The Scoop

In Dr. Death, Promo by Dr. Death

Have you ever performed a craniotomy?

It’s a highly specialized neurosurgery where a portion of the brain that is affected by something, perhaps a tumor, or a clot, or a bleed, is removed.

How do you remove it, you ask?

If you’re being mindful of bleeding, you  can burn it to a crisp and cut it out with a scissor.

If what you’re seeking to remove is already dangling and simply needs a pluck, you can squeeze it with a forceps and pry it out.

Or, if you really have to search for the piece you’re looking for, you could go under a microscope and use that curette to dig deep in order to scoop out that juicy thing that everyone’s dying to get a piece of.

Because if you want to find the good stuff, you have to go digging to get the scoop on it.

Isn’t that right, Colt Ramsey?

Every time I turn a corner around here I see you out of my eye’s periphery, pen and pad of paper in hand taking notes on the most obscure bullshit you could imagine.

Following a ferryman around a graveyard in the dark like an absolute serial killer expecting to unearth details beneath his spooky exterior only makes you look like a ghost adventuring fraud trying to dig six feet deep.

Stalking Arcadia’s sexiest female around the locker room, peering in on her through the shower curtains, and sniffing her panties when she’s busy in the ring again portrays you as a desperate fool trying to dig six inches deep.

I get it, you want the scoop. You want to find the good stuff. You want to get exclusive access to groundbreaking shit no one else can.

But you just can’t seem to get it, can you?

I’ll tell you what, Journo, when you and I hit the ring at Thunder #325 I’ll teach you a little lesson about excising those deep, dark secrets and juicy gossip that you aim to make a living off of.

I’ll show you how to get the scoop, Colt.

First, I’m going to put you under anesthesia with a little cocktail of rocuronium and propfol. Then, when you’re nice and sedated I’m going to take a nice little trip down memory lane and examine that brain of yours, just as the former Stubbins Doom did a while ago.

That’s right, I’m going find that lost memory of yours deep within your cortex with my microscope, and guess what I’m going to use to extract it?

You guessed it:

My specialized instrument just for you, my Colt Curette.

And when you wake up after surgery is complete, you won’t have to worry about stalking Tombstone anymore. Nor will you concern yourself with peeping ladies in their skivvies any longer.

When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to remember your damn name because I’m wiping out your entire memory with one fucking scoop.



Now take a deep breath and close your eyes…

See you on the other side, creep.