Robbie's baby seems to be adored by everybody that meets it.

As opposed to Centurion's tiny penis.

FOR KICKS

Robbie's baby, bedecked in a tiny little "Jim Jimson" onesie, complete with an adorable little dolphin, is the cutest thing you have ever seen. Robbie looks down proudly at the tot, laying in a brand new baby carrier, while flanked by Cyberjaw, the man with the cybernetic jaw, Diamondback, the man who can blend into any crowd, Ruby the centaur, Robbie's girlfriend and literal centaur, and Ash, Robbie's stylist. The group is in a shoe store, and random shoppers stop and take photos, not only of the literal centaur in the establishment, but of XWF Megastar Robbie Bourbon.

ABUBUBUBUBUBUE! Are we getting shoes today? Yes, we're getting shoes today! ABUBUBUBUBUE! Carlos is getting shoes today!

Robbie makes bright and cheerful sounds towards his son.

So you settled on Carlos?

Yeah, after...

---

We cut to see Robbie standing at a changing station, diaper in hand.

Well, baby, here goes.

Robbie undoes the diaper already on the baby, and looks down, wincing.

Phew. Well, Carlos it is, you're a boy. And who knew you could make so much poop? That's like one of mine!

Robbie hoists a massive baby tote over his shoulder and pulls out some wipes. He cleans Carlos off, and as he does, a stream of urine rockets up at him.

Woah, woah, easy son! We gotta, heh, work on that self control.

Robbie chuckles as Carlos pisses all over him. Carlos laughs as well, his cute little baby laughs. Robbie cleans Carlos again, then reaches into the tote for another wipe to soak up the mess his son just made all over him. Robbie then reaches into the tote and pulls out some baby powder.

Alright, buddy, time to make you nice and cozy so you don't chafe.

Aboooah!

Robbie powders his baby, then secures the fresh diaper.

---

When was this?

About five minutes ago.

Cyberjaw and Diamondback look at Robbie with disgust.

So, there's pee on you?

A little bit.

That's gross.

Well...

Babies are gross.

Oh, grow up.

That kind of stuff happens with babies.

Yeah, us moms don't have it easy. But, now we get some adorable little shoes for Carlos, so that way everybody knows he has swag.

With that, a deep bass drop happens, and a man in aviator sunglasses, a pristine hoodie, perfect jeans, and the snazziest sneakers you have ever seen walks into the shoe store. Everybody gazes in wonder at the sight.

Hold up. Robbie Bourbon?

Yeah, who are you?

My name is Sneakers McSwag. I heard you're looking for some sneakers that have max swag for your baby. I'm here to help.

Huh? I mean, I'm a mom, I know what's best for Carlos.

Do you? You're a new mom, and new moms need help.

Sneakers gestures towards Ruby.

This woman has done a fine job so far, but when it comes to sneaker swag, trust Sneakers McSwag.

Another deep bass drop. Carlos coos. Robbie smiles at Carlos, then back at Sneakers.

Hi, cute outfit.

Ash seems smitten with the sheer swagger emanating from Sneakers McSwag. Sneakers barely acknowledges her.

'Sup.

Sneakers steps past Ash. Robbie glances sideways at Ruby.

Twenty-somethings are so goofy.

Right?

---

Robbie and Ruby are walking through a mall and saunter into Hot Topic to look at all the cool XWF merchandise. The classic "I MASTERED YOUR MIND" Mastermind shirts, The Ruby (as in the Anarchy competitor and not the literal centaur) Super Shirt, the Sick C*nts scratch and sniff t-shirt, all priced above what one would pay on the XWF website. A young lady and man, each looking to be in their early twenties, approach them.

Oh, wow, are you a real centaur?

Yes, I am.

Man, I bet you have a tough time with snow angels!

Robbie and Ruby both roll their eyes.

Life is so difficult! I had to pay my phone bill today, and tomorrow I have to go to the store and buy milk!

I know the perfect way to buy milk, you guys need to hear about it.

Robbie and Ruby perform an about face and leave the store.

---

Sneakers McSwag is seen inspecting every last shoe in the baby section. Robbie holds up a tiny little pair of red Converse Chuck Taylor All-Stars.

So, Sneakers, I was thinking about these.

Sneakers shakes his head 'no'.

Nah, fam, you don't want that. Those are really hard to get on and off, and you want something you and your baby will have an easy time with.

Diamondback holds up a tiny little pair of docksiders.

These are pretty neat.

Sneakers bats them out of Diamondback's hand, letting them hit the floor.

Absolutely not. That's not swag, that's frat boy preppy crap.

What about these?

Cyberjaw holds up a tiny little pair of Jordans.

Jordans?

Sneakers palms his chin, mulling over the option.

I don't think my baby needs Jordans.

Yeah, you're right, Robbie. Nobody really needs Jordans, but they are a ton of swag.

True. I just don't want my baby getting mugged by other babies for his shoes!

Cyberjaw puts the Jordans back on the shelf. Sneakers looks more than pleased as he seems to have discovered exactly what he was looking for.

Oh yes.

Sneakers, what did you find?

A bass drop hits as Sneakers holds up a pair of Oshkosh baby sneakers.

