Post by montaguecervantes on Apr 17, 2021 22:08:52 GMT -5
Heading home to your cozy suburb home of Hilliard, you pull off of US highway 33 to avoid the evening traffic coming out of downtown Columbus. Cutting through San Margherita will save you at least forty minutes, and you can stop at that mom and pop bakery to pick up some bagels for breakfast the rest of the week.
You don't run your AC this time of year; it's just the right temperature outside, and breezy. The pollen usually keeps you from rolling your window down more than an inch or two, but it drizzled a little around lunchtime, so you lower it all the way. Lazily drifting your left hand on the waves of air that wash over the car, you are dangerously close to dozing when the sound of music drifts in and catches your attention.
You cock your head, a sense of nostalgia washing over you as you slowly become more alert. You can't explain it, but you feel a sense of beckoning drawing you toward the music. Without thinking about it, you tap the turn signal and hang a left down a side road you've never explored. Before you know it, you come upon a broad pasture filled with vehicles, all surrounding a massive white tent in the center.
Your body moves on auto-pilot, pulling the car right into the field. Before you realize it, you've stepped out, leaving your keys behind in your desperation to get closer to that sweet, sweet music.
The tent is practically swelling and contracting with the voices of the crowd inside, and you can feel the ground vibrating beneath you. Finding the flap, you start to push your way into the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, but eventually it opens up to envelop you. At the other end of the tent is a platform raised high enough so it can be seen even as far back as you're standing.
The cheesy organ swells, and a man with black hair and a beard steps out on stage, his pointed features peering knowingly into the crowd. He wears a great orange choral robe trimmed with bright gold, and he steeples his fingers in front of his chest as his shoulders rock to the music. He closes his eyes in spiritual ecstasy as he throws his head back and spreads his arms out as if to embrace the congregation.
The Right Reverend Montague: Brothers-a and sisters-a! Thank ye for gatherin' here on this day to celebrate the spirit, for the United-a Global Wrestling Coalition 2021 Tent Revival! Can I get a halleluja?!
Your voice surprises you when it escapes to join the the rest of the crowd.
Congregation: Halleluja!!
The Right Reverend Montague: Yes-a, thank ye family! Tonight, we lift our-a voices as-a one! Tonight we see the encroaching interlopers, and we gonna stamp our feet and clap our hands-a, and drive them out, can I get an amen?!
Congregation: Amen!!
He stamps and claps when he says it, drumming up the energy of the adoring parishioners.
The Right Reverend Montague: Ye see, brethren and sistren, we don't come together often for the fellowship-a, but now we've got ourselves an unholy Incursion, yes indeed! Beggars on the doorstep and enemies at the gates-a! Are we gonna let 'em in?!
Congregation: No, Reverend!!
The Right Reverend Montague: No! Not by the names-a of the saints and disciples who came before us-a, so we could break our-a bread each month. Bah gawd this is our table-a, given us this day and ev'ry day! Will we suffer the Carnage, family?!
Congregation: No, Reverend!!
The Right Reverend Montague: No, not this day-a, not any day! We'll meet them at the doorway and say, "Yeh're not welcome here devils!"...well, not any day that isn't Wrestlestock, Infinity, Outlast, Battleground, Lord of Trios, Massive Melee, etc, etc, etc, but not at Incursion!! Can I get a praise Holden?!
Congregation: Praise Holden!
The Right Reverend Montague: Now, before we can roust-a these invaders, these damn-ded souls, we must first-a follow the wise words of the venerable St. Sun Tzu. "Know thine enemy!" Can I get a what-what?!
Congregation: What?! What!?
The Right Reverend Montague: I'm gonna ask the congregation to put ye hands together-a, for our first-a guest, all the way from his-a small church in Honolulu, Hawaii, please-a welcome Brother Love Carlson-a Rex!
Cue a spirited entrance on the keyboard organ as a young youth-pastor looking (but not at all Carlson Rex-looking) man in a tan suit leaps onto the stage.
