PWE HEADQUARTERS
ORLANDO, FLORIDA
BEFORE STRATEGIC ASSAULT
Ollie Dorito was a good cat.
A good cat was Ollie Dorito.
No truer words had ever been spoken about a cat before, because in reality, cats are devils and none of them are good. But we find our hero napping, out of view of the camera for now. We can assume, by the glory of the beautiful five-tiered cat condo in the frame, that he was there. Five purrfect tiers, all of them with various amounts of space for a luxurious twelve-hour nap, or a connected metallic puff on a spring, just to work out all of those left-rights that he’s going to need for his bountiful wrestling career.
Oh, wait. No.
There’s our hero, in the box for the condo, curled up like the box was the one-hundred-and-eighty dollar purchase and not the condo.
As he dozes, his owner, esteemed owner of Pro Wrestling EXCELLENCE Ophelia Knight, sits at the large conference table in her office within the confines of Orlando, Florida. Dressed to the nines, she stares at an open file in front of her and glances at her computer screen, tapping the back of a pen against her lips. She appeared to be in deep thought as she bit her lip and then scribbled something down on one of the pieces of paper.
Only a moment later, the door opened and Charlie Jones, the General Manager for Victory, headed in, her laptop in hand and dressed also rather business-y in a pair of black slacks and a white buttoned blouse.
CHARLIE JONES: Sorry I’m late, Ophelia. I was working on the final signatures for Betsy Granger’s contract and I--
She paused mid-walk and, very loudly, sneezed. Ophelia looked up from her paperwork, and with a knowing smile, stood and headed to her desk. A moment later, she set a bottle of generic Zyrtec (because who the fuck is going to pay thirty-two freedom bucks for a bottle of name brand?!) on the table in front of where Charlie was to sit.
OPHELIA KNIGHT: It’s ‘aight. Take two of those.
CHARLIE JONES: That’s not the directions on the bottle.
She would know, because she’s now picked up the bottle and has examined the recommended dosage. Ophelia waves her hand and shakes it, pointing at the refrigerator where bottles of water were surely to be. Charlie rolls her eyes and dispenses one of the little white pills, before heading for the refrigerator and getting one of those bottles. She takes the zyrtec and then sits down, opening her computer.
CHARLIE JONES: As I was saying...we have our eleventh signing once Betsy completes the last form. I’ve sent it to her via email so I expect it back here soon. We’re also in talks with a Klayton Cross...no, that’s with a ‘K’, sorry and Xaria Linette. I’ve heard from a couple of others as well, but we have a pretty quickly growing roster. I think we’ll be able to make a show in the time that we’ve expected.
OPHELIA KNIGHT: Perfect. I’ve had a couple of inquiries from a few other persons, but I’ve directed them to you for the sake of lanes and all that. I’ve also had the final costs for the ring and the crew we’ll need for the travelling show. Las Vegas has offered us a discounted rate, provided that we gain either eighty percent venue capacity or sell out the venue. I don’t think that will be an issue, judging by the fact that other promotions that don’t have the same values are selling out their venues. As soon as tickets are on sale...we’ll be good to go.
CHARLIE JONES: Great. I…
She sneezed again. Ophelia pursed her lips as she thought, ignoring Charlie’s obvious allergy to the cat in the room. Charlie looked behind her and to the box, where Ollie had turned and now laid on his back, paws stretched to the ceiling like he was kneading the clouds.
CHARLIE JONES: ...you seriously brought him?
OPHELIA KNIGHT: What? Oh. Yeah.
She looked over to the boxes and smiled softly.
OPHELIA KNIGHT: He has separation anxiety. Couldn’t just leave him at home, he’d pee on literally everything.
CHARLIE JONES: I suppose. Although you might want to warn people. Who may or may not be allergic.
Her eyes widened pointedly at Ophelia, who blinked and then shook her head, pointing at the Zyrtec bottle.
OPHELIA KNIGHT: I gave you meds!
CHARLIE JONES: You still didn’t warn me!
OPHELIA KNIGHT: Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll put up a warning on the door. Probably is good in order to keep him in here anyway.
CHARLIE JONES: Good plan, boss.