This is some real baby swag, fam.

Oh yeah?

Yeah.

Robbie manuevers with Carlos's tiny little foot with the tiny little sneaker.

Be careful.

I know.

Robbie delicately gets Carlos's foot in the shoe.

Perfect.

Gabaaa baa baa!

GABABABABABA!

Robbie looks right back at Carlos and returns the favor.

Looks like my work here is done.

Sneakers, thank you for your help. We'll never forget it.

It's cool.

Sneakers and Robbie exchange quite the intricate handshake, and upon completion another bass drop as Sneakers McSwag walks out of the shoe store and into the wide world to spread more knowledge on sneaker swag.

You meet the strangest people.

It's fun.

---

Zero hour is coming fast. Through every bit of all my bombast, can you last past the blast that I cast? Not a chance!

Hey there, Baby Dick.

I gotta tell you, taking my new son out and about and getting him set up has been a chore, but a fulfilling one, you know?

But, hey, that's what work ethos is all about, isn't it?

Day in, day out, win some, lose some, my work speaks for itself.

Some people, like Baby Dick, like to talk a big talk about what they've done, and longevity.

Well when you're a part timer it's pretty easy to last long.

Let's have a look see at the list of impressive names you've faced ever since becoming Hart Champ. How about that?

Well, you sure beat Tony Santos, and in a glass cage too! Well, isn't that novel! Tony's been on fire in the XWF, and like most former champions, he just up and disappeared for months before coming back.

Is that what you're going to do, Baby Dick? Hide someplace until people forget I whooped your ass?

Your dick is so small eunuchs feel bad for you.

So I guess Tony took your cue and became a part timer too.

After you beat Santos, it's been a real string of let's just say 'watered down' competition.

It seems like somebody in the front office thought you were a real novel act. Maybe it was the exposure? The whole wrestling world knows about Centurion. His staunch approach to only going so far, his dream to come back to the XWF and hold the third best championship in the company, all of it playing out wonderfully on Twitter as you act perplexed by other people's goofy actions forgetting you're goofy too. I bet the lamps back before I showed up in the XWF were gorgeous with all the gas-lighting you get into.

So you were fed a steady diet of people that would have left funny looking stains on the bottom of my boot if I faced them.

Mastermind was your first defense. Ooh wee.

That was the night I was beating Lux and Az. Wait, I'm supposed to sweat the loss to Az recently, though.

After that, you went toe to toe with none other than Melanie Crazee Childs in a candy corn deathmatch. Oh man, there's a war right there. Twizzlers ropes! However did you survive that, besides the fact you would have had a tougher match with a Trojan condom and just keeping it on.

Then we move on to my friend, Thunder Knuckles. I really hope we find that guy soon, he's awesome. But, really, in earnest, Thunder Knuckles doesn't care about winning anything but Xbux and having the most. Striving to beat you couldn't have been that high up on his itinerary.

See, that night I was derailing Hanari Carnes's whole career. He went on hiatus afterwords, like so many flash-in-the-pan folks do in the XWF. Lose one simple match and they completely buckle, thinking that's the end of their career.

Say, the same thing happened with Kris Von Bonn. You know, that time you won completely via fluke because some evil clown shenanigans had to take place that ultimately went nowhere but to your benefit for some goofy reason. Do you remember that night, where Von Bonn had you dead to rights until the lights dropped and you both had clown noses?

Man, a reign this illustrious has to get better, doesn't it?

After that, we squared off. I say we, but what really happened is you pissed and moaned about having to defend your title against actual competition in myself, then I mopped up everybody else inside of an elimination chamber, then Chaos got bitter and blindsided me. Sure, it was me with sight, but really, us both being blindfolded isn't an advantage for either of us. Me getting speared after crushing Chris Chaos like a bug? That's an advantage for you.

You just love spilling tarnish all over that championship belt, don't you?

After that, you faced the one, the only, the most consistently awful wrestler in XWF history, from any era, Peter Gilmour. Ooh, wow, that had to be one for the ages, didn't it? Wait, that's the match where you just kind of got tired of fighting Gilly and instead tried to leave the match after you couldn't put him down with a golf club.

Your dick is so small you couldn't swing the big wood and had to stick with the short strokes, huh?

So you tricked Peter after that. That takes tact. That takes guile. That's the kind of thinking and wits that people who can tie their own shoes use on the regular to tie their own shoes.

So, when was the impressive part of your championship run again?

We flash forward to Vita at CuntFest. Where you wore a dress and had an arm wrestling contest.

What.

The.

Fuck.

I was busy going to god damned war with the Engineer for the Universal Championship.

You were putzing around in a fucking sideshow attraction, and when you were about to lose in arm wrestling to Vita, you just up and clocked her.

Man, this whole Hart Championship reign of yours has a few asterisks, doesn't it?

And your last match, against good ole' Dustin Holt, wasn't even for the title, was just a bullshit gesture. A gift to you, a pat on the back.

When you signed your contract did you get an 'easy mode' clause put in there or something? What the fuck exactly have you worked for around here when it just seems like shit happens to go your way here and there. When it doesn't, well you just say fuck it.

