With All-Pro Linebacker Luke Kuechly passed out on the floor with his eyes open in a gruesome drug addled state following being doped to the gills and living through some quasi-traumatic mind expanding experience, the Jackie Peppers Experience returns from commercial break.



We see Jackie in a black suit and dashing silver tie. He looks still terrified from having to evade Luke Kuechly for a commercial break.

U-Uh, Angus, is he going to be okay? He looks like he might be having a heart attack...

Nunsense, laddy, the man is a competitor! His heart yearns to gew out an' win! Like yew aught tew!

I, uh, I do wanna win, Angus! I'm going to beat up on those stupid dads on the other team so hard it's not even funny!

Stop callin' 'em dads, lad. It dudna make a lick o' sense. I'm pretty sure John Cena, or Ron Cena, ne'er had a child, nor did Pestalance, or N.A.Z.I. fer dat matter. Scully did, dunno what it matters, though. You got issue with a father figger someplace?

Angus walks on stage, sipping from an open bottle of the new Taco Bell exclusive, Johnny Walker Fuerte, the great taste of Scotch infused with baja spices and tequila. He instantly projectile vomits all over Jackie. As he does, Richard Wang, the referee for the bout this Saturday, walks on stage. The crowd stays dead mute. Angus wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his massive sweater. He then tilts the bottle back.

Whew, hadda recalibrate! That's a wee bit of an acquired taste!

U-Uh, Richard Wang, everybody!

Hello.

What, um, what are you doing here, Richard?

Angus invited me. He tried to bribe me with drugs, specifically bath salts, baby aspirin and Flintstones vitamins, and what I believe to be two hookers and a blow-up doll.

Aye, only used three times. I clean'd two uf de holes fer ye, lad, I, um, "lost" the anal brush.

The camera shows that a plastic handle with the words 'anal brush' enscripted on it poking out of the bottom of Angus's kilt as he looks incredibly defensive for his own reasons. Luke Kuechly rides up on the bull that was shot earlier.

J-Jesus! I thought the bull was dead!

Luke Kuechly, in his full Carolina Panthers uniform, nods at the group.

I gave it some CPR. Not too much.

Wait, what?

Jackie, thank you for having me on your show. I need to go back to my life of wearing a helmet and smashing myself into people. You take care, Peppers, give them hell on Saturday. Yeehaw, Bodacious!

Luke Kuechly rides off on the reanimated bull through the audience and out of the soundstage as the band plays a fun jingle as the crowd applauds. The camera turns back to Jackie, Angus, and Richard.

Look, Jackie, I get you think you're some hotshot new talent, you've had a hot match with Finn Kuhn, possibly one of the more entertaining matches from Shove-It. Fans are starting to notice you. However, I will not be bought out and I am ashamed at you. I will have a keen eye on you and your manager this Saturday, and no funny business.

Richard leaves. As he turns Angus shoots him a one finger salute.

Fek 'im, lad. Them hookers are mine now. Brittany, git out here!

B-Brittany?

Brittany steps onto the stage. She is wearing a super tight lycra dress that barely passes her labia. She is also a dead ringer for your high school crush, or dead ringers for the bitch who was fucking your high school crush if you prefer the cock. Jackie looks at her with an anguished despair that can only mean this is his high school crush that he hasn't gotten over. His mouth twitches and he glares, awkwardly, unawares of how bizarre he must look. Brittany looks at him and waves.

Oh, hey, Jackie! You look good!

Uh, hi Brittany! I was, um, wondering, a-after my show is over...

Oh this is your show? Cool!

Brittany twirls her hair with her finger and makes gooey eyes at Jackie.

Uh, thanks, but after...

Nae, lad, ye needs to be trainin'!

I what?

Trainin'! Y'see, the girl is fer me, she's got a tongue that won't quit.

Jackie's expression goes from bleakly hopeful to absolutely forlorn.

Hehe, that's right. I have given Angus a bumpkin every day for the last week. Sucking on his diseased, throbbing cock, slurping on the head, treating my mouth like a condom just to be ejaculated into while I smell his freshly shat payloads plopping into the bowl is...