Brother Love Carlson: Get up if you love UGWC!
He starts lifting his arms repeatedly, beckoning for you and the crowd to hop up and down in excitement as he bounces to the podium. Gripping the top and leaning forward so hard it nearly tips, he engages the crowd.
Brother Love Carlson: Can ya shout halleluja if ya love Ol' Bob!
Congregation: Halleluja!!
Brother Love Carlson: Can ya shout amen if ya love Owen Peterson!
Congregation: Amen!!
Brother Love Carlson: Can ya shout praise Holden if ya hate, hate, hate the next Chaos Champion?!
Right Reverend Montague clears his throat off to the side of the stage. Brother Love Carlson stutters a bit.
Brother Love Carlson: er... I meant shout praise Holden if ya hate, hate, hate the next Chaos Champion who likes to tag team with a dead guy!!
A facepalm from the Right Reverend Montague.
Brother Love Carlson: But not that dead guy! I'm talking about shouting praise Holden if ya hate the next Chaos Champion, who likes to tag team with a dead guy, and murders pets in front of children!
There's a pause as you and the rest of the crowd take a moment to understand who he's talking about. As one, you all look over at the Right Reverend Montague, who thankfully points thumbs at his own chest while shaking his head.
Right Reverend Montague: Not my Chaos Championship! The other one-a!
Then it clicks, and you all shout at the same time.
Congregation: Praise Holden!
Brother Love Carlson Rex tugs at his collar, sweating the mix up he nearly made between the Right Reverend and Jaclyn Pierrot.
Brother Love Carlson: Can ya shout hail Sloane if we gonna kick Ragdoll right out of our ring!
He kicks one tan-colored leg out to the right as he makes the declaration.
Congregation: Hail Sloane!!
Brother Love Carlson: Halleluja!
Congregation: Halleluja!!
Brother Love Carlson: Halleluja!
Congregation: Halleluja!
Right Reverend Montague rejoins Brother Love Carlson on the stage as you applaud Brother Love Carlson Rex's enthusiasm. They embrace quickly before Brother Love steps off the stage, and your fellow worshippers settle down as Right Reverend Montague takes center stage once again.
Right Reverend Montague: A-thank ye, Brother Love! We're for sure gonna show-a that clown girl our heavenly might-a! Now, flock, if ye will show some love, we're gonna welcome our next guest. He's an old friend of the church, and the man to brought me into this sacred fold-a! So please, in Prescott's name, welcome Deacon Donovan Hastings!
You erupt into applause with the rest of the crowd, as if you know who he's talking about. The man who appears at the back of the tent with a microphone is certainly not the Donovan Hastings, but as he begins to sing along with his music, you can't help but feel joy in you heart at his arrival.
Deacon Donovan: Your moveset is somewhat, oddly familiar
I've know that I've heard them before, but where?
Yes now I remember; Your partner, the champion
Will feel them delivered by Centurion
Your music, your concept, it all seems so cribbed
Why is it everyone wants to rip off Square Enix?
Deacon Donovan Hastings walks down the aisle as he sings the lively hymn, shaking hands with everyone he passes. You feel yourself trying to inch closer, reaching out to at least brush your fingertips against the shoulder of his immaculate purple smoking jacket. You notice the unseen choir has joined in to shout the last word of each line along with him, like some righteous version of a Beastie Boys rap.
Deacon Donovan: Your acts of defiance? Just beating yourself
The truth is even if Tyler were put on the shelf
You'd still be the second best Zach on your roster.
So after we've broken the clown, and we've tossed her
Looks like the anti-hero will remain just a stranger
Go back to Baltimore, we don't need a game-changer!
With a nimble hop, he Deacon Donovan Hastings finishes the last line and turns to beam out over the crowd. You're enraptured, gaping at this soulful crooner. Right Reverend Montague joins him on the stage.
Right Reverend Montague: Halleluja!! Let's hear it for this Lord of Refrain-a! Using his beautiful voice to drown out the voices of the demons and devils from Maryland-a! Yes lawd!
