Post by Delikado on Jan 27, 2019 14:13:42 GMT -5
~Gustavsberg, Sweden~
The title card out of the way, the scene fades in to quite a different type of locale than we might’ve expected. Frik Snackey stands in what appears to be some kind of throne room. Before him are two men, one an exceedingly old fellow with grey hair and whiskers who sits in a respectable-looking throne, while the other is a younger fellow of similar appearance, only blonde, sitting in a regular chair from IKEA. Marshaled around the room are people of all varieties, looking something like a royal court to go with this strangely archaic visual. It is the younger man who speaks, his voice nasally but assertive with its English brandishing a Swedish accent.
Prince Otto Sonsson: Ve’re an untapped market in vrestling, Sveden. Zee only man to ever compete is our Lord and Saviour, Henrik Kanensson.
Royal Courtiers: Blessed be him, and also loaned a shovel!
Snackey’s eyes move around the room as this religious call echoes about from the people. He keeps a respectable silence about him, not understanding the Swedish ways totally except what Google told him on the flight here.
Prince Otto Sonsson: You see, our femeely heestury saw us favour vrestling vay back in zee time of King Eric XI, old Lisp and Lame, vhile everyone else vas about Christianity and all zat jazz. Vrestling vas OUR thing before anyone else’s, and vee could have made Sveden zee capital of zee vrestling vorld. Vit our villpower and big muscles, vee vere stronger zan zee King, with his lisping and his lameness, and had our femeely von out on zee extinction of zee House of Eric zings would have been grand. Alas, zat traitor Birger Jarl snubbed us and established his own line on zee Svedish throne. Vee tried to fight back, but nobody wanted a country run exclusively on vrestling, so vee vere exiled to live on zee fringe of society, and the rest of Svedish history vas vritten as you know: on IKEA furniture. Carl XVI Gustaf vants nothing to do vit us and our vrestling vays, despite us being just royal as he—“pretenders” vee are called but I am a prince, my father a king! Zee Ancestry.com has proven zat fact. But if zat is vhat he vants, so be it; zee truth vee vant vill come out one day. So zat brings us to you, Mr. Snackman…vat do you vant?
The prince having given his speech, he casually chomps away at a huge bowl of Saltlakrits on a table next to his chair. Snackey pauses as he inhales and grins slightly.
Frik Snackey: I just want a righteousness done on behalf of my company, Frontier Grappling Arts, to get rid of a Cuban and—
Prince Otto Sonsson: Ah, Delikado, zee only Cuban in vrestling. Vee know of him, for our Lord and Saviour Henrik Kanensson…
Royal Courtiers: Blessed be his name, and also send him nudes!
Prince Otto Sonsson: …is quite fond of him. Zey are soon to be competing together in a Pro Vrestling Raiden show, don’t you know, along vit Jack Benevolence. It’s to be a good show, vhy vould ve vant to interfere vit zat? Vhat do vee get in return?
Frik Snackey: Your home base here, Gustavsberg, is known for its porcelain. Recent history in FGA has proven vending machines and other storage for our snacks do not offer ample protection from villainy, nor proper respectability. I see your bowl there and I can tell it showcases snacking as it was meant to be done. The treats speak to me, you see, as a snack purveyor and connoisseur, and I can easily visualize us forging a bond where your porcelain and my snacks revolutionize the market of foodstuffs in wrestling.
Prince Otto Sonsson: Hmm, branding. Can’t say vee’ve ever heard of it done quite like zat. Still, vee are not desperate for funds, and porcelain bores.
Frik Snackey: Well maybe you want your name put out in wrestling as a just one. You know yourself there are too many backstabbers and too much self-serving is done in this business, but perhaps if you hear the tale this note carries…
He pulls out the letter he read a few days earlier to Major Dick Pict.
Frik Snackey: …You’ll want to take up a cause that can only bring honor and benevolent recognition to your family, making you someone everyone, from wrestling aficionados to even non-wrestling people like Carl XVI Gustaf, will wish to recognize and have at their side. May I…?
Slightly more intrigued, the prince nods at Snackey’s request to read the letter.
Frik Snackey: This a letter titled ”Candy Kittens Gourmet Sweets to the World”…
After he’s read the note in its entirety, the court is left without a dry eye among the courtiers as they sob passionately.
