1/3/07 SWF Storm Pree Show~!

[The Amazing Rando 0]

“It’s a new day…it’s a new year…and it’s a new beginning in the SWF! Stay tuned, folks, my name is Davey Post, but this isn’t the Post Show….it’s…”

 

 

 

“THE SWF STORM PREE SHOW featuring your host, Stevie Pree!!” The announcer trails off as a few select cameras zoom in on a small stage in the bowels of the HSBC Arena. It’s a few hours before the first Storm of 2007 is set to kick off, but in front of a select few of the SWF’s biggest fans, a man with jet black hair and sharply dressed in a pristine white suit steps onto the stage and into view.

 

“Hey Hey Hey!” he roars, “Welcome to the Pree Show!” a few fans smatter applause, not really sure what to make of this special ‘fans only’ event they have been herded into. Behind Pree sits two chairs and a cheap wooden desk, all three looking as though they set the company back about fifteen dollars. In front of Pree and in very plain view to everyone is what would appear to be an SWF.com intern, judging by the back of their shirt, holding cue cards for the host. The casual observer would note his obvious scanning of the cards. “Let’s get things underway…Davey?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Pree?” the disembodied voice booms.

 

“Where would you like to start?”

 

“Crimson Yuletide!!” he exclaims, causing Pree to momentarily recoil from the apparent force of the yell.

 

“Easy there, killer. Eaaaasy!” He reads, while somewhere, a laugh track plays. “That’s what we’ll do! Almost two weeks ago, there was a little show called Crimson Yuletide! Do you people think it was a HUGE success?” Again, another smattering of applause followed by a small “Maddix was robbed!” being yelled out from the back row.

 

“It was a great show, Mr. Pree! Fantastic!”

 

“Yes, yes. But it wasn’t much for these fans to be happy about, from what I could see from my special VIP box seats. Smile cockily.” The intern almost throws the cards down in shock, and Pree recovers by smiling cockily, “Moving on, first we had the man that is all things to all people, the one and only Tom Fisher, I mean Flesher I think, come back from a “hardly neutral”, whatever that means, three to nine deficit to secure defeat against Victor Herzog. When reached for comment, Victor was heard to say that he was as happy about the match as he was saddened by it, and I mean, really what more can you expect?” Another laugh track plays. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

 

“And don’t forget Jimmy The Doom! He’s Benevolently Bishopric, don’t you think, Mr. Pree?!”

 

“What got into your coffee tonight, Davey, SUGAR? Eh…EH?” Pree throws his shoulders up in mock confusion. Louder laugh track. “Yes, anyways, in what could only be described as ‘exactly what everyone expected’, Jimmy the Doom kept his Hardcore Championship and Wildchild earned his shot to face off against our special guest tonight!!”

 

“Did you say SPECIAL GUEST?”

 

“Yes, Davey. I did! But first, how about that Cold Front Classic! It was a chilling decision in the Nor’east that night! Let me tell you something!”

 

“Tell me what, S.P.?”

 

“Shut it, DAVEY!”

 

“Yes, sir!” and Davey goes silent.

 

“Thank all that is holy!” You might call that an improvisation. “Anyways, it was Landon Maddix, who is known as the what?” The intern whispers. “The Cockroach?! What kind of name is that? Kids today. But well, The Cockroach or whatever took an early advantage, using his wits to score a pinfall in the early-goings of the match!” Pree points over his shoulder to an exceptionally tiny TV screen, which no doubt is replaying Landon’s quick flash pin to take the first fall. “But it was Triple J that would come back with vengeance, acting as dangerously german as he could without resorting to any overt man-loving to tie the score!” And again, no doubt the screen behind Stevie is replaying the second fall of the contest, sadly minus any anal penetration, but there are reasons Bobby Riley isn’t in the booth anymore. “But Johnson was not done, and following an unheard of FORTY elbows to the face, Landon was still breathing, still conscious…but a defeated man!” The sounds of JJ’s elbows crushing into Landon’s jaw can be heard, followed by the sounds of the bell and the announcement of the victor, causing actual boos from the crowd in front of the stage.

 

“He was SCREWED!” the same fan from before shouts out once again, more than likely missing the obvious joke that happens to pass in his outburst. Stevie doesn’t seem to get it either, but damn it, he has cue cards to read and bad improvisation to do.

 

“I’m sure he was, I saw the way Morgan was looking at him on the outside of the ring after the fight! Ba-dum-TISH!” he makes his own rimshot, waving his hands frantically with his sound effects, causing an applause from somewhere in space as more of the grow of fans groans at his total lack of respect or knowledge of the veteran valet Megan Skye.. “That’s what I’m talking about! Yeah!”

 

“You suck!”

 

“And then there was the main eveeeent!” Stevie seems to ignore the heckler as he steamrolls through “Going into that night, I don’t think anyone counted either man out. But did anyone here tonight expect to see the amazing finish to the match that we saw?” A sound effect shouting “NO!” drowns out the bored crowd, “Gabriel Drake stuns the world, but mostly Michael Stephens, by showing him the Mark of the Beast off the SECOND ROPE!” Again, the television at the back of the stage comes to life, but all the people watching can make out is the sound of the two bodies striking the canvas, following by Mathew Kivell’s count and the announcement of the crowing of the new champion.

