Post by sportsentertainmentx on Jan 15, 2021 13:07:21 GMT -5
Let's start where any good story begins, the beginning. Well actually, bad stories start at the beginning too. Actually, every story starts at the beginning, that is why it is called the beginning, because it is where the story begins, even if you begin in the middle. Get what I'm saying? Anyway, enough rambling from me the narrator, let us get on with the story of the Sports Entertainment Xpress.
StarDate 20180401
"Set course, for the Milky Way Galaxy, destination, third rock from the Sun." Shouts Space Lord. He sits in his giant captain's chair in the middle of the command deck of the Starship Desolater. Space Lord's veins pop out of his ripped muscular body and sweat runs down his body, but his super sweet face paint doesn't even dare to run, because like the red, white, and blue… his colors don't run.
Space Lord has just defeated the grand champion of Krypton and is looking for a new challenge and has heard that the small blue planet called Earth is full of many mighty warriors. "Are...you...sure...about...this" asks first mate Kirk. "Kirk, I know this is your home planet, you are the one who told me of all the great warriors in your land, now let me conquer them all" responds Space Lord. "But...Captain...I don't..." Kirk begins but is cut off by Space Lord who responds by saying "I know you wish to be champion of your home planet First Mate Kirk, and after Space Lord has defeated all of Earths mightiest warriors, I will give you a chance to defeat the supreme intergalactic champion...NOW TO EARRRRRTTTTHHHH!!!"
Kirk says nothing and shakes his head. Kirk then relays Space Lord's message, by saying "Major Helmet...set course...destination...the Milky Way Galaxy...planet Earth." "Yes Sir, first mate Kirk" responds the oversized helmet wearing Major. Helmet twists a few knobs, pushes a few buttons, and then says "prepare for hyperspeed". Space Lord fastens into a shoulder harness and then the ship blasts into light speed.
StarDate: 20180402
The Thunder God Terry Marshall...wait, did he beat Thor? I guess Thor got fat and out of shape while Terry Marshall stays jacked and tan, so it is possible. Anyway, Marshall sits on his back deck, high atop a hill that overlooks the city of Huntington West Virginia. Yeah, I know, the God of Thunder should be on Mount Olympus, but apparently, he likes to stay low key, a man of the people if you will.
Marshall sits on his deck, the crickets chirping in the only noise that can be heard, which is rather peaceful. Marshall tries to sip his tea, sleepy time tea, but oooh watch out, it's still hot. Marshall pulls the hot cup away from his lips after receiving what must be at least first-degree burns. Marshall looks up to the sky, a beautiful clear night revealing all the stars. I mean seriously, you people that live in the city are really missing out on some beauty, take time to go camping and reconnect with nature. Disclaimer, this promo is sponsored by the National Parks Foundation.
Terry Marshall bows his head and folds his hands and begins to pray out loud. Marshall is a firm believer in prayer, and also drinking his milk, taking his vitamins, training, a balanced diet, truth, justice, and the American way.
Lord, you know how much I desire to get back into the ring. You know I feel that I have one more good run left in me, but I fear that I cannot make that run alone. I want to pass my knowledge down to a deserving young man. I want to pass the torch to the next generation, but I need the right person. I need not only a protege but a partner.
Suddenly, something shoots across the sky. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, and it isn't Superman either. At first, it looks like a shooting star... no not a shooting star press but a small, rapidly moving meteor burning upon entering the Earth's atmosphere. (See kids, this is funny and educational.). Marshall begins to make a wish, you know you are supposed to wish upon a star, but he realizes two things, he isn't a Disney Princess, and two it isn't a shooting star.
A loud crash and bang are heard as the flaming ball slams into the bottom of the hill. Marshall jumps to his feet and like a bolt of lightning...get it, thunder, lightning... Ok, well not like a bolt of lightning, but like a 55-year-old with wore out knees Marshall makes his way down the hill to the wreck. Marshall heads downhill faster than this RP has and soon reaches something that resembles a low budget Syfy Network movie.
A crater larger than James Raven's ego is now formed in the base of the hill. And in that crater is a big round flying saucer. Stay with me here, remember this is satire. From the crater marches a figure more jacked and tanner than a late 80's action movie star. Arms like Arnold, abs like Stallone, a chest like Lundgren, the handsome face of Van Dam, and the swagger of Segal. His hair whips in the wind like he is on the set of a Whitesnake video and his face paint with Bob Ross quality brush technique hasn't sustained a single smudge.
It is none other than the supreme intergalactic champion...Space Lord.
BROTHER! What in the world is going on?
SNNNNOOOORRRRRTTT!!!! IT IS NOT WHAT IN THIS WORLD IS GOING ON! IT IS WHAT IN THIS INFINITELY EXPANDING UNIVERSE IS GOING ON!!!
Are you ok man?
