Post by L.C. Pinkston on Jun 8, 2023 12:52:38 GMT -5
“Yup, that's me.”
Lewis Chad Pinkston (LCP) is pacing back and forth. His arms swayed wildly without any regard for anyone around him. Not that there are any people around him. Clearly amiss about something. He scratches his head and sighs. As we hear the ever present voice of…
Narrator:
LCP has what some people have called ‘Footinmouf Syndrome’, he thinks it’s completely made up but they assure him it’s a real thing. Since embarking on this journey in the rasslin’ biz (See we’re hip to the lingo) Lewis has seen quite a bit in such a short amount of time. Witnessing the best and worst of people for better or worse. From being the face of a company, to his nether regions getting thrashed by a garden weasel.
Lewis looks up from his frazzled state “Stupid Allen.”
Narrator:
Shut up dummy, this is a promotional package. I’m trying to make you look good and it’s difficult when you talk.
“The Syndrome?” He looks at where a camera would be if there was one in a Jim Halpert-ian look.
Narrator:
Yeah.
Lewis simply nods and goes back to his pacing.
Narrator:
Anyways, our fateful hero has challenged for top prizes. He stared death in the face and laughed.
Lewis stops in his tracks and spins around. “When…”
Narrator:
DUDE!
“What? All I’m saying is the closest to death I’ve ever come was when I hotboxed that Geo Tracker and swerved into the wrong lane.” Lewis pantomimes driving a car and then wildly jerks his imaginary steering wheel.
Narrator:
I’m trying to showcase your strength. How despite being well… you, you still manage to come out of most situations unscathed.
“I moisturize.” Lewis runs his hand across his cheek and then gives himself a playful slap.
Narrator:
That’s, ugh, not what I’m talking about. I’m saying that despite your physical appearance, you are deceptively strong. Both physically and more importantly mentally. There isn’t a single person vying for a spot that can match your ability to get in and out of sticky situations. Now the fact that you caused those situations notwithstanding, it does take a certain strength of willpower to continue forward.
Nodding “Right on.”
Narrator:
That’s it?
“What? Do you expect me to sit here and constantly interrupt you with my own personal musings?” Talking with his hands as he rolls his left wrist.
Narrator:
Well that’s kind of your deal.
“Well if you insist.” A simple but effective shrug.
Narrator:
Wait wait wait….
“Too late I’ve begun monologuing.” Lewis waves off the voice, and clears his throat. “Hello everyone. If you don’t know me by now… what’s your fuckin’ issue? I’m the most marketable man in all of professional wrestling. While only knowing three moves I dragged Bam Miller to prominence in the Margarita mix. While only knowing three moves I headlined not one, not two but three different Pay Per Views in PWE. I was the face of a company and never held a title there.” A somber look from Lewis is quickly replaced by a grin.
“Just let that sink in for a moment. Me. The odd goofball with tattoos that look like a kindergartener drew most of them, and yet, I still ascend to prominence no matter where I end up. I am always on the tips of people's tongues. No matter what they are talking about, a few things are always certain.”
Narrator:
Death. Taxes and…
“L.C.P. being talked about. If that isn’t strength of character I don’t know what else there could be.” Lewis holds out both his arms and then slams his chest. Yet after only one hit he stops and hunches over.
Narrator:
Are ya done?
“For now.” A strained voice from Lewis as he rubs his chest.
Narrator:
So, can I continue?
“If you must.” Lewis once again rolls his wrist.
Narrator:
I don’t know about must but that was the point of all of this. Why don’t you go play with the dolls over there while I move on.
Lewis quickly stands up and adds some bass to his voice. “ACTION FIGURES!”
Narrator:
Then why are there several Barbie’s in there?
“Uh Valets obviously.” Lewis bends over and picks up one of thedolls action figures.
Narrator:
Anyways, we covered strength. What about Bravery, yeah? Just look at him.
You can see that Lewis had now taken to the ground. Sitting cross legged and slamming two figures against one another.
Narrator:
Yeah him. The guy mouthing words for dol…
“Act. Ion. Fig. Ures!” With each syllable Lewis makes a prominent point with his index finger.
Narrator:
Those toys. He doesn’t look like he belongs. Hell he doesn’t look like he knows how to tie his own shoes.
“We perfected the way of securing our shoes to our feet with Velcro but nooooooo the toddlers have claimed it as their own and adults with Velcro are looked down on.” Lewis stares at his own shoe laces, one of which is undone. He hangs his head and begins to tie the rogue laces together.
