Oh, octopus.

Porter’s Pub,
La Jolla, California.

Porter’s Pub is a hip little dive. I mean, it’s the type of place that even I would frequent. So I have been. It’s a hub for stiff drinks, easy atmosphere and even easier sorority girls. Now the plastic babes of Titty Titty Titty (TTT) may get upset with me every now and then for messing up their Greek, but that’s a story for a never time. The fact is I just love going there for the thighs and legs. Oh, and the food is good too.

I walk into the place tonight like Ernest Hemingway may have done. So I’m drunk and hostile. The bouncer doesn’t say anything to me. He’s a black one. I think his name is Reggie, but I’m not sure. I just take a fist bump from him and move about my way.

“Hey! You’re an octopus. That’s so creep. What are you doing in here, octopus?” A slutty, I mean, sultry dame with big titties and a small brain (just the way I like them) says to me.

“Damn, girl. You so observant. You must be a rocket scientist, huh?” I spit game smooth, fellas.

“Oh, octopus.” She squeals in joy and hugs me. I try to hump against her leg but I can’t feel anything. This fucking suit is the ultimate cockblock.

“Hey! Octopus! Where’s my twenty bucks?” Lamont, the pool hustler, shouts from his game of nine ball. I walk up to him and wave my arms about.

“How am I going to pay you money? I’m an octopus! Look!” I wiggle about and show my tentacles.

He thinks it over. I must have really racked his brain. A yellow tinted smile follows and he waves me over. “Oh, octopus.”

I finally make it up to the bar. Paulie, the long suffering bartender, greets me with a Tom Collins. “Good evening, sir. This one is on the house.”
“Thanks, Paulie. How’s the rush?”

Paulie gives me a worried look. I can read him like a badly written roleplay.

“What’s the matter, Paulie?”

Paulie points an untrimmed fingernail towards the corner of the establishment. There’s a loud mouth douchebag terrorizing anybody who passes his table. “He’s been at it for hours now. He’s chasing out all the customers.”

“Somebody should do something about that.”

“Somebody should do something about that.” Paulie repeats me like a broken record.

I nod my huge noggin and move away from the bar. I walk right up to the greasy nightmare of a douchebag. “Hey, douchebag.”

“How do you know my name?”

We break the wall down like Jericho.

“I hear you’re causing a lot of ruckus around here.”

“Yeah, what about it?” The douchebag gets up and out of his chair. He towers over me. There’s only one thing I can do. I look at my drink, then back at him, then to my drink, then back to him.

Then it happens.

“THAT GUY OVER THERE TOLD ME TO COME OVER HERE AND TEACH YOU A LESSON.” I squeal like Ned Betty.

The douchebag looks beyond piss and storms over to Paulie. He wails Paulie down into the ground. I can see Paulie looking at me with confusion in between pummels. “Why?” He says.

I point to my tentacles.

“Oh, octopus.” Paulie smiles a bloody smile then gets knocked unconscious.

I look around at all these boozers and losers with a look of disgust. But that look sours into understanding. These were my people. The flunkies and I were joined together in a marriage of unpredictability.

I’m in the bathroom now and taking a piss. I’ve cut a slit in my outfit. A man walks in and doubles back.

“Dude! You’re pissing in the sink!” He runs back out.

I look at this other goofy guy in the bathroom with me. He was a terror, a menace. He only cared about himself. He had children he didn’t know and a STD or two. This guy would scold you for doing something bad and then turn around to do it himself. Beyond the ridiculous and laughs was a brooding nightmare, ready to unleash itself.

Then I realized I was just staring in the mirror like the goofy motherfucker I’ve always been.

Promo Vignette
RIMAC Arena

Hi, kids! I can’t wait to see you, touch you and entertain you like only the Orange Octopus can do! It’s going to be a great night when I debut here. I’m just so excited to go out there and bust my tentacles for everybody. You are all special, special friends.

And I know how to treat my special friends.

Now I’m not like a lot of people. I’m not going to run out here and sprout a lot of nonsense about being the best wrestler in the world. That’d be like a monkey saying he was the goofiest primate in the zoo! Too much irony for your old pal here. I’m just going to say this about what I’m all about…

I have lots of child support to pay. And it’s going to get paid.

I’m not one of these guys that wishes harm on my opponents or talks about their mothers. That’s not my style. And I’m all about style. I’m only in this to get a victory! You know, get to that PAY WIN-DAH.

Now my methods to doing this may be a little, uh, unique. But that’s just me being me. You wouldn’t want the Orange Octopus to be conventional, right? That’s so boring.

Kallie Karter, I know you’ve got a great set of tits. That definitely qualifies you for our business. But it doesn’t give you the qualification to beat me in a match! Now I know I’m throwing a lot of words that are more than two syllables, so please keep up.

You are incredibly original and smart.

I know I have to beat you on the first night. I know that has to happen. I just hope after I’ve coped a feel or hundred, pinned you to the mat and handed you a loss that maybe we could catch a movie afterwards? Maybe you could then have the sex with me? I like breakfast in bed.

What about you, Kallie? Do you like your eggs over easy?

Because I’d love for you to scramble mine.

Big kiss.

CUT.