GOD OF THUNDER, TERRY MARSHALL!!! I have come to this, the third rock from your Sun, and I have come seeking to face the Earth's mightiest warriors. BUT! Since those so-called Avengers are retired after defeating Thanos, and John Wick is filming the fourth movie of the best action franchise ever, I will settle for your champions in your combat sport known as wrestling professionally.
IT IS A SQUARE!
Yeah, it's a square, but it's called a ring because it gets its origins from the carnivals and circus which had rings... actually never mind. You came here to wrestle though, right brother?
No... I am here to conquer this planet mightiest warriors.
Well, brother, you know this must be fate. I was just praying for a sign of a partner and you shot out of the Heavens and landed right here. Brother...how would you like to be my partner?
Life partner?
No.
LLC Partner?
No, my tag team partner. Think about it brother, the two most colossal forces in the universe teaming up. Brother, we'd be powerful... like mega-powerful.
Space Lord's eyes squint as he thinks the decision over. If you could look inside of his head you would see the wind-up monkey banging cymbals together.
I don't like the name, Mega Plowers.
Well, I said mega-powerful, so maybe Mega Powers?
What about the Ultimate Maniacs?
I think someone has already used that.
THE KEY TO SUCCESS IS A COOL NAME! HOW WILL WE EVER SUCCEED!?!?!
Brother, I've got it... Sports Entertainment Xpress.
Isn't it spelled e-x-p-r-e-s-s?
I don't do innuendo or rumors. I do not deal in rumors or innuendo.
Trust me brother, the name is money, and we are going to move a lot of merch on our way to conquering the squared circle.
So, it is a square?
Let's not worry about the shape brother, let's just worry about getting in there and rocking and rolling. Deal?
Space Lord nods his head and says, "these terms are acceptable".
Space Lord and Terry Marshall embrace in a super sweet high five like Arnold and Carl Weathers do in Predator, but Space Lord and Marshall's biceps are much more impressive, making this high five/handshake combo even cooler.
StarDate 20210111
It's been a long road for the boys of the Sports Entertainment Xpress, traveling this country, other countries, and other planets. They've had their ups, and they've had their downs. But Terry Marshall and Space Lord know that you take the good, you take the bad, you take them both, and there you have, the facts of life, the facts of life.
This road called life has now brought the dynamic duo to Project Honor, and with their first match in Project Honor one of the biggest challenges of both of their lives. No, not the Two-Toned Mafia, they will steamroll those little girls. No, the real challenge is trying to understand French culture.
Marshall and Space Lord sit at a table in the cafeteria of the Starship Desolator sprawled out in front of them on the table is a plethora of French-Canadian dishes. There is a rich and golden Pudding Chomeur. A meat pie stuffed with a form of mystery meat called a French Canadian Tourtiere. Pig's Feet Meatball Ragout, and some poutine, which I mean is amazing, how do you go wrong with fries, cheese, and gravy?
Space Lord pops a gravy covered cheese curd into his mouth, while Marshall looks a pig's foot over with a disgusted look. Marshall sits the fork holding the pig's foot back down onto the plate and pushes it away from him.
Brother, are you sure this is the best way to train for Fallout?
Space Lord slurps down some mystery meat pie and with a full mouth says, "the best way is to immerse yourself in the culture".
Brother, we aren't fighting France, we aren't even going to be in France, the people of Montreal are called French Canadians.
Space Lord looks confused and says, "So, France took over that part of Canada? I thought the French were terrible at war".
Marshall shakes his head and says, "No, French settlers first colonized Eastern Canada like five hundred years ago, and ya know, it's just kind of a long story. Besides, it doesn't matter we need to be training and not eating this disgusting food".
Marshall, make no mistake about it, I have encountered the French and their culture before. Wherever there are French there are… mimes.
This isn't my first rodeo.
That doesn't answer my question.
Space Lord says nothing and stands from the table and walks to the middle of the cafeteria and looks up at a video screen that hangs above the cafeteria. The screen shows the view from outside, which is Earth's orbit as the Starship Desolator is orbiting Earth ready to enter into Montreal.
Jon and I became close friends and I would visit him anytime I ventured through his solar system. Then one fateful day I stopped to visit him, but he was gone. His planet was no longer funny and colorful, instead, it was all black and white, and no one said a word. People were trapped in invisible boxes and forced to walk up and down invisible stairs. It was the Mimie's, they destroyed my friend and they destroyed Humoriste. Since that fateful day, I have hated mimes and I will always hate mimes.
Brother, I don't think there are mimes in Montreal.
Space Lord turns slowly for dramatic effect. His eyes are squinted, also for dramatic effect.
They are everywhere. We must be prepared for them, and to do that we must face the ultimate French challenge.
Marshall sighs and shakes his head.
Let me guess, we are going to travel back and time and fight Napoléon?
No.
Free climb the Eiffel Tower?
No.