Narrator:
Right. So he looks like he is jamming a square peg in a round hole, and just keeps jamming it in. No matter the outcome. Now take that scenario and apply wrestling to it. He doesn’t back down from anyone. Even when the odds are stacked against him. Even when he knows he can’t win. It may be his ineptitude showing but it does take a brave soul to constantly come back for more. Over and over again. Week in and week out. Knowing that failure isn’t just an option, but sometimes it’s the only option.
A quizzical look comes across Lewis’ face. Then he stands up. “You only fail if you don’t learn anything. And trust me I’ve learned tons.”
Narrator:
Perfect, that's actually a good segue way. Like what?
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Lewis plops back down on the ground and begins to arrange the figures.
Narrator:
Really? Usually you like to talk about yourself all the time.
A half shrug from Lewis, who doesn’t stop fixing the figures. “I dunno. Seems like bragging.”
Narrator:
That’s literally all you do, even when you shouldn’t.
“Maybe I’ve turned over a new leaf.” He responds while still adjusting the toys.
Narrator:
Really?
“Possibly.”
Narrator:
This fucking guy. I guess there’s Wit then.
Lewis quickly turns his head. “What’s that?”
Narrator:
You know, talking down to your opposition. How well you can bring them down.
“What like to my level?” A clearly interested Lewis spins around with his back to the figures. Just enough so no one can see them.
Narrator:
Yeah, kinda sorta. How deep can you cut at your opponent. And people let me tell you this, he cuts like a hammer through butter. It may not be devious or hidden, but dammit you know when the punches are coming. Isn’t that right?
“What?” Lewis stands up.
Narrator:
What the hell are you doing?
“Oh that? Just ya know..Playing. Just like you said.” Lewis looks at the figures on the floor.
Narrator:
Is that?
“Yup.” Lewis has taken all the figures and arranged them in such a way that all of them are giving another fellatio. All with the exception of LCP’s Action Figure which is standing above them all. “Can we go get Ice Cream now? I’ve got cottonmouth like a mother fucker now.”
Narrator:
Ugh fine. The triad can wait.
“Like Zelda?” Lewis searches his body for his Legend Of Zelda tattoo.
Narrator:
No. Not like Zeld—— Wayminute.
FADE TO BLACK
Lewis Chad Pinkston (LCP) is pacing back and forth. His arms swayed wildly without any regard for anyone around him. Not that there are any people around him. Clearly amiss about something. He scratches his head and sighs. As we hear the ever present voice of…
Narrator:
LCP has what some people have called ‘Footinmouf Syndrome’, he thinks it’s completely made up but they assure him it’s a real thing. Since embarking on this journey in the rasslin’ biz (See we’re hip to the lingo) Lewis has seen quite a bit in such a short amount of time. Witnessing the best and worst of people for better or worse. From being the face of a company, to his nether regions getting thrashed by a garden weasel.
Lewis looks up from his frazzled state “Stupid Allen.”
Narrator:
Shut up dummy, this is a promotional package. I’m trying to make you look good and it’s difficult when you talk.
“The Syndrome?” He looks at where a camera would be if there was one in a Jim Halpert-ian look.
Narrator:
Yeah.
Lewis simply nods and goes back to his pacing.
Narrator:
Anyways, our fateful hero has challenged for top prizes. He stared death in the face and laughed.
Lewis stops in his tracks and spins around. “When…”
Narrator:
DUDE!
“What? All I’m saying is the closest to death I’ve ever come was when I hotboxed that Geo Tracker and swerved into the wrong lane.” Lewis pantomimes driving a car and then wildly jerks his imaginary steering wheel.
Narrator:
I’m trying to showcase your strength. How despite being well… you, you still manage to come out of most situations unscathed.
“I moisturize.” Lewis runs his hand across his cheek and then gives himself a playful slap.
Narrator:
That’s, ugh, not what I’m talking about. I’m saying that despite your physical appearance, you are deceptively strong. Both physically and more importantly mentally. There isn’t a single person vying for a spot that can match your ability to get in and out of sticky situations. Now the fact that you caused those situations notwithstanding, it does take a certain strength of willpower to continue forward.
Nodding “Right on.”
Narrator:
That’s it?
“What? Do you expect me to sit here and constantly interrupt you with my own personal musings?” Talking with his hands as he rolls his left wrist.
Narrator:
Well that’s kind of your deal.
“Well if you insist.” A simple but effective shrug.
