48 Hours until the State of the Union Address!!!
Aug 7, 2015 19:25:30 GMT -5
Nathan Saniti likes this
Post by Mr. Showtime on Aug 7, 2015 19:25:30 GMT -5
14 Minutes until the State of the Union
“Mr. Wryght, they are ready when you are,” wheezed the pimply faced intern. “You go on in fifteen minutes.”
“It’s actually fourteen minutes,” replied Showtime as he glanced down at his white gold Rolex watch. He didn’t mean to be cold to the kid. It wasn’t his fault that Showtime was on edge. Michael hadn’t called a “State of the Union Address” since his return to wrestling, but it was an event he used to love. Every pay-per-view he would call reporters from the wrestling world, and then those from the Hollywood scene, to lob questions his way. He never knew what was coming and never turned down a question once asked. Today was going to be different though. He was no longer pandering to tabloids and wrestling rags. This was serious business. Nothing would be the same.
48 Hours until the State of the Union
The award show had gone as well as Showtime could have expected. The Black Hand cleaned up, and William was dubbed the performer of the cycle. A twinge of the old Showtime that lingered was extremely jealous. That would have been him if it weren’t for his sacrifices, but it was a minor feeling. He knew by now that he had a role to play, and The Black Hand had been setting Showtime up as a mouth piece.
Michael Wryght was a household name. Phinehas Grimm and Billy Sadistic were legends in wrestling, but outside the industry they weren’t universally known. The time Mr. Showtime spent in Hollywood cemented his public status. He was the lead in one of the biggest movies in history. He played Phillip Lombard across legends in the acting world. He had no delusions that his awards were attributed more to the people he aligned himself with rather than his acting chops. He always knew how to take advantage of a situation.
Showtime had decided to walk back to the condo he purchased many years ago in Greenville, South Carolina. It had been ages since he’d been back there. This place was really owned by the old vain bastard that was once Michael Wryght. A luxury apartment for a man that needed a place to stay only after wrestling events. Apparently he’d been too good to fly back on his private jet after a fight. Go figure.
He’d pretty much abandoned this residence once he went through his transformation. He had become grittier and pulled away from the finer things in life. He couldn’t help use the extremely useful things, like his jet and car services, but has thrown other frivolities to the side. He no longer adorned his insanely expensive jewelry and most of his clothes. He would have ceased wearing his suits, but they were the only damn things hanging in his closets. He’d let his beard and hair get unruly. The old Showtime wouldn’t have even thought about allowing the mane that he had now to grow. It was always clean cut like the business man he’d strived to become.
All in all he’d become use to his new self. He thought of it now as almost a blessing. He no longer cared about the useless parts of life. Material possession and success were things of the past. He now cared about the greater good. Everything he did now was for the betterment of humanity, even if they refused to recognize it. In the end they’d appreciate what he’d done, but until then he had to embrace the role of a villain. Always he remembered it was for the greater good.
After exiting the elevator he turned towards his condo. He approached unit 1442 to find that the door was cracked open. It wasn’t possible for this door to be ajar for this long without someone in the building noticing. Security was one of the reasons he’d chosen this place. He eased the door open to try to survey the area. He knew he had enemies, and wasn’t interested in any surprised that might ruin his night.
“Please come in Mr. Wryght,” bellowed a voice from the kitchen. “You have no reason to be afraid. You are amongst friends.”
“Why are you in my house?”
“Well, waiting for you of course. I didn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea by approaching you in public.”
It was a weird comment. Why would anyone care seeing Showtime and this stranger together? Showtime slowly walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. The sound of ice cubes dropping into crystal glasses caught his ear. Someone had found the liquor cabinet.
“I hope you don’t mind,” asked the man as he walked out of the kitchen with a scotch in each hand. He passed one to Showtime and continued into the living room. “I got a little head start on you.”
“You’re…” Showtime started in fascination.
“Yes, I know who I am and I know who you are. Let’s keep the name to ourselves. I’m not interested in being discovered.”
