Post by "The Fabulous One" Dan Fierce on Jun 5, 2017 18:43:08 GMT -5
Respectful Goodbyes
Shane Dodge and the one and only "Fabulous One" Dan Fierce sit in a dimly lit studio waiting for their cue to begin taping the interview, sitting across from each other in fashionably upholstered chairs, padded just enough to make them comfortable, but stiff enough to prevent them from sinking down into them. The backdrop is the usual Honeycombed design over the metallic midnight blue that is capped with the iconic "PCW" logo just off center. The two continue polite and quiet conversation as they await the signal.
Dan crosses his legs at the knee. His sharply creased khaki slacks and black button-up shirt accented by his finely polished Stacy Adams wing-tipped Oxfords nearly glowing even in this low light.
"And we're on in 3... 2..." The camera operator instructs, pantomiming the last of the countdown before signaling for Shane to begin the show.
"Good evening, Faithful," beams Shane. "We're here with the premiere episode of 'This is How You Do an Interview, Razor.' I'm your host, Shane Dodge. My guest tonight is a former PCW World Champion and a perennial icon of the wrestling industry, 'The Fabulous One' Dan Fierce."
"Thank you for having me, Shane. It's been a while since I've been on anything this big." Dan smiles his trademark grin and looks directly at the camera. "Get your minds out of the gutter."
"First of all, welcome back to PCW. I'm sure the audience has many questions they'd like answered, and I'll try to cover as many as I think I can, but I think I'll start by asking why you did what you did at Trauma 212. You entered the Last Chance Battle Royal, coming down to the ring with an obvious mission in your mind. At first glance, it appeared that you were there to assert yourself against Whitey Ford. Then you turned around and easily eliminated Razor Blade. Can you explain what was going through your mind?"
Dan shifts a bit, his mouth pursed slightly as he thinks carefully about his response. "I admit most of what I did was a bit of a knee-jerk response to what qualifies for a promo from Razor Blade."
"What do you mean?" interrupts Shane.
"Well, let's be honest here, Shane," Dan begins, "Everyone starts somewhere in this business, and we all go through that cocky phase of, 'I deserve all of the titles because I'm awesome.' I had my little bout with those demons myself a long time ago. Hell, some people like Kyle Shane never grow out of it. So when someone acts like that, I usually just shake my head and move on with my life. The issue I have with Razor is that he's disrespectful."
Shane looks confused. "How was he disrespectful?"
"For starters, he puts out the same exact whiny bullshit interview each and every time. I went back and watched every one of his so-called interviews. They were all the same diatribe. 'Blah, blah, blah. I deserve to be on top. Blah, blah, blah. I lost because "management" wanted the other guy to win.'"
Dan turns to look directly at the camera. "Razor, sweetie... You lost because you have all of the wrestling talent of a rutabaga. In fact, you half-ass it in the ring so much that I don't think you'd even win a match against a framed picture of William Shatner. You don't belong at the top of the card, sugar. You barely belong mopping the hallways, much less having the honor of jerking the curtain against anyone in that locker room, much less your truly."
"Wow," exclaims Shane in disbelief, "that's kinda harsh."
Dan smiles sweetly, leaning in to pat Shane on the knee. "Sweetie, have you met me? That was a warning shot. The real artillery will be raining down on his overrated ass in the ring at Living a Legacy. Shane, he thinks he deserves to face the World Champion, yet he hasn't got the smarts and common decency to know that I'm not even PCW's heavy hitter any more. That's why I called him disrespectful. I can handle any no-named chump calling me out. Hell, if I WERE still the champ, I'd happily take his ego down a notch or twelve and look fabulous doing it. Just like I'm going to do at the Pay-Per-View. The only difference is there's no gold on the line."
"So, if it's so easy for you to shrug off everything Razor said, why make the challenge at all?"
"Like I said honey, he rubbed me in a way that didn't involve a kiss or dinner. I've been in this business to have learned to not let wannabes like Razor ruffle my feathers, but I just couldn't stand by and let a brain-dead moron derp his way back into the halls of PCW and strut around like he's the cock-of-the-walk. Maybe if momma lets the claws come out and gives him a spanking in front of Gawd and everybody, then he'll learn a thing or two about respect."
"The fans love him. Don't you think you're not giving him a chance?"
