Several weeks ago on the Suburban Luchador‘s website it was revealed that a shadowy character came into the lives of Team Fun at none other than Jojo’s birthday party. A few days after the original story was published, I received a letter in the post, from El Splendido himself.
My Dearest Ross,
First of all, allow me to express my deepest apologies, as I did not have the opportunity to meet you in person. I did not intend to abuse your hospitality at your son’s birthday party. I assure you, that I meant neither you nor your family any malice or harm. On the contrary, my intention was to seek your assistance. However, before you consent to help me, it would perhaps be prudent to tell you a little about myself, and how I have come to be the way I am.
You will know me as El Splendido, but I was not always this way. I started life as merely L. Splendido (the L standing for Lionel), the only son of Alfredo Splendio, the founder of the Splendido Industrial Empire. My father had given up any involvement in the company so that he could concentrate on his humanitarian work. To be honest, his definition of humanitarian was different to everyone else’s, but that is the curse of being a visionary. While many fellow philanthropists are concerned with the eradication of dangerous diseases, and unsanitary living conditions, my father felt compelled to wipe out what he considered to be the biggest blight on our beautiful country. I am of course talking about what I understand you call, “The Medallion Men”. With this in mind he petitioned local government to outlaw more than 2 buttons being undone on a man’s shirt, displaying a large gold charm on a thick chain of the same material. He paid for a police force/militia to enforce the laws and they were permitted to hand out draconian fines to offenders.
Unfortunately a hardcore group of Medallianos, incensed by these measures, swore revenge. Initially their methods seemed harmless, chiefly painting the manhole covers of my home town; gold, to symbolize their favored neck ware. This was not more than an expensive nuisance, as the city needed to take the covers away to clean them. They then began to send threatening letters to local dignitaries, and my father was singled out by them and eventually received threats daily.
My mother was scared and asked my father to give up his “ridiculous crusade”, but he insisted that they were scared and would soon become a thing of the past.
This was not to be the case though, as on the night of 14th August, two Medallianos broke into our house and murdered my mother and father. They were seen swaggering away from our house with their shirts undone to their navels, proudly showing off their chest hair and their thickest gold jewellery! One witness admitted that he thought that our family had been visited by the local mayor, and that he was still wearing his mayoral chains as he left the property, such was the thickness of the necklace.
When I returned home from a friend’s house, I discovered the grizzly scene, and phoned the police. Not long after this someone called our home. When I answered the telephone, all I could hear was the unmistakable sound of a gold chain being gently dropped into an open palm, and then a voice said. “You know who we are, and what we can do. I suggest that you disappear, or we will make sure you do!” I needed no further prompting and fled into the jungle behind our property and terrified, hid in cave where I stayed for the rest of the night.
Unfortunately, one of the scientists (a closet Medalliano, no doubt) working at my father’s plant had been experimenting on a variety of animals. He was injecting them with radiation in the hope that it would give them extraordinary strength!
One such creature (an albino anteater) had escaped and made the cave it’s home. While I slept it bit me on the cheek. I awoke just as it was sinking its fangs into me. I shook it off, but the damage had already been done. Over the next two days I was in agony. My skin was burning, especially on my face, I couldn’t stand up and was unable to eat or drink.
When I did feel well enough to move I went to find some water. I found a small stream and as I bent to drink from it, I caught sight of my reflection! It was hideous to behold! My face was covered in white fur, and my skin had become as pale as an albino. I hoped that over the coming days, it would resolve, but alas, I was permanently disfigured.
Ashamed of my appearance, I stayed in the forest, only venturing into the nearby village in the dead of night if I needed some supplies. I took great care never to be observed but one night, two drunken men saw me and chased after me. In my panic I didn’t pay attention to where I was going and fell into an open storm water drain. As I landed, I banged my head and was knocked unconscious.
When I awoke, I was alarmed to see an enormous capybara sat beside me, watching Lucho Libre on an ancient television set. He noticed that I’d stirred and seemed relieved, but then looked at my face and began retching. It seemed disturbed by my appearance and tossed something at me. I grabbed the object, saw that it was a wrestling mask, and pulled it on tying it tightly behind my head.
I assumed that the capybara was retching because of my revolting features, but it continued to do so, until it finally coughed up the largest furball you have ever seen! After briefly examining it, the animal gave a contented grunt and turned back to the wrestling.
I had nowhere else to go, and so made myself a home with the giant rodent. Whilst it was unable to talk, it was able to communicate with me to some degree. As far as I could work out, it’s name was Sliver. It had also been a subject of experimentation by the mad scientist at my father’s facility, but had been forced to eat a glowing green sludge. Before the results of the test could be observed, the capybara had also escaped (the security in the laboratory was terrible) and stolen a tv before coming to the storm drain. Due to the hours it had spent watching the luchadores practicing their art, it considered itself an expert of sorts and taught me all it knew. As the training continued, I found that I was naturally gifted in this art form and was able to compete in local matches. I began to amass quite a following and my fans began to call me Papa Voladora, due to my aerial maneuvers. My mask became famous throughout the region, as did my outfit, the royal blue trunks with the silver over-pants of power. These combined with my cape (with Papa Voladora sewn onto the back), struck fear into the hearts of my opponents.
Unbeknownst to me, the capybara, had only trained me so that it could exact revenge upon its tormentors at my father’s facility. It claimed that it would have done it itself, but it struggled with doors due to its lack of opposable thumbs. In retrospect it is remarkable how much we were able to communicate without it being able to speak.
Alas, before I could help him with this, disaster struck! I had taken the lettering off of my cape, as I had intended to reattach them using better thread, and was part way through ironing my splendid silver over-pants, when a huge flash flood burst into our chamber taking me, my cape, the assorted letters, and silver pants with it. I was washed out to sea, and was only able to survive by clinging to the ironing board which had also been caught in the flood. I was able to keep my clothing in sight for the first 2 days, but after that, I was unable to see them. I assume that they were in the same current as I and have washed up here in New Zealand.
If you would be so kind as to help me explore New Zealand, and further afield if necessary, to reunite me with my outfit, I would be forever in your debt.
I have so far, managed to purchase an outfit similar to the one which I lost, but I would feel so much better with the real thing.
I eagerly await your response.
My fondest regards
Team Fun and I have decided that we will assist, this poor soul in his quest, and would ask that you keep your eyes peeled for him, and any of his possessions over the coming months.