Post by Bembe Brightwell on Oct 9, 2020 14:32:43 GMT
“Muh-muh-muh-meteorologists. It’s all LIES, people! Don’t believe what this luh-luh-luh-LADY tells you! I bet she doesn’t even know the difference between a cumulonimbus and a stratoni-ni-ni-ni-nimbo…”
For the production team at Nice Afternoon, Channel 3!, it seemed only natural to have the wrestler obsessed with lightning to entertain their viewers with the mid-day weather report. April Mayflowers was the station’s most beloved figure. They’d planned a cute bit where she would reassure him that thunderstorms are nothing to be afraid of here in their community, because April always made sure that Channel 3’s viewers knew exactly when they needed to carry an umbrella!
However, they should have suspected it to be a failure as soon as they met Bembe Brightwell. Upon his immediate arrival, he had lugged in a large toolbox and requested to thoroughly inspect their Doppler radar. When informed that their radar data was provided by a larger sister station, he then asked to see the “warehouse where you store all the storm magnets you use to put on your map.” Much to his disappointment, there was no warehouse to speak of. They only had two of those.
When showtime came around, two magnets and forty-six construction paper cutouts of gray clouds and yellow bolts covered the entire surface of the map. At first, April and the producers let him go off on a stutter-filled rant about how thunderstorms can sneak up on you everywhere, even warning any small children watching that they could be hiding in your closet or under your bed while you were sleeping. They’d initially assumed it was just part of the wacky wrestling show set to take place at Danny Stevenson Chevrolet (one of Channel 3’s most generous sponsors.) However, when she finally attempt to jerk the microphone away from him, Bembe then began to accuse all weatherpersons around the world of atrocities that paralleled the worst of human rights violations.
“...hey, HEY! GET your huh-huh-huh-hands OFFA me!”
A steel door backstage gave way to a parking lot behind the building where Channel 3 made their home. Without warning, the door swung open. Brightwell had been flung by the station’s toughs as if he were the antagonist in a Looney Tunes episode. His ass met the pavement with an unsatisfying thud.
“OWCH! I was STRUCK there as a kid, you know!”
Despite the pain of such an awkward landing, Bembe quickly clamors to his feet, immediately looking skyward to observe the present conditions. The cut of his luchador mask revealing his animated facial expressions, Brightwell’s jaw drops in horror upon realization of what he sees.
“Oh NO. SEE,” he yells back at the now-bolted door and points an index finger to the air, “I TOLD YOU IT WAS HOGWASH!”
Up above, a single fluffy nimbus sat far out of reach of the sun. Its shape was close to that of a giant white mitten giving the Earth a thumbs-up. Despite its friendly assurances, Bembe was not impressed.
“Ah, FUCK YOU PAL, I know your truh-truh-tricks!”
Clutching his right buttock, Brightwell took off in a sprint around the side of the building to get to the safety of his vehicle. Once he’d arrived, he nervously fumbled around the pockets of his slacks to find the keys to the 2005 Astro van that had been repainted by hand with black polyurethane rubber.
Sweat started to form on his palms despite April’s accurate projection of breezy fall temperatures.
“Where’s my keys?”
He checks his pockets again. This time his back ones, too.
“Where’s my kuh-kuh-kuh-KEYS?”
Bembe came to an alarming realization. In order to cut the extra forty-six storm clouds to display on the weather map, he’d had to use the tiny pocket scissors he had on his key chain. The only means to his escape was sitting on a table backstage next to a pile of shredded construction paper.
“I would like tuh-tuh-tuh issue a formal apology.”
The next day’s episode of Nice Afternoon featured a much more reserved Bembe Brightwell in front of the camera. His hands folded politely in front of him, he recites word-for-word from the cue cards.
“April Mayflowers is the most truh-truh-truh-truhsted source in the tri-county area to give you the most ac-ac-accurate weather report every day. And folks, she also knows a thu-thu-thing or two about wrestling! Don’t believe me? Then come on down to chuh-chuh-chuh-Cheap Pops Pro during the Danny Stevenson Chevrolet Carmageddon Sales Event where she’ll be there to shuh-shuh-shuh-show you her moves!”