It's what I git. Gew find us a stall in the men's room.

Brittany struts offstage, and besides being a total and complete whore, in almost every literal sense, looks great. Angus follows along, his gait slowed by the brush up his ass.

Ooooh, my high school crush? Aw geez.

Bob Whiskey walks out and the crowd cheers loudly. He walks right up next to Jackie, and his hand dips out of view behind Jackie. Jackie's eyes go wide for a moment, then listlessly turns to Bob.

Get your hand off my ass, Bob.

Bob steps back and waves at the crowd.

Your first guest is here.

What? What about the football guy, or that referee?

Your third guest is here.

Counting Brittany, it was in fact Jackie's fourth guest.

Who is it?


Hello, sir, your friend Angus sent me, sir, to help you out, sir. I hear tell, sir, that you like to call dudes dad, sir, and that ain't no way to talk smack around here in the XWF.

I think "dad" is a solid insult.

Don't worry, you take care of something else, I can show you how it's done.

Oh, thanks 'dad'.

Jackie rolls his eyes as the unknown man squints at Jackie. The man puts a finger to his lips, then to Jackie's lips, then back to his own.

You just stop flapping at the gums and get ready to be the lethal murder machine you know you are but always seem to run from. My man here killed men, women, and children, and people were more interested in covering it up than the fact it happened.

Hey!

Pleased to meet you sir, my name is Percival Pringle the Fourth, sir, and I'm here to represent you on the grounds you sound like a hairlip with a mouth full of sand whenever you try to cut a promo.

Hey!

Stop me if you've heard this before, you seem awfully smart, as compared to the damn fool you'll face at Savage with the IQ of a Pop-Tart, rubbing elbows with the editors at Breitbart, I don't mean N.A.Z.I., I mean the knock-off John Cena from the dollar bin at Wal-Mart. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but acting like a dark version of your hero won't save you from assault and battery. Then there is the N.A.Z.I., oh me oh my, the racist ass attacker, hates his own teammates too much, uses slurs like some basic slacker, my man Jackie here will pin your ass, be on top, like peanut butter on some cracker. Good ole' Scully is here, still acting like a try hard. This fool is walking around telling people he used to be a . I think he's still got it folks, lickin' windows up and down the boulevard, you call that smack talk? I call that a Hallmark card, step off son, play with your dolls, leave the talking to us bards. Then the fourth opponent stepping into this dance, the one, the only, the utterly replaceable Pestalance, you say my man can't win? Well, I'll tell you in advance, that the fool who thinks that shit on Saturday is taking a stupid stance. At a glance, perchance, you could see, sir, that that can't be, sir, and for the official record, sir, THIS is the definition of FIRE, sir, for dummies sir. Bewildered by the awful things the XWF stars do? You had no idea what happened here when you signed a contract, is that true? You're a dumbass if that's the case, a damn clown if it ain't, don't hurt Pestalance too bad, Jackie boy, show some damn restraint! That man's momma's watching, don't want to make her faint, she still remembers when lil' Pesty was chewing on chips of paint. Praise unto Jesus, he who heals the lepers. Pray your heart out, until you cry, bitches.

You face the wrath of Jackie Peppers.

The crowd goes nuts as pure fire is laid down on the Jackie Peppers Experience, presented by Taco Bell. The Taco Bell logo flashes across the screen, along with a picture of some Doritos Locos Fire tacos; now with even more sodium and meat like flavor.

W-Wow, that was way different Mr. Aurora's lavender scented blog!

Percy Pringle IV turns and looks at Peppers like he was the most confusing thing in the world.

His blog was what?

I, uh, I dunno, it was really positive and lofty, I kinda liked it.

Bob Whiskey looks at Percy.

Don't I know you from someplace?

If you do, act like you don't.

Okay.

Bob turns and pulls out a can of Dust-Off. He puts the nozzle in his mouth and huffs the entire can in one whoosh. A tiger runs on stage and Percy mounts it, chasing Jackie around the stage as we cut to commercial.