Post by Marcus Welsh on Jan 7, 2020 20:51:24 GMT -5
Hi friends, how have you been? It’s been a while has it not, why last time we communicated I believe our pals Cecilworth M! J Farthington and DURANGO were having many forms of misadventures in the wonderful city of Beijing. I bet you even learned what a hutong was and as we all know, learning is FUNdamental. Just like terrorists?
That doesn’t seem right.
Sadly OCW had to shut down after Cecilworth’s Beijing adventure because very large spherical adult male wrestling segment reviewer Bulk Lungford called it very boring and world’s below The Big Bifford story where he was fat and also fat and then he cooked someone in a pie. A company just can’t escape the gravitational pull of the criticism from the Big Bulk and next thing you know, OCW gets sucked into the black hole that is his cold, dark and dead soul.
I mean that’s the only reason for OCW’s death that makes sense to me and so that is now the canon answer (which is very different from the Curt Cannon answer, where you retire but then spend the next eight years making sure everyone knows you are retired by announcing it very loudly to anyone involved)
But that was then, that was the past, the boring, dull past where horrible things happened, like the continued existence of something called a “Lilith” and we would all rather forget those days, would we not? Of course we would.
Much like a zombie from the hit movie “Love, Actually” OCW has risen from the dead once more to stalk your wife and commit infidelity using a series of title cards. It has returned for one final match, one purpose, one goal, one life, one love… to find its true face. Many people have been secretly invited to participate in the ten man contest and are delighted to have one last chance of redemption and prove that they still very much have faces. There’s one person who isn’t very keen on this contest though and he has come up with a plan to ensure that his own legacy is thoroughly shielded in the battle arts that are due to happen with nine other foes.
See, our hero, CM!JF himself had reached something of an agreement with his Best Friend Forever, Michael Lee Best. Both were going to be entering the match and in their own minds, had something major at stake. For Mike, the chance to reach an all time career goal of being in two Halls of Fame while for Cecilworth, he wished to remind everyone in the world that he was and forever will be the Permanent Paradigm.
Sure, their goals may have been at cross purposes because only ultimate victory in the OCW MYSTERY TEN would provide them the platform they needed but that didn’t mean they couldn’t help each other along the way. So that brings us to our current location...
The Cecilworth M! J Farthington Disco and Grappling Shindig at Sea
Cecilworth M! J Farthington and his close personal pal and definitely not Mike Best’s White Slave, Durango stand in the middle of the reception area of a large Norwegian Cruise Liner that Cecilworth has rented out for the next few days. The central atrium is surrounded by pictures of Cecilworth in his polyester finest white suit with slogans like “WHO’S READY TO JIVE?” underneath. The lobby musical is just the Beegee’s “Stayin’ Alive” on a twenty four hour loop.
Cecilworth is performing his final inspection before he lets the poors and riffraff on board. He checks that the poster that has his rear end on maximum display with the slogan “BOOGIE YOUR BOOTY” is nice and straight because that is very important.
Durango: WHY MONEYWORTH DOING THIS AGAIN?
Farthington: It’s simple my dearest Durango, I wish to protect the most important legacy in the history of the Championships of the Online, that I, Cecilworth M! Jamelia Farthington, the Gentleman’s Gentleman and all around best boy in town am are currently and will forever be the Permanent Paradigm. A very fat man cracked my skull open for a chance at yanking that title away from me and he was a shitty little failure. Although he did force my father’s murderer to be exiled to the only place worse than prison… Alabama. So at least he was good for that.
A small tear rolls down the eye of the current Farthy All Belts as he gently strokes the giant portrait of his father that hangs from the centre of the aft of the ship. Just as the nostalgia for not having a shitty, dead father starts to sink in, he is interrupted by a man in a captain’s hat. Or some form of hat. What’s the difference between a captain’s hat and a general shiphuman hat? Cecilworth didn’t have the time to learn such things.
Captain(?): Excuse me, Mr. Farthington, the crew were wondering what we were supposed to do with the 2000 framed portraits of a tweet from some guy called Mike Zybala?
