The TV Show 3: Duel

Pressure Point 64
June 16, 2003
Writers: John Leary & Wyatt Beougher

The cameras focused in on the ring. Instead of a mat, a forest green carpet. A late night TV show looking desk. It was time for the coolest heel on the planet to return to the airwaves and deliver some entertainment value that is sorely lacking from the roster.

The ReedYoungTron! lit up with a television showing static. It was then blasted with a sledgehammer and green light came out like water, filling the screen. The TV Show rolled across the screen as "Big Ego's" by Dr. Dre hit.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the TV Show, starring Trey Vincent. Tonight, Trey welcomes Duel!"

Pop.

"Tonight, featuring Hate Mail! And now, the man of the hour, the biggest star in Action! and the entire sports entertainment world, Treeeeeeeyyyyyyyyy, VINCENT!"

Trey got a good ovation from the crowd as the man of the moment stepped out, tonight clad in a TV Is Your Father And No I'm Not Kidding! T-shirt and black leather pants. He looked around at the crowd and waved as he walked out to his stage, the ring. Once there, he got behind his desk, smiling, and took a seat in his black leather chair.

"Hello once again. I have to tell you. It's amazing, week after week, people are getting turned onto TV. They're saying Action is bouncing back from the IOW-like state it was drifting towards."

That got some major boos. Don't mention the IOW anywhere.

"Alright. Alright, you DO realize I'm only joking? IOW was fine. *Cough*hellhole*cough*."

The fans were back with him, getting a chuckle out of that.

"But back to the story. I looked at the ratings last week. They jumped an entire point for the final quarter hour, when I graced the TV screen, my home. And for that, I thank you all. Now, a little contest. Tell your friends and family, whoever, that if you get a TV Show to get ratings in the 6-share area, I guarantee you bare boobs on a pay-per-view."

Roar from the boys in the audience.

"It's been said, but you all know. I don't do smart humor. I don't do smart mark humor. I appeal to my viewer's crotches. And ladies, if you help the ratings go through the roof, well, I'll give you something very special. I've only given it to, oh, 200 women, give or take a few. Think about that. Only 200 of like 3 billion women on the planet. It's just like new. You know what I mean.

"Alright, let's move this show along here. Everyone raved about the show last week. Of course, we had my buddy from jOlt and PIW on the show, KroW. The man who dares to capitalize where others wouldn't dare. Fight the grammar!" Trey said raising a fist in the air, ala black power.

"So, with that in mind, let's get to the hate mail. *Ahem* Dear Trey. I watched the TV Show last week, like so many other people, and I have to tell you. You really dodged the big question. Bottom line is, you didn't ask KroW about him walking out. I think it's pathetic. You're a yella belly. Summmmmbitch. I think it's absolute CRAP that KroW walked out on Action, on the fans, and the wrestlers and all that stuff. Signed, Steve Williams.

"Well, Mr. Williams of Texas, all I can say is this. Bite me.

"Letter number two. Why isn't Sean Studd with you in Action? He carried your ass through PIW and XW. Signed, Sean Studd. Ahahaha, funny Sean, get a job. And I hope you cure that clap of yours."

Sean Studd was one half of Team EGO in the above mentioned feds. Studd never came to terms with Action.

"And our final letter tonight. Trey! Bro. What the hell is up? Long time no see. Just wanted to say hello and I was wondering if you still have my panties. Signed, Jamal Wilson? What the…Listen you fayg, they will never build a big enough swing for me to get near you. Get it?

"Alright, enough fun. Let's get to tonight's guest. Before I bring him out, I should explain what this guy and I have in common. There's a cool guy I call friend, his name, Edward Olmstead. And I call him friend because he paid me in full. Good man. Anyhow, he brought me into the shithole known as LCW Evo before it folded. That fed had some shady characters. I tried to help clean it up, so, since it's closed, I guess I did a good job. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Fans, please welcome, all the way from the Wild, Wild West, DUEL."

Trey stood up and began clapping.

"Remote Control" by the Beastie Boys hit. Duel's music? No. Hold on a second and you'll find out.

"Welcome to the show," Trey greeted. "You find the place OK?"

"I'm here, aren't I," Duel growled, apparently not overly happy with the introduction he had been provided.

"Ahh, it sounds like somebody's a tad grumpy. Well I've got just the thing that'll cheer you up. I found one of your old friends. All the way from obscurity, I'm sure you remember this guy. Mike? Mike Static are you back there?"