“Who else is here?”
“No one of course,” replied the man curiously. “Why would you ask?”
“You said I was amongst friends. I would interpret that as they are others around.”
“Come on my dear boy, it’s only a saying. You really need to loosen up if you are going to move forward with this.”
“With what?” Showtime played dumb.
The man wasn’t fooled in the slightest bit and said, “Come on, let’s not play these games. You’ll make the announcement in two days. I’ve already set up a patented “Mr. Showtime” State of the Union. You’ll see the normal cast of characters there, with the addition of a few real reporters.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then you’re passing up on your destiny,” replied the man, dropping his jovial attitude. He downed the rest of his drink, leaving Showtime to stir.
8 Minutes until the State of the Union Address
It may have only been six minutes since his curtain call, but to Michael Wryght it felt like an eternity. He’d never been so nervous to approach a crowd before. It was unsettling to say the least. Every fiber of his body was telling him that this was a huge mistake. Potentially the biggest mistake of his life. Once he went out there he wouldn’t be able to turn back. This was it.
He looked himself over in the mirror before his final departure. Gone was his wild head of hair and unruly beard. They’d been replaced with a close cropped side parted pompadour and a thin mustache. It was still startling for Showtime to see his full face again. It was foreign to the man he’d become. He justified it as just looking the role he was about to play. He was grateful for the acting skills he’d picked up, because he was sure as hell that he’d be needing them.
As he exited the dressing room the intern was still standing by. He was too nervous to even look Showtime in the face, which didn’t make the situation any better. Wryght still felt a little bad about their interaction a few moment earlier so he decided to break the ice, “You sure you don’t want to go out there instead?”
“What? Me?” the intern squeaked, before he noticed that Showtime had that patented half smile on his face. It eased the poor boys nerves, but didn’t do the same for Showtime. The intern handed Showtime a manila folder and added, “This is for you. There is apparently explicit instructions on how to proceed.”
“That’s not how I like to run these.”
“Sir, with all due respect, this isn’t a regular forum,” replied the intern sternly. Showtime could tell that The Black Hand had briefed this lad well on his preparation skills. Before Showtime could open the contents of his folder, the intern was leading him off towards the curtain.
28 Hours until the State of the Union Address
Showtime had been invited to the House of Grimm by his fellow members of The Black Hand. They had all invested interest in the other’s success at Return to Glory and Showtime already knew that he needed to try and talk some sense into Billy. If Showtime wasn’t careful Billy might just go and ruin everything. Michael had come to the conclusion on the flight to Kentucky that Eira didn’t want to fight Showtime at all.
It wasn’t out of fear or anything else circumstantial. It was because she wanted to be the one to dethrone the great Billy Sadistic. She’d been on his heels for months, but now she’d been cast down two title levels. Eira had no real quarrels with Showtime other than the fact he was a stablemate with her arch nemesis. She would definitely not consider a North American Title shot a conciliation prize. The contrary. The N.A. title to her would be a prison. It would officially take her out of the World Title picture and away from any type of revenge she’d be able to enact on William.
Beating Showtime to spite Sadistic was not a favorable option. Showtime just hoped that Eira was smart enough to realize that. If Sadistic didn’t give her a reason to hate him any greater at Return to Glory then both he and Showtime could easily walk out retaining champions. It was for the greater good, and for what was coming ahead Showtime might just need to be a bit more scrupulous in his actions.
“Are you just going to stand there all night?” asked the soft voice of Ruth Dillinger. She was standing in the doorway of her home looking on to Showtime with curious eyes. “It’s probably not all that safe out here.”
Shaking off the cobwebs Showtime gives her a smile and replied, “I’m not sure it’s all that much safer in there.”
“Touché,” she chuckled as Showtime walked past her. William and Phinehas had already assembled, as Showtime entered fashionably late. Both stopped midsentence and glace at their guest. Showtime couldn’t help but lock eyes on the shovel resting in Phinehas’ hands. The look didn’t go unnoticed as Grimm smiles in response as if it were a compliment.
