Horrid Past

Menace 4
Dec. 1, 2003
Starring: Trey Vincent and Sean Studd
Writer: John Leary and Levine

The lights darkened in the arena momentarily, and then the Deftones' 'My Own Summer (Shove It)' hit the speakers, accompanied by some flashing green and white lights. Out stepped Trey Vincent. He looked around at the crowd, took a couple of wobbly steps, and then headed down the aisle, doing a total Scott Hall rip-off entrance. Once at the ring, he slid under the bottom rope, and produced a microphone his waist line.

The Sports Entertainment Icon stood center ring. A tad wobbly from the earlier drinking contest. But it was only beer, so it was just a good buzz. The music died down and Vincent walked over to the television camera side ropes.

'Helllllllloooooo, feckerzzz! I am Treyyy Vincent. The reason you all came here tonight. And the reason all of you ladies will be coming in your cars on the drive home.' He paused, getting a few screams from the ladies. 'Nowwww! I came out here for a reason. Because of Sean Studddadada....'

Yes, the crowd reacted in cheers for the mention of Studd.

'For some reason I'll never understand, yoouuuu people cheer him when he's not my tag. Team. Partner. Anymore. He is nothing. For God's sakes, I think you people need to see, the TRUTH!' Vincent said, putting his finger up in the air, and pausing as if he were stuck in a still shot. And yes, he was slurring and yelling. He is a bit under the weather. And it was raining beer. God help the fans close enough to smell his thunder.

'Roll, the magic footage. Studd tried to burn this evidence, but even the fire refused to touch this shit with a ten foot pole! HAH~!'

Up on the CorporateTron came the first photo. The camera focused on the big screen as Vincent began providing narration.

'About 18 months ago, Sean Studd was struggling. He didn't have any gimmick, to match his lack of talent. Long before he started ripping off MY act. Anyhow. He had a hard-on to get into the Asylum. So, Studd came up, with this...'

A photo of Sean Studd went up on the screen. Studd was wearing an S&M type of mask with a white phallus painted between his eyes and down his nose, stopping at his mouth. He had an S 'carved' (more like painted on) his chest, like a retarded Superman symbol. Black leather pants. Black gloves with the letter S on one and E on the other. And, of course, in his right hand is a butcher knife. In his left, a penis!

'Sean Ender was born! That's right! Villam Ender's retarded second cousin from a third marriage. Sean planned to mutilate a lot of kitties, or, pussies as they're known in some circles, and cut the penis off of his opponents after he put them out with a sleeper hold. He billed himself as a 20th century Brutus Beefcake. 'Nuff said!'

OK, some of the fans were into this now. There were laughs, cheers and claps for the manipulated image borrowed from the Asylum. Trey was a heel, no doubt, but Vincent and Studd parodies were gold. And that gold was starting to shine again, but with both on different sides of the fence.

'Joe Campbell wasn't buying. And Studd was still a skinny loser, living in his parent's basement. So, he came up with a new gimmick. I'll let you all decide if it's any better than the last one.'

Up on the screen came an image of Studd in an ice cream suit, standing in front of a ice cream truck.

'Whoops! That wasn't a gimmick, that was his job!'

'Ohhhhh!' the crowd roared at the burn.

'My bad. Let's see what else we've got here. A longtime closet fan of the fWo, hey, sorry to out you, bro, heh. Anyhow, Studd really took a liking to that Monte Burns guy, since Studd was a skinny cruiserweight. So, Studd came up with this.'

Studd's face superimposed on the body of Homer Simpson. Studd in a white T-shirt, blue pants, looking cartoony.

'Since he was always drunk, he figured he could eat a bunch of pies and hams, so he did, put on a ton of weight. And figured, hey! Those guys in the eff dubya ohh would love to have Homer Simpson take on Monte Burns. It'd be the ULTIMATE GRUDGE MATCH. Studd's still waiting for the call back. No beer, no TV, no friends, no talent and no gimmick make Studd go crazy. D'oh!'

Up next on the big screen came a photo of Studd in a doctor's get-up.

'Then, Studd heard about this place called Action. There, a sports entertaining lawyer was the king, a guy named LLB. So, Studd figured, with the success of ER and all those other shows, surely, he could get in with such a golden gimmick. I'll give you credit, Studd, this was your best gimmick yet. He called himself SMD. Studd: Medical Doctor. When Reed Young and Roland saw this character, they laughed. All the way to the trash can, where they threw your application. In the garbage. I did like your catchphrase though: 'I'm gonna kick your ass! And then put it back together!''

Got some chuckles from the crowd.

'Not quite the cool badass he pretends to be now. Though, I would be remiss if I failed to show his least memorable performance...'

Up on the screen comes a bald version of Studd. He is holding a chainsaw with a cartoon caption next to him that says 'Give Me The F*cking World Title Or I'll F*ck Up Your F*cking Ring Motherf*cker!

'I don't know what he called this gimmick. But I call it Graphic Stupidity!'

Vincent was having a good time, hell even the crowd was. But, there was somebody who wanted to join in the fun, maybe even ruin Trey's a bit.

Sean Studd. The butt of the joke.

Or was he?

Trey Vincent was soon cut off by the dimming of the lights. The crowd immediately jumped to their feet as the music of “Paradise City” began to play, allowing a light show to begin to shine throughout the arena. Trey Vincent simply stood in the center of the ring, slyly grinning at the entrance of his foe. Before long, fireworks soared into the entrance ramp, allowing Sean Studd to burst through the curtain, smiling widely at the crowd as he did so. Trey Vincent quickly moved to the edge of the ring and leaned against the ropes, awaiting Studd to enter and TRY to get some sort of verbal revenge. But Trey had the flow, he had the god damn mother fucking MOJO baby…YEAH!

