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Colin's Pre Season Weigh In

Colin Locke

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Several OCW officials are gathered in a large white room, some of them tapping their watches and looking slightly irritated. In the middle of the room by the wall is a large scale, and as the camera slowly pans across the room, scanning the generic health-related posters, rolls of measuring tape, and clipboards on various tables, a strange rustling sound becomes louder.


OCW Official 1: Mr Locke?


The rustling stops and Colin's voice can be heard from off screen.


Colin: Yep, I'm coming, give me just a sec...


A door opens, and Colin emerges, wearing his usual work boots, white t shirt, jeans, jogging bottoms over the jeans, loose fitting shorts over both of them, boxers awkwardly stretched over the three, knee pads, some leg warmers, a dance belt, a flowery, open button-up shirt over the white t shirt, a powerlifting belt over that shirt, a thin denim jacket, a brown leather jacket, a large green puffy coat over the jackets, some elbow pads over the two jackets and coat, and as Colin stiffly waddles towards the officials, it becomes more apparent that there are dumbbell plates sellotaped to the jacket's shoulders, which seem to function as makeshift shoulderpads. The officials are clearly shocked.


Official 2: ... New ring gear?


Colin: You know it. Lemme just go on those scales and you can sign me in for the next bunch of shows.


Some of the officials vaguely reach out to stop Colin, but it's too late, he's already power waddled to the scales and gotten on them. As he steps onto them, they ping like a carnival 'test your strength' machine.


Colin: Oh what, three hundred pounds, I am an absolute unit. In awe of the size of myself.


Official 1: Oh god, no.


Official 3: I think there are rules against this


Colin steps off the scales as triumphantly as someone wearing all the clothes in the world possible can.


Official 4: Colin, you're five-foot-ten.


Colin: Yep.


Official 4: Three hundred pounds means that you're morbidly obese, I can't clear you for that, I don't think anyone will let you wrestle like that.


The two stare at each other blankly for a moment.


Colin: The, er, only morbid thing about this is all the people who'll get their arse wrecked like they've eaten a vindaloo yesterday when they realise they can't pick me up.


Official 3: Phrasing.


Colin narrows his eyes slightly as he and the officials stare awkwardly at each other for another moment. He sighs, before conceding;


Colin: You want me to take all this off, don't you?


The officials all nod, Colin starts to waddle back towards the door, but stops halfway across the room, turning around in a kind of PSone Resident Evil character manner, and looking over to the officials with a mildly embarrassed half-grimace on his face.


Colin: I've gotta be honest with you guys, I can't actually bend my legs, have any of you got any good scissors so I can try and get these off?


All of the officials sigh.


Official 2: Just... We'll keep you at the same weight as before for now, try and come in later, wearing less clothes if possible.


Colin: What.


Official 3: Phrasing.


Official 1: He means 'come in what you'd realistically be wrestling in.'


Colin: Yeah, fine, I'll do that.


He heads off screen, the officials watching him leave in disbelief as the scene fades out.

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