Post by kilroy on Jun 16, 2023 3:06:33 GMT
All Hell Acame.
Everything was heat and refracted waves and char.
And fire of course.
Despite what the fans wanted.
Despite what the fates demanded.
Despite what the others in the back craved.
Life is cruel, KILROY is even crueler.
But as one may have reasonably expected by this point, KILROY was unsatisfied. He left Waco a smoking, battered, shuffling mass of misery. He returned to his life in Hollywood, only to find his cave had been vandalized. Well, it was completely flattened while he was away. How this didn’t happen before was a mystery to anyone but KILROY himself. It would turn out that cutting promos from where you live and then posting them for the world to see wasn’t the best idea. He pantomimed draping his coat on a coat rack, the coat dropping to the fresh dirt ground. He kicked off his shoes as far as he inhumanly could, and laid back, hands behind his head.
“I, don’t, understaaaand this.” KILROY forced out with a tone so perplexing you’d think it was a wrestling move. “I got what I wanted, didn’t I?”
Perplexing, perplex, per-plex, plex, suplex, GET IT?!?!?!?!
He furrowed his brow, “Di-Didn’t I?!”
He rested a finger on his lips, as he pondered his future.
Then he spat out to the side several times.
“Dirt on my finger.”
Later, in front of Casanova English’s office, KILROY pounded on the door. In his left hand was an oversized piece of paper, and despite its crumpled nature, the words “REZIGNASHUN” could be seen.
“Casanovaaaaa!!” KILROY shouted like he was in A Streetcar Named Demented, “CASANOVAAAAAAAAAAA-AH!!!”
“He’s not there, you know.” a voice came from behind. The average person would have been startled to screaming, but KILROY was already screaming, not to mention there was no way for him to differentiate a real voice from one he only knew was real.
Still, he turned around only to come across Voodoo, who stood there with not a whit of concern, evident in her posture and crossed arms. KILROY examined this new person, cocking his head this way and that as he tried to put his finger on who this was.
“I’m Voodoo.” she said.
KILROY didn’t understand.
“I’m a-” Voodoo chose to use her words to her advantage, “Friend of Casanova’s.”
KILROY’s attention was piqued, “Casanova English?!”
“How many Casanovas do you know?” Voodoo asked sarcastically.
“Well that’s haaaaardly your business!” KILROY exclaimed.
Voodoo turns to the camera, “What am I supposed to do with this?”
When an answer of course doesn’t come, she regains her composure and clears her throat. “Anyway, seeing as Casanova isn’t-”
“Casanova English!” KILROY needlessly corrected.
Voodoo forced a smile, “Seeing as Casanova English isn’t here, why don’t you take a load off and let me interview you?”
“For a job?” KILROY asked.
KILROY was definitely going to get a doll in his image after this.
“Nooo, for Bodies in the Bayou.” she replied.
“How do you know about the bodies in the bayou-” but before a question mark could even manifest itself, Voodoo screamed, “THE CU:LT WRESTLING SHOW YOU’RE ON!!!”
Voodoo hated herself for losing control. KILROY seemed to have that effect on people; whether it was intentional or not has yet to be seen.
KILROY pointed at her, “Youuuu need to take it down a notch.”
He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers, “I know a place.”
Much later, KILROY and Voodoo were sitting at a table at none other than The Dying Squirrel. Why she would go anywhere with a madman, especially across state lines, is anybody’s guess. Perhaps she felt she was in control, perhaps she figured her relationship with the CU:LT owner would curry favour with an otherwise unreasonable creature. Either way, here they were.
Before them were several shots of varying hues and fragrances. Voodoo figured she ought to preload and took three green shots in a row, wincing only after the third was completed. “So, besides the obvious answer, why did we come here instead of somewhere closer by?”
And in a completely out of character voice, KILROY replied with, “Oh, it’s to set up something for later.”
“Ah.” was all Voodoo said back. Best to leave cryptic things cryptic in this case.
The very irritated bartender storms up to their table, slams down a pitcher of beer in front of KILROY, and storms back off.
“Heeeey, watch out, you’re liable to buh-REAK that glass!” KILROY exclaimed to the bartender who began to do the math in his head as to when he’d get out of prison for murder.
Confused at the host’s behaviour, Voodoo dared to ask, “What’s his problem?”
KILROY merely shrugged before pounding down half the pitcher’s contents, which was mostly foam and some spit.
Voodoo exhaled sharply, “All right, so, why don’t we get started?”
KILROY looked confused, “Who are you again?”
