****All seems quiet on the Devo front. Ever since that humiliating loss at the hands of Khalid al-Kazim and Doman Schwahling, the boy’s been pretty much invisible. No video shoots. No matches. Hell, even I had a hard time finding him. Troubled times I would say.
So where does this all leave us? Good question. No, I mean it. Damn good question. You’re very astute for asking it. Have you ever given any thought to becoming an interviewer? Because I think you’d make a damn good one. You seem to have a shrewd way of…
Sorry, got a little off the track. Where were we? Oh yeah, Devo. Well, as I said, he took the loss pretty hard, and he hasn’t been seen for a couple of days. Now, thanks to my tireless dedication to bringing you people the most complete and unflinchingly honest coverage of the lad’s life, I have managed to put together a little piece for you. Not really a video. I’m not some lame cameraman. I’m the “Know All” and “See All”. My words go beyond mere video presentation. But hey, I’m just a special guy.
So let’s head on down to and see just what’s been going on. Settle in. I have a feeling the road to recovery may seem a little long. But then again, maybe I’ll just cut out the boring parts of his life. We’ll see.****
[What we see is what could best be described as the “dirty” side of Hawaii. Sure, it all looks like a tropical paradise in the movies, but it’s got it’s slums too. We’re looking at the exterior of a weather-beaten shack. Bamboo walls and a ratty thatched roof, like something out of Gilligan’s Island, only much more dilapidated. It appears to be just after sundown on the Islands as the sky is a dark crimson hue, with just enough light to make it possible for us to enter the hut and look around. Inside, we find the shadow of Devo Tremors, sitting dejectedly in a corner. His hair is hanging down around his face and looks as though it hasn’t been washed in days. He sits cross-legged on the floor, leaning up against the unsteady wall of the shack, his head tilted back slightly so that what little light there is catches his face. He’s rather unkept, particularly in light of his normal high quality grooming. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his cheeks are covered with what appears to be three or four days worth of stubble. His clothes, while not ratty, do look “lived in” quite extensively. He sits alone in the dirty room, mumbling to himself.]
Devo: She hit me… of all the things to happen… to be struck by a woman on national television… she hit me… I’m a disgrace… I knocked a woman over… I bloodied her nose… she hit me… this isn’t how it was supposed to happen… I’m a laughingstock… she hit me…
[Slowly, a dark shadow crosses Devo’s face, rendering him nothing more than a silhouette. We can make-out Devo turning towards the doorway to face what has blocked his light. From the darkness, a voice speaks.]
Voice: At last. I’ve found you.
Devo: [looking up, unfazed by his visitor’s presence] She hit me.
Voice: I know. I saw.
Devo: I never meant to hurt her.
Voice: I know that. I think perhaps she does too.
Devo: She hit me.
Voice: It was just a reaction.
Devo: I would have hit me too.
Voice: Let’s get you cleaned up.
[With that, the shadowy figure extends an arm and Devo reaches up to take it’s hand.]
****Well, I hope that explains where he’s been lately. Like I said, it’s been a rough couple of days for the lad. As you probably figured out, getting slapped by Exene Schwahling was the low point. The whole things seems to have really done a number on his psyche. I suppose you were wondering who the “shadowy figure” was? Well, duh, kids, if I had meant you to know that just yet I wouldn’t have instructed the description guy (who’s doing a nice job, by the way) not to reveal who it is. Patience, my minions.
Let’s move on, shall we? Good. I’ll spare you the visual of Devo getting cleaned up. Just not interesting enough. So let’s skip ahead a little bit. Noga’s got a hold of Devo and he’s trying to whip him back into shape. Doesn’t look as if things are going real well this time. I guess you could say that Devo is distracted. Well, judge for yourself.****
[Setting: the gym. No more description is really needed. We’ve seen enough of this kind already. In fact, it’s the same one where Devo and Noga first hooked up all those weeks ago. So let’s focus on the action in the ring. Devo is apparently sparring with one of the locals. He’s been cleaned up since we last saw him. His hair is in a long braid in the back and he’s also shaved off both the sideburns and the stubble on his face. Quite a good looking kid, once you get a look at him. Anyway, he’s going through a series of moves with his partner, who looks to be about 6’1″ and roughly 200 pounds. He also looks to sweat a lot, but that’s neither here nor there. Oh yeah, and his name is Fumu.]
[As we join the action, Devo is about to whip Fumu into the ropes, but Fumu reverses it, sending Devo into the ropes. He comes off and starts to go for a duck under. Problem is, Fumu has already bent over at the waste for a back body drop and the two collide noggin-to-noggin with a loud *THUD*. Noga is not pleased.]
Noga: NO! NO! NO! What the hell was that?!
[Devo and Fumu sit splay-legged on the floor, rubbing their respective skulls.]
Noga: Sorry? Sorry is not good enough. Why in the world were you trying to duck under a back body drop?
Devo: I thought he was gonna clothesline me.
Noga: Do me a favor, young one, don’t think. It is not one of your strong suits. REACT. That’s what I want you to do. Feel the match. Don’t intellectualize it. That is what caused you problems last time.
Devo: Yes, sir.
Noga: [under his breath] Moron.
[Devo gets to his feet rather slowly. Fumu is already up and looks ready for the next exchange.]
Noga: Fumu! Put him in a waist lock. I want to see him get out of it. And make it a good one. None of that weak limbed tree-huggin’ crap you do when you work with Meltdown. Devo won’t get excited in that way.
