”L-man, when I said you need to be more… imposing… in the ring if you wanna turn your XWF career around?”

Gene Branagh, Sir Lionel’s agent, buries his face in his right hand. ”This is NOT what I meant! This is unnatural!”

”Silence, Eugene!” Sir Lionel wrings his hands fiendishly as he resumes typing on a keyboard… ”We live in an age undreamed of! Technolo-Gee has freed us from the chains of morality and ethics! And we WEAVE the tapestries of our fate, using our digital tools to SMITE OUR CREATORS and their DAMNABLE LIMITATIONS ON WHAT WE MAY ACHIEVE!”

“WE ARE OUR OWN GODS NOW!”/blue]

…

Sir Lionel carefully extends his finger forward…

And presses enter on his keyboard.

The computer, which is set to speaker mode, chimes.

You have entered into ChatGPT: ‘make a picture of me, Sir Lionel Pennyfarthing (ranked #604 on the ImdbMeter for famous Lionels) looking like very muscular please and thank you Mister GPT also I’ve heard I’m going bald in the back I don’t think it’s true but please add ten percent more hair thank you Mister GPT you’re my best friend’

…The library computer that Lionel is doing this on chugs and whirs like it runs on steam power…

Standby…

Gene rubs the bridge of his nose impatiently. ”Lionel… What do you think this is accomplishing?”

[blue]”You say I must be more imposing! ME, Eugene?!? Most Imposing Actor is the Upper Northernmost Quadrant of the Eastern Half of the West End NOMINEE in 1997?!?”

”You were only nominated?”

Lionel scoffs, smashing his fist against the desk… ”No, Eugene! If I cannot act my way into being an imposing threat in the ring, I shall use TECHNOLO-GEE!”

”...It’s pronounced tech-nawl-oh-gee.”

”I’m using the olde english pronunciation, you DULLARD!”

Ding! The steam-powered library computer is done!

”Aha! Witness me! Sir Lionel Pennyfarthing! IMPOSING UPON MY OPPONENTS!”



”...Why…” Branagh takes a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure… ”Why are you a sailor?”

”Sailors impose their will upon the seas themselves! Their will stronger than Poseidon’s mighty waves!”

”Shhhhhhhhh…” Gene looks over at the librarian, who is pointing to a sign…

Branagh cups his hands apologetically… ”I am so sorry, we’ll keep qui-” Gene looks down at the sign…

Please don’t scream Poseidon’s name lest you summon his watery wrath upon us all.

”...Weird library.” Branagh shakes his head, before turning back to Lionel, typing in more prompts to his best friend, ChatGPT… ”Look, Lionel. I just mean… you need to appear stronger!”

”...Stronger?”

”Exactly! Look at your two opponents this week! Latoya Hixx! And that guy calling himself ZA JUICA! Do you know what they have in common?”

”They both speak in the third person and have a tenuous grasp on the English language?”

”DELTOIDS. LATS. WASHBOARD ABS.”

”They look STRONG.”

”You look like you only dine at all-you-can-eat buffets. You look like the most physically strenuous thing you’ve done is pushing beyond the limits of all your body can eat.”

Sir Lionel scratches his tummy. ”...Somewhat hurtful… but not entirely inaccurate…”

”I’m just saying! The other XWFers pull some wild crap in the ring with you because you seem weak. Half of stagecraft is in the appearance, right? If you want them to treat you like a big deal? You’ve gotta look STRONG!”

…Lionel nods thoughtfully.

”Eugene! I’ve just had an idea! If I want my fellow performers in the XWF to think I’m a big deal? I must appear STRONG!”

”That’s what I jus-...” …Gene sighs. ”Wow, yeah, great idea, Lionel, you did it.”

”I must appear to be the strongest performer on all of Anarchy!”

”Yes, fantastic!” Branagh claps his hands. ”I’ll get you on a diet and signed to a gym and we’l-”

”And what’s greater in terms of strength than… EMOTIONAL STRENGTH!”

”...What?”

---

And now… a Showing of Emotional Strength by Sir Lionel Pennyfarthing

A curtain opens and Sir Lionel trots out in his leotard.

”My opponents, Levi Carwin and Layota Hixx? Claim to be STRONG!”

“But! Can they observe the scene from Old Yeller without crying?!? I challenge them to do so now!”

Lionel trots off-stage…

…

And returns in a dog costume!

”Woof! Woof!”

An eight-year-old boy and his mother enter stage right. The boy wields a rifle…

”You’ve gotta shoot him, son! Old Yeller’s got the rabies!”

”But, ma… I love Old Yeller.”

”And I love you, small boy!”

…The mom and son look at each other.

”I don’t think the dog talks in Old Yeller.”

”DON’T BREAK CHARACTER!” Lionel commands, as he rolls over on his back showing his belly. ”Please, small boy… Before I met my maker…” Lionel perfomatively coughs. ”One last belly rub?”

The boy nods… ”Anything for you, Yeller…”

The boy extends his hand, lowering his rifle as he goes to give Yeller scratchies…

…But as he reaches forward… Yeller retrieves a Colt 45, pointing it at the boy!

”Oh shit!” The mother pulls out a magnum!

The mother points her gun at Yeller! Yeller points at the boy! The boy at his mother!

”Why are you pointing at me?!?”

”Don’t make me shoot Yeller!”

”He’s pointing at you!”

”Don’t listen to your mother! Think of the good times we had, Laramie!”

”...My character’s name is Travis.”

”DON’T BREAK CHARACTER!”

POW! Mom shoots Yeller!

BANG! Boy shoots his own mother!

…Yeller falls to the ground as the boy runs to cradle him in his arms…

”Yeller! Speak to me! Noooooooo!” The boy wails helplessly as his dog expires in his arms…

…

……

Or does he?!?

Yeller coughs, clearing his throat. The boy is astonished!

”Yeller! You’re alive! But how?!?”

Yeller parts his fur… Revealing he’s wearing…

DOG BODY ARMOR!

”I guess they were wrong…”

Yeller looks into the camera.

”You CAN teach an Old Yeller new tricks!”

THE END

”And I’m sure my opponents openly wept watching that heart-rending scene! While look at me! I only cried four times in the middle of it!”

“Checkmate, Latoya-slash-Lewi!”