Voodoo retained her outward demeanour. “...Voodoo?”
KILROY then looked around at his surroundings, even more confused than before, “And why am I heeeeere of all places? This place is a dump, a shit-hole, run by assholes and frequented by the absolute scum of the Earth.”
“Because… it’s owned by Casanova English?” Voodoo replied, both to jog his memory and also to remind him of whose property he was speaking so poorly of.
KILROY smiled, possibly, it’s hard to tell if it’s a sneer or if he’s about to defecate his cool wrestling pants. “CASANOVA ENGLISH!! My dear friend. You know, I have a match at the end of this month in his COLT promotion.”
“CU:LT.” Voodoo corrected.
“I’ve been saaaaying COLT this whole tIIIIme!!” KILROY exclaimed. (citation needed, but I’ll do it myself later on and get back to you)
Voodoo also looked around, only she was doing it to make sure there weren’t any hidden cameras. After all, surely she had to be being punk’d, right? After not noticing anything out of the ordinary, she figured she may as well push through this. “Let’s get back to Bodies in the Bayou."
KILROY was about to say something, likely stupid, but Voodoo cut him off at the pass, “The CU:LT show at the end of the month you’ll be part of, yes. And in only your third match in-”
“My third match EVER!” KILROY proudly boasted as he pounded down the remainder of his bacteria-infested swill.
“Your third match ev-” Voodoo began to ask, but then changed her mind. “And in only your third match ever, you’ve been given the opportunity to earn a shot at the New World Championship.”
“What does that do?” KILROY asked.
“What does it do?” Voodoo asked back. “It’s the biggest prize in CU:LT!”
KILROY looked confused.
“It means you’re at the top of the heap!” Voodoo gave up afterwards and just continued, “But it’s a moot point if you can’t coexist with your teammates-”
“There’s no I in TEAM, Voodoo.” KILROY needlessly retorted, “And I… am KILROY.”
“Can I see that?” Voodoo asked, pointing at the lunatic’s now-empty pitcher. He shrugged and handed it over without question.
“So you’ll be teaming up with the winner of April’s Heaven Sent Battle Royal, Matt ‘The Raven’ Knox, and former New World Champion Lissie Hope!” and while she mentioned all that, she was busy and in plain sight of a madman, swabbing the pitcher to get some of his genetic material and make the ultimate voodoo doll with it. She was determined to take her unique skills to her limit for this frustrating endeavour.
“Okay?” KILROY asked, not quite sure what she was going on about and also distracted by his looking out for the bartender for another pitcher.
“And, uh, your opponents will be-”
“JUNKO SOUMA?!” KILROY asked with tremendous intent.
Voodoo shook her head, “No, she’s out of action for a while, thanks to you.”
KILROY sucked his teeth and sighed. Then he began sighing more and more, essentially doing so with enough frequency that it just seemed like he was breathing heavily. His eyes narrowed as they got glassier, his lower lip trembled, then inhaled quite deeply, ended it by abruptly calming down and said, “That’s a shame.”
“If I may.” Voodoo requested once he was done acting out. “Your actual opponents will be Grace Leary, JJ Slayer & JD Driftwood.”
KILROY slapped a hand down hard on the table, and pointing a finger on his other hand at Voodoo, excitedly exclaimed, “JJ Slayer!! I’ve been hired to kill him!”
“Well, you may get your chance.” Voodoo said. “But there’s two other dangerous obstacles your team’s gonna have to deal with.”
“IIIIII don’t care.”
Voodoo raised an eyebrow, “I’m sorry?”
“Apology accepted!” KILROY retorted, “I just mean that, I was given a free briefcase with some papers inside - I think to keep it solid and in shape, which I certainly appreciate. And alllllllll I haveta dooooo, see, Voodoo, is take JJ Slayer, take his body, destabilize it, break it apart, bit by bit, and send some pieces as proof to Lady Luck. I’m thinking of giving her his face; she can’t dispute who it is if I send her his face, right?”
Voodoo inhaled, “That’s… definitely a great identifier!”
She then pounded back the remaining shots, and when she spotted the bartender coming back to their table, she shooed him away. When KILROY looked at her confusingly, she pantomimed like she was actually swatting a fly away. She smiled.
“Anyway, so Grace Leary and JD Driftwood I don’t think will wanna get in the way of all that anyway.” KILROY ended with a nod, confident in that’s all it would take to get the job done.
