Santos: Jon Plex! I knew you had some fire in you! Good boy!

The scene opens in The Bistro, a small hotel restaurant in the middle of the Courtyard Lincoln Downtown/Haymarket in Lincoln, Nebraska, just blocks away from the Pinnacle Bank Arena. Tony Santos can be seen sitting at the corner of the bar, drinking a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, by himself. The bartender, a slender man of approximately 35 years in age, with shoulder-length, brown hair, a clean white button-down shirt, and black suspenders, hands Tony a fresh glass. Tony smiles, the gap in his teeth once again being displayed for the public at large to see.

Santos: Jonny boy! The man who's going for the XWF Universal Championship! Best of luck to you, my friend. You're going to do a great job as the resident whipping boy of a class of actual competitors, and I hope you put on a show for all involved. You're the perfect rodeo clown for the position, and I really want you to succeed at what you're so equipped for... playing the fucking idiot. Filling a spot that you most definitely deserve... the play thing for a bunch of other, a bit more grown up, children.

Good for you.

No, really, good for you.

Personally, I'm proud of the fact that I was able to bring out a bit of your serious side. The side of you that replicates what you so loathe in me: the ability to yap and yap and yap until you've forced an over-caffeinated hyena to sleep. I'm glad that I was able to push you to have to defend your honor against me. Heh, it shows that you haven't been around that long if you think that I'm name dropping when I throw Salman Van Dam in to the mix... hell, I was just trying to equate your initial win, against the illustrious Tyrant EX, with my initial win against an equally weak SVD. I wasn't trying to one-up you... NO! I was trying to relate to you.

But you wouldn't realize that. No way, Jon Plex. You're too busy thinking of ways to apply Hilary Clinton in to your next hilarious skit...

...I'll be taking 15% royalties on whatever riches you reap from that, by the way. I refuse to make the same mistake I made with Joe Camel.

I talk, Jonny. I talk, and talk, and talk, and talk. What do you expect from an alcoholic who loves his own looks and former glory, let alone lacks the ability to hear anything from the outside world when his own mind is clouding his own thoughts? I have a deep, raspy voice from the fifteen packs of cigarettes that you think I smoke a day, and I love hearing it other sweet nothings to those around me. Like you said, I'm lost. I'm completely and utterly lost in my own world. A drunk with daddy issues has no chance of finding his way back to the promised land... not at all!

I won't wake up. I don't want to wake up. And that's the difference between you and me. I willingly choose to live in my own head. To live in my own delusions. You don't have a choice. You're too stupid to realize that you're the butt of the joke. Too naive to realize that life ain't so grand. I get it, and you don't. I'm the one who can snap in to consciousness long enough to kick a man in the face, drop him with a Final Destination, and tack another W on to my record, while you can't distinguish fantasy from reality. You're hanging with the Surgeon General, chillin' with Michael Phelps and Ryan Lochte, while inspecting Todd's herpes.

You see laugh as a comedy, but in reality, you are the comedy. You're the fool who willingly presents himself in front of a crowd, doing a ditty for every idiot willing to pay $3.00, smiling and smacking your balls with glee.

You're the fool, whether you like it or not. It'll be proven true tonight, and it'll be proven true on Monday. You're the one who willingly walks in to your own funeral, only to be resurrected to be spit and pissed on again.

As you said in one of your beautiful bits of grammatical excellence, "I mean, it’s not like I don’t think I won’t beat Tony Santos," you will lose to me. And, similar to your blockheaded attempts at the English language, you'll blindly walk in to the ring with me, thinking one thing, but realizing that you've stepped in a whole bunch of shit that you weren't prepared for. Something you couldn't comprehend. Something you couldn't understand.

Tony blows a kiss at the camera.

Santos: Goodnight, sweet prince.

September 2013 and May 2019 Star of the Month
1x Hart Champion
1x Television Champion
1x Xtreme Champion