Congregation: Yes lawd!
Right Reverend Montague: Thank ye, Deacon Donovan, thank ye for that beautiful gift of song-! Alright believers-a, as the Deacon Donovan finds his seat, please put your hands in the air-a for our good friend, our next guest, the powerful-a, the glorious-a, Preacherman Dave Rydell!
All of your hands lift slowly in the spirit of the moment as a gentleman in a pure white suit and a floral-patterned ascot emerges from the side of the crowd, walking slowly as he leans on an ornately carved wooden cane. He turns and regards the crowd through slightly shaded glasses as he cracks his knuckles. Six of those knuckles are decked out with gold rings, and each ring is inlaid with diamonds which have the letters "CH" on them. Preacherman Dave leans into the microphone and speaks simply. Your hands remain raised as he speaks.
Preacherman Dave: There's a vile and sinful disease in this crowd, a conspiracy against our holy communion, and I will cast it out. Deacon Donovan has named it, but I will drag the filthy demon kicking and screaming and force it to abandon this place and return to the pit of darkness it has emerged from.
You feel your breath catch in your chest. Thinking back on Deacon Donovan's song, you try to remember what disgusting devil he mentioned.
Preacherman Dave: You!!
He points a ringed finger into the crowd, and your knees nearly unhinged. You feel relief wash over you though as the man to your left, a man who's raised hands look like they've been cut up with a dull blade, walks forward when Preacherman Dave beckons. The crowd parts as tears begin to stream down the man's face.
Preacherman Dave: Get thee before me, dark horse! Kneel before the might of the almighty Coalition!
The man obeys, falling to his knees on the stage to the right of Preacherman Dave. You have lowered your arms with the rest of the crowd, and you're all leaning forward as the tension thickens, but the man keeps his arms up in supplication. His head hangs in shame and regret. Preacherman Dave raises his right hand up high, calling on the holy power of the Coalition, as he turns to stare down at the man.
Preacherman Dave: Devil, I see you, and I name thee ZT! I compel you, in the name of Jet Somers and Moss Edwards, come out!!
He slaps his hand mightily onto the kneeling man's forehead, the smack resounding throughout the tent. Gripping the back of the man's shoulders to keep him from falling over, he continues to reprimand the evil infestation.
Preacherman Dave: Out, foul thing, you humped beast!! In the name of Killian King and Dirge, get out devil!!
The kneeling man's eyes are bugging out and his jaw has slackened. Spittle runs down from the left side of his mouth, and it looks for all the world as though he's being electrocuted by the hand of Preacherman Dave.
Preacherman Dave: In the holy name of Chad Anthony and Ezekiel Pax, I SAID OUT WITH YOU!
Suddenly the kneeling man wretches, and black blob of ooze erupts from his throat. As quickly as it is jettisoned, Preacherman Dave catches it, then holds it up for the crowd to see. Two aides run up to help the exorcised man off the stage.
Preacherman Dave: By the sacred name of the Coalition, I hold the virus of life in my hands!
Bile and ichor run down his white sleeves, much to the crowd's awed revulsion. He pulls a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wipes his brow and more aides rush up with towels to remove the infection and help him off the stage. Right Reverend Montague returns.
Right Reverend Montague: Can I get a praise Todd?!
Congregation: Praise Todd!!
Right Reverend Montague: Bless you, Preacherman Dave, you have saved another lamb-a from slaughter. No one here wanted to see the evil putrescence of ZT, no one ever does-a, but sometimes, family, we're faced with the things we'd rather not waste our time on, say amen!
Congregation: Amen!
Right Reverend Montague: Alright, my pilgrims. We have one last guest, a true representative of the holy host-a, she's a real angel amongst us a--... what is it?
You turn to see one of the aides holding a hand up to her mouth and whispering to Right Reverend Montague. A look of disappointment comes over his features, but he nods in understanding.
