Post by Malo on Oct 28, 2024 1:37:47 GMT
The camera opens on a bustling sidewalk in Paris, Texas, where the late afternoon sun casts a golden hue over the small town. Locals bustle about their daily routines, but amidst the ordinary, one figure stands out against the mundane backdrop — El Grande Malo. He is a whirlwind of color and charisma, his long, flowing cape billowing dramatically in the warm Texas breeze. The unmistakable Eiffel Tower replica looms behind him, sporting a red cowboy hat that seems to grin down at the spectacle below, adding a quirky charm to the already eccentric landscape. The contrast between the iconic Parisian landmark and the Texas setting is both bewildering and amusing.
Beside Malo stands John, his ever-suffering cameraman, who tries to maintain a professional demeanor amidst the chaos. Behind them lurk Muerte and Uno, the silent sentinels of Malo's entourage, their imposing presence amplifying the absurdity of the moment. Muerte's dark attire contrasts sharply with the bright colors of Malo's costume, while Uno’s towering physique looms ominously like a protective wall. Yet, they are both nearly invisible to Malo, who is far too engrossed in soaking up the "grandeur" of this faux Parisian landscape.
Narrator: Paris, Texas. A town known for its quirky charm, with no flashing lights, no quaint cafés serving buttery croissants, and certainly no Seine River winding through its heart. Yet to El Grande Malo, this was a land of mystery, a canvas waiting for the brush strokes of his next adventure. With his iconic mask tightly secured, he stood with his hands raised high, as if greeting adoring fans who existed only in his mind. The small crowd that had gathered nearby, however, was a mix of bewildered onlookers and amused locals, their reactions ranging from curious to entertained.
(voice booming across the street, his hands gesturing dramatically) “Ahh, Paris, Malo's old friend! We is meeting again, but now… now, Malo is coming to your streets as the King Slayer!”
John winces at this proclamation, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He clearly regrets mentioning his recent victory over Ethan King — an achievement that Malo has somehow twisted into a grand title.
(muttering under his breath, eyes darting to the crowd) “Malo, jesus ... for the last time… this isn’t that Paris, and you’re not actually a ‘King Slayer’…”
Malo, however, remains unfazed, his enthusiasm bubbling over as he pats John on the back, nearly knocking the breath out of him.
(with an exaggerated flourish) “Juanito, relax! Malo, he is knowing this Paris is… how you say? Smaller, humbler. But it is still feeling, how the French peoples is saying 'magnifique' to be here! Besides, King Slayer is Malo's destiny now!”
John rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath again, his tone laced with sarcasm as he contemplates the absurdity of it all.
Narrator: The crew surrounding Malo was not just any typical ragtag team; they formed an absurd amalgamation of personalities, each one contributing to the chaos. Muerte, the dark and brooding figure whose face remained shrouded in shadow, emanated an air of quiet danger. Then there was Uno, a towering wall of muscle who rarely spoke but seemed perpetually ready to unleash a world of hurt at a moment's notice. And of course, there was John, perpetually caught between career ambition and pure confusion, desperately trying to make sense of the whirlwind that was El Grande Malo.
The scene shifts back to the present day. Malo strides forward, a dramatic figure amongst the unassuming townsfolk, waving grandly to passersby. Many stare, puzzled and bemused, while others take out their phones to snap photos, clearly fascinated by the sight of a caped luchador in the heart of small-town Texas.
(whispering to himself, his voice barely audible) “Does he even realize people think he’s just… a walking mascot?”
Malo, blissfully unaware of the murmurs surrounding him, continues his theatrical display, lifting his arms even higher as if summoning an unseen crowd to join him.
(with all the bravado he can muster) “Peoples of Texas! Malo, he is here to liberate you from… um… your troubles! Sí! Malo is here for you!”
A few people clap hesitantly, clearly more amused than inspired. Muerte and Uno exchange a glance, their arms crossed, silent and unreadable behind their masks. The spectacle is both captivating and chaotic, drawing in more curious onlookers.
(with a sidelong glance at Muerte and Uno, trying to suppress a smile) “Why do I get the feeling that they’re not exactly here for… ‘bueno’ reasons?”
Malo, still oblivious to John’s comments, points dramatically to a nearby statue of a cowboy on horseback, its bronze glinting under the sun like a trophy.
