Under the Bridge
Wisdom of the Troll
Indian Coffee HouseLocated opposite the Presidency University in College Street, the most famous of Indian Coffee House branches in Kolkata. Where else would you expect a to-class celebrity like the Troll to be set up for his latest web blog broadcast?
The amateur-made logo for the webcast fades away into nothingness and the Troll is the first thing seen. The Troll sits back in his chair and shakes his head, eliciting an audible sculpt of derision.
The Troll: Boy I tell you! A good man like me, the first class grade athlete such as myself, just can't cut a break because I don't fit the physical mold of the perfect wrestler! Am I 6 ft 2? No! Do I have sculpted pecs like Austin James Mercer? No! Do I strut around the ring, wearing nothing more than tiny little wrestling trunks that in some countries could double as a swimsuit? No! What you see before you when I compete, that is a real man! When the world thinks about the average American man, you're looking at him! I am the prototype of the average American male! The self-made man that the fans want to see! They want to cheer for the person that they can most identify with! Me, myself and I!
He jobs a fat thumb back into his sternum repeatedly, emphasizing the point of each word.
The Troll: And yet, what respect do I get!? None! Do you see me getting a cut of the merchandise take? Absolutely not! The bosses couldn't see fit to give me my just due! You couldn't pry that money out of their clenched fists with a crowbar and a tractor! I've taken down some of the top stars of SCW and brought in the ratings that they all crave, and yet I get no thanks! I get no rewards! You also how I manhandled that skinny prepubescent teenage girl Finn Whelan a few weeks ago and yet nobody made mention of it! And why? They all thought that Finn would walk away as the winner, dominating yours truly, only it didn't happen that way! Once again, their creative editing works against me just because I'm not who they want to push to the top! They don't see your boy, the Troll, as marketable!
He slams his clenched, clammy fist on the table top, rattling the cup and utensils on the surface.
The Troll: I swear! I really can't wait for this lame tour to end! India has got to be the worst experience that I've ever had the misfortune to… experience!
Several patrons that have overheard him shoot him dirty looks that go unnoticed.
The Troll: I mean, first I am not granted an automatic title match against Goth rather than the **bosses** just letting that paper champion do whatever the hell he wants with his championship, offering up a title match at Violent Conduct 8 to just ANYBODY! But now, they decide to put me - ME - against that LOSER Hitamashii! I mean, seriously!? Hitamashii!?
The Troll looks left and right, arms held out, utterly bewildered at his professional predicament.
The Troll: I know, right!? Me! Your boy, the Troll! Undefeated! Against that SCLoser!
He takes on a mocking tone…
The Troll: Oh but Hitamashii is a former Underground Champion!
He twirls a finger in the air, mocking the constant quote of accomplishment.
The Troll: Well whoopty freaking doo! First, the guy couldn’t even win or retain that belt without having his bitch friends CONSTANTLY interfering in his matches for him! And two - look at who he lost the title to! HBCarter, of all people! Well newsflash, Hitamashii! You’re not up against some loser like Carter or anyone else from SCU! You’re against me! The Troll! Excuse me - the UNDEFEATED Troll! And once I put you down in history, there’s NO WAY that the higher ups will be able to deny me my due!
The Troll picks up his iced coffee for a drink and pokes the straw in his eye!
The Troll: oh - ow! Medic! Medic!
He reaches blindly for his laptop and fumbles to switch it off.
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