Ahhhhhhhhh….
“Hi there. Gavin Taylor here – All-Star athlete, professional wrestler, and 2021 Trios Tournament winner. You know, many people ask me about my routine in training and diet. Usually I tell them to sod off because that makes me feel like a defiant British child, but today I’m going to give you a glimpse at greatness…”
Gavin Taylor sits in a studio, clad in an All-Star ’22 t-shirt under a sports coat with pressed, ludicrously overpriced blue jeans. Next to him is a table with a tube set upon it. Gavin reaches for the tube, sliding it upward and revealing a can of soda underneath.
“All-Star Soda, the latest in high quality, low sugar soft drink beverages. Whether you call this pop, soda, cola, or whatever your regional dialect has you calling carbonated beverages, this one is guaranteed to touch the spot in all of the appropriate ways. But don’t just take my word for it… take my actions…”
He pulls up the can, confidently opening the tab with the audible TSK emanating from it. Carbon bubbles push out onto Gavin’s hands before he brings the can upwards. He purses his lips around the newly-minted opening, ingesting some of the previously ensconced fluid. His throat bobs around as the drink slides down his throat, and Gavin immediately gags.
“CUT!” a voice from out of the scene calls as Gavin leans forward, propping himself up with his arm on the table beside him as he coughs up a storm. As a stage hand approaches him, Gavin pitches the generally full can off to the side.
“You guys told me,” he says before another flurry of coughs interrupt him. “You told you me we had worked out the over-carbonizing issues.”
A soda-engineering chemist or something along those lines goes to the discarded can, retrieving it with a long pair of tongs. An assistant holds open a plastic bag, into which the can is promptly discarded.
“Sorry, Mr. Taylor,” the chemist says. “Apparently there was an issue with the carbonization meeting the natural flavors we added to this particular brand of All-Star Soda. It won’t happen again.”
“No shit, it won’t!” Gavin responds, lashing out while regaining his breath after his coughs. “I don’t put my name on inferior products!”
Gavin continues to attempt to ward off effects of the beverage that had entered his system, calling for a chair to be brought over to him. Another stage hand rushes over with his named chair, and Gavin snaps it out of his hands, setting it down and sitting where he stands. He gets a bottle of water from another hand, taking it and quickly guzzling down half of the bottle before wiping it from his mouth. Finally, he can sit for more than five seconds without coughing. As he rests, his Agent – Ava St. Claire – approaches him.
“Gavin, are you okay?” she asks.
“They’re poisoning me, Ava,” he remarks without any of the signature Gavin Taylor wit. “They’re trying to poison me with my own name.”
“They’re not poisoning you, Gavin,” she responds, dismissing his tone.
“Killing me by having me ingest something vile?” he motions towards the bagged can. “Sounds like poisoning to me.”
“I’m 95% sure no one is trying to poison you, Gavin,” Ava again points out in an effort to placate her client’s paranoia. But for Gavin, ever since his recent loss to his “She isn’t but it’s not entirely impossible especially in the world of professional wrestling so who the fuck knows” “sister”, Ravyn Taylor, he has found himself on a particular edge. It may have been the loss. It may have been the contact of his head to the canvas. It may have been having to listen to CHBK bloviate after the fact. But something upstairs rattled.
“Whatever,” he says derisively. “What else have we got on tap today?”
Ava pulls out her tablet. Scrolling through, she eventually finds the schedule she had curated for The All-Star.
“You have a 1 o’clock press conference…” Ava begins, prompting Gavin to immediately clap his hands together. “But there’s something strange in the details.”
“Strange?” Gavin asks.
“Yeah,” Ava continues, reading over the notes to make sure she gets it right. “The note here says to ensure an adequate supply of tinfoil?”
“Right,” Gavin responds nodding his head as though there is nothing unusual about the request. “For the aliens.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing, Gavin,” Ava attempts to reason with her client. “Our numbers show that people are… well… they’re a bit weirded out by the whole “alien” thing.”
“Weirded out?” Gavin asks. “What do you mean?”
“The whole idea of tinfoil hats and Martian mind control is kind of off-putting,” Ava continues. “It’s affecting how people see you as a part of your tandem.”
“Well, I’m not doing it because I think there are Martians attempting to control my mind,” Gavin begins to attempt reason with his agent. “After all, this trap up here? Impregnable. Even if a Martian wanted to control my mind, it would be impossible to break through my All-Star defenses.”
“And you can’t control a vacant space,” Ava mutters under her breath. Gavin catches a whiff of her response.