[Noga takes a seat at ringside and continues to observe the action. In the ring, Devo stands with his hands on his hips for a moment while Fumu stands behind him and wraps his arms around Devo’s waist. He locks his hands together in front of Devo’s stomach and begins to squeeze.]
Noga: Good. Now, Devo. Let’s see you get out.
[Devo tries a couple of times to reverse the move. He jerks hard to the left and then to the right. No luck. Fumu has the move synched in tight. He tries to reach up over his shoulder and grab Fumu by the head, but Fumu anticipates and arcs his head back to avoid Devo’s grasp.]
Noga: C’mon, boy. This is elementary. Let’s GO!
[Devo rests for a second, looking uninspired. Finally, almost as if giving up, he mule-kicks his left leg back, rocketing it into Fumu’s groin. Immediately Fumu drops the hold and falls to the mat grabbing his damaged package. Devo leans forward, his hands on his knees.]
Noga: NO! NO! A million times NO!
Devo: [pleading his case, although it’s obvious he knows the answer] Why? Like, it worked, didn’t it?
Noga: I don’t care if it worked. We are not here to practice how to cheat. If it becomes necessary during a match, that is a different story. But here, in practice, you will only concentrate on legitimate methods. There were dozens of ways to break that hold. And I know you know them. You’re head is elsewhere and it shows. Clear your mind, young one.
Devo: Alright, Sensei.
Noga: [clearly offended] WHAT?! Do I look like Pat Morita to you?
Devo: Well… around the eyes a little.
Noga: SILENCE! You are not amusing me, Devo. I have no patience for those who are unwilling to work. Your methods will continue to be sloppy and the result will continue to be losses unless you get your mind focused on the task at hand. No more humor.
Devo: Yes, sir.
Noga: Now. Fumu! Test of strength!
[Fumu, still holding his genitals quite gingerly, gets to his feet and holds up his right hand for a test of strength. He is hunched over slightly, massaging his marbles with his left hand. Devo locks his left hand in with Fumu’s extended right and then the two complete the move with their opposite hands. Fumu easily powers Devo down thanks in part to Devo’s total lack of effort. Fumu immediately slaps on a side headlock. Devo pauses for a second then pushes Fumu off towards the far ropes. He stands up straight and prepares for a move when there is a loud shout from across the room. It’s Mikayla Rabinowitz, HIW H.R. rep.]
[Devo jerks his head in the direction of the shout, and is nearly decapitated as Fumu comes off the ropes with a vicious clothesline. Devo goes down HARD. Noga, nearly at his wit’s end, just drops his head in his hands and slowly shakes it back and forth. Fumu stands over Devo for a second, looking somewhat guilty, like a little kid standing over a broken vase.]
Mikayla: OOH! [she flinches] Sorry, Devo.
[From his position, laying backside down on the mat, Devo raises his head weakly and props himself up on his elbows. He looks somewhat dazed.]
Devo: Good morning, Mrs. Crabtree. Yes. I have my homework.
[His head falls back to the mat. He’s apparently out cold.]
Noga: [with a resigned look on his face] And to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit, Miss Rabinowitz?
Mikayla: It’s Mrs. And I have GREAT news.
Noga: They have finally decided to book Devo in another match?
Mikayla: Well, no. But I’ve set up another add shoot with the Mentos people. They’re very excited.
[With this, Noga snaps. He has had all he can take of the Mentos gimmick.]
Noga: NO!… NO, NO, NO, I SAY! No more of this Mentos nonsense! This boy is a wrestler! He is not a billboard! I cannot work with him under these conditions. Look at him! [he motions towards the ring] He has become a disgrace in the ring, as well as out. His concentration is for shit! And this silly Freshmaker thing is to blame.
Mikayla: But it’s going really well. The numbers are fantastic.
[Noga really loses it now. He storms into the ring and runs over to Devo, who is still laying flat on his back. Noga begins to tear the Mentos t-shirt off of Devo’s body. Well, he tries at any rate. As an old man, he really doesn’t have the strength to rip the cotton fibers. But he tries his hardest. After a few moments of struggling, he motions to Fumu to help him.]
Noga: FUMU! HELP ME! NOW!
[Fumu walks over and the two begin to yank on Devo’s shirt. Again, they are not very successful. Meanwhile, Devo’s body flops around limply. It’s a sad sight.]
Noga: [turning to Mikayla, outside the ring] YOU! This is all your fault!
[They tug at the shirt for another few moments with no luck. They stop briefly and confer in quiet for a second. Then, Fumu gets around to where Devo’s head lays, and picks Devo up by the shoulders, bending him at the waist. Noga then removes Devo’s t-shirt. He tries in vain to rip it in half. The veins on his ancient neck pop out as he strains to destroy the shirt. Finally, he gives it to Fumu, who eventually manages to shred to Mentos T after a couple of tries.]
Noga: You tell those stupid people in marketing, that this young man will no longer be used as a walking ad campaign. HE IS A WRESTLER! And I will not let you make him a laughingstock any longer.
Devo: [coming to] Oh, hi, Mikayla. Say. Got any candy? [nope, he’s down again]
****Lot’s going on, as you could plainly see. I’m telling ya, I don’t know where this leaves our boy. No matches coming up. No Mentos’ adds to shoot. No more Freshmaker. I guess Noga was right though. Something’s got our boy distracted. He’s just not the same.
That’s all the time I’ve got for now. I got a life to lead, you know. So chew on all this for awhile and join me in another day or so. Maybe something new will have happened by then. Maybe I’ll even reveal who that shadowy figure was. But then again, maybe not.****