“Ah, can we talk a little strategy now that you’ve arrived?” asked Billy, pretending to be annoyed at Showtime’s tardiness.
“Actually first there is something that you need to see,” replied Showtime solemnly. He retrieved the initial note from The Black Hand. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud. Sadistic was quick to snatch the letter out of his friend’s hand. Immediately his eyebrows raised and a smile spread across his face. Showtime could see that he was actually speechless. He quickly passed the note over to his brother who had a similar reaction.
Finally Sadistic broke the silence, “Is this for real?”
Showtime could only nod in response, as Phinehas added, “This is fantastic. It changes everything.”
“I don’t think I’d use the word fantastic,” moaned Showtime. “It’s sort of a nightmare to me.”
“Then you are thinking about this all wrong,” added Sadistic. “This is exactly the reason The Black Hand would recruit a man like you. They must have always had this in mind all along.”
“That doesn’t really make me feel any better.”
“Oh but it will once you win,” said Phinehas, slamming the butt of his shovel into the floor.
“Can we just move on? I just thought that you needed to know before I made it public.”
“When?” they asked in unison.
“In a little over a day.”
“Good old Mikey, always full of surprises.”
“Alright I’d prefer that we just move on now, you were eager to discuss strategy before,” Showtime suggested trying to get the conversation back on the right track. He needed to find the right moment to unfurl his plan for Eira to Sadistic and Grimm.
Sadistic looked over towards his brother and said, “Phin, there’s really nothin’ to talk about pertaining to LoKi…” As Sadistic focused on his brother Showtime would need to wait for Sadistic to ask about the North American Title match. Then it would be time to drop the plan on the Dillingers.
1 Minute and 30 Seconds until the State of the Union Address
Showtime pulled his head out of the folder just handed to him. It had instructions to only take three questions after his announcement. These people were already chosen and would ask three specific questions. The questions were included with the seating chart along with the answers. All of this felt wrong to Showtime, but he had to play it their way, at least today. They had set all of this up and if they put in this much effort then it would be foolish to divert from the plan.
Perfection snuck up on Showtime as he had his head down and didn’t notice that they started to play his music. She startled him a bit, but her warm smile was comforting. Enough to give him the courage to take a deep breath and walk out on stage. The people in attendance rose to their feet with applause. As Showtime ponied up behind the lectern the reporter’s hands shot into the air.
Generally Showtime would take questions until there were no more, but he had his script. He perked up giving them all a sly smile and cocked eyebrow. He waived his hands up and down to settle the crowd. In confusion then simmered to await the address from Mr. Showtime.
“Ladies and Gentlemen. I am here today with a very important announcement. I must apologize in advance for the lack of notice I gave everyone, since most of you know that isn’t my style. I, Michael Wryght, stand in front of my friends and peers to announce that I will be running in the 2016 election for the office of President of the United States. It is time that the country be taken down a different path. It is time that we recognize that the one percent of the country, corrupt government officials and big business executives do not have this nation’s best interests in mind. We need a new type of leader. A man that comes from humble beginnings and actually lived the American dream. This era of unjust rule over the great people of America must end. We need to think of us as one constituency rather than a nation divided by those who hope to gain on our squabbling. I would like to open the floor for just a few questions.”
The room was in utter shock. The silence was quickly replaced by the roar of reporters. Everyone saw the magnitude of this bubbling up, and their question must be answered. Showtime pitied them. He pointed to his first mark in the back corner of the room.
“Thank you. Anthony Davis with the New York Times,” replied the reporter as the other returned to their seats. “This has to be some sort of joke or maybe a publicity stunt. I mean really, a professional wrestler with mental issues can’t really think he has a chance at winning the presidency.”