Narrator:
Wait wait wait….
“Too late I’ve begun monologuing.” Lewis waves off the voice, and clears his throat. “Hello everyone. If you don’t know me by now… what’s your fuckin’ issue? I’m the most marketable man in all of professional wrestling. While only knowing three moves I dragged Bam Miller to prominence in the Margarita mix. While only knowing three moves I headlined not one, not two but three different Pay Per Views in PWE. I was the face of a company and never held a title there.” A somber look from Lewis is quickly replaced by a grin.
“Just let that sink in for a moment. Me. The odd goofball with tattoos that look like a kindergartener drew most of them, and yet, I still ascend to prominence no matter where I end up. I am always on the tips of people's tongues. No matter what they are talking about, a few things are always certain.”
Narrator:
Death. Taxes and…
“L.C.P. being talked about. If that isn’t strength of character I don’t know what else there could be.” Lewis holds out both his arms and then slams his chest. Yet after only one hit he stops and hunches over.
Narrator:
Are ya done?
“For now.” A strained voice from Lewis as he rubs his chest.
Narrator:
So, can I continue?
“If you must.” Lewis once again rolls his wrist.
Narrator:
I don’t know about must but that was the point of all of this. Why don’t you go play with the dolls over there while I move on.
Lewis quickly stands up and adds some bass to his voice. “ACTION FIGURES!”
Narrator:
Then why are there several Barbie’s in there?
“Uh Valets obviously.” Lewis bends over and picks up one of the
Narrator:
Anyways, we covered strength. What about Bravery, yeah? Just look at him.
You can see that Lewis had now taken to the ground. Sitting cross legged and slamming two figures against one another.
Narrator:
Yeah him. The guy mouthing words for dol…
“Act. Ion. Fig. Ures!” With each syllable Lewis makes a prominent point with his index finger.
Narrator:
Those toys. He doesn’t look like he belongs. Hell he doesn’t look like he knows how to tie his own shoes.
“We perfected the way of securing our shoes to our feet with Velcro but nooooooo the toddlers have claimed it as their own and adults with Velcro are looked down on.” Lewis stares at his own shoe laces, one of which is undone. He hangs his head and begins to tie the rogue laces together.
Narrator:
Right. So he looks like he is jamming a square peg in a round hole, and just keeps jamming it in. No matter the outcome. Now take that scenario and apply wrestling to it. He doesn’t back down from anyone. Even when the odds are stacked against him. Even when he knows he can’t win. It may be his ineptitude showing but it does take a brave soul to constantly come back for more. Over and over again. Week in and week out. Knowing that failure isn’t just an option, but sometimes it’s the only option.
A quizzical look comes across Lewis’ face. Then he stands up. “You only fail if you don’t learn anything. And trust me I’ve learned tons.”
Narrator:
Perfect, that's actually a good segue way. Like what?
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Lewis plops back down on the ground and begins to arrange the figures.
Narrator:
Really? Usually you like to talk about yourself all the time.
A half shrug from Lewis, who doesn’t stop fixing the figures. “I dunno. Seems like bragging.”
Narrator:
That’s literally all you do, even when you shouldn’t.
“Maybe I’ve turned over a new leaf.” He responds while still adjusting the toys.
Narrator:
Really?
“Possibly.”
Narrator:
This fucking guy. I guess there’s Wit then.
Lewis quickly turns his head. “What’s that?”
Narrator:
You know, talking down to your opposition. How well you can bring them down.
“What like to my level?” A clearly interested Lewis spins around with his back to the figures. Just enough so no one can see them.
Narrator:
Yeah, kinda sorta. How deep can you cut at your opponent. And people let me tell you this, he cuts like a hammer through butter. It may not be devious or hidden, but dammit you know when the punches are coming. Isn’t that right?
“What?” Lewis stands up.
Narrator:
What the hell are you doing?
“Oh that? Just ya know..Playing. Just like you said.” Lewis looks at the figures on the floor.
Narrator:
Is that?
“Yup.” Lewis has taken all the figures and arranged them in such a way that all of them are giving another fellatio. All with the exception of LCP’s Action Figure which is standing above them all. “Can we go get Ice Cream now? I’ve got cottonmouth like a mother fucker now.”
Narrator:
Ugh fine. The triad can wait.
“Like Zelda?” Lewis searches his body for his Legend Of Zelda tattoo.
Narrator:
No. Not like Zeld—— Wayminute.
FADE TO BLACK