The dirt roads were empty; the marketplace was
deserted; the roadside holes people defecate into because they have
no concept of toilets were unoccupied; and the denizens of the
community had gathered in the center of the sand-shrouded city. I
propose its "sand covered" because all those darkies look alike over
there in those funny places, don't they? Arabs? Indians? What's the
difference? I mean, they wear those silly towel hats, right? They
smell, right? It's Un-American.
In any event, huddled around a television
set --a Western-inspired artifact-- the only one to make its
way overseas--- unlike soap and toothbrushes-- they witnessed an
UNEXPECTED conclusion to The
Great Khali's World Heavyweight Championship celebration
on
SmackDown:
Good booking and
quality wrestling . Almost gotcha! Seriously, though,
the glow of the small screen illuminated the
villagers facial expressions, revealing a shared reaction in the
champion's own hometown: Utter shock . Or maybe it
was Udder shock. After all, the Hindu nation collectively
celebrates and reveres cows, which I might add make for some
delicious sandwiches and surprisingly comfortable
pants, divinity or not. Just saying.
In awe of the tyrannical figure of their culture's
mythos, the crowd was silent from the beginning. Most likely
because-- like the rest of the world-- they had no idea just what
the fuck it was that Khali was saying.
Their stillness told a tale of engrossing fear
rather than celebration (and not boredom, we swear)-- a fear
first learned when The Great Khali walked among them. Or should I
say, ploddingly lumbered among them. His immobility is the stuff of
legend. That and escaping the country's most infamous correctional
facility, The Punjabi Prison. A structure made of bamboo, that had
no roof, and had two dudes randomly opening doors every 2 minutes.
It was thought to be inescapable. What could have gone so
wrong?
Among droves of Punjabi citizens that flocked to
watch, none appeared in festive garb and, despite Ranjin Singh's
claims, there was no grand merriment and no cheering. Fireworks most
certainly did not dance overhead in the fiery sky. And the reason
there was no 'fireworks' was because all the village's money went
towards the TV and subsequent satellite dish needed to even get
fucking Smackdown. Stupid dirty-brown he-shes. What's food , lodging
and medical care, WHEN YOU CAN CHANGE FRIDAY NIGHTS.
For many, it was the first time they'd actually
seen the colossal tyrant whose legend bore an oppression that even
the driest heat in the nearby Rohi Desert could not rival. It's
true. Most would rather pick the dried snot bubbles from their
nostrils than sit through the ploddingly horrendous offense
perpetrated by Khali in one of his "Matches".
A few of the elder more reverent villagers looked
on pensively as they witnessed what they believed might be the
fulfillment of Punjabi prophecy in Khali's championship reign. Yes,
a PROPHECY. Hundreds of years ago a legend was birthed where one
day, a man with seemingly no athletic talents whatsoever would win a
fake fighting championship only because he was tall and like every
other guy who would have gotten it was either hurt or Batista. Man,
they really had too much time on their hands.
Young children and adolescents soon
broke the silence, whispering questions to their elders in an
attempt to gain an understanding of the fabled giant. Good luck
there, douchebags.
Never before had this community seen the 7-foot-3
titan opposed-- let alone physically confronted by any man who lived
to tell of it. It's true! Ask that one Asian dude about it
sometime! OOPS!
Minutes after Ranjin Singh told of the widespread
exultation of Khali's countrymen, a resolute and valiant Batista
curtailed the champion's lavish self-celebration and
ultimately brought the goliath down. To Chinatown. Which is
somewhere around India, isn't it? All these countries look the same,
after all.
Once The Animal speared Khali, the throng of
viewers looked stunned, many of them gasping as the man who had
allegedly been revered -- even worshipped -- by his fellow Indians
was brought down by The animal. "Perhaps they chose the wrong
completely immobile unintelligible tall dude to nonsensically
worship", they thought amongst themselves. Maybe.
In a single moment, the lore associated with a
monster who had "conquered every beast in the wild Punjab
jungles"...with brain chops and big boots, and not say GUNS, was
suddenly contradicted. In response, the natives did not appear to be
loathsome of Batista, but rather seemed more astonished to see their
myth literally busted by an Animal. Myths that is, and not
SPINES. Clearly, this was an Animal they could
TRULY worship, because seriously, what's a fucking cow compared
to an Animal that can deliver SPINBUSTERS?
Exactly. And who knows? Get enough hormones
into him, and you might be able to milk him, too!
None would comment on what they'd seen-- because
like so many of us, they turned off the TV the moment Khali came on
the screen; though many stood with their mouths agape, the parched
lips of some casting near-indiscernible smiles at the sight of the
fallen giant. Then they remembered that they had dysentery and lived
in poverty and went right back to being depressed. Can't say I blame
them.
This reaction told of the indisputable impact made
on a culture that had never before seen their 420-pound despotic
idol CHALLENGED. Mostly because even an uncivilized culture
knew better then to ever book a match with this clumsy
motherfucker.
It also may have revealed somewhat of an
inconsistency in Singh's claims that Khali is so greatly beloved in
his nation. But hey, whatever. We insist to America that John Cena's
popular here, too, so no harm no foul.
The unanticipated events of Friday Night SmackDown
may have ultimately proved to be a sign of liberation for the
Punjabi populace from the oppressive hand of The Great Khali. A HAND
THAT CHOPPED MANY OF THEIR BRAINS. But More
importantly, it might be a sign that Khali is the next
mountain The Animal is focused to conquer (as "Pits of
Danger" are apparently old hat by now).
Batista's mission to reclaim the World Heavyweight
Championship appears far from over! Seriously. He's had what? 46
straight title shots now? Heaven help us! Or whever you go when you
believe in women with eight arms and dude's with elephant
heads.
USA! USA! USA!