“Mr. Davis, I am serious and I’m offended by your comment. I have been a successful business man for many years. I am a philanthropist and I’ve worked hard for everything that’s come my way. I am a staple for my community and have no real medical history of mental instability. What you are referring to is a character that I play for the fans of Pure Class Wrestling. I won’t lie to any of you. I love the sport of wrestling. It is a passion of mine and one that has called to me over the years. Though if you look up here and all you see if a wrestler then you should be ashamed of yourself. When you start looking into my credentials you will see that my history outside of the ring makes me a great and viable candidate that hasn’t been spat out of the political machine. Next question.”
The crowd erupts again for Showtime to point to his next mark.
“Thank you, I’m Aaron NiParko from Politico. Which party are you hoping to get the nomination from? Both the Republicans and Democrats have a crowded field for 2016. How could you ever hope to break in?”
“Thanks Aaron, I plan on running as an independent. I believe that the two party system has run its course. We don’t need any more politicians that lean too far to the right or left. We need someone that will do what’s best for America, not their party. I consider myself a moderate that will ruminate both sides of the coin before making any rash judgements to appease a group. Next.”
The lemmings jumped again as Showtime pointed to his last mark.
This man studied Showtime with keen eyes. He hesitated before asking his question in a mistrusting tone, “Mr. Wryght, how can you say such things when you are in the pocket of a secret society hell bent on world domination? You have your own interest group that you will be appeasing.”
As scripted on the card in front of him, Showtime rested his elbow on the lectern and audibly laughed out loud. The laughter was infectious taking over everyone in the room, minus the man who asked the question. Showtime paused for effect and whipped a tear from his eye.
“I’m sorry, but do you actually believe everything you see on TV? A secret society hell bent on taking over the world? This isn’t some Bond novel. It’s real life, my friend. If you take everything so seriously then you’ll be plum surprised when I announce Santa Clause as my nomination for Vice President. I know what you’re thinking he’s old, but the children love him.”
This comment got the rest of the crowd to roar with laughter again at the expense of the final mark. “I’m sorry that I have to run, but I will be available to take more questions very soon. Remember don’t take everything you see on television so seriously, that stuff rots your brains. Thank you and God Bless!”
Showtime smiled and waved to the crowd before making his exit. He hoped that they bought his acting skills, or the entirety of The Black Hand might be actually exposed. Regardless of how that would actually be perceived he knew that there was now no turning back.
“Mr. Wryght, they are ready when you are,” wheezed the pimply faced intern. “You go on in fifteen minutes.”
“It’s actually fourteen minutes,” replied Showtime as he glanced down at his white gold Rolex watch. He didn’t mean to be cold to the kid. It wasn’t his fault that Showtime was on edge. Michael hadn’t called a “State of the Union Address” since his return to wrestling, but it was an event he used to love. Every pay-per-view he would call reporters from the wrestling world, and then those from the Hollywood scene, to lob questions his way. He never knew what was coming and never turned down a question once asked. Today was going to be different though. He was no longer pandering to tabloids and wrestling rags. This was serious business. Nothing would be the same.
48 Hours until the State of the Union
The award show had gone as well as Showtime could have expected. The Black Hand cleaned up, and William was dubbed the performer of the cycle. A twinge of the old Showtime that lingered was extremely jealous. That would have been him if it weren’t for his sacrifices, but it was a minor feeling. He knew by now that he had a role to play, and The Black Hand had been setting Showtime up as a mouth piece.
Michael Wryght was a household name. Phinehas Grimm and Billy Sadistic were legends in wrestling, but outside the industry they weren’t universally known. The time Mr. Showtime spent in Hollywood cemented his public status. He was the lead in one of the biggest movies in history. He played Phillip Lombard across legends in the acting world. He had no delusions that his awards were attributed more to the people he aligned himself with rather than his acting chops. He always knew how to take advantage of a situation.
Showtime had decided to walk back to the condo he purchased many years ago in Greenville, South Carolina. It had been ages since he’d been back there. This place was really owned by the old vain bastard that was once Michael Wryght. A luxury apartment for a man that needed a place to stay only after wrestling events. Apparently he’d been too good to fly back on his private jet after a fight. Go figure.