Brother, I already body slammed Giant Pierre, and I'll gladly tell you the story of how I did it in front of eighty thousand people at the Buick Gold Dome back in 87.
Space Lord rolls his eyes and sighs. He has heard that story about a million times, Marshall likes to talk about it like a Vegan or Cross Fitter like to talk about veganism or a CrossFit.
No. We must face the snails.
Marshall's eyes grow to the size of saucers.
BROTHER NO!
Private Bug Girl rolls in a cart with a metal tray covered with a silver dome-like lid. She rolls it to the side of the table where Space Lord meets her. Marshall already has a look of dread on his face. Space Lord grabs the lid and pulls it off the tray and the smell; of cooked garlic, melted butter, and snails floats through the air. Bug Girls antennas drop and her face is a mix of fear and sadness.
My… my relatives
Bug Girl begins to tear up and quickly turns and runs away. Space Lord watches her run and shakes his head.
Females.
Uh brother, I mean, she might be related to those in some sort of way, I mean, I'm no scientist but, I mean anything is possible. How would you feel if someone served you a human?
Space Lord shakes his head and looks at Marshall like he is an idiot.
Be realistic Terry.
Space Lord scoops up a snail and pops it into his mouth shell and all. With a loud crunch Space Lord crushes the Mollusca with his powerful jaws. Marshall's face wears a mask of disgust and he holds both massive arms over his stomach.
You've gotta be kidding me. No way brother, ain't happening.
Space Lord puts his fist on his hips and looks at Marshall like a disappointed mother looks at a child who won't eat their Brussel sprouts.
Terrance Roosevelt Marshall, if I can travel the entire cosmos and try different foods on each planet, surely you can try a delicacy of your own planet.
Feeling like a child who has just been scolded by his parents Marshall gives in. I mean, come on Space Lord even broke out the full first name and the middle name, how can he not try it?
Marshall picks up a shell and with a tiny fork pulls a slimy little snail from it. Marshall holds it up studying it and knows this isn't going to be a pleasant experience. Marshall closes his eyes, holds his nose and pops the snail in. Marshall takes a few big chomps and then his eyes shoot open. Marshall turns a visible shade of green, and almost knocks the whole table over as he jumps from it running to the trashcan that stands by the cafeteria door.
Monologue:
Well, sister, I'm not building a church, but that ring is holy ground to me. And I
may not have Peter, but I've got the next best thing in Space Lord, and upon his massive shoulders which are harder than a rock I will build my form of church in the holy ground of the ring. Just like the gates of hell could never prevail against the Kingdom of Heaven, the Two-Tone Mafia shall not prevail against the Sports Entertainment Xpress.
Fate has already written it, but at Fallout, we will seal the deal when I lift one of you two up onto my shoulders. I look up at my partner, and Space Lord comes flying off the top rope with the second-largest arms in all of Project Honor, and sends you toppling butt of tea kettle. I tell ya what Sisters, I'll go ahead and give you a little bit of free advice. When you are laying on your backs, looking up at the lights of the Bell Centre, and trying to collect your thoughts and get your bearings back, just take a moment. Take a moment and reflect on your life decisions and what got you to that point.
For many centuries I traveled the cosmos both known and unknown to humankind, and in that time, I have faced many a mighty warrior. Now I have come to the home of warriors, the home of the most violent species in all the galaxies. In my time on Earth, I have faced many mighty competitors, seen many brave and great warriors. Now that I have come to the place where Honor is a Project, and see that I stand ready to do battle with a Mafia that is Toned times Two, I must say this. Of all the great warriors I have ever faced, you two will not be counted among them.
Cecilia, yooooooouuuuu aaaaahhhh., turn into a baby when confronted with the hard times. This is an odd ability I have never seen in a species before. How does this help you in combat? Do you believe when you morph into a child that your attackers will stop? If you believe this you are wrong, and it could make you dead wrong. I CAME TO ATTACK AND KEEP COMING! I WILL PUNT A BABY IF YOU ARE THAT BABY!
Lucy Sixx, yoooouuuuuu aahhhhhhh, claims to be the daughter of the one called Satan, but I do not see a resemblance. You have no horns, you have no pointy tail, and your flesh is not red. What you are Lucy Sixx is a… LIAR!
BUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!
I KNOW EVIL!
Cecilia, you weren't born and bred for this like Space Lord and I was Sister. Your life of wealth and privilege left you mentally and physically weak, and easily broken both mentally and physically. You like to run and hide behind Lucy, but Sister you aren't going to be able to run and hide behind her when she is lying flat on her back after being ThunderStruck.
So whatcha gonna do Cecilia? What are you going to do when you watch your wife get torn in half by the Big Bang or watch her head get knocked off her shoulders and into the nose bleed section when she gets ThunderStruck? What are you going to do Cecilia when you are left standing all alone with the two badest dudes roaming the galaxy?
~Fin.