Cecilworth’s head snaps away from the tragic past that he has yet to confront and towards the large pile of framed Zybala tweets that are stacked up against the wall. Cecilworth picks one up to examine it. It contains the following quote:
“Due to Cecilworth M! Farthington’s unprecedented Paradigm title reign, I hear by dub him O.C.W Paradigm Champion for Life.”
The HOW ICONIC World Champion (who also has half the Tag Titles) nods in satisfaction at the art that has been created.
Farthington: I would like one of these put up in every single cabin please. The people must know the truth, the very important and central truth of life… I am the Permanent Paradigm!
Captain(?): And a tweet helps you do this?
Farthington: Twitter made a man President, you don’t think it can establish my status as the greatest man who ever lived? That’s foolish and you are a fool! All these stinky plebs must know that Mike Zybala has declared me god king of the Paradigm the VERY SECOND they enter their smelly little cabins and I won’t be taking any more of your hussy sass mouth about this matter. Just get it done and make it work.
In the middle of the framed tweet chitterchatter, the conversation gets interrupted by the Cruise Director, Barney Boats (or at least that is what Cecilworth assumed his name to be, he hadn’t actually ever paid attention during any of the cruise prepatory meetings) with a clipboard and a large stack of papers to his name.
Boats: Cecilworth, C-Money, I have to ask about some of the cabin arrangements you’ve set up here. Do you really a cabin for EACH of your championship titles? I mean… most normal people would just keep all of their possessions in their own cabin.
Cecilworth snorts derisively at the very idea that has titles should all be kept together in a singular room, his eyes narrow as he examines Barney Boats in the piercing way you would as a school teacher implying a child had said something completely idiotic but you were too polite and professional to call it out so you just told the story with your eyes… that look.
Farthington: Oh so you want all my beauties to cat fight with each other over my time and attention? Sure Barney, and why don’t we set up an ADULTRY ZONE by the pool bar while we’re at it? HUH? HUH?
Boats: But… you did ask for an adultry zone...
Cecilworth waves his hand in a very dismissive manner.
Farthington: Hush young Master Boats, I am not interested in matters of things I did or did not say or do, I wish for you to show my lovely ladies a great time on this here boatship of yours and that begins by them each have a luxurious suite each.
Cecilworth claps his hands together in a very important and managerial manner.
Farthington: Now I think you two boys have a shit ton of portraits to go hanging on this ship before the guests get here in two others. So, you should probably get to that.
Cecilworth’s hand gesture switches to a “shoo-shoo”, you know what I mean, that thing posh British people do when they want a poor to now leave their sites lest they get infected with all manner of terrible disease. Cecilworth turns back to his long, bulking OCW compatriot and sighs a weary sigh.
Farthington: You really can’t get the help these days, I’ll tell you that for nothing.
Durango: IF MONEYWORTH BELTS USE ALL FANCY ROOM WHERE DO WELSHMAN, SCOTTMAN, MUSCLEMETHMAN AND BEARMAN STAY?
Farthington: That sounds like a Mike problem to me. I mean god knows if they’ll even make the cruise, last thing I heard, he had a bear piloting the helicopter. A BEAR. That’s just absurd...
Cecilworth’s last words linger in the air as we see a small selection of cruise staff taking their HOW ICON, OCW Paradigm, HOW World and HOW Tag Team Championships towards their own separate rooms, each resting up a beautiful velvet pillow. He is definitely going to fuck those belts.
---
It is the evening now and the over two thousand disco bunnies and grappling fans have fully boarded the mighty cruise. It is now time for the host with the most to make his delicious and delightful opening address. We find ourselves on the top deck in the pool zone, a small stage has been erected in front of the pool which has been covered to allow for maximum crowding. The pool deck is stacked with people in their finest disco flare, including many who are wearing actual flares. The balcony of the deck above is likewise jacked to the gills with joyous revellers ready to have themselves a real good time.