But now, Voodoo was fed up, wanted this to be over with, and was quite buzzed. So now it was time for some mischief. “Oh, I mean, if you’re willing to work with somebody who personally eliminated Junko Souma, then you could accomplish most anyth-”
“JUNKO SOUMA?!” KILROY bellowed, “WHO!! You tell me who rrrrrrrrright! Nnnnnnnnow! that put their hands on Junko Souma!”
Confused, since he was there for it, Voodoo nevertheless replied, “Well, Matt Knox did, of course.”
KILROY’s eyes widened, “But. That’s. The. Name. Of. My. PARTNER. Now thaaaat can’t be! Would my close friend Casanova English team me up with someone who’d try to deny me my destiny?”
Voodoo nodded. And smirked.
KILROY’s eyes, wide as saucers, were now complemented with rows of bared teeth. He pounded his fist into his other hand. “He’s a DEAD man!!!”
“And let’s not forget Lissie.” Voodoo added. “You see, Lissie-”
Now with Lissie, she had quite the challenge before her. What could she say that would get a rise out of the Neanderthal? She’s a former champion getting another shot at the belt? No, the ape wouldn't care about any of that. What about the fact so much was all about her for so long in CU:LT? Oh yeah, this brain-damaged lout watched past shows, right? But then it finally came to her. The answer was so obvious that she had little choice but to attribute her faulty memory to the multicoloured libations.
She leaned forward, and with a dead-serious look on her face, said, “Lissie called Junko a bitch.”
Voodoo slowly sat back upright, shrugging as the camera panned back to show KILROY, eyes as wide as dinner plates and a mouth opened so widely you’d swear he unhinged his jaw. No words came out, not right away, anyway. In fact, he was eerily transfixed in this position for far too long.
Finally, “A… bitch?”
Voodoo replied, “A bitch.”
“This Lissie Hope… called Junko Souma…”
Voodoo replied, “A bitch.”
“A bitch?!”
Voodoo replied, “A bitch!”
“SHE… called HER… a B-I-T-C-H?!”
Voodoo held up her hands, “Her words, not mine!”
“A bitch…” KILROY whispered. “But nooooooobody calls Junko Souma a bi-itch!!”
He gave Voodoo a look as if asking, “Can you believe that?”
“THAT'S MY JOB!!!” he exclaimed before storming off.
Voodoo was quite pleased with herself.
“Some more shots, please!” she called out.
Everything was heat and refracted waves and char.
And fire of course.
Despite what the fans wanted.
Despite what the fates demanded.
Despite what the others in the back craved.
Life is cruel, KILROY is even crueler.
But as one may have reasonably expected by this point, KILROY was unsatisfied. He left Waco a smoking, battered, shuffling mass of misery. He returned to his life in Hollywood, only to find his cave had been vandalized. Well, it was completely flattened while he was away. How this didn’t happen before was a mystery to anyone but KILROY himself. It would turn out that cutting promos from where you live and then posting them for the world to see wasn’t the best idea. He pantomimed draping his coat on a coat rack, the coat dropping to the fresh dirt ground. He kicked off his shoes as far as he inhumanly could, and laid back, hands behind his head.
“I, don’t, understaaaand this.” KILROY forced out with a tone so perplexing you’d think it was a wrestling move. “I got what I wanted, didn’t I?”
Perplexing, perplex, per-plex, plex, suplex, GET IT?!?!?!?!
He furrowed his brow, “Di-Didn’t I?!”
He rested a finger on his lips, as he pondered his future.
Then he spat out to the side several times.
“Dirt on my finger.”
Later, in front of Casanova English’s office, KILROY pounded on the door. In his left hand was an oversized piece of paper, and despite its crumpled nature, the words “REZIGNASHUN” could be seen.
“Casanovaaaaa!!” KILROY shouted like he was in A Streetcar Named Demented, “CASANOVAAAAAAAAAAA-AH!!!”
“He’s not there, you know.” a voice came from behind. The average person would have been startled to screaming, but KILROY was already screaming, not to mention there was no way for him to differentiate a real voice from one he only knew was real.
Still, he turned around only to come across Voodoo, who stood there with not a whit of concern, evident in her posture and crossed arms. KILROY examined this new person, cocking his head this way and that as he tried to put his finger on who this was.
“I’m Voodoo.” she said.
KILROY didn’t understand.
“I’m a-” Voodoo chose to use her words to her advantage, “Friend of Casanova’s.”
KILROY’s attention was piqued, “Casanova English?!”
“How many Casanovas do you know?” Voodoo asked sarcastically.
“Well that’s haaaaardly your business!” KILROY exclaimed.