Courtier 1: *sobbing* Vho could’ve guessed vegan candy could vrite such vootiful vords?!
Courtier 2: *sobbing* Lemon-flavored, but zere is no sour to it at all, waaaah!
Snackey lowers the letter, looking satisfied he’s done the job right. He glances up for the first time since reading at the prince and king. The king is stoic, lost in his own foggy world, while Otto is picking at his eye, yet he isn’t weeping like everyone else.
Prince Otto Sonsson: Your cause vax art and makes my men into babies, Snackman. To avenge your vegan snack against Delikado is enticing, but ehhh…perhaps zee translation was a bit lost on me.
Snackey frowns, looking between the prince and the letter.
Frik Snackey: “Translation?” This is a universal language of the good dragged through the mud by wickedness!
Prince Otto Sonsson: So you say. But business is business in zee end, and who can say business won’t favor zat wickedness? After all, modern vrestling has long been a hardcore hellhole of chairs and sledgehammers and blood—all zings Sveden vrestling vould never have allowed. I’m not salty, just saying: zhanks America…*shrug*
As Otto pours an overabundance of table salt on his Saltlakrits and continues eating in a bored manner, Snackey begins to feel dismay judging by his face. He sighs with regret.
Frik Snackey: Maybe I was wrong. I thought that you would understand, see the sense I was hoping to bring back to an increasingly senseless land. I guess I’ll just give you your mail and go…
He reaches into his coat and pulls out the letter he acquired from the carrier pigeons. Approaching the throne, he hands off the letter and then starts to leave.
Frik Snackey: From the Cuban. I hope you two will be happy together………
Otto skims over the letter from Delikado and his expression changes from boredom to childish excitement. Yes, he appears more excited than ever as he holds the letter toward the king.
Prince Otto Sonsson: *gasp* Papa Your Majesty, it’s an invite to zee thing, zis wrestling park of his I’ve heard about! Parking Lotta Fun! Ohhh, I can’t wait! I shall get my scooter and vee vill go. Heheheh!
The king slowly rolls his head toward his son and begins to wheeze out something. In a similar manner to the Delikado/Sofia telepathic schtick, only Otto seems able to hear what his elderly father is saying, and whatever it is appears to quickly lessen his initial eagerness.
Prince Otto Sonsson: Heh…vhat…vhat do you mean “no parking”? You heard vhat…? Snackman!
Snackey stops and turns back around to face the prince, who appears to be trying to comprehend between the letter from Delikado and the wheezing comment of his father.
Prince Otto Sonsson: Vhat is zee meaning of vhat my father asks about zer being “no parking” allowed at the Cuban’s Parking Lotta Fun park?
Frik Snackey: Just that—there is no place to park.
Prince Otto Sonsson: Anything?!
Frik Snackey: Not as far as I know. I reckon it’s some kind of ego thing for the Cuban in his wheelchair.
Prince Otto Sonsson: You “reckon?” Vell, let me tell you vhat *I* reckon! Get my scooter!
He angrily snaps his fingers to a nearby courtier who rushes off to get something. The courtier quickly returns with a scooter not unlike a Razor kick scooter that a child might ride. As it’s parked in front of the throne, Otto steps down and grips the handle.
Prince Otto Sonsson: I reckon I made this scooter myself. I reckon I vas going to use it to showcase Sveden’s revitalization of vrestling given zee chance at some event here or zere—for it is zee perfect model to interview from, to move in entrance, or to attack if need be, making it a trifecta none other possess in the sport! I reckoned Delikado’s Parking Lotta Fun would be the event to show off its brilliance, but NOW I reckon he is insulting me, making a mockery of zis femeely, and Sveden at large, by inviting us to an event vhere he KNOWS I vanted to park my scooter for all to witness…only to stick a “no parking” law on zee underbelly! Thus…
The enraged prince snaps his head toward Snackey and sniffs the air dramatically before making his next address.
Prince Otto Sonsson: I reckon ve vill join you, Frik Snackey. Ve vill avenge your vegan candy. Ve vill wipe out zee stench of Cuban and friends. I vill call on my Danish cousins who as fate vould have it already vork for your FGA to begin the assault.