The pulsing disco lights swing wildly around the stage as Walter Murphy’s “A Fifth of Beethoven” pounds out of the sound system with its delightful mix of classical musical and disco funk. As the dramatic opening chords of Beethoven fade away to a jive, the All Belt Boy finally makes his arrival on the stage. The bright and colourful lights stop their dance in the night sky and focus onto the stage as the man holding so many belts he has to legally declare them at customs roller skates his way onto the stage. The gathered masses squeal with delight as Cecilworth demonstrates the funk in his junk. Although after that goes on for a solid minute, the delight turns to discomfort. Always an expert at reading a room, Cecilworth continues to spin around and shake his ass about for another solid two minutes before making his way towards the microphone.
Farthington: Hello human-like creatures who could afford to be on this here ship boat. It is I, the man undefeated in any gentlemanly exchanges and all around wonderful human, Cecilworth M! J Farthington and I welcome you to this Boogie Wonderland!
A small “fart” of pyro sets off behind Cecilworth, which I believe is the technical term used by stage directors throughout many lands.
Farthington: This cruise is not just a celebration of me and everything I have accomplished this year nor is it just about reviving the sweet science of the disco arts. No, it’s also about Mike Best’s secret plan to get into the OCW Hall of Fame!
The crowd does not react at all to this applause line. Someone in the background yells “PLEASE CLAP!” which results in about five people giving a polite golf clap. Cecilworth looks down at his note cards with mild confusion.
Farthington: I mean… this is about you! Yes you! The loyal Farthington followers! This is all for you.
The confusion turns once more to rawkus cheers because if you drop like three grand on a Farthington cruise, you’re going to at least have a passing interest in the man.
Farthington: And I want to kick off this cruise by announcing a special little saucy secret… OCW IS COMING BACK BABY. AWOOOOOOOOOO!
Cecilworth things disco fans make wolf noises, it’s something he has come to believe and no one has bothered to correct him at any point.
Farthington: Yes, the land where this special boy first re-made his name in the grappling industry is putting together one last shindig daddy-o.
Cecilworth Farthington had put in a lot of hard work studying his “English to Disco” dictionary earlier in the week.
Farthington: Without current starvation victim Marcus Welsh’s eye for beautiful and perfect talent, without Max Kael, Mario Maurako and Mike Best deciding that I should stab a vampire with a stake for fun and profit, who knows where I would be now. Would I be running a cruise and having all the belts? Well… probably, I am very talented but let’s pretend that’s not true for the sake of nostalgia okay? OKAY!
Farthington skate-daddles over to four podiums that are sitting stage right and all covered in drapes. He lifts each podium’s drape one by one to reveal the very reason he is the current self-proclaimed Farthy All Belts.
Farthington: OCW breathed new life into my career. Just when I was wallowing in self pity because I had lost in the AITCH OH DUBYA World Title Tournament against known dragon chaser John Sektor I was snapped out of the pity party lickety split by the chance to fight for the OCW World Championship at Block Party. Now sure… I didn’t leave with DA DUB, as the kids say, in fact Paul Paras, Matt Meyhu and THE LANG STONE all decided to hit me with their perfect and beautiful finishing moves but the eMpire… the eMpire left with the victory and doesn’t that matter more? Yes it does, I am not waiting for your silly plebeian responses.
Despite being very much indicated that they should not respond, many of the crowd still yell “YEAH! WHOO” at the top of their lungs. I’m guessing that’s the sort of person who would spring for the top tier all you can drink alcohol package. Only a drunken wrecks would do such a thing.
Farthington: Those lessons from that match caused everything that you see before. Twenty nineteen went from abject failure to unmitigated success lickety split and I plan to cap this year off with one more major win. Ten men will enter a ring and do… something. Are we eliminating each other? Is it a Battle Royal? Are there pins? Can I submit people and break their arms with my beautiful Article 50? Can I repeatedly slam a man’s head into a toilet in what many lawyers would declare as “technically not a murder”? WHO KNOWS! I just know that me and Mike are in the match and then there are eight other people and everyone is vying to be DA FACE OF OH SEE DOUBLEYOUUUU.
There’s an air of excited murmuring and cheering from the crowd but this is quickly hushed down by the slicked hair cruise host, who doesn’t seem to share in the interest of the crowd for the future OCW event.
