*ON THE ROAD AGAIN*

Thunder Knuckles is with heterosexual lifemate Jimmy. They are three and a half hours deep into a four-hour drive to Chicago.


Fuck me, Jimmy, you drive slower than my fucking grandma.

Safety first, Thunder Knuckles. That’s the number one rule of the road. Plus, we’re going to do something that no one sees coming.

Fuck, to be honest. I don’t see it happening. So, there's that.

You just have to go in there with your own personal Thunder Knuckles confidence and make sure they know this is for real. I’ve done everything you’ve asked. Now is the time to do it.

I don’t know, man. When I thought this whole thing up. I never thought I’d actually get enough.

You did though. You paid all of the right people. The only person who ever questioned it was Jim Jimson.

Jim Jimson is the mother fucking man, that's why.


Jimmy can’t believe he brought up Jim Jimson.


You know he’s making a return on Savage.

Yeah… Yay…


Jimmy said sarcastically under his breath. Just low enough so Thunder Knuckles couldn’t hear him.


So let’s cut the crap, Jimmy. You wouldn’t be doing all this unless something big was happening. Who the fuck did we get next Savage?

You’re telling me… You know Jim Jimson is coming back on Savage and you don’t know who you’re fighting?


Thunder Knuckles pauses and there's an awkward silence.


No.


Jimmy looks over at Thunder Knuckles while driving. Jimmy then shakes his head in disappointment before looking back at the road.


Well, at least you understand we wouldn’t have to go to these lengths. If it were someone like, oh I don't know. Alexe-

Yeah, Alexei, fucking shit the bed, Mettaweave. It’s fucking weird, though. Ya know. He was so fucking good on my War Games team. Then given his opportunity to shine with his brand spanking new in the butt belt. He fucking rolls over.

Speaking of War Games and seeing as you don’t know who you're fighting next. It’s “Chronic” Chris Page.

Good.


Jimmy is still looking at the road but you can tell he doesn’t understand why Thunder Knuckles said "good".


What?!


Jimmy looks over at Thunder Knuckles for a brief second.


He’s possibly your biggest match as Champion! Other than Graves, of course.

FUCKING DRAW!

Nevermind that shit now, Thunder Knuckles.

Jimmy, the only thing it means is XWF fans around the world have spoken. Gone are the days of fighting relatively worthless talent.

You have lost your fucking mind.

I have not! You see Jimmy. If it wasn’t for me guys like “Chronic”...


Thunder Knuckles makes air quotes with his fingers.


...Chris Page would run rough shot on fucking Savage. Seriously, Jimmy. He would.

I hope you have this kind of confidence when we get to our destination.

Don’t worry, Jimmy. This can’t go wrong now that I'm thinking about it. I’m a fucking genius.


Jimmy slightly shakes his head no.


Don’t get ahead of yourself.

How much fucking longer do we got?

Quite some time. Since we got the time we should probably think of your strategy against Chris Page.


Thunder Knuckles smacks Jimmy lightly behind his head, as if, not to cause Jimmy to wreck.


“Chronic”


Thunder Knuckles makes air quotes.


Thunder Knuckles, I’m driving. Safety first.

Yeah, I know, the number one rule of the road.


Thunder Knuckles makes a jerking off motion.


I really think we should just stick to the basics here. A singles match. I think we could really benefit from the fifteen-minute time limit. Let’s face it he’s pretty cunning in the ring. You might have to pull out all the stops…


While JImmy is talking Thunder Knuckles is looking out the passenger side door. Look at all the farmland that's fading away making way for towns on the way to Chicago.


Are you even listening?


Thunder Knuckles snaps back into the conversation.


Yeah, I totally think your right we should definitely start with a singles match.

What?

Yeah, then a pinfalls count anywhere.

Thunder-

Then a ladder match.

You only get one match!

I know!

Then what the hell are you talking about?

EXACTLY!


At this point, Jimmy is confused because of the conversation and driving.


What?

A fucking three stages of hell match.

Get the fuck out of here with that. You need the fifteen-minute time limit! You weren’t listening to me at all!

Fine… We’re still doing the three stages of hell...and every fall can last fifteen minutes. Fucking happy, Jimmy?

No, that’s not what I'm saying.

No one wants to turn into Savage and see some bland ass fucking show! Fuck, if they wanted to watch dull shit. They'd tune into Warfare, but they don’t do that either! Marketing Jimmy! Marketing! Something Smoking Bob Williams fails to understand.

