Mckee had only just moments ago singned his XWF contract. During that meeting he'd been told many things about his new company. He was intrigued by the 24/7 Federweight Championship. He felt that it would be a massive way to debut in his new company. After all, he deserved it- an indie superstar and the best in the world. The company was lucky to have him.

Walking about backstage, he was desperatly looking for the champion. Upon seeing him, he viciously struck him in the back of the head with the closet object he could find: a microphone. He began to taunt his opponent:

" Ladies and gentlemen. Don't change the channel, for what you see is the degradation and desolation of an eejit who was simply in the right place at the opportune time. You see, I deserve a prize for my efforts outside XWF. When I say prize, I don't mean this man's mother and sister together in a delicously tempting threesome-although I will have that later. No I meant tat Federweight championship that this faggat has been brandashing about like he deserves it. In this world only the tough survive- the tough are meant for this life. Maybe that's why this champ has been avoiding the world. He knows that much like a stillborn child, he is not meant for this life!"

He picks his opponent up and hits a bloodfeud. He goes for the pin.

1...
2..

Hey fucktard how about you wait until Girard wakes up from his cum induced coma and makes a count on the last pin before prematurely blow your wad.

Jackass.