(enthusiastically) “Juan! Look! It is the French knight! Malo, he will channel his spirit to vanquish our enemies in this battle royale of… uh… trios!”
The statue, a relic of Texas pride, stands stoically as Malo gestures wildly, his imagination painting vibrant scenarios of glory and valor.
As they continue down the street, the weight of their upcoming match begins to press on John’s shoulders. He realizes it’s now or never if he’s going to get Malo to focus on the seriousness of what lies ahead.
(firmly, trying to catch Malo’s attention) “Malo, listen. This match, it’s not just about laughs. You’re up against the likes of Pax Stormcrow — the reigning World Champion! And Allen Chaney? He’s got the Joker in the Pack contract. They don’t see you as a threat. You have a chance here to prove that you’re more than just…”
He trails off, searching for the right word, the weight of his message hanging in the air.
(grinning wide, his eyes shining with enthusiasm) “The people’s champion! Sí! Malo, he is knowing it all alongs. Gracias, Juan, gracias for believing in Malo!”
John sighs deeply, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he realizes they are operating on entirely different wavelengths.
(trying to maintain some semblance of logic) “That’s… sort of what I meant. But listen, Malo. This could be your moment. If you pull this off, you could really show the IWF that you’re more than just… comic relief.”
Malo looks at John, visibly confused, as if he’s just been told something absolutely absurd.
(defiantly) “¿Comic relief? No, no, no! Malo, he is the serious business! Look at his arms, his cape! Does Malo look like the mans peoples would dare laughing at?”
In a burst of self-importance, Malo strikes a heroic pose, chest puffed out, cape flowing dramatically behind him, completely convinced of his own heroism. He holds the pose as if he were the statue of a victorious hero himself.
(whispering to himself, a resigned smile creeping onto his face) “I give up…”
The flashbacks come to an end, and we’re back with Malo, his spirit unwavering as he continues to admire the “grandeur” of Paris, Texas.
(to the camera, his tone brimming with exaggerated importance) “Los Rejects! Team Diversity Hiring! Malo, he is not here to be the comic distraction, no, no. Malo, he is here to be your reckoning!”
A small child walks by, wide-eyed and curious, pointing in awe.
(innocently) “Is he from a TV show or something?”
John looks at the child, then back at Malo, muttering sarcastically to himself.
(with a wry smile) “Something like that…”
Malo, misinterpreting the child’s comment as praise, beams with pride.
(raising his arms triumphantly) “Sí! Malo, he is here, live and in the persons, for all mi fans in el Paris de Texas! Tomorrow, when we step into the ring, they will remember the name of El Grande Malo! And when Malo is winning, the Bueno Club will rise to the top, just like mi bueno amigo Bob always says!”
He pauses, clearly impressed with his own monologue, as he raises his arms for emphasis, completely engulfed in the moment.
As the group makes their way toward the end of the street, John finally gives up on trying to steer Malo but can’t help but throw in one final rally.
(half-smiling, his voice taking on a more hopeful tone) “Alright, Malo. Let’s give them a show they won’t forget. Just… try to be a little more bueno, alright?”
Malo turns to John, his eyes sparkling with mischief and determination, as if he were plotting something grand.
(grinning wide, nodding vigorously) “Always, Juanito! Malo is bueno, but he is also… El Grande!”
The screen fades as Malo and his team pose dramatically for the camera, leaving viewers uncertain whether to laugh or cheer. Yet, despite the ridiculousness of the situation, there’s an undeniable spirit and commitment to Malo’s legend, a reminder that sometimes, the most outlandish heroes are the ones we need the most.
As the camera zooms out, the townspeople of Paris, Texas continue with their day, some shaking their heads in bemusement while others can’t help but smile at the sheer spectacle that is El Grande Malo. And in that moment, under the Texas sun, the line between absurdity and heroism blurs, creating a vivid tapestry of life, laughter, and the pursuit of glory.
Fade to black, leaving the audience both entertained and intrigued, their curiosity piqued for what comes next in the unpredictable journey of El Grande Malo.
Beside Malo stands John, his ever-suffering cameraman, who tries to maintain a professional demeanor amidst the chaos. Behind them lurk Muerte and Uno, the silent sentinels of Malo's entourage, their imposing presence amplifying the absurdity of the moment. Muerte's dark attire contrasts sharply with the bright colors of Malo's costume, while Uno’s towering physique looms ominously like a protective wall. Yet, they are both nearly invisible to Malo, who is far too engrossed in soaking up the "grandeur" of this faux Parisian landscape.