Chris Page- Don't hit me, I'm driving.


Thunder Knuckles stops short of smacking Jimmy behind the head again. Because Jimmy is right, he is driving.


Chris Page can do a lot in the time you’re giving to him.

And I can do a whole fuck ton to him, too.


The two men sit in silence for the remainder of the car ride. They pull up to a Large building on Goose Island, Chicago. Jimmy parks the vehicle and they get out of the car.

*FLAVOR OF THE MONTH*

Well, we’re here, mother fuckers. Let’s fucking go. Jimmy, you follow closely behind me. Not too close though because we have to look cool. Cool as fuck.


Thunder Knuckles puts on his black shade. Damn, they are sharp.


Cameraman, I want you to document this fucking splendiferous event. Today Thunder Knuckles changes the fucking world.


Thunder Knuckles and Jimmy enter through the front doors of the Wrigley building, just as they plained.


Sir, Do you have an appointment?


Thunder Knuckles walks right past the receptionist.


Sir, please wait.


Jimmy walks up to the receptionist and shows her something and she doesn’t call security.


Jimmy, catch up, mother fucker. We don't have all fucking day here.


Jimmy quickly makes it back up to Thunder Knuckles’s side.


Which floor?

The top, of course.


The two men walk up to the elevator. Thunder Knuckles strikes the arrow pointing up and looks over at Jimmy and quickly raises his eyebrows and lowers them just as quickly. Jimmy smiles knowing Thunder Knuckles is as confident as he’s ever seen him. The elevator arrives and they step in. Some other people try to get in with him but Jimmy waves them away. Thunder Knuckles, Jimmy, and the cameraman are the only people in the elevator. Jimmy presses the top floor. The elevator goes up and every time it stops Jimmy hits the close door button and waves the people away. When they finally make it to the floor below the top floor the door opens and security is there.


Before you can go to the top floor we have to check your clearances.


Thunder Knuckles snaps.


Jimmy, take care of these mother fuckers, real quick. I have important fucking things to do.


Jimmy once again shows the paperwork.


Sorry about that. It won't happen again.


Thunder Knuckles looks condescendingly at the security guard.


I know.


Jimmy gets back inside the elevator as he turns around he smiles at Thunder Knuckles.


I was worried for a second Thunder Knuckles.

Relax, mother fucker. I got this.


The elevator finally goes to the top floor. The two men walk down a lavish hallway to a desk. Where Thunder Knuckles walks past another receptionist, this time giving the finger. She’s trying to stop him but it’s too late. Thunder Knuckles and Jimmy make it into the office of the CEO of the Wrigley company.


Alright, mother fuckin, William Wrigley Jr., here's the deal. You’re fucking gone. I'm the new you. Get the fuck out of my office.


William Wrigley, Jr. looks puzzled but has a smile only a rich fuck nozzles can give.


Jimmy.


Thunder Knuckles swings his hand toward where Thunder Knuckles and Jimmy had rehearsed but Jimmy was too close and got smacked right in the chest, pretty hard too. Thunder Knuckles gets the paperwork from Jimmy who is quietly gasping for air.


Here, mother fucker, read it, and weep. Fifty-one percent. I’m the new mother fucking CEO of the Wrigley gum company.


Some time passes as William Wrigley Jr. tries to protest. Until Thunder Knuckles has heard enough and has William Wrigley Jr. removed from the building by security.


Alright, mother fuckers time to set up a meeting.


Thunder Knuckles walks out to the receptionist whom he had given the finger to.


Hey you..


The receptionist points to herself.


Yeah, you’re fired, fuck off.


Thunder Knuckles turns back to Jimmy who’s still standing by the desk like a loyal dog.


Jimmy, try to figure out how these fucking phones work and get the meeting set up. No time to fucking waste.


Some time passes. Until Jimmy figures out who to call and gets a meeting set up with the top brass. All the big wigs are now gathered and sitting at a giant table waiting for Thunder Knuckles to begin.


Alright, I have assembled you fucking termites here to unveil the new EXTRA gum flavor. I call it… EXTRA: THUNDER STRIKE! A flavor that lasts at least ONE HUNDRED AND THREE DAYS! Oh, and it could last longer than that… Oh, it fucking could.


Thunder Knuckles gives the finger and points down to the lower portion of the screen to queue Todd to roll the commercial. Once again a monster truck announcer’s voice can be heard.


YOU'RE NOT READY FOR THE CARNAGE!