He’d pretty much abandoned this residence once he went through his transformation. He had become grittier and pulled away from the finer things in life. He couldn’t help use the extremely useful things, like his jet and car services, but has thrown other frivolities to the side. He no longer adorned his insanely expensive jewelry and most of his clothes. He would have ceased wearing his suits, but they were the only damn things hanging in his closets. He’d let his beard and hair get unruly. The old Showtime wouldn’t have even thought about allowing the mane that he had now to grow. It was always clean cut like the business man he’d strived to become.
All in all he’d become use to his new self. He thought of it now as almost a blessing. He no longer cared about the useless parts of life. Material possession and success were things of the past. He now cared about the greater good. Everything he did now was for the betterment of humanity, even if they refused to recognize it. In the end they’d appreciate what he’d done, but until then he had to embrace the role of a villain. Always he remembered it was for the greater good.
After exiting the elevator he turned towards his condo. He approached unit 1442 to find that the door was cracked open. It wasn’t possible for this door to be ajar for this long without someone in the building noticing. Security was one of the reasons he’d chosen this place. He eased the door open to try to survey the area. He knew he had enemies, and wasn’t interested in any surprised that might ruin his night.
“Please come in Mr. Wryght,” bellowed a voice from the kitchen. “You have no reason to be afraid. You are amongst friends.”
“Why are you in my house?”
“Well, waiting for you of course. I didn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea by approaching you in public.”
It was a weird comment. Why would anyone care seeing Showtime and this stranger together? Showtime slowly walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. The sound of ice cubes dropping into crystal glasses caught his ear. Someone had found the liquor cabinet.
“I hope you don’t mind,” asked the man as he walked out of the kitchen with a scotch in each hand. He passed one to Showtime and continued into the living room. “I got a little head start on you.”
“You’re…” Showtime started in fascination.
“Yes, I know who I am and I know who you are. Let’s keep the name to ourselves. I’m not interested in being discovered.”
“Who else is here?”
“No one of course,” replied the man curiously. “Why would you ask?”
“You said I was amongst friends. I would interpret that as they are others around.”
“Come on my dear boy, it’s only a saying. You really need to loosen up if you are going to move forward with this.”
“With what?” Showtime played dumb.
The man wasn’t fooled in the slightest bit and said, “Come on, let’s not play these games. You’ll make the announcement in two days. I’ve already set up a patented “Mr. Showtime” State of the Union. You’ll see the normal cast of characters there, with the addition of a few real reporters.”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then you’re passing up on your destiny,” replied the man, dropping his jovial attitude. He downed the rest of his drink, leaving Showtime to stir.
8 Minutes until the State of the Union Address
It may have only been six minutes since his curtain call, but to Michael Wryght it felt like an eternity. He’d never been so nervous to approach a crowd before. It was unsettling to say the least. Every fiber of his body was telling him that this was a huge mistake. Potentially the biggest mistake of his life. Once he went out there he wouldn’t be able to turn back. This was it.
He looked himself over in the mirror before his final departure. Gone was his wild head of hair and unruly beard. They’d been replaced with a close cropped side parted pompadour and a thin mustache. It was still startling for Showtime to see his full face again. It was foreign to the man he’d become. He justified it as just looking the role he was about to play. He was grateful for the acting skills he’d picked up, because he was sure as hell that he’d be needing them.
As he exited the dressing room the intern was still standing by. He was too nervous to even look Showtime in the face, which didn’t make the situation any better. Wryght still felt a little bad about their interaction a few moment earlier so he decided to break the ice, “You sure you don’t want to go out there instead?”
“What? Me?” the intern squeaked, before he noticed that Showtime had that patented half smile on his face. It eased the poor boys nerves, but didn’t do the same for Showtime. The intern handed Showtime a manila folder and added, “This is for you. There is apparently explicit instructions on how to proceed.”
“That’s not how I like to run these.”
“Sir, with all due respect, this isn’t a regular forum,” replied the intern sternly. Showtime could tell that The Black Hand had briefed this lad well on his preparation skills. Before Showtime could open the contents of his folder, the intern was leading him off towards the curtain.