Frik Snackey: Wait….Danish…you mean Gunnar and Ragnar of The Resistance? They’re your cousins?!
Prince Otto Sonsson: Meh, zee femeely tree crossed a few branches here and zere, but yes, of similar design are ve, and as you must know, mighty are zey!
Snackey smiles.
Frik Snackey: They are impressive beasts to behold.
Prince Otto Sonsson: And now they vill fight the good fight as beasts do. I vill make the call: Gunnar vill face off vit Delikado immediately, and he vill break him instantly. For his brash insult to me, for your vegan snack’s demise, and for Scandinavian vrestling glory!
Enthralled by this sudden reversal of fortune, Snackey exhales in relief.
Frik Snackey: Thank you, Prince Otto. Though I must ask….what does His Majesty think…?
Otto chuckles as he gazes upon his father.
Prince Otto Sonsson: Ohoho, he vas a mighty speaker of “zee shoot” promo style in his own league back in zee day! Vhat say you, father? Shall your godson Gunnar open the conflagration vit zis Cuban vho ridicules the great Svedish royal family of ABBA?!
The Swedish “king” trembles in his throne as he forces himself up slowly and with some initial struggle. However, willpower and a desire to make a statement both physically and verbally motivates him to finally stand before the assembly. A largely toothless mouth gapes open and at first spews nothing but air and some drool, yet with greater effort words finally fire forward and holy cow are they borderline impossible to understand in their Swedishness.
King Son Gustav: Mey zee-a guds hefe-a mercy oun Deleekedu, fur ve-a vill hefe-a NONE! Bork Bork Bork!!!
The rest of the court cheers to the point the room quakes. Otto turns back to Snackey and nods. The big man nods back in appreciation and thinks aloud to himself.
Frik Snackey: Bristow & Barnes are yesterday’s struggle. Now The Resistance joins the fight against you, Delikado. Let’s see how you fare when an MMA warrior of Valhalla enters the ring opposite your skeletal hide!
The scene jumps stateside where Delikado himself is nestled in his wheelchair as usual. The camera slowly moves in on his greyed face and zooms closer to his eyes. Just then, for a split second you could almost miss, Delikado’s right eye twitches one single time. We cut to black.
The title card out of the way, the scene fades in to quite a different type of locale than we might’ve expected. Frik Snackey stands in what appears to be some kind of throne room. Before him are two men, one an exceedingly old fellow with grey hair and whiskers who sits in a respectable-looking throne, while the other is a younger fellow of similar appearance, only blonde, sitting in a regular chair from IKEA. Marshaled around the room are people of all varieties, looking something like a royal court to go with this strangely archaic visual. It is the younger man who speaks, his voice nasally but assertive with its English brandishing a Swedish accent.
Prince Otto Sonsson: Ve’re an untapped market in vrestling, Sveden. Zee only man to ever compete is our Lord and Saviour, Henrik Kanensson.
Royal Courtiers: Blessed be him, and also loaned a shovel!
Snackey’s eyes move around the room as this religious call echoes about from the people. He keeps a respectable silence about him, not understanding the Swedish ways totally except what Google told him on the flight here.
Prince Otto Sonsson: You see, our femeely heestury saw us favour vrestling vay back in zee time of King Eric XI, old Lisp and Lame, vhile everyone else vas about Christianity and all zat jazz. Vrestling vas OUR thing before anyone else’s, and vee could have made Sveden zee capital of zee vrestling vorld. Vit our villpower and big muscles, vee vere stronger zan zee King, with his lisping and his lameness, and had our femeely von out on zee extinction of zee House of Eric zings would have been grand. Alas, zat traitor Birger Jarl snubbed us and established his own line on zee Svedish throne. Vee tried to fight back, but nobody wanted a country run exclusively on vrestling, so vee vere exiled to live on zee fringe of society, and the rest of Svedish history vas vritten as you know: on IKEA furniture. Carl XVI Gustaf vants nothing to do vit us and our vrestling vays, despite us being just royal as he—“pretenders” vee are called but I am a prince, my father a king! Zee Ancestry.com has proven zat fact. But if zat is vhat he vants, so be it; zee truth vee vant vill come out one day. So zat brings us to you, Mr. Snackman…vat do you vant?
