Waste not, want not…” Lionel extends his belt an extra loop and reaches across the tab-

WHAP! Gene’s hand smacks the top of Lionel’s!

”Lionel! You put out the only production in the history of theatre to have NEGATIVE BOX OFFICE RETURNS!”

Lionel sucks on the back of his hand… at first to soothe the sting, then realizing it tastes of alfredo sauce… ”...But, *sluuuuurp* how?”

”Well, the one guy that attended your show asked if the usher had could break a twenty, then found a smaller bill… That ol’ con. Point being, your play cost $2 million, and made NEGATIVE TEN DOLLARS.”

…

”*sigh*Look, it’s not ALL bad, L, okay? You’re not performing in high-school gyms! This is the XWF! The largest wrestling entertainment empire on the GLOBE!”

…Lionel’s eyebrow raises, intrigued.

”You’ll be performing in ARENAS!”

”…Ahhhhh. The truest theatre! In the round!” Lionel rubs his hands together! ”In a way, this will be returning to my roots! Stage combat! Tumbling! Dramatis personae! The people’s theatre!”

”...Sure. One thing I should tell you, though, L. The fighting is RE-”

”Ah! I shall research my co-stars! And prepare a scene! A monologue! To make clear to my new patrons my undeniable ACTING TALENT!”

”Wait, Lionel! It’s an actual fig-”

Lionel dashes away… Pasta running down his pants, leaving a trail of tortellini in his wake.

…Gene buries his head in his hand.

As the server drops off the check.

---

Presenting… A Performance of ‘Trash-Talk’ from Lionel Pennyfarthing OBE!

A light shines onto center stage…

As Sir Lionel Pennyfarthing tumbles onto the stage, dressed in Elizabethan garb.

He reveals from his jacket…

A marble statue of a foot!

“Cad! Rogue!! THUG!!! These terms describe Thomas Wish!
But ‘competent wrestler’? Nay, posh-and-pish.
Hounding women, sans charm or persuasion
Attempts rhymes, but is far too Caucasian
Talks trash, forswears his opponent’s defeat
Then, in-ring, is distracted by bare feet
Wrestling success? Requires composure!
Wish cannot withstand one toe’s exposure
Tommy’s clean now? He claimed, with clarity?
Last MONTH! Live-streamed Blade/Mar porn parody!
Promos familiar! Like reruns of Cheers!
How many house parties? THUGs sipping beers?
Wish’s material? Tired and bland.
His arsenal? Child’s play to countermand
Your best chance? A genie’s lamp, found by thee
And Wish, in yon ring, that you’ll ne’er meet me!”

Lionel drops the foot to the stage!

It shatters to pieces!

He tumbles across stage, before leaping to his feet!

”Speaking of wishing, what of Mister Oz?
Wishing we believe in him… With what cause?
Oz grifts young pupils, demanding their faith!
Has Oz *earned* that full trust! Not earned one-eighth!
Hypocrite! Charlatan! I thus charge thee!
“Champ”? Your last title reign lasted weeks! THREE!
Better than he? Now? Oz claims there are none!
Yet his last Anarchy reign? ‘21!
Ev’ry week, we watch Oz mold his students!
Teaches patience? Yet acts with impudence!
Oz ambushes foes, striking from behind!
Challenges just the meek! ‘Coward’ defined!
Oz? A Monster… Whilst match interfering!
Yet his strength shrinks upon the bell’s cheering!
Oz reigns supreme! …Outside competition
But on even ground? SAWFT! Like a kitten!
Next match? He’ll lose once more. Oz, believe ME!
Lionel Pennyfarthing! O! B! E!”

…Suddenly, Lionel zips offstage.

…

He comes back… dressed as a giant floppy disk!

”Cyph3r! Be he man or be he machine?
Why doth his name bear ‘3’ rather than ‘e’?
Tyler claims he’s “Superior Design”
Would a ‘superior’ win two-of-nine?
An abysmal record! Constantly pinned!
Did fine at War Games? Til’ he got Syn’d!
His mind’s a wonder? Designed by Heaven?
His bod? Runs like Windows ‘97!
Trash talk? Lukewarm! No crowd could he rile up!
Comebacks? Slow as a modem on dial-up!
Norrie came here, with S.E.B. locked in his sights
Now, he’s dropped to Thursdays for his next fight?
His processes stuck! Just one last defeat!
I’ll kill this daemon! Control! Alt! DELETE!”

Lionel turns to the camera and bows!

“Sincerely,
Sir Lionel Pennyfarthing O.B.E.”