“What?” he asks, his back up against the wall. But Ava, the ever-crafty woman, has a response ready.
“Nothing,” she says, and this immediate dismissal of Gavin’s suspicion ends up being well enough to disarm him. Still, Gavin didn’t get to finish his thought.
“So while I’m protected, I wanted to make sure that the presser was protected as a gesture of good faith to my tag team partner,” he continues, actually providing a relatively good reason for the tinfoil note. Ava, unable to fully dispute that thought, goes with another angle.
“Does that also explain why you ordered such a volume of Skittles?” she asks. Gavin nods.
“I’m nothing if not a good host,” he points out. “I’ve had nothing going my way in SCW for a long time. And then Team Smashmouth Unicorn Puke… that went my way. So yeah, maybe I’m out here trying to do whatever I can to prolong this run of success because I need something going my way. Maybe the idea of continuing to win matches is making me want to keep my partners happy.”
“I mean, Xander can’t be totally happy, can he?” Ava asks. Gavin raises an eyebrow as he wonders what she could mean.
“What could you mean?” he asks, bringing the previous narration into redundancy. “Xandy’s a big part of this grouping.”
“Xandy?” Ava raises an eyebrow, a hint of derision in her voice as she repeats Gavin’s use of Ducky’s pet name for Xander Valentine. Gavin waves it off.
“You know what I mean,” he tries to shuffle past the question. Ava, however, doesn’t let him.
“But that’s not the point,” she begins. “Gavin… the name your trio was given is “Team Smashmouth Unicorn Puke”… SUP, right?”
“Right!” Gavin responds with enthusiasm, raising a hand for a high five that is not returned.
“And your tag team with Ducky is “Team SU”, right?”
“Uh huh…” Gavin nods, wondering where she’s going with this to the point that he will redundantly ask… “Where are you going with this?”
“Gavin, if “SUP” is “Smashmouth Unicorn Puke”, and your tag team is then “Team SU”, would that be Team Smashmouth Unicorn?” she asks. Gavin appears unmoved by the question.
“Yeah!” he nods. “Pretty sweet, huh?”
“… Gavin, are you implying that Xander Valentine… the Xander Valentine… SCW Hall of Famer, former SCW World Champion Xander Valentine… is the “Puke” in your team?”
Gavin looks at Ava for what could have been an eternity. In truth, the hamster wheel in his head was running a bit slow at this time, after the controversy with the All-Star Soda and now being presented with the implication of insulting Xander Valentine. Still, he attempts to think on his feet, something he’s become quite adept at doing, as he thinks about his partners. Ducky, clearly, represents the “Unicorn” of the trio. Gavin had assumed that he was the Smashmouth because of his wrestling style and also the fact that Smash Mouth, the rock band, had a massive number one hit single with the song “All-Star”, a rejected finalist for Gavin’s own entrance music. But he never really did think about how that would put Xander in the “Puke” position, until…
“Hey,” he begins, trying to get his footing around his answer here. “Have you ever been punched in the gut by Xander Valentine?”
Ava raises an eyebrow, considering Gavin’s awkward question and wondering if the soda maybe did try to poison him – or at least kill off a few brain cells. Still, she shakes her head.
“No,” she responds. “I can’t say that I have.”
“If you had been,” Gavin begins wagging his finger, finally catching his “Ah-ha” moment. “You would know why he’s the “Puke” of the team. Especially if carbo-load beforehand.”
“So he…” she begins, but quickly pieces together what Gavin’s saying. She almost throws up a little bit herself, pressing some fingers to her mouth before coughing. “I’m sorry I asked.”
“So… is that all?” Gavin asks, actually remembering he had asked for his full schedule. Ava checks it over.
“Not until the presser,” she answers. “But this commercial was really supposed to take a lot longer. We have a few hours to kill before then. Any ideas?”
“Lunch?” Gavin asks, although in his mind, he wasn’t really asking. Gavin begins to walk off the set, taking one last kick at where the All-Star Soda can had landed earlier, oblivious to the fact that it was moved long ago. A broom falls to the floor under the force of his swinging leg as he continues on his way. Ava follows behind as the scene fades.
COMING TOMORROW:
The Tinfoil Presser!
It will finally be time
To see the All-Star in rhyme!!
The introduction of a new form of Skittle?!
More Team SU(P?) hijinks!!
AND MORE!!
SIMILAR ALL-STAR TIME!
SAME ALL-STAR CHANNEL!
"The All-Star" Gavin Taylor 