Right Reverend Montague: My apologies, church family, it seems our own Missionary Angel DuMourne got held up on a recent mission trip to Baltimore. She was moved to help out in that poor, destitute city with it's poor, destitute wrestlers. She has spent the whole weekend sweeping out gyms and training dungeons to help their wrestlers, who apparently double as janitors, spend some more time training. What a star-a! What a saint-a! What a divine samaritan-a!
Right Reverend Montague places his hand against his heart, clearly moved by the work of the Missionary Angel. He wipes away a tear before continuing.
Right Reverend Montague: Friends, I'm filled with the holy spirit of the UGWC tonight, and after we've seen his miracles and works here, I want to close us out in prayer. I know the truth and light in our hearts have shown how we can stop this incursion of sin, and I know I can send you out into the world with righteous purpose to drive out the carnage of sin and mediocrity. Please bow your heads.
You also feel yourself filled with the spirit, and though you should have been home long ago, and your spouse probably has dinner ready to go, you feel fed and satisfied. You bow your head as the Right Reverend prays.
Right Reverend Montague: Heavenly Consortium, thy hallowed halls in Chicago, we stand united, as given in our name, a global force of your might, wrestling against invaders who would test the faith of our coalition. As we go forth to fight this holy war, please remind us to be humble. We come from all walks of life and haven't all enjoyed a charmed life, but praise Jordan King we never had to lower ourselves to backyard wrestling, and for that we are thankful. Though we are a formidable force, keep us mindful that we are small, not stupid. Make us not forgetful that we are the superior brand, and we are not required by your creed to give respect or shake hands, and we invite enemies of your glory to make something of it. Let us not fall into the pitiful trap of holding our swagger in check, and when the doubters struggle to prove our unshakeable faith false, let them stand confounded at their defeat. And finally, oh merciful directors, let us not be tarred with the sin of lameness, the type of lameness that would have someone, for instance, grow up in Las Vegas and not experience it's delight. I mean, come on... In Tyvola's holy name we pray, Amen.
Congregation: Amen!!
A benediction plays as you begin to file out with the rest of the congregation. You practically float to your car, borne of the religious experience you've just had. You can't wait to get home and order Incursion from the Circle Television Network.
You don't run your AC this time of year; it's just the right temperature outside, and breezy. The pollen usually keeps you from rolling your window down more than an inch or two, but it drizzled a little around lunchtime, so you lower it all the way. Lazily drifting your left hand on the waves of air that wash over the car, you are dangerously close to dozing when the sound of music drifts in and catches your attention.
You cock your head, a sense of nostalgia washing over you as you slowly become more alert. You can't explain it, but you feel a sense of beckoning drawing you toward the music. Without thinking about it, you tap the turn signal and hang a left down a side road you've never explored. Before you know it, you come upon a broad pasture filled with vehicles, all surrounding a massive white tent in the center.
Your body moves on auto-pilot, pulling the car right into the field. Before you realize it, you've stepped out, leaving your keys behind in your desperation to get closer to that sweet, sweet music.
The tent is practically swelling and contracting with the voices of the crowd inside, and you can feel the ground vibrating beneath you. Finding the flap, you start to push your way into the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, but eventually it opens up to envelop you. At the other end of the tent is a platform raised high enough so it can be seen even as far back as you're standing.
The cheesy organ swells, and a man with black hair and a beard steps out on stage, his pointed features peering knowingly into the crowd. He wears a great orange choral robe trimmed with bright gold, and he steeples his fingers in front of his chest as his shoulders rock to the music. He closes his eyes in spiritual ecstasy as he throws his head back and spreads his arms out as if to embrace the congregation.
The Right Reverend Montague: Brothers-a and sisters-a! Thank ye for gatherin' here on this day to celebrate the spirit, for the United-a Global Wrestling Coalition 2021 Tent Revival! Can I get a halleluja?!
Your voice surprises you when it escapes to join the the rest of the crowd.
Congregation: Halleluja!!