Voodoo turns to the camera, “What am I supposed to do with this?”
When an answer of course doesn’t come, she regains her composure and clears her throat. “Anyway, seeing as Casanova isn’t-”
“Casanova English!” KILROY needlessly corrected.
Voodoo forced a smile, “Seeing as Casanova English isn’t here, why don’t you take a load off and let me interview you?”
“For a job?” KILROY asked.
KILROY was definitely going to get a doll in his image after this.
“Nooo, for Bodies in the Bayou.” she replied.
“How do you know about the bodies in the bayou-” but before a question mark could even manifest itself, Voodoo screamed, “THE CU:LT WRESTLING SHOW YOU’RE ON!!!”
Voodoo hated herself for losing control. KILROY seemed to have that effect on people; whether it was intentional or not has yet to be seen.
KILROY pointed at her, “Youuuu need to take it down a notch.”
He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers, “I know a place.”
Much later, KILROY and Voodoo were sitting at a table at none other than The Dying Squirrel. Why she would go anywhere with a madman, especially across state lines, is anybody’s guess. Perhaps she felt she was in control, perhaps she figured her relationship with the CU:LT owner would curry favour with an otherwise unreasonable creature. Either way, here they were.
Before them were several shots of varying hues and fragrances. Voodoo figured she ought to preload and took three green shots in a row, wincing only after the third was completed. “So, besides the obvious answer, why did we come here instead of somewhere closer by?”
And in a completely out of character voice, KILROY replied with, “Oh, it’s to set up something for later.”
“Ah.” was all Voodoo said back. Best to leave cryptic things cryptic in this case.
The very irritated bartender storms up to their table, slams down a pitcher of beer in front of KILROY, and storms back off.
“Heeeey, watch out, you’re liable to buh-REAK that glass!” KILROY exclaimed to the bartender who began to do the math in his head as to when he’d get out of prison for murder.
Confused at the host’s behaviour, Voodoo dared to ask, “What’s his problem?”
KILROY merely shrugged before pounding down half the pitcher’s contents, which was mostly foam and some spit.
Voodoo exhaled sharply, “All right, so, why don’t we get started?”
KILROY looked confused, “Who are you again?”
Voodoo retained her outward demeanour. “...Voodoo?”
KILROY then looked around at his surroundings, even more confused than before, “And why am I heeeeere of all places? This place is a dump, a shit-hole, run by assholes and frequented by the absolute scum of the Earth.”
“Because… it’s owned by Casanova English?” Voodoo replied, both to jog his memory and also to remind him of whose property he was speaking so poorly of.
KILROY smiled, possibly, it’s hard to tell if it’s a sneer or if he’s about to defecate his cool wrestling pants. “CASANOVA ENGLISH!! My dear friend. You know, I have a match at the end of this month in his COLT promotion.”
“CU:LT.” Voodoo corrected.
“I’ve been saaaaying COLT this whole tIIIIme!!” KILROY exclaimed. (citation needed, but I’ll do it myself later on and get back to you)
Voodoo also looked around, only she was doing it to make sure there weren’t any hidden cameras. After all, surely she had to be being punk’d, right? After not noticing anything out of the ordinary, she figured she may as well push through this. “Let’s get back to Bodies in the Bayou."
KILROY was about to say something, likely stupid, but Voodoo cut him off at the pass, “The CU:LT show at the end of the month you’ll be part of, yes. And in only your third match in-”
“My third match EVER!” KILROY proudly boasted as he pounded down the remainder of his bacteria-infested swill.
“Your third match ev-” Voodoo began to ask, but then changed her mind. “And in only your third match ever, you’ve been given the opportunity to earn a shot at the New World Championship.”
“What does that do?” KILROY asked.
“What does it do?” Voodoo asked back. “It’s the biggest prize in CU:LT!”
KILROY looked confused.
“It means you’re at the top of the heap!” Voodoo gave up afterwards and just continued, “But it’s a moot point if you can’t coexist with your teammates-”
“There’s no I in TEAM, Voodoo.” KILROY needlessly retorted, “And I… am KILROY.”
“Can I see that?” Voodoo asked, pointing at the lunatic’s now-empty pitcher. He shrugged and handed it over without question.
“So you’ll be teaming up with the winner of April’s Heaven Sent Battle Royal, Matt ‘The Raven’ Knox, and former New World Champion Lissie Hope!” and while she mentioned all that, she was busy and in plain sight of a madman, swabbing the pitcher to get some of his genetic material and make the ultimate voodoo doll with it. She was determined to take her unique skills to her limit for this frustrating endeavour.