28 Hours until the State of the Union Address
Showtime had been invited to the House of Grimm by his fellow members of The Black Hand. They had all invested interest in the other’s success at Return to Glory and Showtime already knew that he needed to try and talk some sense into Billy. If Showtime wasn’t careful Billy might just go and ruin everything. Michael had come to the conclusion on the flight to Kentucky that Eira didn’t want to fight Showtime at all.
It wasn’t out of fear or anything else circumstantial. It was because she wanted to be the one to dethrone the great Billy Sadistic. She’d been on his heels for months, but now she’d been cast down two title levels. Eira had no real quarrels with Showtime other than the fact he was a stablemate with her arch nemesis. She would definitely not consider a North American Title shot a conciliation prize. The contrary. The N.A. title to her would be a prison. It would officially take her out of the World Title picture and away from any type of revenge she’d be able to enact on William.
Beating Showtime to spite Sadistic was not a favorable option. Showtime just hoped that Eira was smart enough to realize that. If Sadistic didn’t give her a reason to hate him any greater at Return to Glory then both he and Showtime could easily walk out retaining champions. It was for the greater good, and for what was coming ahead Showtime might just need to be a bit more scrupulous in his actions.
“Are you just going to stand there all night?” asked the soft voice of Ruth Dillinger. She was standing in the doorway of her home looking on to Showtime with curious eyes. “It’s probably not all that safe out here.”
Shaking off the cobwebs Showtime gives her a smile and replied, “I’m not sure it’s all that much safer in there.”
“Touché,” she chuckled as Showtime walked past her. William and Phinehas had already assembled, as Showtime entered fashionably late. Both stopped midsentence and glace at their guest. Showtime couldn’t help but lock eyes on the shovel resting in Phinehas’ hands. The look didn’t go unnoticed as Grimm smiles in response as if it were a compliment.
“Ah, can we talk a little strategy now that you’ve arrived?” asked Billy, pretending to be annoyed at Showtime’s tardiness.
“Actually first there is something that you need to see,” replied Showtime solemnly. He retrieved the initial note from The Black Hand. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud. Sadistic was quick to snatch the letter out of his friend’s hand. Immediately his eyebrows raised and a smile spread across his face. Showtime could see that he was actually speechless. He quickly passed the note over to his brother who had a similar reaction.
Finally Sadistic broke the silence, “Is this for real?”
Showtime could only nod in response, as Phinehas added, “This is fantastic. It changes everything.”
“I don’t think I’d use the word fantastic,” moaned Showtime. “It’s sort of a nightmare to me.”
“Then you are thinking about this all wrong,” added Sadistic. “This is exactly the reason The Black Hand would recruit a man like you. They must have always had this in mind all along.”
“That doesn’t really make me feel any better.”
“Oh but it will once you win,” said Phinehas, slamming the butt of his shovel into the floor.
“Can we just move on? I just thought that you needed to know before I made it public.”
“When?” they asked in unison.
“In a little over a day.”
“Good old Mikey, always full of surprises.”
“Alright I’d prefer that we just move on now, you were eager to discuss strategy before,” Showtime suggested trying to get the conversation back on the right track. He needed to find the right moment to unfurl his plan for Eira to Sadistic and Grimm.
Sadistic looked over towards his brother and said, “Phin, there’s really nothin’ to talk about pertaining to LoKi…” As Sadistic focused on his brother Showtime would need to wait for Sadistic to ask about the North American Title match. Then it would be time to drop the plan on the Dillingers.
1 Minute and 30 Seconds until the State of the Union Address
Showtime pulled his head out of the folder just handed to him. It had instructions to only take three questions after his announcement. These people were already chosen and would ask three specific questions. The questions were included with the seating chart along with the answers. All of this felt wrong to Showtime, but he had to play it their way, at least today. They had set all of this up and if they put in this much effort then it would be foolish to divert from the plan.
