Thanks for all the positive feedback last time. As such, I have a fourth one which was too long to put with the other three last time. So, with encouragement from a fellow Pulse writer the latest wrestler in society is here. However, most of us prefer to forget he ever stepped foot in a wrestling ring…
-=[*]=-
“Where to, pal?”
“I’ve got tickets to see The Lion King. I’m new in town, so the theatre where that’s showing. Somewhere on Broadway, apparently.”
“Okay, no problem.” BRRM… “Don’t recognise the accent. Where you from?”
“Australia.”
“Ahh, so you’d be a rhinoceros-hunter!”
Umm, no.”
“Well, you should be. No one’d expect that!”
“S-Sure.” BRRM… “Hang on. What did that sign back there say?”
“What sign?”
“The one at the turn-off. I’m sure it said, ‘New Jersey.’ Since when is Broadway in New Jersey?”
“Yeah! You weren’t expecting that, were you?”
“It makes no sense! Why would you take me to New Jersey when I wanted to go to Broadway!?”
“Ahh, you see, it’s like the time when my friend Jeff hit his friend Mike over the head with a guitar, then formed a partnership with him half an hour later. You see, they really…”
PAUSE.
“They really what?”
“Sorry?”
“You didn’t finish your story.”
“Oh, you don’t need to finish stories. So long as they start well, who cares?”
“How fast are you going?”
“Ninety, ninety-five.”
“Why?”
“Because if I go fast enough you won’t remember what happened before.”
“Like Broadway? The Lion King? New York City?”
“Oh, yeah, that.” BRRM… “I’m a writer, you know.”
“Oh. Really?”
“Oh yes. Greatest writer ever. Without me, novels wouldn’t be what they are today. It’s all me.”
“Ah, yeah. Look, you drive a cab. Badly. And the name tag says, ‘V. Russo,’ and I never heard of you.”
“That’s because John Grisham and Stephen King took my ideas for themselves, even after I did all the hard work behind the scenes, not seeing my family for hours on end. It was like being a slave, I tell you! Power behind the thrones, that’s me.”
“Uhh, yeah. Sure. The Lion King…”
“My greatest work was about David and Daphne, who he left for Stacey, but then she got pregnant to some one, probably Buff, or maybe me, so David and I beat up David’s old man, and I became the champion, but that was after some actor guy did and some fat guy – named after a state of the USA to piss off an old boss of mine who didn’t like all my brilliant ideas – beat a woman for a cruiserweight title.”
“That makes no sense!”
“But it’s what sells! Expect the unexpected!” SCREECH! “We’re here.”
“This is not The Lion King! It’s an all-female, Pakistani, karaoke-club Billy Ray Cyrus cover band!”
“See? Weren’t expecting that, were you? Now, here’s your fare.”
“You’re paying me?”
“Weren’t expecting that either, huh?” KA-BONG!
“Ow! You hit me with a balsa wood guitar! That is irritating!”
“But you weren’t expect…”
“I’m out of here. Even ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ has gotta be better than your insanity!”