Post by Osh Vaughan on Feb 28, 2024 12:17:01 GMT
Charlie Schmidt stormed through the parking lot of the IIW arena, his brow furrowed in frustration and his lips twisted into a scowl that could curdle milk. The sight of the scattered trash and neglected maintenance had ignited a firestorm of indignation within him, and he couldn't contain his outrage any longer.
"Enough is enough!" he muttered to himself, his voice carrying a mix of anger and determination. "I won't stand idly by while this place descends into chaos!"
With that, Charlie made a snap decision. He would stage a protest right then and there, demanding better standards of cleanliness and upkeep from the powers that be at IIW. It was time to take a stand, even if it meant standing alone.
Rummaging through the trunk of his car, Charlie unearthed some old poster boards and markers he had stashed away for emergencies. With a sense of purpose burning in his chest, he hastily scribbled out slogans and messages decrying the sorry state of affairs at IIW. "Clean up or Shut Down!" he wrote in bold, angry letters, his hand moving with fervor as he poured his frustrations onto the cardboard.
Once satisfied with his makeshift signs, Charlie arranged them strategically in the parking lot, making sure they were visible to anyone who dared to pass by. He stood back, surveying his handiwork with a sense of grim satisfaction. This was his moment to make a statement, to be the voice of reason in a world gone mad with neglect.
Poor Charlie, his protest had all the energy of a party where everyone forgot to RSVP. As he stood there, feeling like the loneliest janitor in the world, he couldn't help but imagine the headlines: "Charlie Schmidt's One-Man Show Draws Zero Attendance – Fans Unimpressed!"
And just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, out came Serge, the towering figure of authority, looking like he'd rather be breaking up a rowdy wrestling match than dealing with Charlie's solitary spectacle.
"Charlie, what on earth are you doing?" Serge's booming voice echoed across the empty parking lot, punctuating the absurdity of the situation.
Charlie, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, tried to muster up some semblance of dignity. "I'm protesting, Serge!" he declared, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his embarrassment.
Serge raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of disbelief and mild irritation. "Protesting? Against what? The absence of wrestlers?"
Charlie's cheeks flushed crimson, and he kicked at a pebble on the ground, wishing he could disappear into the asphalt. "I... um... well, yes! And the general lack of cleanliness around here! Someone's gotta take a stand!"
Serge let out a long-suffering sigh, like a weary referee forced to break up yet another backstage brawl. "Charlie, there's nobody here to protest to. IIW is on a break. Everyone's gone home."
Charlie's shoulders slumped in defeat, his protest signs suddenly feeling heavier than a steel folding chair. "Oh," was all he managed to muster, feeling like the punchline of a joke he didn't quite understand.
As he shuffled back to his car, the absurdity of the situation finally sinking in, Charlie couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief. Maybe next time, he'd think twice before staging a protest without an audience – or at the very least, he'd remember to check the IIW calendar first.
"Enough is enough!" he muttered to himself, his voice carrying a mix of anger and determination. "I won't stand idly by while this place descends into chaos!"
With that, Charlie made a snap decision. He would stage a protest right then and there, demanding better standards of cleanliness and upkeep from the powers that be at IIW. It was time to take a stand, even if it meant standing alone.
Rummaging through the trunk of his car, Charlie unearthed some old poster boards and markers he had stashed away for emergencies. With a sense of purpose burning in his chest, he hastily scribbled out slogans and messages decrying the sorry state of affairs at IIW. "Clean up or Shut Down!" he wrote in bold, angry letters, his hand moving with fervor as he poured his frustrations onto the cardboard.
Once satisfied with his makeshift signs, Charlie arranged them strategically in the parking lot, making sure they were visible to anyone who dared to pass by. He stood back, surveying his handiwork with a sense of grim satisfaction. This was his moment to make a statement, to be the voice of reason in a world gone mad with neglect.
Poor Charlie, his protest had all the energy of a party where everyone forgot to RSVP. As he stood there, feeling like the loneliest janitor in the world, he couldn't help but imagine the headlines: "Charlie Schmidt's One-Man Show Draws Zero Attendance – Fans Unimpressed!"
And just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, out came Serge, the towering figure of authority, looking like he'd rather be breaking up a rowdy wrestling match than dealing with Charlie's solitary spectacle.
"Charlie, what on earth are you doing?" Serge's booming voice echoed across the empty parking lot, punctuating the absurdity of the situation.
Charlie, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, tried to muster up some semblance of dignity. "I'm protesting, Serge!" he declared, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his embarrassment.
Serge raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of disbelief and mild irritation. "Protesting? Against what? The absence of wrestlers?"
Charlie's cheeks flushed crimson, and he kicked at a pebble on the ground, wishing he could disappear into the asphalt. "I... um... well, yes! And the general lack of cleanliness around here! Someone's gotta take a stand!"
Serge let out a long-suffering sigh, like a weary referee forced to break up yet another backstage brawl. "Charlie, there's nobody here to protest to. IIW is on a break. Everyone's gone home."
Charlie's shoulders slumped in defeat, his protest signs suddenly feeling heavier than a steel folding chair. "Oh," was all he managed to muster, feeling like the punchline of a joke he didn't quite understand.
As he shuffled back to his car, the absurdity of the situation finally sinking in, Charlie couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief. Maybe next time, he'd think twice before staging a protest without an audience – or at the very least, he'd remember to check the IIW calendar first.