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Joined: July 7th, 2017, 2:07 pm

May 17th, 2018, 12:36 am #1

First seen online at 24/7 on 17th May, to be aired again on television programming at the Washington, DC show
The unmistakable rugged features of the controversial Kurt Kiddo flash up onto the screen, a mid-range shot in a slightly dimmed backroom somewhere with yellow-orange lamps providing the only illumination (barring, of course, the camera crew's own lights). Kurt is wearing a silver pair of reading glasses, almost giving him the appearance of a shopping mall Santa minus the all-red overalls. His speaking tone intentionally suppresses his usually gruff, gravelly voice into a quasi-British accent - possibly Attenborough inspired.

Kurt Kiddo: Ah! Many warm welcomes! It is I, folks - the one Kurt Kiddo, otherwise known as (finger quotes) "The Masshole" or "That Jerk Who Killed Joey!" I prefer to be known as the real heavyweight champion of the world, although I'm just waiting on the necessary government paperwork to change my name to such. I’m joined here today by some very friendly faces of PRW past - to my left, it’s my pleasure to reintroduce to you... he's a friend of mine... Terry Bukowski!

The camera zooms and pans out from Kurt, showing he truly is sat at a table with the long-seen Bukowski; mullet still grown to bumpkin perfection. He too dons a silver pair of spectacles matching those worn by the Masshole, and through the lenses he winks a beady eye towards the camera before pressing out a toothy grin.

Kurt Kiddo: Thank you for joining me, Terry; it's a great sight to see you step through those PRW doors again. You could feel all those baby legs in the back shaking at the sight of you, just like back in the old times again. Oh, and by the way... who is this on my right? Well, here’s a name I hope you all still remember. Please, everybody, put your hands together for the enigma himself, the Xclusiv One... Adam Xclusiv!

Now the crew tilts their camera towards the other side of the table, showing the decorated PRW icon in - you guessed it - silver reading glasses underneath his shaggy blond locks. He sticks up the sign of the horns before adjusting the spectacle frame on his face.

Kurt Kiddo: You know, Adam, I didn't have much hope when I first reached out to you to do this. I thought you'd truly left the wrestling world behind - so it's a pleasure to have you here. I think you and I are two real men alike. I see what you stand for. We got a lot in common, I'm sure. Now I digress, let's take this back to the matter at hand... which is, folks, how I know you must be wondering... why? Why are we sat at this table today? Have we come for a romantic candlelit dinner? How about a game of cards? No, no... that’s not until later on. No, we’ve come together for your viewing pleasure, to provide for you all at home a beautiful dramatic reading of one of my favourite tragic pieces - written by my favourite storyteller, Joey NOX.

Kurt and the two men beside him all raise a sheet of paper each to the camera, with Joey NOX’s open letter penned on one side, and a photo of NOX in hospital on the other side facing the camera. They tap the papers onto the tabletop, before Kurt begins to read aloud the letter; with feigned dramatic and emotional intensity.

Kurt Kiddo: "Dearest PRW fans, media, fellow wrestlers and production people alike... we've poisoned the word broken, haven't we?"

Adam Xclusiv: Oh, Joey, we certainly have!

Terry Bukowski: Completely poisoned.

Adam Xclusiv: Let's write it out of the dictionary.

Kurt Kiddo: Now, now, guys! May I continue? Ahem! "It's a meme now. A joke. A stupid gimmick because we performers, athletes, fans and wrestling meth addicts can't help ourselves. We enjoy ruining what's fun." Well, this sounds to me like the confessions of a crackhead, no?

Adam Xclusiv: Oh, nothing could ever ruin the fun of stomping you out, Joey.

Kurt Kiddo: Put some respect on the name of the mighty Joey NOX!

Kurt waggles the hospital photo at the camera and smirks, before continuing his 'impassioned' rendition of the stricken legend's heartfelt letter.

Kurt Kiddo: "It's what we do; we're the worst of the worst sometimes. I'd know because I'm no better. After all, what was once fun was being able to say that I could hang with the best of the best on a day to day basis."

Terry Bukowski: Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Kurt Kiddo: "I've ruined that. I truly have ruined what it is that made Joey NOX a unique and enjoyable wrestler. I broke myself somehow and let's let that sink in." Actually, no. You know what? Let this sink in.

Kurt begins to revert back to his usual self, removing the eyeglasses from his face and dropping them onto the table in front of him.

Kurt Kiddo: This? Whatever this is, is a pathetic pile of trash. "I managed to break my own legacy." No, Joey. I broke your legacy, and I broke you too. You talk about this being a "different" kind of pain? Oh, how my heart bleeds for you. Oh, oh, guys... I think I might cry!

Kurt stifles a evidently faked cry, and brings a lone finger to his eyelid. Terry Bukowski duly passes him a handkerchief to wipe his crocodile tears with.

Kurt Kiddo: No, no, no... let's stop the charade now shall we, guys? Here, pass me your papers.

Bukowski and Xclusiv pass their copies of the letter over to Kurt, who lines them up together. He raises them angrily towards the camera with a tightly clenched fist, pointing at it as he begins to rant.

Kurt Kiddo: I think I speak for everybody when I say... what the hell is this supposed to be? I mean, really... never have my eyes been exposed to a more pathetic excuse of writing, and I used to have the screenplay for The Room plastered on my bedroom wall! Nah, that’s a real masterpiece compared to this. But, then again, Joey NOX isn’t supposed to be an author. I forgot that English isn’t supposed to come easy to those New Yorker baboon types; actually, I was first impressed by the level of vocabulary used in this letter, until I realized everything was just plucked straight out of the thesaurus. But if we strip all that fancy purple prose away, underneath we can see what Joey NOX really is.

Terry Bukowski now moves to pass Kurt Kiddo a lighter, and the Masshole begins to burn the letters in front of the camera. The papers catch alight and the flame slowly starts to consume it; sparks flickering off the pages as the hospital photo of Joey starts to melt away into the smoke.

Kurt Kiddo: You see, sure, he’s not supposed to be an author - but he is supposed to be a bastion of pro wrestling. But, do you know what this letter screams to me? It screams fear. It is the writings of a scared man. A man who is scared of pain, of defeat, of becoming another sad wrestling story of a great who outstayed his welcome. Maybe he’s always been scared, maybe not. But whatever the case, he’s scared now, and this might just be curtains for the great Joey NOX. And what’s everybody’s lasting memory of this guy?

Terry Bukowski: Broken and beaten.

Adam Xclusiv: Limping out of the Superbattle, at Kurt's mercy... as a loser.

Kurt claps his hands together three times and waggles his finger approvingly in the air before speaking again.

Kurt Kiddo: Bingo. A loser. And that’s how everybody is going to remember you, Joey. But that’s okay! We can’t all be winners. Unless you’re me, of course.

Terry Bukowski: Or me.

Adam Xclusiv: Or me.

Kurt Kiddo: Fact is, Joey... time’s up for you, man. And it makes me happy to say that I retired the famous Joey NOX. Gentlemen, I hope you two will be there to join me in New Jersey for the funeral?

Adam Xclusiv: I have my speech prepared already.

Kurt Kiddo:Good! Save the date, folks. 27th May. I hope to see you all there. Now here’s the question guys, who’s ready to get whipped in a few rounds of poker?
le close.