She scoffed and leaned back in her chair, pushing it side to side as she looked at the documents in front of her as well. The two sat in silence for a couple of minutes, Charlie sending an email or two out to prospective roster members while Ophelia continued pursing her lips and biting her lip. Charlie, though she did not know her boss well at all, figured that the younger woman had something on her mind and didn’t know how to lay it out on the table. But she also didn’t want to become the younger woman’s confidant.
Though she doubted that was even a thing.
Ophelia, however, didn’t even notice.
OPHELIA KNIGHT: I’m wondering…
CHARLIE JONES: Hm?
OPHELIA KNIGHT: You know how there’s always a...jobber, so to speak? Someone who always takes the fall, no matter what. Used to push other talent higher, but everyone knows they’re going to win against them.
CHARLIE JONES: Mhm. John Blade, the Greatest of All Time That You Can’t See.
Ophelia stares at her for a minute, before shaking her head.
OPHELIA KNIGHT: Okay, right. I just...there needs to be a talent that is just there for pure entertainment. Not in the running like everyone else, the one roster member that isn’t gunning for anything, but is there for a just a good time.
CHARLIE JONES: I’ve got this...Pinkston dude sending me telegrams. I’m not sure he has a phone…
OPHELIA KNIGHT: Nonono. I mean...I want it to be different. Out of this world, but not completely and utterly ridiculous. Could win, but only by being the last possible one to do it. Something that will garner attention and amazement, but isn’t really like a viable wrestler.
Charlie stared at her. Ophelia stared back. She glanced at Ollie. Charlie’s eyebrow raised slowly.
Charlie’s eyebrows were in danger of escaping into her hair.
They were gone.
CHARLIE JONES: You want to hire the cat?!
Ophelia giggled slightly.
OPHELIA KNIGHT: It would be funny, wouldn’t it?
🐱😸😹😺😻😼😽😾😿🙀
The scene begins in a room no bigger than a bedroom or a small living room. A chalkboard has been haphazardly hung in the background, and a weatherbeaten desk sits right in front of it. An Asian-American girl with extremely tall boots akin to something out of Gothic Magazine sits, a school girl skirt on and a white blouse on her torso. Her hair is definitely not something you’d see out of a school, with it being bright red and black and combed and styled into a fauxhawk on top of her head.
Ollie Dorito, the hero of this story, sits on the desk, a pair of goggles on his head and bowtie around his neck. He looks rather regal and lionlike. Also professor like. Because we’re in a classroom. OBVIOUSLY.
MISS BAZTII: Welcome, tom and pussycats to the classroom of Professor Olliekins! I’m his assistant, Miss Baztii. Kinda his spokesperson too. We’ll make it work, huh Ollie-Wallie?
She coos at the cat, reaching up to scratch him softly under the chin. He closes his eyes and starts to purr softly. An automatic response, obviously, from a cat who likes being touched. You know, there’s very few of them, and this one probably is the worst. However, she does it for far too long, as Ollie’s yellow-green eyes open and he swats at her hand.
MISS BAZTII: OOP! Sorry. Got carried away.
She chuckles as she holds her hand to her body, grinning weakly at the camera.
MISS BAZTII: Ollie Dorito is one of the newest signees to join Pro Wrestling EXCELLENCE. Although it’s completely unconventional, the bosses thought it would be great to showcase that they’re willing to accept any kind of competitor as long as they’re willing to be put through the hoops and shown through the...loops? I don’t know. But here we are, and it is great. It is meowgical. And Ollie...well, Ollie is going to take down everyone in his path. Isn’t that right, Ollie?
OLLIE DORITO: OWWWWWW!
MISS BAZTII: Right! That being said…let’s look at what we’ve got for his first ever match in this company! A six-way elimination match! Oh man, if it’s that simple to win, then Ollie just has to jump over the top rope--
The camera cuts out for a minute and we come back a second later to see a red faced Miss Baztii and Ollie licking his paw.
MISS BAZTII: So, Ollie has to stay in the match for him to win and not get eliminated. I got it now! And that’s okay, because I know he can do it! He’s the most agile, escape artist kinda cat in the whole world and he doesn’t need to do anything but give those people the Claw! Let’s look at who he’s facin’. They can’t be all that scary, right? After all, Ollie purred when I named them the Five Ickle Dumpster Fires!