Narrator: Paris, Texas. A town known for its quirky charm, with no flashing lights, no quaint cafés serving buttery croissants, and certainly no Seine River winding through its heart. Yet to El Grande Malo, this was a land of mystery, a canvas waiting for the brush strokes of his next adventure. With his iconic mask tightly secured, he stood with his hands raised high, as if greeting adoring fans who existed only in his mind. The small crowd that had gathered nearby, however, was a mix of bewildered onlookers and amused locals, their reactions ranging from curious to entertained.
(voice booming across the street, his hands gesturing dramatically) “Ahh, Paris, Malo's old friend! We is meeting again, but now… now, Malo is coming to your streets as the King Slayer!”
John winces at this proclamation, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He clearly regrets mentioning his recent victory over Ethan King — an achievement that Malo has somehow twisted into a grand title.
(muttering under his breath, eyes darting to the crowd) “Malo, jesus ... for the last time… this isn’t that Paris, and you’re not actually a ‘King Slayer’…”
Malo, however, remains unfazed, his enthusiasm bubbling over as he pats John on the back, nearly knocking the breath out of him.
(with an exaggerated flourish) “Juanito, relax! Malo, he is knowing this Paris is… how you say? Smaller, humbler. But it is still feeling, how the French peoples is saying 'magnifique' to be here! Besides, King Slayer is Malo's destiny now!”
John rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath again, his tone laced with sarcasm as he contemplates the absurdity of it all.
Narrator: The crew surrounding Malo was not just any typical ragtag team; they formed an absurd amalgamation of personalities, each one contributing to the chaos. Muerte, the dark and brooding figure whose face remained shrouded in shadow, emanated an air of quiet danger. Then there was Uno, a towering wall of muscle who rarely spoke but seemed perpetually ready to unleash a world of hurt at a moment's notice. And of course, there was John, perpetually caught between career ambition and pure confusion, desperately trying to make sense of the whirlwind that was El Grande Malo.
Flashback: Training with Jessica and Bob
The camera shifts in a brief flashback, transporting viewers to a gym filled with the sounds of exertion and determination. The scent of sweat and ambition hangs in the air as Malo trains under the watchful eyes of Jessica Reed and Bob Pooler. They stand in stark contrast to Malo’s flamboyant persona, their expressions a mix of hope and concern as they witness his attempts to channel his new “bueno” persona.
Jessica stands with arms crossed, her brow furrowed in concentration. Bob leans against the wall, a mischievous grin on his face, ready to offer encouragement and lighthearted teasing in equal measure. Malo, on the other hand, is full of energy, his eyes sparkling with a fervor that can only be described as electric.
(sternly, her voice cutting through the sounds of the gym) “Malo, a true hero fights for the people. You can’t keep relying on flashy moves or... or just calling yourself the hero. You need to connect.”
Bob chuckles, leaning forward with an amused expression, eager to interject.
(grinning widely) “And maybe avoid the rabbit punches, or… the dramatic poses mid-match. Might help if you want to get people to actually root for you.”
Malo places a hand over his heart, dramatically feigning shock as he stares wide-eyed at both Jessica and Bob.
(earnestly) “Malo has all the hearts, Jessica! Malo he does not just want to be a hero; Malo, he IS the hero! The peoples, they is loving Malo!”
Bob can’t help but chuckle at Malo’s sincerity, shaking his head in disbelief. Jessica exchanges a glance with Bob that silently conveys, “This will take some work.”
(sighing softly, her tone gentler now) “Well, we’re here for you, Malo. Just… maybe lean into being a little more bueno, okay?”
The flashback fades as Malo’s spirit remains undeterred, a man on a mission with a heart as large as his ego.
The camera shifts in a brief flashback, transporting viewers to a gym filled with the sounds of exertion and determination. The scent of sweat and ambition hangs in the air as Malo trains under the watchful eyes of Jessica Reed and Bob Pooler. They stand in stark contrast to Malo’s flamboyant persona, their expressions a mix of hope and concern as they witness his attempts to channel his new “bueno” persona.
