You flip absentmindedly through the channels looking for something to watch that isn't too mentally demanding. Still working through the horn-related headache. Snippets of different programs and commercials wash over you, before being discarded one after the other.
A large elderly man in a blue blazer rants from behind a desk. "Now you folks out there might not care about having these creatures in your apartments, running through the streets, but I tell you, I'm sick and tired of dealing with them, sick of waking up covered in goblin vomit, seeing people in bed with goblins-"
Ugh. Next channel.
"-Governor Roem rebuffed critics of the new bill, saying it strengthens essential ties with the Fae Republic, and will help prevent further conflict with the budding nation."
Not dealing with politics right now. Next channel.
Bingo. Wrestling, nice and mindless viewing. A large muscular moth-creature in a garish costume flexes for the camera, his eyes glowing red.
"Now let me tell you something, that man might think he's the toughest sumbitch out there, but when he gets in that ring, ain't nothing gonna stop me, no stopping the pain train, no, if he thinks he can get those claws on me, then he doesn't know the Moth-O-Man!"
The crowd behind him erupts into hoots and cheering. The moth-creature beams, gesturing to them with his jet black arm-wings, soaking in the adoration.
"That's right, true believers! You want to take down this bug, you'll have to do better than a few teeth! You think you can beat the Demon Demolishor, the Monkeyman Mangler, the Point Pleasant Powerhouse? You think you can beat the Moth-O-Man? Well you're wrong! Cause when I come on down into the ring tonight, the last thing that pup is gonna see, is these eyes and this elbow flying at his face! I promise you all, tonight I will go home with that Golden Goatman belt!"
The crowd goes even wilder. Children and their parents wave home-made signs bearing the moth-creature's likeness, clearly drawn with crayons and adoration. One woman, a Chupacabra from what you can tell, whistles loudly between her fingers, jumping up and down in hopes of getting his attention. You note that her spines have clearly just been styled.
With a chuckle, the announcer shakes the Moth-O-Man's hand, taking the microphone past the other side of the arena, where many of the fans are booing the speech you just heard, and into the locker rooms nearby. The other contestant is waiting there for him, facing away on the bench with two trainers flanking him. The announcer gives a quick introduction before kneeling down next to them.
"Well we've heard from our reigning champion, and I'm sure his opponent did too. So, what's the response from our up-and-coming Wolfman of Wisconsin?"
He raises the microphone up to the wrestler on the bench, a tough sleek wolf-man with thick grey fur and gleaming white teeth. The captions on the bottom of the screen identify him as Andrew Craynor, but once he turns around to respond, you can't make out a word he says.