The prince having given his speech, he casually chomps away at a huge bowl of Saltlakrits on a table next to his chair. Snackey pauses as he inhales and grins slightly.
Frik Snackey: I just want a righteousness done on behalf of my company, Frontier Grappling Arts, to get rid of a Cuban and—
Prince Otto Sonsson: Ah, Delikado, zee only Cuban in vrestling. Vee know of him, for our Lord and Saviour Henrik Kanensson…
Royal Courtiers: Blessed be his name, and also send him nudes!
Prince Otto Sonsson: …is quite fond of him. Zey are soon to be competing together in a Pro Vrestling Raiden show, don’t you know, along vit Jack Benevolence. It’s to be a good show, vhy vould ve vant to interfere vit zat? Vhat do vee get in return?
Frik Snackey: Your home base here, Gustavsberg, is known for its porcelain. Recent history in FGA has proven vending machines and other storage for our snacks do not offer ample protection from villainy, nor proper respectability. I see your bowl there and I can tell it showcases snacking as it was meant to be done. The treats speak to me, you see, as a snack purveyor and connoisseur, and I can easily visualize us forging a bond where your porcelain and my snacks revolutionize the market of foodstuffs in wrestling.
Prince Otto Sonsson: Hmm, branding. Can’t say vee’ve ever heard of it done quite like zat. Still, vee are not desperate for funds, and porcelain bores.
Frik Snackey: Well maybe you want your name put out in wrestling as a just one. You know yourself there are too many backstabbers and too much self-serving is done in this business, but perhaps if you hear the tale this note carries…
He pulls out the letter he read a few days earlier to Major Dick Pict.
Frik Snackey: …You’ll want to take up a cause that can only bring honor and benevolent recognition to your family, making you someone everyone, from wrestling aficionados to even non-wrestling people like Carl XVI Gustaf, will wish to recognize and have at their side. May I…?
Slightly more intrigued, the prince nods at Snackey’s request to read the letter.
Frik Snackey: This a letter titled ”Candy Kittens Gourmet Sweets to the World”…
After he’s read the note in its entirety, the court is left without a dry eye among the courtiers as they sob passionately.
Courtier 1: *sobbing* Vho could’ve guessed vegan candy could vrite such vootiful vords?!
Courtier 2: *sobbing* Lemon-flavored, but zere is no sour to it at all, waaaah!
Snackey lowers the letter, looking satisfied he’s done the job right. He glances up for the first time since reading at the prince and king. The king is stoic, lost in his own foggy world, while Otto is picking at his eye, yet he isn’t weeping like everyone else.
Prince Otto Sonsson: Your cause vax art and makes my men into babies, Snackman. To avenge your vegan snack against Delikado is enticing, but ehhh…perhaps zee translation was a bit lost on me.
Snackey frowns, looking between the prince and the letter.
Frik Snackey: “Translation?” This is a universal language of the good dragged through the mud by wickedness!
Prince Otto Sonsson: So you say. But business is business in zee end, and who can say business won’t favor zat wickedness? After all, modern vrestling has long been a hardcore hellhole of chairs and sledgehammers and blood—all zings Sveden vrestling vould never have allowed. I’m not salty, just saying: zhanks America…*shrug*
As Otto pours an overabundance of table salt on his Saltlakrits and continues eating in a bored manner, Snackey begins to feel dismay judging by his face. He sighs with regret.
Frik Snackey: Maybe I was wrong. I thought that you would understand, see the sense I was hoping to bring back to an increasingly senseless land. I guess I’ll just give you your mail and go…
He reaches into his coat and pulls out the letter he acquired from the carrier pigeons. Approaching the throne, he hands off the letter and then starts to leave.
Frik Snackey: From the Cuban. I hope you two will be happy together………
Otto skims over the letter from Delikado and his expression changes from boredom to childish excitement. Yes, he appears more excited than ever as he holds the letter toward the king.
Prince Otto Sonsson: *gasp* Papa Your Majesty, it’s an invite to zee thing, zis wrestling park of his I’ve heard about! Parking Lotta Fun! Ohhh, I can’t wait! I shall get my scooter and vee vill go. Heheheh!