For the production team at Nice Afternoon, Channel 3!, it seemed only natural to have the wrestler obsessed with lightning to entertain their viewers with the mid-day weather report. April Mayflowers was the station’s most beloved figure. They’d planned a cute bit where she would reassure him that thunderstorms are nothing to be afraid of here in their community, because April always made sure that Channel 3’s viewers knew exactly when they needed to carry an umbrella!
However, they should have suspected it to be a failure as soon as they met Bembe Brightwell. Upon his immediate arrival, he had lugged in a large toolbox and requested to thoroughly inspect their Doppler radar. When informed that their radar data was provided by a larger sister station, he then asked to see the “warehouse where you store all the storm magnets you use to put on your map.” Much to his disappointment, there was no warehouse to speak of. They only had two of those.
When showtime came around, two magnets and forty-six construction paper cutouts of gray clouds and yellow bolts covered the entire surface of the map. At first, April and the producers let him go off on a stutter-filled rant about how thunderstorms can sneak up on you everywhere, even warning any small children watching that they could be hiding in your closet or under your bed while you were sleeping. They’d initially assumed it was just part of the wacky wrestling show set to take place at Danny Stevenson Chevrolet (one of Channel 3’s most generous sponsors.) However, when she finally attempt to jerk the microphone away from him, Bembe then began to accuse all weatherpersons around the world of atrocities that paralleled the worst of human rights violations.
“...hey, HEY! GET your huh-huh-huh-hands OFFA me!”
A steel door backstage gave way to a parking lot behind the building where Channel 3 made their home. Without warning, the door swung open. Brightwell had been flung by the station’s toughs as if he were the antagonist in a Looney Tunes episode. His ass met the pavement with an unsatisfying thud.
“OWCH! I was STRUCK there as a kid, you know!”
Despite the pain of such an awkward landing, Bembe quickly clamors to his feet, immediately looking skyward to observe the present conditions. The cut of his luchador mask revealing his animated facial expressions, Brightwell’s jaw drops in horror upon realization of what he sees.
“Oh NO. SEE,” he yells back at the now-bolted door and points an index finger to the air, “I TOLD YOU IT WAS HOGWASH!”
Up above, a single fluffy nimbus sat far out of reach of the sun. Its shape was close to that of a giant white mitten giving the Earth a thumbs-up. Despite its friendly assurances, Bembe was not impressed.
“Ah, FUCK YOU PAL, I know your truh-truh-tricks!”
Clutching his right buttock, Brightwell took off in a sprint around the side of the building to get to the safety of his vehicle. Once he’d arrived, he nervously fumbled around the pockets of his slacks to find the keys to the 2005 Astro van that had been repainted by hand with black polyurethane rubber.
Sweat started to form on his palms despite April’s accurate projection of breezy fall temperatures.
“Where’s my keys?”
He checks his pockets again. This time his back ones, too.
“Where’s my kuh-kuh-kuh-KEYS?”
Bembe came to an alarming realization. In order to cut the extra forty-six storm clouds to display on the weather map, he’d had to use the tiny pocket scissors he had on his key chain. The only means to his escape was sitting on a table backstage next to a pile of shredded construction paper.
“I would like tuh-tuh-tuh issue a formal apology.”
The next day’s episode of Nice Afternoon featured a much more reserved Bembe Brightwell in front of the camera. His hands folded politely in front of him, he recites word-for-word from the cue cards.
“April Mayflowers is the most truh-truh-truh-truhsted source in the tri-county area to give you the most ac-ac-accurate weather report every day. And folks, she also knows a thu-thu-thing or two about wrestling! Don’t believe me? Then come on down to chuh-chuh-chuh-Cheap Pops Pro during the Danny Stevenson Chevrolet Carmageddon Sales Event where she’ll be there to shuh-shuh-shuh-show you her moves!”