Jessica stands with arms crossed, her brow furrowed in concentration. Bob leans against the wall, a mischievous grin on his face, ready to offer encouragement and lighthearted teasing in equal measure. Malo, on the other hand, is full of energy, his eyes sparkling with a fervor that can only be described as electric.
(sternly, her voice cutting through the sounds of the gym) “Malo, a true hero fights for the people. You can’t keep relying on flashy moves or... or just calling yourself the hero. You need to connect.”
Bob chuckles, leaning forward with an amused expression, eager to interject.
(grinning widely) “And maybe avoid the rabbit punches, or… the dramatic poses mid-match. Might help if you want to get people to actually root for you.”
Malo places a hand over his heart, dramatically feigning shock as he stares wide-eyed at both Jessica and Bob.
(earnestly) “Malo has all the hearts, Jessica! Malo he does not just want to be a hero; Malo, he IS the hero! The peoples, they is loving Malo!”
Bob can’t help but chuckle at Malo’s sincerity, shaking his head in disbelief. Jessica exchanges a glance with Bob that silently conveys, “This will take some work.”
(sighing softly, her tone gentler now) “Well, we’re here for you, Malo. Just… maybe lean into being a little more bueno, okay?”
The flashback fades as Malo’s spirit remains undeterred, a man on a mission with a heart as large as his ego.
Back in Paris, Texas
(whispering to himself, his voice barely audible) “Does he even realize people think he’s just… a walking mascot?”
Malo, blissfully unaware of the murmurs surrounding him, continues his theatrical display, lifting his arms even higher as if summoning an unseen crowd to join him.
(with all the bravado he can muster) “Peoples of Texas! Malo, he is here to liberate you from… um… your troubles! Sí! Malo is here for you!”
A few people clap hesitantly, clearly more amused than inspired. Muerte and Uno exchange a glance, their arms crossed, silent and unreadable behind their masks. The spectacle is both captivating and chaotic, drawing in more curious onlookers.
(with a sidelong glance at Muerte and Uno, trying to suppress a smile) “Why do I get the feeling that they’re not exactly here for… ‘bueno’ reasons?”
Malo, still oblivious to John’s comments, points dramatically to a nearby statue of a cowboy on horseback, its bronze glinting under the sun like a trophy.
(enthusiastically) “Juan! Look! It is the French knight! Malo, he will channel his spirit to vanquish our enemies in this battle royale of… uh… trios!”
The statue, a relic of Texas pride, stands stoically as Malo gestures wildly, his imagination painting vibrant scenarios of glory and valor.
As they continue down the street, the weight of their upcoming match begins to press on John’s shoulders. He realizes it’s now or never if he’s going to get Malo to focus on the seriousness of what lies ahead.
(firmly, trying to catch Malo’s attention) “Malo, listen. This match, it’s not just about laughs. You’re up against the likes of Pax Stormcrow — the reigning World Champion! And Allen Chaney? He’s got the Joker in the Pack contract. They don’t see you as a threat. You have a chance here to prove that you’re more than just…”
He trails off, searching for the right word, the weight of his message hanging in the air.
(grinning wide, his eyes shining with enthusiasm) “The people’s champion! Sí! Malo, he is knowing it all alongs. Gracias, Juan, gracias for believing in Malo!”
John sighs deeply, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he realizes they are operating on entirely different wavelengths.
(trying to maintain some semblance of logic) “That’s… sort of what I meant. But listen, Malo. This could be your moment. If you pull this off, you could really show the IWF that you’re more than just… comic relief.”
Malo looks at John, visibly confused, as if he’s just been told something absolutely absurd.
(defiantly) “¿Comic relief? No, no, no! Malo, he is the serious business! Look at his arms, his cape! Does Malo look like the mans peoples would dare laughing at?”
In a burst of self-importance, Malo strikes a heroic pose, chest puffed out, cape flowing dramatically behind him, completely convinced of his own heroism. He holds the pose as if he were the statue of a victorious hero himself.
(whispering to himself, a resigned smile creeping onto his face) “I give up…”
Flashback Dos: More Training with Jess and Bob
The scene cuts to another flashback, this time focusing on a motivational session with Bob. They stand in the same gym, the energy crackling in the air like electricity.
