Post by Malaki Toala on Oct 26, 2013 14:45:46 GMT
Standing before us all is the imposing frame of Malaki Toala, 6’4” and 298lbs of pure muscle, the very definition of intimidation. A true specimen of power and strength, a man who has brutalised his opponents on the rugby fields of Dubai, Twickenham and Melbourne, a man…
Hey… hello? Down here!
The camera slowly pans down from the imposing frame of Malaki down to his agent, Joey Leroux. 5’8” and weedy, the very definition of a leech. Joey smiles and waves energetically at the camera.
Eyes off the goods fellas, let the mouthpiece do the talking, capisce?
Joey clears his throat.
Ahem.
Greetings to the… what was it called again? Oh, right! Yes! Greetings to the Imperial Wrestling Federation, platform of the carefully sculpted bodies of the latter day Greek God’s and Goddesses. My name is Joey Leroux, sports agent extraordinaire with a brief foray into the adult film business… but we won’t talk about that. PG right?
It’s not?
Oh… well, make sure you check out Charlotte Swallows in The Church Daughter Next Door IV, I never forget about my clients, even if I kinda want to…
Malaki looks down at Joey who becomes a little flustered before waving a hand to move on.
But, enough of the jizz biz, I stand before you today to introduce the next big thing, and this time I really aren’t using a euphemism. Behind me is the man who will drag this backwards industry out of the doldrums and into the twenty first century, kicking and screaming if needs be. Actually, that would be ideal, the more fanfare the better.
Remind me, we really need to talk about adding some… pizazz to that entrance of yours?
Malaki rolls his eyes. Joey slaps him on the shoulder and turns back to the camera.
We’ll talk later.
You are about to witness a specimen that is beyond compare, never before has the wrestling business seen a man with the raw power, the brute strength and the relentless will to win that can possibly compare to my client here. There isn’t a single man on heaven of earth who can stand toe to toe with this beast without shaking in his boots.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I introduce to you…
The Samoan Battering Ram, Malaki Toala!
Joey stands, a few feet in front of Malaki, his arms out stretched and his chin up in the air, his eyes closed. Slowly the camera pans out to reveal a rather grimy gym, paint peeling off the wall and rust forming on the weights. Awkward much?
They can see the rest of the set, can’t they?
Joey opens one eye and looks up at Malaki who nods slowly. Joey drops his arms and lets out a groan.
Sheesh… what did I tell you guys about focusing on the God damn board behind me and the big guy? Huh!? Is that rocket science to you people? Do you know how much Panda Cola paid for this sponsorship? Well, do you!?
Joey turns to Malaki.
Don’t worry M-T, when our first Gladiators pay-cheque rolls in we’ll find out a setting worth of your talents, trust me.
Malaki leans down, whispering in Joey’s ear, promptly pissing on the party if you will.
We don’t get paid!? Are you kidding me? Who signed that contract!
Malaki raises an eyebrow.
Hey, don’t look at me like that, it was a rhetorical question. Oy vey, I hate this business already, why couldn’t you play in the NFL? There was money there! Cheerleaders, glamour, after parties… How do I get us out of this mess?
Suddenly, the lights flicks on upstairs and Joey turns back to the camera.
Ah ha!
Ladies and Gentleman, please forgive our… minor technical difficulties, FYI guys, please cut all of that out of the broadcast, yeah?
What you may see as a tired, old, run down gym… well, it is a dung heap, but it is symbolic of the roots from which my client has clamoured out from to stand before you today. He is a humble man, from humble origins, untouched and untainted by the villainy of a bathtub of Benjamin Franklins. A true hero, a man for the little guy who just wanted to be a somebody!
We stand before you today to reveal his roots, so that you remember them when he triumphantly holds aloft the wooden sword of a Gladiator!
From the tranquil isle of Samoa, Malaki rose through adversity, and poverty, to become one of the hottest properties in Samoan Rugby before I, Joey Lereux, plucked him from obscurity to bring him to your television screens. Yeah, you can thank me later. After years on the Sevens circuit, traversing the globe, I have honed his ability to crush his way through a scrum into the perfect wrestling machine.
IWF Gladiators presents a golden opportunity to show you all what Malaki can do. Starting this week, you will all see what he can do to any man who stands defiantly before him and…
What?
They’re not even wrestling? Are you kidding me? Then what exactly are they doing?
Introducing themselves… like kindergartners? What next, show and tell?
Well, Malaki will show you what he can do, and I’ll tell you I told you so, how about that?
Huh, huh? No? Urgh…
Joey shakes his head, placing his hands on his hips as he expertly mimics a toddler’s tantrum. Irony is a bitch.
First, they hire us out this dump. Then they don’t even let us tout of wares on television? How am I meant to seel the big guy as a wrestler if he doesn’t wrestle? How about you tell me that? Here I am, trying to be professional and they want me to do some sort of cutsie Q&A?
Joey, I really don’t…
This is meant to be a serious business, where men are men, they bleed sweat, cry blood and all that jazz. Yet all they want me to do is talk about why we’re here, isn’t that obvious? The money baby! Sheesh…
Joey, I don’t mind…
No, no! Big guy! Let me handle this, this is what you pay me for.
I don’t pay you anything.
Details, details… you will do when these cheapskates finally lets you do your thing.
Joey turns and stares straight down the camera.
Let’s make this real simple. Me, Joey Lereux. Him, Malaki Toala. Imperial Wrestling Federation, our personal playground. The Imperial Championship, being warmed for us by Spike Kane. Rich, you better believe we will be.
If you want a real promo, pay for a real set.
Let’s go big guy.
Joey stamps off the set in full prima donna mode as Malaki sighs, shaking his head. Realising that the easiest option is just to follow, Toala walks off camera which slowly pans up to reveal the name of the gym.
“Lereux’s Gymnaisum”.
Who’s the cheapskate again?
Well howdy there pardner.