Farthington: That’s where I have the mildest of slight problems, my discotheque brethren. As you will have all seen from your complimentary framed Michael Q. Zybala tweet that is my gift to you as loyal followers, I am ALREADY the face of OCW. I have been appointed as a lifetime champion. LIFETIME. Not “some amount of time until someone opens their cheque book and has another bash at this thing”... LIFETIME. What if I don’t win the match? Is someone going to claim they have taken my well earned prestige? That’s disgusting! That’s mine and mine alone!
As Cecilworth bangs his fist off the podium while some of the onlookers become distracted by a large object that is lighting up the night sky. There’s a faint whirring noise that can be heard as Cecilworth continues his address.
Farthington: Still, I must put my personal distaste to one side because I must end this year with one more glorious victory. One more feather for what is becoming a very sizable cap.
Cecilworth pulls out from underneath one of the podiums what I could only describe as a “pimp hat”, I wish I had other words for it but I do not. He begins to jam it full of feathers because he is not a fan of metaphor that do not become very literal.
Farthington: Now eMpire fans, I’m sure you are concerned, I mean, with me and Michael in the match you could see the BIG BOYS EXPLODE! THE DOWNFALL OF THE EMPRIE! Let me assure you that although we are fighting for our own needs, our own legacies, mine as Permanent Paradigm, his in the Hall of Fame, we know what needs to be done to get there. Let’s just say, those of you who manage to swing some tickets to the TEN MAN MYSTERY BOX, if it gets down to me and Mike, you will be in for a very special and unique tasty treat. Not a moment before that though, we are a unit after all.
The sound of music begins to swell that signals for Cecilworth to wrap up his address.
Farthington: Now, let us get this party started good and proper. Here to perform the hit “Money, Money, Money”, the greatest Abba tribute band in the world… ABBA! Which is Abba backwards.
Cecilworth finishes his opening address with much aplomb but this moment is interrupted by the incredibly loud whoosing and whirring of a whirly bird that has started to hover directly above the cruise ship.
Farthington: Is… is that a bear… driving a helicopter?
We fade out on the helicopter piloted by Great Bear, containing former OCW Superstar and recovering parapalegic Great Scott and a gaunt and rugged third man landing atop the cruise’s helipad.
That doesn’t seem right.
Sadly OCW had to shut down after Cecilworth’s Beijing adventure because very large spherical adult male wrestling segment reviewer Bulk Lungford called it very boring and world’s below The Big Bifford story where he was fat and also fat and then he cooked someone in a pie. A company just can’t escape the gravitational pull of the criticism from the Big Bulk and next thing you know, OCW gets sucked into the black hole that is his cold, dark and dead soul.
I mean that’s the only reason for OCW’s death that makes sense to me and so that is now the canon answer (which is very different from the Curt Cannon answer, where you retire but then spend the next eight years making sure everyone knows you are retired by announcing it very loudly to anyone involved)
But that was then, that was the past, the boring, dull past where horrible things happened, like the continued existence of something called a “Lilith” and we would all rather forget those days, would we not? Of course we would.
Much like a zombie from the hit movie “Love, Actually” OCW has risen from the dead once more to stalk your wife and commit infidelity using a series of title cards. It has returned for one final match, one purpose, one goal, one life, one love… to find its true face. Many people have been secretly invited to participate in the ten man contest and are delighted to have one last chance of redemption and prove that they still very much have faces. There’s one person who isn’t very keen on this contest though and he has come up with a plan to ensure that his own legacy is thoroughly shielded in the battle arts that are due to happen with nine other foes.
See, our hero, CM!JF himself had reached something of an agreement with his Best Friend Forever, Michael Lee Best. Both were going to be entering the match and in their own minds, had something major at stake. For Mike, the chance to reach an all time career goal of being in two Halls of Fame while for Cecilworth, he wished to remind everyone in the world that he was and forever will be the Permanent Paradigm.
Sure, their goals may have been at cross purposes because only ultimate victory in the OCW MYSTERY TEN would provide them the platform they needed but that didn’t mean they couldn’t help each other along the way. So that brings us to our current location...
