Post by Gurgen Hovhanissian on Sept 19, 2016 8:00:13 GMT -5
We hear the reverberating pounding of the drums at the start of March or die. Beast fades into view. He’s sitting in a storage room or basement or, I suppose it could have been an abandoned cold war nuclear fallout shelter. There wasn’t really anything to rule that possibility out, per se. Beast sits at a fairly low table, largely made of metal. Almost in time with the drums, he slams his paws down on the table, which, given the material it was made out of produced surprisingly little noise. So little noise, in fact, that we can still hear Beast … erm … ‘singing’ along.
“Badabing … boom … badabing … boom,” he goes, again, almost in time with the music.
The Massive Moron notices that we’ve joined him in his little hideaway.
“Oh, there people are,” he states. He reaches under the table and the music stops.
He pulls a bowl from underneath the table and offers it to the camera, “Cookie?”
Whatever had once been inside that bowl, the only thing we could tell for sure was … that it was now moving.
As the camera doesn’t seem to care for wriggly cookies, Beast sets the bowl aside, much to the delight of the little rodent we all couldn’t give a mouse’s ass about. Bottlecap emerges from the beard and with a dive of Olympic allure, he plunges into the writhing mass.
“So … Beasty fight Bohanannannnan next. Beasty learn long time ago to study opponent BEFORE the matching. Cause, after matchings , it no help much.”
“And peoples warn Beasty that Bohananannan be mat wrestler. So, Beast investigate.”
He turns the camera to one side. We see a vast assortment of mats of every size and color. Momentarily, the image changes to a training montage of Beast suplexing and slamming these mats.
“But Beast no learn much … other than slamming mats make lots of dust.”
Training montage Beast rushes to a previously unseen window … so much for the fallout shelter theory … He coughs and wheezes while hanging out the window.
“Then! … Then, Beast get tapes of Boha … just Bo.”
He reaches outside of the frame of the shot and slides a stack of VCR tapes into view. Who supplied these and why they used quarter-of-a-century old tech to do so, we’ll never know.
“Now, Beast understand … and that be rare. Beast no understand much things. Shoelaces, bra clasps, pizza, doors ...”
His hand once again disappears underneath the table. This time he produces what remains of the door to Bob and Frank’s broom closet.
“But Beast understand Bo and mat wrestling now.”
We’re treated to a different training video. An alpaca is running around a sandy arena. Beast appears in the shot, seated on a zebra. He chases after the alpaca swinging about a lasso. When he gets close enough to the panicked Andean mammal, he tosses aside the lasso, leaps off the zebra and crashes on top of the alpaca. Dust momentarily obscures his ministrations. When it settles, he has the alpaca in a fair simulacrum (?) of a figure four leg lock, applied on all four of the animal’s legs … so, I guess this makes it a figure eight leg lock? A rodeo clown comes over and counts to three. Beast gets up and raises his arms in victory, at which point the zebra runs up behind him and kicks him in the backside.
We return to Beast in the not-fallout shelter. He rubs his injured backside.
“Bo see that? Beast been practicing. Beast know how to make hold and how to break holds. And when Beast break all of Bo’s holds. What is Bo gonna do? When Beast make fight into barroom brawl … without the bar … what Bo gonna do? When Beast get these …”
He raises his massive paws and squeezes the air as if caressing the bosom of an unseen giantess. That would actually make for a cute couple, Beast and an unseen giantess. Would be better still is Beast were the unseen party.
But such musings did not register in the Beastly mind, so Beast carried on regardless, “… on Bo? And then Beast begin to squeeze!”
He grabs a VCR tape from the stack. When he places it between his paws, the tape nearly disappears from view. He squeezes. Creaking noise emanate from the tape.
“Can Bo hear it? The groaning of Bo’s bones under the Beastly paws?”
He twists and turn the tape, making it complain even more loudly at its current predicament.
“Bo think Bo can escape from Beastly paws? As little man Tyrion say on thronegames … THINK AGAIN!”
The Beastly biceps bulge underneath the fur coat. In an instant, the tape ceases its lamentations and instead explodes into a million tiny shards of plastic. The actual spool of tape flies across the table. It bounces along, leaving a trail of black tape along the tabletop. Bottlecap apparently thinks this rather alluring. He terminates his feast of wriggling cookies and chases after the spool.
“Fetch, Bottlecap … Fetch,” The Beast calls after his furry friend, a demented smile on his deranged face.
“Bo no worry,” Beast reassures while he picks shards of black plastic from the palm of his paws, “Beast only crush Bo a little. Or … hey … maybe Beast no crush Bo at all. Maybe Beast introduce Bo to inside of Beard.”
He leans in closer to the camera and confides, shielding the side of his mouth with his hand, “Beast no really wanna crush Bo. It just be case that …”
He pulls a Skeletor action figure from his coat and places it at one end of the table. “Vano be here.”
Next, he pulls a Man-At-Arms from the coat. This one goes in the middle of the table. ”Bo be here.”
Finally, a Grizzlor Action figure emerges from the beard. “And Beasty be here.” Grizzlor goes at the opposite end of the table.
He observes his little stage-setting. “Bo just be in the way.”
He grabs Grizzlor and flattens both other figures with it. He keeps pounding Skeletor until a little blue plastic arm comes off.