Really, you ran away from Peter Gilmour? Had to cheap shot Vita Valenteen?

I don't have to do either of those.

You really wanted to peer into my whole career over the past several months, but when we look at yours, shit, what career do you have besides a pocketful of flukes and opposition so lame you would struggle to justify it as competition.

Hell, just look at this year alone, you struggled with Peter, you punched a woman in the face during an arm wrestling contest while wearing a dress then got Chris Page excited for a match you had against some doofus well past their prime. I'm surprised you didn't kick the geezer's walker out from under him.

Meanwhile, I beat Chris Chaos in an Iron Man match. You know, the guy you've been dodging for months now. MONTHS.

To tell the truth, Baby Dick, it's pretty obvious you're terrified of Chris Chaos. And Chris Chaos sucks. What about him scares you?

I faced the Universal Champion in the match of the decade so far, and left them feeling so flustered they want to face me again at March Madness.

I lost to Az in a tight match, but lost fair and square.

I also beat the breaks off of some dudes on TV.

While you part-timed your way into the dullest, lamest Hart Championship run in XWF history.

Robbie holds up the Fake Championship. Big Whoop.

This championship, my Fake Championship, is more illustrious then anything associated with you, Baby Dick. The title holder, me, has been through more brutality, has shown more integrity and grit, and has beat way more ass than you, even in your dreams.

And I'm going to make history as being the last Hart Champion after March Madness and it becomes one with the Universal Championship.

Given the way you hold that title, it's fair to say it's seen better days and deserves an honorable death.

You, on the other hand, don't get off so easy.

Centurion, the micropenised, evidenced coward, all around chickenshit. I said it before, I will say it again.

Welcome to Operation: Annihilation.

This is where Robbie Bourbon shows up to cull the wicked and deliver what is deserved. Your midlife crisis be damned.

The camera zooms out. A massive crowd is behind him.

*ROBBIE'S GONNA KILL YOU!*ROBBIE'S GONNA KILL YOU!*ROBBIE'S GONNA KILL YOU!*

They know it, Baby Dick, can you hear them or are you still living in your land of make believe thinking you're a dominant champion?

You have done so much damage to a title that used to mean something that euthanasia is the only option left.

It's bittersweet, and I know there are fans out there who can point to the championship when it had an actual legacy. When actual men and women of substance held it. Vinnie Lane, Robert Main, Tony Santos, myself, that championship used to be the clear path to the very top of this industry.

Now it's proof that a man with a midlife crisis can languish and collect a paycheck.

It's a shame the disgrace you have brought to a once proud title.

Hell, Chaos even stopped hounding you for his shot at it.

But, soon enough, I will make it the prestigious prize it once was. Before it's liquidated and merged with the legacy of the Universal Title.

As for you, Baby Dick, well, where will that leave you? Sure, you could go hang out with the millennials and convince them that you're what a champion is supposed to look like, but us grown men know better because we've seen better. You can sell yourself to people who haven't a clue all you want, just like if aliens landed and saw me I could tell them I was the skinny one around here. They'll buy it at first, but sooner than later, the truth comes out. Inconvenient as it may be for the fraud that cooked up the lie to begin with.

Sure, you've won plenty over the past six months. The past six months aren't February Nineteenth. I would say it's pretty obvious you've always been living under the mantra 'better lucky than good' these past couple of months.

Your luck has run out.

Now, pretty soon, Baby Dick, all those questions you've had for me, well, they're going to get answered. In the ring. You want to know why I haven't addressed any of them?

Because they're worth nothing.

Because he's worth as much as his dick. Nothing.

Wednesday Night, the Wednesday Night Wrecker, High Holy Hypocrite, and big bad big bad of big bads throws a garbage champion out. Literally.

First it's lights out with the blindfolds. You stumble around like a fool, but that's not new considering your sham of title reign, and then you hit a wall. You get curious;
weren't the walls made of glass? Why does this feel like bricks? That's when the brick wall, me, picks you up and pulls an Aaron Gordon treating you like the basketball, slamming you in ways that if there were judges they'd have to give me straight tens. That's when I switch it up on them and go full on Shaquille O'Neill and take you to the hole and shatter some glass. We won't even be in Orlando and I'll still work my magic.

Suffice to say, when I take my hood off, the first thing I'll look at are the medics taking yours off for you. They'll get scissors to make sure they don't aggravate whatever neck trauma I probably gave you in the process. As they roll you up and out of the arena, the fans will hold their hands over their heart, knowing that another mediocre champion is no longer in their midst, knowing that the Hart Championship itself is living on borrowed time, and they'll look at the massive man in that ring, holding white leather, gold, and pink sapphire. They'll see that championship shine, at long last again, if only one last time.

I would say kiss it goodbye, but the way you've held it, you'll probably wind up with hepatitis.

Now, it's been fun, watching you try to keep up these past few weeks, but given that you thought you could just makes it all even sadder. Especially if you aren't past your prime.

It just means you were never in my league to begin with.

Keep trying, though. Being a runner up, second place, these are things we need so we know what awesome and great is. You showed up, burped a spark or two,
someone somewhere was dazzled.

I showed the world how to breath fire.