 

“2007 really is shaping up to be the Year of the Beast, but tonight you know that we are going to hear from both Landon Maddix and Michael Stephens on their losses at Crimson Yuletide, but right now all you lucky, lucky people get the chance to see, up close, a man who also won a championship at Crimson Yuletide. From all the way back behind those two buses over there…it’s the Happiest Guy On Earth, Alan Clark!!” Alan steps from behind said buses, his two championship belts draped over his shoulders. His appearance prompts boos from those in the vicinity, but the smile on the Disney sponsored wrestler’s face is not diminished. He steps on the stage with a spring in his step and a zip in his doo-dah-day, taking a seat next to the desk as Stevie himself takes his own chair behind it.

 

“Welcome, welcome. So how are you?”

 

“I think I am doing prett—“

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

 

“SHUT UP!” A solitary fan in the front row jumps up, turning his attention toward the jeering onlookers before turning back to the stage. “Sorry.”

 

“Well, it seems you have a fan here tonight, Mr. Clark”

 

“It seems I do, what’s your name, kid?” Alan beckons to the young man in the front row, who stands up looking as though he is about to faint. A member of security steps in and grabs him by the arm, moving him up on to the stage at the direction of Alan, putting him in the seat next to the double champ. “You alright.”

 

“RICKY! RICKY BARBOSA!” the kid suddenly shouts, then realizing how close he is to Alan he throws his body backwards in shock, falling out of his chair and onto his back on the stage.

 

“Woah, get up, kid” Pree buts in, pointing for security to again help the man up. After a few tense moments and deep breathing from Ricky in his chair, he seems to be ready to look over at Alan, who is just as confused as everyone else watching.

 

“I’m, I’m, I’m…I’m very sorry. I’m your biggest fan.”

 

“My biggest fan, huh? Is that so?”

 

“Oh yes, I have some serious Wayward Pride.” Barbosa smiles, hitting his fist to his chest and ripping away part of his button-up shirt to reveal an old “Wayward Sons” shirt beneath it. “It’s always been my dream to be a pro wrestler someday. All thanks to you.”

 

“Well, this is the year of a million dreams, I’m sure some day you’ll realize your dream.” Alan tries to turn his attention back to Stevie to talk about his match and motion for security to remove the bothersome fan, but Ricky pipes up, saying one word that catches Alan’s attention.

 

“Tonight.”

 

“What?”

 

“I have a match tonight. On Storm. I have been hounding Joseph Peters assistants and secretaries for weeks, trying to get a meeting with him and tell him how much I want to be a superstar in the SWF. So he gave me a contract…” Ricky pulls a sheet of paper from his pocket and hands it to Alan, whose eyes quickly dart over it.

 

“Can you live off that paycheck?”

 

“I don’t care. I’ll sleep on the street. I’ll do whatever it takes, I’m just so happy to finally meet you again.”

 

“Again?”

 

“I met you at an autographing signing a few years ago, right before From The Fire.” Alan nods, and again tries to change the subject. “I can’t believe you actually have been teaming with Landon Maddix. What is wrong with you, Alan? You aren’t the Wayward Son I used to look up to.”

 

“So, about that match…” Alan seems to be sweating in his chair, “Who you facing?”

 

“A friend of yours. Ced Ordonez.”

 

“And how much training do you have?” Alan tries to continue the small talk as Ricky pulls another sheet of paper from his pocket, the contract for his match.

 

“About eighteen months. I started training a few weeks after I met you. You’re my idol, Mr. Clark.” Alan looks toward Pree as Ricky stares toward Clark the way young girls used to look at the Beatles. “Get me out of here” he mutters, prompting Stevie to stand up and come back around the desk.

 

“You heard it hear first, kids. Tonight, Ced Ordonez takes on Ricky Ponderosa…”

 

“BAR-BO-SA”

 

“Yes, Barbozo, in just a few hours on SWF Storm. It’s the first show of 2007, and after what I’ve seen just in the last few minutes, who knows what surprises are in store later on this evening!” He does his best to wrap things up as Alan can be seen trying to ignore the stares from his apparent biggest fan and is probably secretly wishing Walter Reynolds wasn’t off on the phone somewhere. “From all of us here at the Pree Show, I’m Stevie Pree…”

 

“…and I’m still not allowed to talk…”

 

“…he’s Davey Post, and we’ll see you next week! PEACE!”

[Toxxic 0]

Damnit Rando, don't make me get some gay groupies to out-do you.

 

Incidentally, I'm seriously hoping that Barbosa (inbetween captaining the Black Pearl) will be wearing Mickey Mouse ears down to the ring and will gradually wear more and more Disney stuff as he starts winning with Clark as his mentor teasing a face turn, only for Clark to go full heel on him claiming gimmick infringement.

[Ace309 0]

This was a pretty solid introduction for a new character. I was really pleased with the segue from this to the show itself.

[Lightning Flik 0]

Thankfully, I'm grateful to Clark for doing this for me. Great way to introduce my character, and frankly he gave me an idea that I'm happy to run with.

[JJ Johnson 0]

Flik should like Barbosa like Ricky Marvin.

[Toxxic 0]

I think you mean 'write' Barbosa. And yes, I agree.

[The Amazing Rando 0]

I need ideas for next week's Pree Show, so if anybody has any angles they want to run they can PM me, or any type of off kilter interviews that need played out, i'm the guy. Otherwise I'm going to have to start brainstorming filler.

[Toxxic 0]

Landon and Stephens take on Clark and Barbosa at basketball.

[The Amazing Rando 0]

No show this week (as you've noticed) ...but there will be one next week. A very SPECIAL one. (rubs hands together evilly)