Post by Roy Vezina on Sept 29, 2024 20:32:00 GMT
The camera follows a shaky Roy Vezina as he stumbles backstage, his arms slung over the shoulders of his teammates, Harv Norris and Rick Hull. All three members of the Punch Line are sweaty and disheveled after Roy’s grueling match against Kalidah for the PMLL Heavyweight Championship. Roy winces with every step, his face twisted in pain as they make their way toward the locker room.
Roy Vezina: (groaning in frustration) “Damn it… I knew it… I knew it! That stupid roll of quarters… landed right on it. I’m gonna feel that for weeks, boys.”
Harv, barely keeping his balance as he tries to support Roy with his thick Newfoundland accent coming through, responds.
Harv Norris: (almost incomprehensible) “Aye b’y, I toldja not ta put ‘em in yer trunks! Could’ve knocked ‘em clean, eh, but now ya got a bruise bigger than da Bay of Fundy!”
Rick Hull tries to suppress a grin but shakes his head, focused on keeping Roy upright.
Rick Hull: “Yeah, Roy, we said it a million times—you don’t hide that stuff in your trunks. But nah, Mr. Canada thinks he’s invincible… then lands on a damn roll of quarters. Classic.”
Roy snarls at them both, wincing again as they reach the door to their locker room. His frustration from the match and the pain radiating off him are evident.
Roy Vezina: “Oh, yeah, because I totally needed the commentary right now. Look, I was this close, alright? You saw it. I had him, but the damn ref stepped in and poof—game over. Kalidah didn’t beat me. The quarters did. It’s those damn quarters!”
Harv opens the door with his free hand as the three all stumble into the room.
Harv Norris: (laughing, despite the situation) “Aye, b’y, yer a legend for dat one. Landin’ on a roll of quarters… only you, Roy, only you.”
Rick Hull gently sets Roy down on a bench, still shaking his head in disbelief.
Rick Hull: “At least we got out of there before Kalidah turned us all into roadkill. You were lucky to get out with just a bruised hip, Roy. That guy’s a monster.”
Roy leans back, letting out a pained groan as he rubs his side where the roll of quarters had been.
Roy Vezina: “Yeah, yeah, he’s a freakin’ beast. But next time? I’m not letting a stupid roll of coins—or whatever other garbage—get in my way. Kalidah’s gonna pay for what he did to me tonight, and trust me, boys, I’m getting that title.”
Harv, ever the supportive teammate, nods vigorously, though his thick accent makes it almost impossible to understand.
Harv Norris: (over-enthusiastic) “Damn right ya are, b’y! We’re da Punch Line, and yer gonna knock dat Kalidah flat on his back next time, eh? We’ll get dat gold around yer waist, no matter what!”
Rick pulls a bottle of water from the nearby table and hands it to Roy, who takes it gratefully. As Roy gulps it down, Rick speaks up, more grounded in his approach.
Rick Hull: “Look, you gave him a hell of a fight, Roy. That mandible claw didn’t take you down right away—you hung in there. But we need to regroup, refocus. Kalidah’s no joke, but we’re better. And we’ll prove it next time.”
Roy finishes the water and tosses the bottle aside, his face twisted into a cocky, determined grin.
Roy Vezina: “Damn right. Kalidah thinks he’s untouchable, but he hasn’t seen the last of me. I’m getting that title, boys. And when I do, we’ll be on top of Pollo Road—the Punch Line, gold all around. No more stupid mistakes. No more distractions. Next time, I’m walking out with that belt.”
The three of them share a look, their bond and determination evident as the camera zooms in on Roy’s determined face. Despite the pain, despite the setbacks, the fire in his eyes burns bright.
As the segment ends, Harv slaps Roy on the back—maybe a little too hard—and Roy winces again, giving Harv a glare.
Roy Vezina: “Seriously, Harv… easy on the back.”
Harv just grins sheepishly.