“Okay?” KILROY asked, not quite sure what she was going on about and also distracted by his looking out for the bartender for another pitcher.
“And, uh, your opponents will be-”
“JUNKO SOUMA?!” KILROY asked with tremendous intent.
Voodoo shook her head, “No, she’s out of action for a while, thanks to you.”
KILROY sucked his teeth and sighed. Then he began sighing more and more, essentially doing so with enough frequency that it just seemed like he was breathing heavily. His eyes narrowed as they got glassier, his lower lip trembled, then inhaled quite deeply, ended it by abruptly calming down and said, “That’s a shame.”
“If I may.” Voodoo requested once he was done acting out. “Your actual opponents will be Grace Leary, JJ Slayer & JD Driftwood.”
KILROY slapped a hand down hard on the table, and pointing a finger on his other hand at Voodoo, excitedly exclaimed, “JJ Slayer!! I’ve been hired to kill him!”
“Well, you may get your chance.” Voodoo said. “But there’s two other dangerous obstacles your team’s gonna have to deal with.”
“IIIIII don’t care.”
Voodoo raised an eyebrow, “I’m sorry?”
“Apology accepted!” KILROY retorted, “I just mean that, I was given a free briefcase with some papers inside - I think to keep it solid and in shape, which I certainly appreciate. And alllllllll I haveta dooooo, see, Voodoo, is take JJ Slayer, take his body, destabilize it, break it apart, bit by bit, and send some pieces as proof to Lady Luck. I’m thinking of giving her his face; she can’t dispute who it is if I send her his face, right?”
Voodoo inhaled, “That’s… definitely a great identifier!”
She then pounded back the remaining shots, and when she spotted the bartender coming back to their table, she shooed him away. When KILROY looked at her confusingly, she pantomimed like she was actually swatting a fly away. She smiled.
“Anyway, so Grace Leary and JD Driftwood I don’t think will wanna get in the way of all that anyway.” KILROY ended with a nod, confident in that’s all it would take to get the job done.
But now, Voodoo was fed up, wanted this to be over with, and was quite buzzed. So now it was time for some mischief. “Oh, I mean, if you’re willing to work with somebody who personally eliminated Junko Souma, then you could accomplish most anyth-”
“JUNKO SOUMA?!” KILROY bellowed, “WHO!! You tell me who rrrrrrrrright! Nnnnnnnnow! that put their hands on Junko Souma!”
Confused, since he was there for it, Voodoo nevertheless replied, “Well, Matt Knox did, of course.”
KILROY’s eyes widened, “But. That’s. The. Name. Of. My. PARTNER. Now thaaaat can’t be! Would my close friend Casanova English team me up with someone who’d try to deny me my destiny?”
Voodoo nodded. And smirked.
KILROY’s eyes, wide as saucers, were now complemented with rows of bared teeth. He pounded his fist into his other hand. “He’s a DEAD man!!!”
“And let’s not forget Lissie.” Voodoo added. “You see, Lissie-”
Now with Lissie, she had quite the challenge before her. What could she say that would get a rise out of the Neanderthal? She’s a former champion getting another shot at the belt? No, the ape wouldn't care about any of that. What about the fact so much was all about her for so long in CU:LT? Oh yeah, this brain-damaged lout watched past shows, right? But then it finally came to her. The answer was so obvious that she had little choice but to attribute her faulty memory to the multicoloured libations.
She leaned forward, and with a dead-serious look on her face, said, “Lissie called Junko a bitch.”
Voodoo slowly sat back upright, shrugging as the camera panned back to show KILROY, eyes as wide as dinner plates and a mouth opened so widely you’d swear he unhinged his jaw. No words came out, not right away, anyway. In fact, he was eerily transfixed in this position for far too long.
Finally, “A… bitch?”
Voodoo replied, “A bitch.”
“This Lissie Hope… called Junko Souma…”
Voodoo replied, “A bitch.”
“A bitch?!”
Voodoo replied, “A bitch!”
“SHE… called HER… a B-I-T-C-H?!”
Voodoo held up her hands, “Her words, not mine!”
“A bitch…” KILROY whispered. “But nooooooobody calls Junko Souma a bi-itch!!”
He gave Voodoo a look as if asking, “Can you believe that?”
“THAT'S MY JOB!!!” he exclaimed before storming off.
Voodoo was quite pleased with herself.
“Some more shots, please!” she called out.