Perfection snuck up on Showtime as he had his head down and didn’t notice that they started to play his music. She startled him a bit, but her warm smile was comforting. Enough to give him the courage to take a deep breath and walk out on stage. The people in attendance rose to their feet with applause. As Showtime ponied up behind the lectern the reporter’s hands shot into the air.
Generally Showtime would take questions until there were no more, but he had his script. He perked up giving them all a sly smile and cocked eyebrow. He waived his hands up and down to settle the crowd. In confusion then simmered to await the address from Mr. Showtime.
“Ladies and Gentlemen. I am here today with a very important announcement. I must apologize in advance for the lack of notice I gave everyone, since most of you know that isn’t my style. I, Michael Wryght, stand in front of my friends and peers to announce that I will be running in the 2016 election for the office of President of the United States. It is time that the country be taken down a different path. It is time that we recognize that the one percent of the country, corrupt government officials and big business executives do not have this nation’s best interests in mind. We need a new type of leader. A man that comes from humble beginnings and actually lived the American dream. This era of unjust rule over the great people of America must end. We need to think of us as one constituency rather than a nation divided by those who hope to gain on our squabbling. I would like to open the floor for just a few questions.”
The room was in utter shock. The silence was quickly replaced by the roar of reporters. Everyone saw the magnitude of this bubbling up, and their question must be answered. Showtime pitied them. He pointed to his first mark in the back corner of the room.
“Thank you. Anthony Davis with the New York Times,” replied the reporter as the other returned to their seats. “This has to be some sort of joke or maybe a publicity stunt. I mean really, a professional wrestler with mental issues can’t really think he has a chance at winning the presidency.”
“Mr. Davis, I am serious and I’m offended by your comment. I have been a successful business man for many years. I am a philanthropist and I’ve worked hard for everything that’s come my way. I am a staple for my community and have no real medical history of mental instability. What you are referring to is a character that I play for the fans of Pure Class Wrestling. I won’t lie to any of you. I love the sport of wrestling. It is a passion of mine and one that has called to me over the years. Though if you look up here and all you see if a wrestler then you should be ashamed of yourself. When you start looking into my credentials you will see that my history outside of the ring makes me a great and viable candidate that hasn’t been spat out of the political machine. Next question.”
The crowd erupts again for Showtime to point to his next mark.
“Thank you, I’m Aaron NiParko from Politico. Which party are you hoping to get the nomination from? Both the Republicans and Democrats have a crowded field for 2016. How could you ever hope to break in?”
“Thanks Aaron, I plan on running as an independent. I believe that the two party system has run its course. We don’t need any more politicians that lean too far to the right or left. We need someone that will do what’s best for America, not their party. I consider myself a moderate that will ruminate both sides of the coin before making any rash judgements to appease a group. Next.”
The lemmings jumped again as Showtime pointed to his last mark.
This man studied Showtime with keen eyes. He hesitated before asking his question in a mistrusting tone, “Mr. Wryght, how can you say such things when you are in the pocket of a secret society hell bent on world domination? You have your own interest group that you will be appeasing.”
As scripted on the card in front of him, Showtime rested his elbow on the lectern and audibly laughed out loud. The laughter was infectious taking over everyone in the room, minus the man who asked the question. Showtime paused for effect and whipped a tear from his eye.
“I’m sorry, but do you actually believe everything you see on TV? A secret society hell bent on taking over the world? This isn’t some Bond novel. It’s real life, my friend. If you take everything so seriously then you’ll be plum surprised when I announce Santa Clause as my nomination for Vice President. I know what you’re thinking he’s old, but the children love him.”
This comment got the rest of the crowd to roar with laughter again at the expense of the final mark. “I’m sorry that I have to run, but I will be available to take more questions very soon. Remember don’t take everything you see on television so seriously, that stuff rots your brains. Thank you and God Bless!”
Showtime smiled and waved to the crowd before making his exit. He hoped that they bought his acting skills, or the entirety of The Black Hand might be actually exposed. Regardless of how that would actually be perceived he knew that there was now no turning back.