DISCLAIMER: Baztii doesn’t know anyone and decided that would be the best name.
She grins and then throws up a hand with a remote, pointing it at the blackboard. Another cut happens, because she forgot to pull down the projector screen from the 1990’s. The first image upon the board screen is that of Allen Chaney, the Comedian himself. He doesn’t look very happy as he’s seemingly yelling at someone.
MISS BAZTII: Professor Olliekins…this is Mr. Allen Chaney. He’s a failed sitcom star, turned Comedian turned…
Ollie stares at her, then looks back at the picture of Chaney. His ears go back and he closes his eyes, raising his face upwards for a second.
MISS BAZTII: Oh. I see what you mean. Of course, you know, he has had some successes since being in the wrestling world. OATH Pro Wrestling has seen him take some championships in his most recent days. Isn’t it great being in the ring with someone like him, Ollie?
Ollie ignores her. Such a cat.
MISS BAZTII: You’re right, Ollie. You’re absolutely right. It’s not enough that you’ve just been a champion. It’s that you live the champion life, right? You’ve gotta be commanding of respect, not being laughed at! We gotta have someone who proves they’re as brilliant as the sun! And it’s totally obvi that Allen is lacking. No, you’re right, you’re right. He gets a D- grade.
She clicks through the second screen. A voluptuous woman rises on the screen. Ollie’s ears go further back, and he jumps down.
The screen flickers, and we see Miss Baztii setting him back on the desk.
MISS BAZTII: No, you’ve gotta stay for this, Kitty! I know that The Bomb is definitely going to be explosive, but social media prowess doesn’t trump KITTY SKILLZ. You are the strongest kitty going into this match, and I know that you have the star power to succeed here! All you’ve gotta do is outsmart her, Professor Olliekins! You just gotta swipe that face down and she’ll have big red marks all across it! It’ll be great for both of you! You’ll eliminate her and then she will be able to sell for a bunch of Neosporin ads, boosting both of your profits!
Ollie looks at her, licking his chomps.
MISS BAZTII: You’re right, Ollie. She can have a B, but it’s only because she’s B-eautiful!
CAMERAMAN: Are you sure that’s not because she’s a Bit--
The frame cuts out and we see Ollie stretching and arching upwards as he yawns while Miss Baztii is looking directly at the screen only.
MISS BAZTII: We apologize for that almost uncouth statement! We only positive vibe in this...um....school. We just vibin over here.
CAMERAMAN: That’s similar to that other fuc--
The frame cuts out again and we see Miss Baztii crossing her arms. She waggles her finger to say no.
MISS BAZTII: We don’t mention that place or those people, okay. But moving on! Next is Excellence Exemplified or...whatever. Klayton Kross! He uses Black Veil Brides music. He wins. Next!
Ollie looks at her and growls.
MISS BAZTII: Okay, I’m sorry. Really sorry. Klayton Kross has some promise, I know. But we gotta look towards your future Professor Olliekins! You’re the one they’re gonna be screaming for as champion, we gotta make you look good! He can have a C because I wanted to spell his name with a C. Following him we have Damian Ayla, who...well, he scares me. He doesn’t look like a cat person, Professor.
Ollie stretches once more, and then lays down on the desk.
MISS BAZTII: But we shouldn’t be afraid of him. You’ve got this. And last, Lewis Chad Pinkston. I know. He’s not really done anything but he’s only used three moves and he’s won. That’s prowess. And skill. I...I dunno...I...OLLIE.
Ollie is caught licking his netherregions, cleaning himself. The camera cuts out and we find Ollie lying backwards, reaching up to bat at a small toy as Miss Baztii dangles it.
MISS BAZTII: I know that all of Pro Wrestling EXCELLENCE will be surprised when the cat wins. And that’s why they rest of them are dumpster fires. Because they’re not strong enough to face off against the GCOAT! THE GREATEST CAT OF ALL TIME. You got this Ollie! I believe in you!
A disclaimer appears upon the screen.
No animals were harmed in the making of this promotional video. Ollie was purry much paid for his efforts in catnip and success.
