I know this isn't much, but it's just to start things out. With any chance I might get a few reads, I'll try my best to keep this interesting.
Enjoy!
Inside the World Wrestling Entertainment training building in Orlando, Florida, a large cluster of people surrounded several different rings where potential superstars and divas battled it out for their shot at being in the spotlight. Amongst the group, a petit, middle-aged man – teenaged in appearance – watched from the front row, literally holding onto the bottom rope of the ring. He watched as a man built with a beefy figure shimmied and threw his opponent across the ring, boasting his strength by pounding his chest and roaring with his back arched. Everyone around the ring cheered except for the petit man.
The powerhouse jungle man act is such a cliché, he thought, rolling his eyes, Brock Lesnar should drop in and teach this guy a lesson.
The beefy guy's opponent struggled to stand up, using the turnbuckles in the corner to support himself. The crowd cheered, pumping up the beefy guy and motivating him to continue the punishment. A referee side-stepped along the big man's path of destruction. The losing man terrifyingly slipped under the top rope and held onto it, calling for the ref to keep the big man away. The ref did so, and the big man grunted in frustration.
The petit man laughed, "Smart move."
The big man turned his head to meet the voice that did not conform to the crowd, shooting a deadly glance. He took a strong breath with his nostrils, puffing his chest as he gritted his teeth, "You say something, boy?" He started walking in his direction, reaching down to grab the collar of the petit's green V-neck shirt and pulling him into the ring.
"Hey, what are you doing?!" Another person from the crowd shouted, "He's just a boy, leave him alone!"
The ref attempted to separate the man's grasp from the petit's shirt, but the man pushed the ref away and held the petit up to eye level, breathing heavily into his face.
The petit grimaced, waving it away, "When's the last time you brushed your teeth?"
The big man returned an angry version of the expression, "My bite is MUCH worse than my bark!" He gritted his teeth again, revealing more yellow than a dirty toilet seat.
"I'll take that as a 'never,'" The petit shot back before the ref signaled for the bell to signify a disqualification. From the crowd, a half a dozen security guards made their way to the ring to grab hold of the big man, fighting against his angry resistance as the petit fell onto his back after being dropped a couple feet. The woman that shouted earlier asked if he was alright.
"Yes, I'm fine… and I'm not a little kid." The petit replied, summoning a look of distaste from her. The petit sighed and looked away, standing up after refusing the hand held out by Dusty Rhodes, one of the trainers with a massive reputation in WWE history.
"Guards! Hold up just a moment!" Dusty shouted. The guards that held the big man let him go, letting him return to the ring with a vengeance. Dusty held his hand out and settled him, "Now, can you tell us your name again?"
The big man inhaled, puffing his chest again, but was interrupted by someone from the crowd, "His name is Bruno Beef!" Dusty gestured in the direction of the voice in thanks.
"Bruno Beef," Dusty started, "you are quite the force to be reckoned with… but what was your reasoning for holding this young man by his collar?"
Beef inhaled, "He complimented my opponent. My lanky opponent who was no competition for me whatsoever! He supported the wimp who talked trash to me before this match!"
Dusty nodded, "Understandable. Well, since the match is over, how about we make this official?"
Beef grimaced, "Me? Face this puny boy?!"
The crowd began to laugh, but Dusty remained emotionless. He turned to the petit, "Young man, what's your name?"
"Lothar." Lothar said without emotion or movement of his head or eyes. His face held firm against the malicious expression on Beef's face after the challenge was issued.
Dusty held his hands out towards the two combatants, "Well now, Lothar, do you accept?"
Lothar smiled, "Sure. Why not?"
Beef responded to the remark by pounding his chest and roaring to the ceiling, summoning the crowd's loud support. Lothar shook his head, standing up and taking a deep breath. Beef laughed at his mental preparation, getting into his fighting stance as Lothar cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders while keeping eye contact with his opponent. They both circled the ring, waiting for the ref to start the match.