The Right Reverend Montague: Yes-a, thank ye family! Tonight, we lift our-a voices as-a one! Tonight we see the encroaching interlopers, and we gonna stamp our feet and clap our hands-a, and drive them out, can I get an amen?!
Congregation: Amen!!
He stamps and claps when he says it, drumming up the energy of the adoring parishioners.
The Right Reverend Montague: Ye see, brethren and sistren, we don't come together often for the fellowship-a, but now we've got ourselves an unholy Incursion, yes indeed! Beggars on the doorstep and enemies at the gates-a! Are we gonna let 'em in?!
Congregation: No, Reverend!!
The Right Reverend Montague: No! Not by the names-a of the saints and disciples who came before us-a, so we could break our-a bread each month. Bah gawd this is our table-a, given us this day and ev'ry day! Will we suffer the Carnage, family?!
Congregation: No, Reverend!!
The Right Reverend Montague: No, not this day-a, not any day! We'll meet them at the doorway and say, "Yeh're not welcome here devils!"...well, not any day that isn't Wrestlestock, Infinity, Outlast, Battleground, Lord of Trios, Massive Melee, etc, etc, etc, but not at Incursion!! Can I get a praise Holden?!
Congregation: Praise Holden!
The Right Reverend Montague: Now, before we can roust-a these invaders, these damn-ded souls, we must first-a follow the wise words of the venerable St. Sun Tzu. "Know thine enemy!" Can I get a what-what?!
Congregation: What?! What!?
The Right Reverend Montague: I'm gonna ask the congregation to put ye hands together-a, for our first-a guest, all the way from his-a small church in Honolulu, Hawaii, please-a welcome Brother Love Carlson-a Rex!
Cue a spirited entrance on the keyboard organ as a young youth-pastor looking (but not at all Carlson Rex-looking) man in a tan suit leaps onto the stage.
Brother Love Carlson: Get up if you love UGWC!
He starts lifting his arms repeatedly, beckoning for you and the crowd to hop up and down in excitement as he bounces to the podium. Gripping the top and leaning forward so hard it nearly tips, he engages the crowd.
Brother Love Carlson: Can ya shout halleluja if ya love Ol' Bob!
Congregation: Halleluja!!
Brother Love Carlson: Can ya shout amen if ya love Owen Peterson!
Congregation: Amen!!
Brother Love Carlson: Can ya shout praise Holden if ya hate, hate, hate the next Chaos Champion?!
Right Reverend Montague clears his throat off to the side of the stage. Brother Love Carlson stutters a bit.
Brother Love Carlson: er... I meant shout praise Holden if ya hate, hate, hate the next Chaos Champion who likes to tag team with a dead guy!!
A facepalm from the Right Reverend Montague.
Brother Love Carlson: But not that dead guy! I'm talking about shouting praise Holden if ya hate the next Chaos Champion, who likes to tag team with a dead guy, and murders pets in front of children!
There's a pause as you and the rest of the crowd take a moment to understand who he's talking about. As one, you all look over at the Right Reverend Montague, who thankfully points thumbs at his own chest while shaking his head.
Right Reverend Montague: Not my Chaos Championship! The other one-a!
Then it clicks, and you all shout at the same time.
Congregation: Praise Holden!
Brother Love Carlson Rex tugs at his collar, sweating the mix up he nearly made between the Right Reverend and Jaclyn Pierrot.
Brother Love Carlson: Can ya shout hail Sloane if we gonna kick Ragdoll right out of our ring!
He kicks one tan-colored leg out to the right as he makes the declaration.
Congregation: Hail Sloane!!
Brother Love Carlson: Halleluja!
Congregation: Halleluja!!
Brother Love Carlson: Halleluja!
Congregation: Halleluja!
Right Reverend Montague rejoins Brother Love Carlson on the stage as you applaud Brother Love Carlson Rex's enthusiasm. They embrace quickly before Brother Love steps off the stage, and your fellow worshippers settle down as Right Reverend Montague takes center stage once again.