The Cecilworth M! J Farthington Disco and Grappling Shindig at Sea
Cecilworth M! J Farthington and his close personal pal and definitely not Mike Best’s White Slave, Durango stand in the middle of the reception area of a large Norwegian Cruise Liner that Cecilworth has rented out for the next few days. The central atrium is surrounded by pictures of Cecilworth in his polyester finest white suit with slogans like “WHO’S READY TO JIVE?” underneath. The lobby musical is just the Beegee’s “Stayin’ Alive” on a twenty four hour loop.
Cecilworth is performing his final inspection before he lets the poors and riffraff on board. He checks that the poster that has his rear end on maximum display with the slogan “BOOGIE YOUR BOOTY” is nice and straight because that is very important.
Durango: WHY MONEYWORTH DOING THIS AGAIN?
Farthington: It’s simple my dearest Durango, I wish to protect the most important legacy in the history of the Championships of the Online, that I, Cecilworth M! Jamelia Farthington, the Gentleman’s Gentleman and all around best boy in town am are currently and will forever be the Permanent Paradigm. A very fat man cracked my skull open for a chance at yanking that title away from me and he was a shitty little failure. Although he did force my father’s murderer to be exiled to the only place worse than prison… Alabama. So at least he was good for that.
A small tear rolls down the eye of the current Farthy All Belts as he gently strokes the giant portrait of his father that hangs from the centre of the aft of the ship. Just as the nostalgia for not having a shitty, dead father starts to sink in, he is interrupted by a man in a captain’s hat. Or some form of hat. What’s the difference between a captain’s hat and a general shiphuman hat? Cecilworth didn’t have the time to learn such things.
Captain(?): Excuse me, Mr. Farthington, the crew were wondering what we were supposed to do with the 2000 framed portraits of a tweet from some guy called Mike Zybala?
Cecilworth’s head snaps away from the tragic past that he has yet to confront and towards the large pile of framed Zybala tweets that are stacked up against the wall. Cecilworth picks one up to examine it. It contains the following quote:
“Due to Cecilworth M! Farthington’s unprecedented Paradigm title reign, I hear by dub him O.C.W Paradigm Champion for Life.”
The HOW ICONIC World Champion (who also has half the Tag Titles) nods in satisfaction at the art that has been created.
Farthington: I would like one of these put up in every single cabin please. The people must know the truth, the very important and central truth of life… I am the Permanent Paradigm!
Captain(?): And a tweet helps you do this?
Farthington: Twitter made a man President, you don’t think it can establish my status as the greatest man who ever lived? That’s foolish and you are a fool! All these stinky plebs must know that Mike Zybala has declared me god king of the Paradigm the VERY SECOND they enter their smelly little cabins and I won’t be taking any more of your hussy sass mouth about this matter. Just get it done and make it work.
In the middle of the framed tweet chitterchatter, the conversation gets interrupted by the Cruise Director, Barney Boats (or at least that is what Cecilworth assumed his name to be, he hadn’t actually ever paid attention during any of the cruise prepatory meetings) with a clipboard and a large stack of papers to his name.
Boats: Cecilworth, C-Money, I have to ask about some of the cabin arrangements you’ve set up here. Do you really a cabin for EACH of your championship titles? I mean… most normal people would just keep all of their possessions in their own cabin.
Cecilworth snorts derisively at the very idea that has titles should all be kept together in a singular room, his eyes narrow as he examines Barney Boats in the piercing way you would as a school teacher implying a child had said something completely idiotic but you were too polite and professional to call it out so you just told the story with your eyes… that look.
Farthington: Oh so you want all my beauties to cat fight with each other over my time and attention? Sure Barney, and why don’t we set up an ADULTRY ZONE by the pool bar while we’re at it? HUH? HUH?
Boats: But… you did ask for an adultry zone...
Cecilworth waves his hand in a very dismissive manner.
Farthington: Hush young Master Boats, I am not interested in matters of things I did or did not say or do, I wish for you to show my lovely ladies a great time on this here boatship of yours and that begins by them each have a luxurious suite each.