Or did he?

Sean Studd, with a can of beer in one hand and a microphone in the other, he simply smiled and raised a hand for the music to stop playing. Studd paced a bit on the entrance ramp, as he quickly began to process all that had gone on in the past twenty minutes, and finally coming up with the proper word to explain what he wanted to say when the first minute passed…

”AWWWW SHAAAADAAAAPPPP!!”

The fans immediately cheered, as a nonchalant Trey Vincent passed it off with a wave of the hand. Studd, seeing he was not affecting Trey Vincent, only returned the smile back at his foe.

”I’ll tell you something Trey…now, this might be the alcohol talking…but that segment was very unique TV, VERY Unique,” Studd suddenly paused, “Actually, it was unique about three years ago when the World Wrestling Entertainment did the same exact thing…hmm, so how did Trey come up with such a witty method of attempting to blemish my reputation?”

The fans couldn’t help but laugh, as Trey Vincent began to get a more serious tone in his face.

”Should I be calling you “Y2H” Lance Hawkins these days, Trey?” more laughter came forth, as Trey began to get in a much more serious attitude, “You see, Trey, you can parade all the little fancy photos you want up on that Tron. Hell, you could take a brides body and put my face on it, I wouldn’t give a damn…because, although it provides for a good comedy routine, every single ass that is seated in these seats tonight realize that none of those pictures are true. Hell, that whole segment of yours might as well be called the ‘National Enquirer’…just a bunch of poorly merged images, to further benefit profit for oneself, correct Trey?”

Trey didn’t answer, and simply stared…before smirking, knowing Studd hadn’t got much on him.

”Sean, did you just come out here to ‘literalize’ this entire segment? Because if this is your idea of a comeback,” Trey soon looked over at his ‘imaginary’ watch on his wrist and made sure it was ticking, “Could you hurry it up alittle? Trey Vincent has people to see, beers to drink, and vagina to be probed…so would you mind speeding this up a bit?”

”Oh, yes, we mustn’t keep the almighty…BOB WORLD CHAMPION…waiting!”

OH SHIT, now ladies and gentlemen…THAT was a low blow. The fans immediately let out an “OHHHHH~!!!” as Trey Vincent quickly changed his expression from one of a cocky bastard, to one of an angry bastard. Sean Studd couldn’t help but laugh at Trey’s reaction.

”Don’t you ever…,” pause, “fucking…,” pause, “mention that shit again, you hear me?”

”Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah,” Studd replied as he arrogantly paced across the entrance ramp, “But seriously, Trey, I didn’t come out here to just literalize your little promo. I came out here to do something much more important than that. You see, the only reason I literalized this entire bit was because I have something much more interesting to show our fans here tonight…”

The fans could only cheer on Sean Studd, as Trey Vincent suddenly became interested. He knew that Studd hadn’t known Trey Vincent long enough to know any embarrassing stories…so TV figured it was a bluff. But he kept on his high defense guard…no one could trust the young Studd.

”You see, I paid a visit to a very close family member of yours…and persuaded her into giving me a certain photo of a previous federation you wrestled for. It’s funny how you never seem to mention this venture, I mean…afterall…you WERE its World Champion, weren’t you?”

It was at that moment, Trey’s jaw had literally dropped to the floor as he muttered to himself, “no fucking way he got that”.

Studd could only smile.

”You see, ladies and gentlemen, the Brawlers on Budget federation wasn’t the only…ahem…GREAT…endeavor performed by our good friend Trey Vincent. For you see, he previously went under another moniker before going into the whole Trey Vincent act…a far more ‘suiting’ character”

”FUCK YOU STUDD” Vincent shouted out, “DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!”

”C’mon now Trey, you should feel proud of yourself. Who else could come up with a gimmick like your original. Who else could’ve thought about dying his hair red? Who else could’ve thought about placing a scar across his eye…etched in marker of course. And who else could’ve been as…

Relentless…

As you were?”

Oh hell no, was all Trey Vincent could mutter beneath his breathe as he suddenly heard a HUGE wave of laughter overcome the entire arena. Trey Vincent timidly turned his eyes to the Tron and saw what the center of enjoyment was coming from. It was the year of 1996, it was the federation known as WWEWCWECW2K, and it was the skeleton in the closet for Trey Vincent.

There it stood…an actual REAL photograph of Trey Vincent. But it wasn’t the TV we know and love today, far from it. This one had long frisky red hair, and a red marker slash over his right eye. His eyes were now piercing blue, and his ring attire was a mixture of yellow, black, and Navy blue.

”Ladies and Gentlemen…I give to you our FUTURE SUPERSTAR…Trey The Relentless!”

It wasn’t a merged image, it was an actual photograph of Trey Vincent…and the fans couldn’t help but laugh, as Studd finally through the microphone to the floor and allowed his music of “Paradise City” to return to the PA system. Studd soon winked over at Trey Vincent before departing backstage, living a livid Trey Vincent to simply fall to his knees and stare blankly at the photo of the olden days. Trey Vincent simply threw his microphone to the mat, allowing it to shatter upon impact.

The laughter was loud, and it simply pierced Trey’s ears. He was shaking profusely, and his fists couldn’t stand still. His teeth grinded against one another, as Trey Vincent whispered one final sentence to himself, “I’ll get you back you little bastard…I’ll get you back…

Fucker”

NEXT CHAPTER: EGO Induced Threats >>

©2003 John Leary