The king slowly rolls his head toward his son and begins to wheeze out something. In a similar manner to the Delikado/Sofia telepathic schtick, only Otto seems able to hear what his elderly father is saying, and whatever it is appears to quickly lessen his initial eagerness.
Prince Otto Sonsson: Heh…vhat…vhat do you mean “no parking”? You heard vhat…? Snackman!
Snackey stops and turns back around to face the prince, who appears to be trying to comprehend between the letter from Delikado and the wheezing comment of his father.
Prince Otto Sonsson: Vhat is zee meaning of vhat my father asks about zer being “no parking” allowed at the Cuban’s Parking Lotta Fun park?
Frik Snackey: Just that—there is no place to park.
Prince Otto Sonsson: Anything?!
Frik Snackey: Not as far as I know. I reckon it’s some kind of ego thing for the Cuban in his wheelchair.
Prince Otto Sonsson: You “reckon?” Vell, let me tell you vhat *I* reckon! Get my scooter!
He angrily snaps his fingers to a nearby courtier who rushes off to get something. The courtier quickly returns with a scooter not unlike a Razor kick scooter that a child might ride. As it’s parked in front of the throne, Otto steps down and grips the handle.
Prince Otto Sonsson: I reckon I made this scooter myself. I reckon I vas going to use it to showcase Sveden’s revitalization of vrestling given zee chance at some event here or zere—for it is zee perfect model to interview from, to move in entrance, or to attack if need be, making it a trifecta none other possess in the sport! I reckoned Delikado’s Parking Lotta Fun would be the event to show off its brilliance, but NOW I reckon he is insulting me, making a mockery of zis femeely, and Sveden at large, by inviting us to an event vhere he KNOWS I vanted to park my scooter for all to witness…only to stick a “no parking” law on zee underbelly! Thus…
The enraged prince snaps his head toward Snackey and sniffs the air dramatically before making his next address.
Prince Otto Sonsson: I reckon ve vill join you, Frik Snackey. Ve vill avenge your vegan candy. Ve vill wipe out zee stench of Cuban and friends. I vill call on my Danish cousins who as fate vould have it already vork for your FGA to begin the assault.
Frik Snackey: Wait….Danish…you mean Gunnar and Ragnar of The Resistance? They’re your cousins?!
Prince Otto Sonsson: Meh, zee femeely tree crossed a few branches here and zere, but yes, of similar design are ve, and as you must know, mighty are zey!
Snackey smiles.
Frik Snackey: They are impressive beasts to behold.
Prince Otto Sonsson: And now they vill fight the good fight as beasts do. I vill make the call: Gunnar vill face off vit Delikado immediately, and he vill break him instantly. For his brash insult to me, for your vegan snack’s demise, and for Scandinavian vrestling glory!
Enthralled by this sudden reversal of fortune, Snackey exhales in relief.
Frik Snackey: Thank you, Prince Otto. Though I must ask….what does His Majesty think…?
Otto chuckles as he gazes upon his father.
Prince Otto Sonsson: Ohoho, he vas a mighty speaker of “zee shoot” promo style in his own league back in zee day! Vhat say you, father? Shall your godson Gunnar open the conflagration vit zis Cuban vho ridicules the great Svedish royal family of ABBA?!
The Swedish “king” trembles in his throne as he forces himself up slowly and with some initial struggle. However, willpower and a desire to make a statement both physically and verbally motivates him to finally stand before the assembly. A largely toothless mouth gapes open and at first spews nothing but air and some drool, yet with greater effort words finally fire forward and holy cow are they borderline impossible to understand in their Swedishness.
King Son Gustav: Mey zee-a guds hefe-a mercy oun Deleekedu, fur ve-a vill hefe-a NONE! Bork Bork Bork!!!
The rest of the court cheers to the point the room quakes. Otto turns back to Snackey and nods. The big man nods back in appreciation and thinks aloud to himself.
Frik Snackey: Bristow & Barnes are yesterday’s struggle. Now The Resistance joins the fight against you, Delikado. Let’s see how you fare when an MMA warrior of Valhalla enters the ring opposite your skeletal hide!
The scene jumps stateside where Delikado himself is nestled in his wheelchair as usual. The camera slowly moves in on his greyed face and zooms closer to his eyes. Just then, for a split second you could almost miss, Delikado’s right eye twitches one single time. We cut to black.