Cecilworth claps his hands together in a very important and managerial manner.
Farthington: Now I think you two boys have a shit ton of portraits to go hanging on this ship before the guests get here in two others. So, you should probably get to that.
Cecilworth’s hand gesture switches to a “shoo-shoo”, you know what I mean, that thing posh British people do when they want a poor to now leave their sites lest they get infected with all manner of terrible disease. Cecilworth turns back to his long, bulking OCW compatriot and sighs a weary sigh.
Farthington: You really can’t get the help these days, I’ll tell you that for nothing.
Durango: IF MONEYWORTH BELTS USE ALL FANCY ROOM WHERE DO WELSHMAN, SCOTTMAN, MUSCLEMETHMAN AND BEARMAN STAY?
Farthington: That sounds like a Mike problem to me. I mean god knows if they’ll even make the cruise, last thing I heard, he had a bear piloting the helicopter. A BEAR. That’s just absurd...
Cecilworth’s last words linger in the air as we see a small selection of cruise staff taking their HOW ICON, OCW Paradigm, HOW World and HOW Tag Team Championships towards their own separate rooms, each resting up a beautiful velvet pillow. He is definitely going to fuck those belts.
---
It is the evening now and the over two thousand disco bunnies and grappling fans have fully boarded the mighty cruise. It is now time for the host with the most to make his delicious and delightful opening address. We find ourselves on the top deck in the pool zone, a small stage has been erected in front of the pool which has been covered to allow for maximum crowding. The pool deck is stacked with people in their finest disco flare, including many who are wearing actual flares. The balcony of the deck above is likewise jacked to the gills with joyous revellers ready to have themselves a real good time.
The pulsing disco lights swing wildly around the stage as Walter Murphy’s “A Fifth of Beethoven” pounds out of the sound system with its delightful mix of classical musical and disco funk. As the dramatic opening chords of Beethoven fade away to a jive, the All Belt Boy finally makes his arrival on the stage. The bright and colourful lights stop their dance in the night sky and focus onto the stage as the man holding so many belts he has to legally declare them at customs roller skates his way onto the stage. The gathered masses squeal with delight as Cecilworth demonstrates the funk in his junk. Although after that goes on for a solid minute, the delight turns to discomfort. Always an expert at reading a room, Cecilworth continues to spin around and shake his ass about for another solid two minutes before making his way towards the microphone.
Farthington: Hello human-like creatures who could afford to be on this here ship boat. It is I, the man undefeated in any gentlemanly exchanges and all around wonderful human, Cecilworth M! J Farthington and I welcome you to this Boogie Wonderland!
A small “fart” of pyro sets off behind Cecilworth, which I believe is the technical term used by stage directors throughout many lands.
Farthington: This cruise is not just a celebration of me and everything I have accomplished this year nor is it just about reviving the sweet science of the disco arts. No, it’s also about Mike Best’s secret plan to get into the OCW Hall of Fame!
The crowd does not react at all to this applause line. Someone in the background yells “PLEASE CLAP!” which results in about five people giving a polite golf clap. Cecilworth looks down at his note cards with mild confusion.
Farthington: I mean… this is about you! Yes you! The loyal Farthington followers! This is all for you.
The confusion turns once more to rawkus cheers because if you drop like three grand on a Farthington cruise, you’re going to at least have a passing interest in the man.
Farthington: And I want to kick off this cruise by announcing a special little saucy secret… OCW IS COMING BACK BABY. AWOOOOOOOOOO!
Cecilworth things disco fans make wolf noises, it’s something he has come to believe and no one has bothered to correct him at any point.
Farthington: Yes, the land where this special boy first re-made his name in the grappling industry is putting together one last shindig daddy-o.
Cecilworth Farthington had put in a lot of hard work studying his “English to Disco” dictionary earlier in the week.
Farthington: Without current starvation victim Marcus Welsh’s eye for beautiful and perfect talent, without Max Kael, Mario Maurako and Mike Best deciding that I should stab a vampire with a stake for fun and profit, who knows where I would be now. Would I be running a cruise and having all the belts? Well… probably, I am very talented but let’s pretend that’s not true for the sake of nostalgia okay? OKAY!