Content at the destruction he has caused, Beast folds his hands and states, “Nothing personal, Bo.”
He remains still, apparently waiting for something. This something is not forthcoming.
“Oh, Beast forget!” He reaches underneath the table and March or Die begins playing again.
He again folds his hands. This time the screen fades to black.
“Badabing … boom … badabing … boom,” he goes, again, almost in time with the music.
The Massive Moron notices that we’ve joined him in his little hideaway.
“Oh, there people are,” he states. He reaches under the table and the music stops.
He pulls a bowl from underneath the table and offers it to the camera, “Cookie?”
Whatever had once been inside that bowl, the only thing we could tell for sure was … that it was now moving.
As the camera doesn’t seem to care for wriggly cookies, Beast sets the bowl aside, much to the delight of the little rodent we all couldn’t give a mouse’s ass about. Bottlecap emerges from the beard and with a dive of Olympic allure, he plunges into the writhing mass.
“So … Beasty fight Bohanannannnan next. Beasty learn long time ago to study opponent BEFORE the matching. Cause, after matchings , it no help much.”
“And peoples warn Beasty that Bohananannan be mat wrestler. So, Beast investigate.”
He turns the camera to one side. We see a vast assortment of mats of every size and color. Momentarily, the image changes to a training montage of Beast suplexing and slamming these mats.
“But Beast no learn much … other than slamming mats make lots of dust.”
Training montage Beast rushes to a previously unseen window … so much for the fallout shelter theory … He coughs and wheezes while hanging out the window.
“Then! … Then, Beast get tapes of Boha … just Bo.”
He reaches outside of the frame of the shot and slides a stack of VCR tapes into view. Who supplied these and why they used quarter-of-a-century old tech to do so, we’ll never know.
“Now, Beast understand … and that be rare. Beast no understand much things. Shoelaces, bra clasps, pizza, doors ...”
His hand once again disappears underneath the table. This time he produces what remains of the door to Bob and Frank’s broom closet.
“But Beast understand Bo and mat wrestling now.”
We’re treated to a different training video. An alpaca is running around a sandy arena. Beast appears in the shot, seated on a zebra. He chases after the alpaca swinging about a lasso. When he gets close enough to the panicked Andean mammal, he tosses aside the lasso, leaps off the zebra and crashes on top of the alpaca. Dust momentarily obscures his ministrations. When it settles, he has the alpaca in a fair simulacrum (?) of a figure four leg lock, applied on all four of the animal’s legs … so, I guess this makes it a figure eight leg lock? A rodeo clown comes over and counts to three. Beast gets up and raises his arms in victory, at which point the zebra runs up behind him and kicks him in the backside.
We return to Beast in the not-fallout shelter. He rubs his injured backside.
“Bo see that? Beast been practicing. Beast know how to make hold and how to break holds. And when Beast break all of Bo’s holds. What is Bo gonna do? When Beast make fight into barroom brawl … without the bar … what Bo gonna do? When Beast get these …”
He raises his massive paws and squeezes the air as if caressing the bosom of an unseen giantess. That would actually make for a cute couple, Beast and an unseen giantess. Would be better still is Beast were the unseen party.
But such musings did not register in the Beastly mind, so Beast carried on regardless, “… on Bo? And then Beast begin to squeeze!”
He grabs a VCR tape from the stack. When he places it between his paws, the tape nearly disappears from view. He squeezes. Creaking noise emanate from the tape.
“Can Bo hear it? The groaning of Bo’s bones under the Beastly paws?”
He twists and turn the tape, making it complain even more loudly at its current predicament.
“Bo think Bo can escape from Beastly paws? As little man Tyrion say on thronegames … THINK AGAIN!”
The Beastly biceps bulge underneath the fur coat. In an instant, the tape ceases its lamentations and instead explodes into a million tiny shards of plastic. The actual spool of tape flies across the table. It bounces along, leaving a trail of black tape along the tabletop. Bottlecap apparently thinks this rather alluring. He terminates his feast of wriggling cookies and chases after the spool.
“Fetch, Bottlecap … Fetch,” The Beast calls after his furry friend, a demented smile on his deranged face.
“Bo no worry,” Beast reassures while he picks shards of black plastic from the palm of his paws, “Beast only crush Bo a little. Or … hey … maybe Beast no crush Bo at all. Maybe Beast introduce Bo to inside of Beard.”
He leans in closer to the camera and confides, shielding the side of his mouth with his hand, “Beast no really wanna crush Bo. It just be case that …”
He pulls a Skeletor action figure from his coat and places it at one end of the table. “Vano be here.”
Next, he pulls a Man-At-Arms from the coat. This one goes in the middle of the table. ”Bo be here.”
Finally, a Grizzlor Action figure emerges from the beard. “And Beasty be here.” Grizzlor goes at the opposite end of the table.
He observes his little stage-setting. “Bo just be in the way.”
He grabs Grizzlor and flattens both other figures with it. He keeps pounding Skeletor until a little blue plastic arm comes off.
Content at the destruction he has caused, Beast folds his hands and states, “Nothing personal, Bo.”
He remains still, apparently waiting for something. This something is not forthcoming.
“Oh, Beast forget!” He reaches underneath the table and March or Die begins playing again.
He again folds his hands. This time the screen fades to black.