Right Reverend Montague: A-thank ye, Brother Love! We're for sure gonna show-a that clown girl our heavenly might-a! Now, flock, if ye will show some love, we're gonna welcome our next guest. He's an old friend of the church, and the man to brought me into this sacred fold-a! So please, in Prescott's name, welcome Deacon Donovan Hastings!
You erupt into applause with the rest of the crowd, as if you know who he's talking about. The man who appears at the back of the tent with a microphone is certainly not the Donovan Hastings, but as he begins to sing along with his music, you can't help but feel joy in you heart at his arrival.
Deacon Donovan: Your moveset is somewhat, oddly familiar
I've know that I've heard them before, but where?
Yes now I remember; Your partner, the champion
Will feel them delivered by Centurion
Your music, your concept, it all seems so cribbed
Why is it everyone wants to rip off Square Enix?
Deacon Donovan Hastings walks down the aisle as he sings the lively hymn, shaking hands with everyone he passes. You feel yourself trying to inch closer, reaching out to at least brush your fingertips against the shoulder of his immaculate purple smoking jacket. You notice the unseen choir has joined in to shout the last word of each line along with him, like some righteous version of a Beastie Boys rap.
Deacon Donovan: Your acts of defiance? Just beating yourself
The truth is even if Tyler were put on the shelf
You'd still be the second best Zach on your roster.
So after we've broken the clown, and we've tossed her
Looks like the anti-hero will remain just a stranger
Go back to Baltimore, we don't need a game-changer!
With a nimble hop, he Deacon Donovan Hastings finishes the last line and turns to beam out over the crowd. You're enraptured, gaping at this soulful crooner. Right Reverend Montague joins him on the stage.
Right Reverend Montague: Halleluja!! Let's hear it for this Lord of Refrain-a! Using his beautiful voice to drown out the voices of the demons and devils from Maryland-a! Yes lawd!
Congregation: Yes lawd!
Right Reverend Montague: Thank ye, Deacon Donovan, thank ye for that beautiful gift of song-! Alright believers-a, as the Deacon Donovan finds his seat, please put your hands in the air-a for our good friend, our next guest, the powerful-a, the glorious-a, Preacherman Dave Rydell!
All of your hands lift slowly in the spirit of the moment as a gentleman in a pure white suit and a floral-patterned ascot emerges from the side of the crowd, walking slowly as he leans on an ornately carved wooden cane. He turns and regards the crowd through slightly shaded glasses as he cracks his knuckles. Six of those knuckles are decked out with gold rings, and each ring is inlaid with diamonds which have the letters "CH" on them. Preacherman Dave leans into the microphone and speaks simply. Your hands remain raised as he speaks.
Preacherman Dave: There's a vile and sinful disease in this crowd, a conspiracy against our holy communion, and I will cast it out. Deacon Donovan has named it, but I will drag the filthy demon kicking and screaming and force it to abandon this place and return to the pit of darkness it has emerged from.
You feel your breath catch in your chest. Thinking back on Deacon Donovan's song, you try to remember what disgusting devil he mentioned.
Preacherman Dave: You!!
He points a ringed finger into the crowd, and your knees nearly unhinged. You feel relief wash over you though as the man to your left, a man who's raised hands look like they've been cut up with a dull blade, walks forward when Preacherman Dave beckons. The crowd parts as tears begin to stream down the man's face.
Preacherman Dave: Get thee before me, dark horse! Kneel before the might of the almighty Coalition!
The man obeys, falling to his knees on the stage to the right of Preacherman Dave. You have lowered your arms with the rest of the crowd, and you're all leaning forward as the tension thickens, but the man keeps his arms up in supplication. His head hangs in shame and regret. Preacherman Dave raises his right hand up high, calling on the holy power of the Coalition, as he turns to stare down at the man.
Preacherman Dave: Devil, I see you, and I name thee ZT! I compel you, in the name of Jet Somers and Moss Edwards, come out!!