(pacing in front of Malo, who sits cross-legged on the mat, a picture of seriousness) “Malo, you need to understand your opponents. What makes them tick. You need to study their moves, know their strengths, and more importantly, their weaknesses.”
Malo nods fervently, his face a mask of determination, ready to absorb every bit of wisdom that Bob imparts.
(enthusiastically) “Sí, like El Rey de Spades, who is falling for the classic El Swirlito de Dizzies!”
Bob pauses, clearly bewildered by the term, his brow furrowed as he tries to comprehend Malo’s unique take on wrestling strategies.
(with a mix of confusion and amusement) “The… the what?”
Jessica stands off to the side, shaking her head but unable to suppress a smile as she watches Malo’s passion unfold, however misdirected it may be.
(gently, trying to ground the conversation) “Well, maybe don’t focus on the swirling, but… sure. Just remember, Malo. Heart over heel, okay?”
The flashback fades, the lessons hanging in the air as a testament to the unlikely hero's journey.
The scene cuts to another flashback, this time focusing on a motivational session with Bob. They stand in the same gym, the energy crackling in the air like electricity.
(pacing in front of Malo, who sits cross-legged on the mat, a picture of seriousness) “Malo, you need to understand your opponents. What makes them tick. You need to study their moves, know their strengths, and more importantly, their weaknesses.”
Malo nods fervently, his face a mask of determination, ready to absorb every bit of wisdom that Bob imparts.
(enthusiastically) “Sí, like El Rey de Spades, who is falling for the classic El Swirlito de Dizzies!”
Bob pauses, clearly bewildered by the term, his brow furrowed as he tries to comprehend Malo’s unique take on wrestling strategies.
(with a mix of confusion and amusement) “The… the what?”
Jessica stands off to the side, shaking her head but unable to suppress a smile as she watches Malo’s passion unfold, however misdirected it may be.
(gently, trying to ground the conversation) “Well, maybe don’t focus on the swirling, but… sure. Just remember, Malo. Heart over heel, okay?”
The flashback fades, the lessons hanging in the air as a testament to the unlikely hero's journey.
Back in Paris, Texas … again
The flashbacks come to an end, and we’re back with Malo, his spirit unwavering as he continues to admire the “grandeur” of Paris, Texas.
(to the camera, his tone brimming with exaggerated importance) “Los Rejects! Team Diversity Hiring! Malo, he is not here to be the comic distraction, no, no. Malo, he is here to be your reckoning!”
A small child walks by, wide-eyed and curious, pointing in awe.
(innocently) “Is he from a TV show or something?”
John looks at the child, then back at Malo, muttering sarcastically to himself.
(with a wry smile) “Something like that…”
Malo, misinterpreting the child’s comment as praise, beams with pride.
(raising his arms triumphantly) “Sí! Malo, he is here, live and in the persons, for all mi fans in el Paris de Texas! Tomorrow, when we step into the ring, they will remember the name of El Grande Malo! And when Malo is winning, the Bueno Club will rise to the top, just like mi bueno amigo Bob always says!”
He pauses, clearly impressed with his own monologue, as he raises his arms for emphasis, completely engulfed in the moment.
As the group makes their way toward the end of the street, John finally gives up on trying to steer Malo but can’t help but throw in one final rally.
(half-smiling, his voice taking on a more hopeful tone) “Alright, Malo. Let’s give them a show they won’t forget. Just… try to be a little more bueno, alright?”
Malo turns to John, his eyes sparkling with mischief and determination, as if he were plotting something grand.
(grinning wide, nodding vigorously) “Always, Juanito! Malo is bueno, but he is also… El Grande!”
The screen fades as Malo and his team pose dramatically for the camera, leaving viewers uncertain whether to laugh or cheer. Yet, despite the ridiculousness of the situation, there’s an undeniable spirit and commitment to Malo’s legend, a reminder that sometimes, the most outlandish heroes are the ones we need the most.
As the camera zooms out, the townspeople of Paris, Texas continue with their day, some shaking their heads in bemusement while others can’t help but smile at the sheer spectacle that is El Grande Malo. And in that moment, under the Texas sun, the line between absurdity and heroism blurs, creating a vivid tapestry of life, laughter, and the pursuit of glory.
Fade to black, leaving the audience both entertained and intrigued, their curiosity piqued for what comes next in the unpredictable journey of El Grande Malo.
Well howdy there pardner.