Harv Norris: “Sorry ‘bout dat, b’y. We’ll getcha dat gold.”
The scene fades as the three of them sit in the locker room, the camaraderie between them clear, even as Roy continues to complain about his unfortunate landing on the roll of quarters.
Roy Vezina: (groaning in frustration) “Damn it… I knew it… I knew it! That stupid roll of quarters… landed right on it. I’m gonna feel that for weeks, boys.”
Harv, barely keeping his balance as he tries to support Roy with his thick Newfoundland accent coming through, responds.
Harv Norris: (almost incomprehensible) “Aye b’y, I toldja not ta put ‘em in yer trunks! Could’ve knocked ‘em clean, eh, but now ya got a bruise bigger than da Bay of Fundy!”
Rick Hull tries to suppress a grin but shakes his head, focused on keeping Roy upright.
Rick Hull: “Yeah, Roy, we said it a million times—you don’t hide that stuff in your trunks. But nah, Mr. Canada thinks he’s invincible… then lands on a damn roll of quarters. Classic.”
Roy snarls at them both, wincing again as they reach the door to their locker room. His frustration from the match and the pain radiating off him are evident.
Roy Vezina: “Oh, yeah, because I totally needed the commentary right now. Look, I was this close, alright? You saw it. I had him, but the damn ref stepped in and poof—game over. Kalidah didn’t beat me. The quarters did. It’s those damn quarters!”
Harv opens the door with his free hand as the three all stumble into the room.
Harv Norris: (laughing, despite the situation) “Aye, b’y, yer a legend for dat one. Landin’ on a roll of quarters… only you, Roy, only you.”
Rick Hull gently sets Roy down on a bench, still shaking his head in disbelief.
Rick Hull: “At least we got out of there before Kalidah turned us all into roadkill. You were lucky to get out with just a bruised hip, Roy. That guy’s a monster.”
Roy leans back, letting out a pained groan as he rubs his side where the roll of quarters had been.
Roy Vezina: “Yeah, yeah, he’s a freakin’ beast. But next time? I’m not letting a stupid roll of coins—or whatever other garbage—get in my way. Kalidah’s gonna pay for what he did to me tonight, and trust me, boys, I’m getting that title.”
Harv, ever the supportive teammate, nods vigorously, though his thick accent makes it almost impossible to understand.
Harv Norris: (over-enthusiastic) “Damn right ya are, b’y! We’re da Punch Line, and yer gonna knock dat Kalidah flat on his back next time, eh? We’ll get dat gold around yer waist, no matter what!”
Rick pulls a bottle of water from the nearby table and hands it to Roy, who takes it gratefully. As Roy gulps it down, Rick speaks up, more grounded in his approach.
Rick Hull: “Look, you gave him a hell of a fight, Roy. That mandible claw didn’t take you down right away—you hung in there. But we need to regroup, refocus. Kalidah’s no joke, but we’re better. And we’ll prove it next time.”
Roy finishes the water and tosses the bottle aside, his face twisted into a cocky, determined grin.
Roy Vezina: “Damn right. Kalidah thinks he’s untouchable, but he hasn’t seen the last of me. I’m getting that title, boys. And when I do, we’ll be on top of Pollo Road—the Punch Line, gold all around. No more stupid mistakes. No more distractions. Next time, I’m walking out with that belt.”
The three of them share a look, their bond and determination evident as the camera zooms in on Roy’s determined face. Despite the pain, despite the setbacks, the fire in his eyes burns bright.
As the segment ends, Harv slaps Roy on the back—maybe a little too hard—and Roy winces again, giving Harv a glare.
Roy Vezina: “Seriously, Harv… easy on the back.”
Harv just grins sheepishly.
Harv Norris: “Sorry ‘bout dat, b’y. We’ll getcha dat gold.”
The scene fades as the three of them sit in the locker room, the camaraderie between them clear, even as Roy continues to complain about his unfortunate landing on the roll of quarters.