He slaps his hand mightily onto the kneeling man's forehead, the smack resounding throughout the tent. Gripping the back of the man's shoulders to keep him from falling over, he continues to reprimand the evil infestation.
Preacherman Dave: Out, foul thing, you humped beast!! In the name of Killian King and Dirge, get out devil!!
The kneeling man's eyes are bugging out and his jaw has slackened. Spittle runs down from the left side of his mouth, and it looks for all the world as though he's being electrocuted by the hand of Preacherman Dave.
Preacherman Dave: In the holy name of Chad Anthony and Ezekiel Pax, I SAID OUT WITH YOU!
Suddenly the kneeling man wretches, and black blob of ooze erupts from his throat. As quickly as it is jettisoned, Preacherman Dave catches it, then holds it up for the crowd to see. Two aides run up to help the exorcised man off the stage.
Preacherman Dave: By the sacred name of the Coalition, I hold the virus of life in my hands!
Bile and ichor run down his white sleeves, much to the crowd's awed revulsion. He pulls a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wipes his brow and more aides rush up with towels to remove the infection and help him off the stage. Right Reverend Montague returns.
Right Reverend Montague: Can I get a praise Todd?!
Congregation: Praise Todd!!
Right Reverend Montague: Bless you, Preacherman Dave, you have saved another lamb-a from slaughter. No one here wanted to see the evil putrescence of ZT, no one ever does-a, but sometimes, family, we're faced with the things we'd rather not waste our time on, say amen!
Congregation: Amen!
Right Reverend Montague: Alright, my pilgrims. We have one last guest, a true representative of the holy host-a, she's a real angel amongst us a--... what is it?
You turn to see one of the aides holding a hand up to her mouth and whispering to Right Reverend Montague. A look of disappointment comes over his features, but he nods in understanding.
Right Reverend Montague: My apologies, church family, it seems our own Missionary Angel DuMourne got held up on a recent mission trip to Baltimore. She was moved to help out in that poor, destitute city with it's poor, destitute wrestlers. She has spent the whole weekend sweeping out gyms and training dungeons to help their wrestlers, who apparently double as janitors, spend some more time training. What a star-a! What a saint-a! What a divine samaritan-a!
Right Reverend Montague places his hand against his heart, clearly moved by the work of the Missionary Angel. He wipes away a tear before continuing.
Right Reverend Montague: Friends, I'm filled with the holy spirit of the UGWC tonight, and after we've seen his miracles and works here, I want to close us out in prayer. I know the truth and light in our hearts have shown how we can stop this incursion of sin, and I know I can send you out into the world with righteous purpose to drive out the carnage of sin and mediocrity. Please bow your heads.
You also feel yourself filled with the spirit, and though you should have been home long ago, and your spouse probably has dinner ready to go, you feel fed and satisfied. You bow your head as the Right Reverend prays.
Right Reverend Montague: Heavenly Consortium, thy hallowed halls in Chicago, we stand united, as given in our name, a global force of your might, wrestling against invaders who would test the faith of our coalition. As we go forth to fight this holy war, please remind us to be humble. We come from all walks of life and haven't all enjoyed a charmed life, but praise Jordan King we never had to lower ourselves to backyard wrestling, and for that we are thankful. Though we are a formidable force, keep us mindful that we are small, not stupid. Make us not forgetful that we are the superior brand, and we are not required by your creed to give respect or shake hands, and we invite enemies of your glory to make something of it. Let us not fall into the pitiful trap of holding our swagger in check, and when the doubters struggle to prove our unshakeable faith false, let them stand confounded at their defeat. And finally, oh merciful directors, let us not be tarred with the sin of lameness, the type of lameness that would have someone, for instance, grow up in Las Vegas and not experience it's delight. I mean, come on... In Tyvola's holy name we pray, Amen.
Congregation: Amen!!
A benediction plays as you begin to file out with the rest of the congregation. You practically float to your car, borne of the religious experience you've just had. You can't wait to get home and order Incursion from the Circle Television Network.