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Johnny Legend · (10-20-2020)

part two

You lost.

Again.

And again.

AND AGAIN!

THIS CAN'T BE POSSIBLE!

MY TAG PARTNER WAS THUNDER KNUCKLES!

...

The scene opens up to Johnny Legend sitting on his stupid, fat fucking ass. And guess what!? HE'S BACK IN THAT RECLINER! AGAIN! HOW FUCKING ORIGINAL! At least he cleaned up the garbage on the floor, and everything is actually pretty clean as the sunlight shines through the windows and upon a room stuck in the eighties. White carpet, a rattan table that could use some repairs around the edges, add in some healthy plants around the room. Pretty remarkable turn around from weeks ago for Johnny Legend. He even got the puke stains out of the carpet next to his recliner that kinda sticks out in this room, but the old man likes it, so it stays.

Anyways, Johnny sits at the edge of his recliner. The reflection of the television screen can be seen in the pair of glasses Johnny Legend is wearing, with a constant replay of Thunder Knuckles getting rolled up by Charlie Nickles for another loss.

Johnny slams his fists, "That fucker got pinned."

LIKE SOME LITTLE BITCH!

FUCK!

Johnny relaxes a bit, sitting back in his seat, "I mean.. I did slap him... STILL! He's THE Television champion! A simple slap from some blockhead like myself!? That shouldn't put the champion away like that. I don't care what happened before all that.. A SLAP!"

"I guess it wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't followed up by Charlie Nickles rolling Thunder up for the win. Soooo... Charlie Nickles just defeated Thunder Knuckles." He smiles reminding himself of how pathetic Thunder Knuckles is at anything, including robbing banks. He sucks at everything and would be a terrible friend to anyone out there.

MY WORLD IS CRUMBLING!

The light outside slowly begins to darken.

"I'm sitting here, listening to Bonnie Tyler remind me how fucking old I am. Did I already hit my prime long ago? Did I even have a prime?" Johnny sighs and lowers his head.

"Maybe I should just quit and go back to repairing fridges.."

"Get a real cat that doesn't appear when I forget my medicine.."

"Eat less Ramen?" He shrugs.

Johnny sighs once again, "I don't know."

"I say this shit, but I keep returning.. Keep fucking myself!" Johnny starts smacking himself.

I DON'T HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY!!!

"That's the problem!" Johnny raises his arms with this new found knowledge that is... suppose to help... with something?

"I return with all hype and these badass graphics! Then I realize... I have nothing to say. "

"What? You really wanna hear someone sit on their ass all day, drinking, smoking, having a good time? That's fucking boring! All these blockheads here have lives that make me jealous. I'm stuck inside most the days that I can remember, watching the same shit I watched when I was a teenager. The only thing that's new are these moles on my back.. AND THEY FUCKING ITCH!" Having trouble reaching his back, Johnny grabs his reaching stick.. Which is just a branch he found outside, and starts itching vigorously.

While still itching, "Maybe.." He stops, "Maybe I should throw this match!?"

He tosses the stick aside.

"I mean.. Think about it, Lucky."

...

"LUCKY! COME OUT!" Johnny yells, as darkness dominates outside with a storm coming in. A flash of light reveals what should've been obvious.. Johnny is STILL not well. Garbage still litters the floor and the puke stain returns as Johnny sits with his broken glasses, watching a blank television screen with his jaw hanging and drool dripping down his chin.

"Blargh a barg!" Johnny spits out.

Lucky pops out from behind the recliner and slaps Johnny across the face. "Wake up, buddy!" The slap quickly brings back the light as Johnny finds himself back in his clean apartment.

"Oh, there you are!" Johnny smiles and hugs Lucky.

"What do you need?" Lucky asks, while taking out a cigarette and lighting up for that cool, rich flavor picked by Chilean farmers and their blistering overworked thumbs.

Johnny grabs hold of Lucky by the shoulders and starts shaking him, "I NEED HELP WITH MY MATCH!"

"Ok. Ok. OK! Quit it." Lucky pats away Johnny's hands. Lucky rubs his chin and paces back and forth, thinking of what can help against Thunder Knuckles.

"Have you tried being nice to him?" Lucky asks.

Johnny's eyes dart side to side, "Well.. Kinda. I mean. I did slap him.. But it was just a slap!"

"Alright.. That's out of the picture. Have you tried getting your hair like his?"

Johnny nods and raises a picture of himself to show Lucky.. "Oh..."

"Yeah.. Not good."

"Well... I'm all out of ideas." Lucky stops for a moment, "Unless..."

Johnny grabs Lucky again, "WHAT IS IT!? I'LL DO ANYTHING!"

Lucky smiles, "Well... You could THROW the match."

Johnny snarls, "Throw? Wouldn't I lose if I did that?"

"Not if you did it MY way."

"I'm not following." Johnny sits on tilt, crossing his arms, not believing the bullshit this talking cat is selling.

"Think of it. Will Thunder Knuckles even see it coming? You. Johnny Legend. Letting him THINK he is gonna win.. AND BAM! You let him have it!"

Johnny smiles, finally getting what Lucky is saying, "OH! So I play possum?"

"Possum? No... NO! You pretend to let him win by LETTING HIM WIN!"

...

"Wait... What?"

"This way, if you lose... It's because you LET him beat you. And thus, YOU WIN!"

"I... I don't think this is how it works? You sure you're an expert in wrestling?" Johnny asks, as he tries to get his head around what Lucky was trying to explain.

Lucky rolls his eyes and drags in a chalkboard, "Here.."

After a few seconds, Lucky presents this to Johnny..

"Like this."

"OHHHH!"

"You don't get it, do you?"

"Nope."

Lucky sighs once more.

"Can I go to the bathroom?"

Lucky nods, and Johnny gets up, holding his butt and rushes to the bathroom.

"I wonder if B.O.B will take him?" Lucky ponders as the scene fades to black.

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