"Take a better look, Shane. The fans don't LOVE him. They TOLERATE him, and just barely even that." Dan pauses a bit. "Take a good look every single promo he's put up, Shane. Hell, you've even been part of them. They're boring. Formulaic. If he weren't so pathetic on the mic, I'd almost be convinced that he was trolling all of PCW, kinda like Buck Brochamp. He physically painful to watch. He's been given advice from several people in his time here, and yet he keeps doing the same thing over and over. It's the very definition of insanity.
"I want to cheer for the kid, Shane. I really do, but when you get advice and don't do anything to improve, then you're trying to insert yourself into the title picture, and not just the Underground or any other title, the WORLD Title, blabbing about how you DESERVE a shot? Well, you know how I feel about people trying to cut in line."
"I do, and so does Murdoc." Shane gets a bit of a panicked look on his face. "I hope Murdoc isn't watching."
Dan laughs wholeheartedly. "Don't worry, sweetie. I'll protect you if he rears his fugly head.
"
"Let's switch gears a bit here," Shane suggests. Dan sits forward, his interest piqued. "You also said that it would be your last match. If Razor is so far beneath you, why are you giving him the honor of being your final match?"
"That's a great question," answers Dan. "After Mass Destruction, as you know, I lost the World Title to Grimm. We had a fight for the ages, and I have absolutely no regrets. I'd have liked to keep the belt a bit longer to cement a bit bigger legacy in the PCW annals, but as my dad would say, 'Wish in one hand and shit in the other. Tell me which one gets full quickest.' Anyhoo... After we shed blood, sweat, and tears in that cage, I came backstage and immediately fainted."
"Wait, what?" Shane looks shocked. "There wasn't any footage of that happening."
"Honey," Dan soothes, "just because a camera doesn't catch something doesn't mean it didn't happen. It was in my locker room. I was rushed to the hospital. I asked to have it kept quiet."
"Why? Lots of wrestlers get taken out for medical attention for their injuries."
"True, but it wasn't the blood loss or a potential concussion that dropped me."
Shane's ears perked up. This was the scoop he was waiting for. "Then what did it?"
"Diabetes. Good, old-fashioned, non-glorious diabetes." remarks Dan matter-of-factly. "My blood sugar crashed. If my partner hadn't been there with a glucose pen, I may very well have went into a coma. That's why it's going to be my last match. I can't take a chance on that happening again out there."
"But..." stammers Shane. "You take good care of yourself. You're physically fit. I imagine you eat right. How could you have diabetes?"
"It's genetic, unfortunately," explains Dan, his smile gone from his face. "My birth parents are Hispanic and American Indian. It's a high risk group, and I have it on both sides of my family. My real family. I wanted to have one last match. I figured it might as well be one that I won't have to take a chance on overexerting myself on."
Shane gets a defeated look on his face, cautiously picking his next question. "Well, then I guess I have to ask. What's in the future for the Fabulous One?"
"Oh this bitch ain't going anywhere," assures Dan. "I still have my duties as PCW's PR guy. Now that I'm hanging up the boots, maybe I can do a better job at that. I may do a Glam Slam segment once in a while, just to get my little tootsies in the ring. I'm not getting younger, Shane. I'm a grandmomma now. I've achieved the one thing that eluded me for so long that I thought I'd never get there; I got my happy little mitts on a World Title. I may not have kept it for long, but I'm content with getting there at all. I have no regrets, Shane. Besides... If Cher can have seventy 'Farewell Tours,' who's to say that the PCW Arena won't shine like a rainbow once again? June is Pride Month. It's the perfect time for this old bitch to start enjoying life for a bit."
Shane nods, a solemn grin on his face. "I'm afraid that's all the time we have for today. I want to thank you for coming onto our inaugural show of 'This is How You Do an Interview, Razor.'"
Dan shakes Shane's hand with a surprisingly firm grip. "The pleasure was all mine."
Dan turns his gaze to the camera once again. "Razor, you are barely even worth the effort we put into making this show. I hope you learn something from it, because I guarantee momma's going to drive this lesson home painfully at Living a Legacy. Bring your best. I want to be able to have a reason to give you the thumping you deserve. I may even wear some rings, because that's as close as your worthless ass is ever going to get to seeing gold in your lifetime."