Duel looked towards the top of the ramp angrily, regretting ever agreeing to come onto the TV Show.

"Mwahaha. Gotcha! Alright, seriously, let's get down to why I allowed you to be on my show. Getting things going with some "Remote Control." Must bring back some memories of Evo for you, Duel. But luckily, nobody in the audience cares about those. I mean, hell, if I let you talk about Evo, when I see the low ratings tomorrow, I'd know why. I hope you realize I'm carrying you to your best interview ever, and it'll continue to be your best as long as you let me talk more than you."

Trey flashed a smile at the camera, happy where this show was going. Yep, the gutter, and quick.

A year ago, before the extensive therapy that Duel had undergone, Trey Vincent would likely have found himself the recipient of a beating like he had never been privileged to before. After all, you take a guy who's built like a brick outhouse and add in a deviant personality with one helluva meanstreak, and that's a recipe for disaster. However, the big man somehow managed to remain calm, and he addressed Vincent as evenly as possible.

"So glad you found time out of your busy schedule of unemployment to interview me, Trey. Let me ask <i>you</i> a question - how many feds have you killed now? 5? 6? Makes me wonder what you had to do to get Reed to let you in here..."

"RATINGS!" Trey burst out. "Alright, I see you're a very complex man with a goatee. There is a name I want to bring up to you. And I want you to tell me what you think about him. That name? Lance Knight."

Vincent put his elbows on the desk and his head in his hands, eagerly awaiting this reply.

"Still holding <i>that</i> grudge, are you?" Duel began, smiling his most innocent smile at Vincent. "What is there to say? I trained him, and I couldn't be more proud of the fact that he's kicking some ass in the Fans Wrestling Organization."

"Grudge" Vincent said. "Why would you think that? It wouldn't be because I dressed up a short guy in a knight suit and called him Lance The Knight. That was all in good fun, Duel. Well, let's talk about facts then. Lance Knight is not in sports entertainment for the right reasons. He was selfish and left jOlt. For himself. He let all the fans down. To go where? The fWo. *Pfffft* Whatever. You see? He's not IN IT for the fans. Your thoughts?" Trey paused. "Man, I feel like I'm on 60 Minutes all of a sudden."

"Say what you want, Vincent, but you'd jump at a shot to get into the fWo, especially if, like Lance, it meant you'd get to leave that shithole known as jOlt. In fact, I've heard that you actually tried to get Lance to get you an interview with the fWo last summer before they went on hiatus."

"Well...hey now, umm....yeah. So, Duel, why exactly did you come on my show, the TV Show, the number one sports entertainment interview show today?" Vincent asked, as if trying to get out of a very sticky situation. A guy, who bashes fWO at every chance, yes, also had tried to get in twice. Once via Knight. Once through a friend of a guy who knew somebody who knew a guy who used to be in fWo. Oh whatever. He sent in an application like every other idiot. And failed. Are you happy now? Why am I talking to you anyway. Let's hear what Knight has to say...

"Well, I figured after having KroW on here, you'd need somebody to give the show a boost, so when your people contacted my people, of course I jumped at the opportunity." Duel paused, waiting until TV looked ready to speak again, then cut him off. "...besides, I wanted to see if you were as big a dickhead as Lance said you were"

"Well, I'm sure you know the answer to that one now," Trey said, getting some laughs from the crowd.

Even Duel laughed along for a moment. "Yeah, I suppose I do."

"Alright, well, I have but four things to say to you now. First of all, tell your buddy Lance that I'll face him anywhere. One match only. Here. fWo. IWO. BOB. No, not BOB. Umm. Yeah. So you tell him, Trey Vincent still needs to teach him the sports entertainment lesson of a lifetime. And tell him to stop taking interview lessons from robots."

"Okay, that's one, and I'll be sure to let him know. Who knows, maybe he'll want a match after he wins the fWo United States Championship."

"Alright then. Now. A moment for us.

Trey turned to the camera, Jerry Springer-style.

"Duel, you make me sick. The fWo makes me sick. Action is starting to make me sick. I only want to be getting sick from alcohol. You're out of order. This industry is out of order. This whole country is out of order. This interview is OVER."

Trey exited to "Big Ego's," leaving Duel in the ring, a bit confused. And pissed. As Duel slid out of the ring, Duel muttered to himself, "Glad to see the bastard can count..."

NEXT CHAPTER: The TV Show 4: Joe Black >>

©2003 John Leary