An unexpected switch backstage brings us to a rather large, frenzied wrestler pacing back and forth while running his hands through his fine, black hair. His muscles twitch and contract with anxiety underneath a black unitard with a blaze orange logo across the belly: a backwards, uppercase L sitting next to a regular L.
Those closely following the FWF’s signings could intelligently guess that this is their introduction to Lunchbox Larry.
Sitting calmly behind a desk in front of the worried wrestling rookie, Grayson Lynch brings his hands together in front of his chest and locks his fingers together.
Grayson: "I know this isn’t what you asked for, Larry. But in this business, if you want to be successful you will have to roll with the punches. I want you to be successful. I see a lot of… potential, with you."
A little spark lights behind his eyes as his smile grows on just one side of Grayson’s face.
Larry stops pacing in front of his new boss, and drops his hands in exasperation.
Lunchbox: "You mean that, boss man? I mean… I know I got what it takes…"
Larry shuffles his feet like you’d imagine muscle bound, 6 foot 4 inch ten year old would.
Lunchbox: "I think. I don’t know. Like I said before, I just wasn’t ready for an opening promo. I’ve never done one in front of a crowd like this. When I asked for a promo I just wanted something in the middle of the show. That way if I sucked, ya know… people would hopefully be getting snacks or somethin’... or still be talking about the awesome match that just ended. Now I gotta open?!? There’s a lotta people out there, boss! We’re in the Em-Gee-Freakin-EM!"
Grayson, smirk still fully in tact, leans toward.
Grayson: "I know. I booked it."
He slowly leans back.
Grayson: "You’ve got this, Larry. But the longer you wait, the more impatient all those people become. Go show the wrestling world what’s for lunch!"
Larry, who had spent the last few seconds staring at his boots, lifts his head with a smile of his own.
Lunchbox: "I hope they’re hungry!"
Lynch releases his interlocked hands and holds them to the ceiling, while keeping his stoic demeanor.
Grayson: "I’m sure they are. Go get ‘em, tiger!"
Larry raises a clenched fist as a sign of solidarity. He turns and marches out of Lynch’s office in sheer determination. Just before he steps through the doorway-
Grayson: "Forgetting something, Larry?"
Lunchbox snaps back toward his boss. Confused, and slightly bashful looking even, Larry slowly lowers his right hand down to his crotch. He grabs at what we can safely assume is a cup underneath the spandex suit. A wave of relief clears the emotion on his face. Grayson’s, however, scrunches.
Grayson: "Happy you keep your jewels safe. That’s important. But not what I was referring to…"
His eyes point toward a blaze orange box on his desk with the same pair of L’s, in black this time, that appear on Larry’s outfit. The young, wrestling hopeful’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at the sight and realization of what he almost left behind. With his face flushed red, Larry nods toward Grayson with a coy smile while snagging his lunchbox and exits.