Highlights of top Savage wrestlers hitting their big moves play. Then a still picture of Thunder Knuckles and "Chronic" Chris Page appears.


This week XWF Television Champion, THUNDER KNUCKLES takes on CHRONIC CHRIS PAGE in THREE STAGES OF HELL! SINGLES, FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE, AND A LATTER MATCH! BUY YOUR TICKETS TODAY!


The still picture explodes and highlights of bingo tournament plays.


F*CK WARFARE! GET SAVAGE!

*PREACH*

Chris fucking Page, huh. About fucking time. Thanks for helping me rob that bank at War Games. You see, ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles went and made himself even richer off your back. Fucking idiot.

Chris, you're not exactly a singles competitor anymore, are you? I’ve seen you get to the big dance twice now. Fuck ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles could have a shot at the Universal Championship anytime a damn well, please. Fuck, I mean, Shawn was on Twitter just trying to give me a match. Anyway, I’m getting off fucking track. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Twice I’ve seen you reach for the stars only for the sky to make you remember you’re just not “that” guy anymore. Fuck, Chris, it’s not your fault. Meticulous as you can be your always off base… just slightly. So, I expect that to be the same come Savage July 11th. When I hand you another loss… for another title. Instead of handing you another victory with my blood sweat and tears. You see, I showed all you mother fuckers at War Games that I didn’t need to be propped up. I put in the fucking work. I put my body on the line, show in, and show out. I made it my way because I'm not afraid of fucks like you… or fucks like Main. You can fucking say what you will about lasting long them ‘Ol Thunder Knuckles but facts are facts. You didn’t last much longer than I did, did ya? Wonder why that is?


Thunder Knuckles winks into the camera.


Men like you and Robert Main are both the same, man, but together. You make one mighty fine fucking robot. I'll tell you what Page. Jesus has taught me that I shouldn’t screw over teammates. Maybe, after I beat your ass for my Television Title. I go out and get me a fucking tag partner and rip those two pieces of shit off your bitch ass waists. You two, with your fucking masks and make-up. You're about as fucking intimidating as kittens on Christmas.

I'm no fucking idiot. I've been champ long enough to hear the same bullshit babble for months coming from the mouths a fucking ingrates like you. You’ll most likely talk about who I’ve fought for the Television Title… You wouldn’t want to do that though. Faces it. Since winning those tag titles. Who have you and Main fought that’s worth a shit?

Now, Page, I can go on and on about how you and Main had a feud… ever since then… You’ve lived in that shadow. Never evolving. Just there, a lot like a fucking cold sore you let get out of hand. Or, how you punched a fucking kid in the face. Who gives a fuck? Everything that’s fucking wrong with you will be there next week, and the week after, and the week after. I got nothing to worry about. I got a fucking company to run.


Thunder Knuckles looks down at his watch.


Fucking speaking of which. I’ve got to speed things up a little fucking bit here I have a fucking meeting in five minutes. So, now that I'm basically rich as fuck. I need to address the real fucking elephant in the room.


Thunder Knuckles's dementor turns much darker.


Vinnie...Fucking… Lane...


Thunder Knuckles clears his throat.


And… Theo… Fucking… Pryce. I have for months carried this piece of shit.


Thunder Knuckles throws the television title to the ground.


I am owed fucking xbux.


Thunder Knuckles spits on the title laying on the ground.


If I’m not fucking paid what I'm owed.


Thunder Knuckles points down at the bottom of the screen and that big dick mother fucker, Todd, knows instantly what to do. Your whole television screen shows an invoice that will be delivered to both Theo Pryce and Vinnie "Loverboy" Lane.





I’ll sell this mother fucking thing and walk away. I heard GCWA might be interested in a Television Title belt worth a shit. If my xbux isn’t deposited into my account before the show. Well, I guess, we’ll just have to see. Maybe, I sell the fucking thing to Hanari Carnes.


Thunder Knuckles snickers knowing he wouldn’t even let Hanari Carnes buy the Title off him, he's just not worthy.


After the show where I whip Chris Page’s ass. Pin his ass to the mat. Then pin him in a fucking hotdog stand. Not ever needing to climb a fucking ladder, to grab the gold, but if it came down to that. I fucking would. Just to sell it. Just to get a piece of it’s “value”. Value. What funny word to be used, when talking about something, you're not getting fucking paid to do. By the way, buy some EXTRA gum, you fucking animals.


Thunder Knuckles gives the middle finger and the screen fades to black.