Farthington skate-daddles over to four podiums that are sitting stage right and all covered in drapes. He lifts each podium’s drape one by one to reveal the very reason he is the current self-proclaimed Farthy All Belts.
Farthington: OCW breathed new life into my career. Just when I was wallowing in self pity because I had lost in the AITCH OH DUBYA World Title Tournament against known dragon chaser John Sektor I was snapped out of the pity party lickety split by the chance to fight for the OCW World Championship at Block Party. Now sure… I didn’t leave with DA DUB, as the kids say, in fact Paul Paras, Matt Meyhu and THE LANG STONE all decided to hit me with their perfect and beautiful finishing moves but the eMpire… the eMpire left with the victory and doesn’t that matter more? Yes it does, I am not waiting for your silly plebeian responses.
Despite being very much indicated that they should not respond, many of the crowd still yell “YEAH! WHOO” at the top of their lungs. I’m guessing that’s the sort of person who would spring for the top tier all you can drink alcohol package. Only a drunken wrecks would do such a thing.
Farthington: Those lessons from that match caused everything that you see before. Twenty nineteen went from abject failure to unmitigated success lickety split and I plan to cap this year off with one more major win. Ten men will enter a ring and do… something. Are we eliminating each other? Is it a Battle Royal? Are there pins? Can I submit people and break their arms with my beautiful Article 50? Can I repeatedly slam a man’s head into a toilet in what many lawyers would declare as “technically not a murder”? WHO KNOWS! I just know that me and Mike are in the match and then there are eight other people and everyone is vying to be DA FACE OF OH SEE DOUBLEYOUUUU.
There’s an air of excited murmuring and cheering from the crowd but this is quickly hushed down by the slicked hair cruise host, who doesn’t seem to share in the interest of the crowd for the future OCW event.
Farthington: That’s where I have the mildest of slight problems, my discotheque brethren. As you will have all seen from your complimentary framed Michael Q. Zybala tweet that is my gift to you as loyal followers, I am ALREADY the face of OCW. I have been appointed as a lifetime champion. LIFETIME. Not “some amount of time until someone opens their cheque book and has another bash at this thing”... LIFETIME. What if I don’t win the match? Is someone going to claim they have taken my well earned prestige? That’s disgusting! That’s mine and mine alone!
As Cecilworth bangs his fist off the podium while some of the onlookers become distracted by a large object that is lighting up the night sky. There’s a faint whirring noise that can be heard as Cecilworth continues his address.
Farthington: Still, I must put my personal distaste to one side because I must end this year with one more glorious victory. One more feather for what is becoming a very sizable cap.
Cecilworth pulls out from underneath one of the podiums what I could only describe as a “pimp hat”, I wish I had other words for it but I do not. He begins to jam it full of feathers because he is not a fan of metaphor that do not become very literal.
Farthington: Now eMpire fans, I’m sure you are concerned, I mean, with me and Michael in the match you could see the BIG BOYS EXPLODE! THE DOWNFALL OF THE EMPRIE! Let me assure you that although we are fighting for our own needs, our own legacies, mine as Permanent Paradigm, his in the Hall of Fame, we know what needs to be done to get there. Let’s just say, those of you who manage to swing some tickets to the TEN MAN MYSTERY BOX, if it gets down to me and Mike, you will be in for a very special and unique tasty treat. Not a moment before that though, we are a unit after all.
The sound of music begins to swell that signals for Cecilworth to wrap up his address.
Farthington: Now, let us get this party started good and proper. Here to perform the hit “Money, Money, Money”, the greatest Abba tribute band in the world… ABBA! Which is Abba backwards.
Cecilworth finishes his opening address with much aplomb but this moment is interrupted by the incredibly loud whoosing and whirring of a whirly bird that has started to hover directly above the cruise ship.
Farthington: Is… is that a bear… driving a helicopter?
We fade out on the helicopter piloted by Great Bear, containing former OCW Superstar and recovering parapalegic Great Scott and a gaunt and rugged third man landing atop the cruise’s helipad.