The scene opens with, well, it's tough to tell. The camera isn't focusing on much of anything in particular, just bouncing around to different portions of what looks like a street corner. As it turns out, Tony is busy maneuvering the camera on his own, as it seems like Jeremy is elsewhere at the moment, and, well, let's let Tony take it away...

Santos: Hello, ladies and gents. Tony Santos here in beautiful Ann Arbor, Michigan. As you can see behind me, it's a cloudy day today, a bit cool, and my adorable (thanks, Satty) self is, well, sitting on a street corner. It's pretty darn quiet out here, as all of the smart kiddos are couped up in their dorm rooms studying for finals, or, possibly pretending to study for finals while in reality playing Bejeweled.

Tony, clearly being a novice with the camera, manages to have focused the view on his chin for the first diatribe, and just now remembers that he has to pay attention to the pop-out screen in order to see what the camera view will actually look like to those watching.

Santos: Oops, sorry folks, had the camera pointed at my chin there for a few minutes. I do have a nice chin/Adam's Apple combo going on, but, hey, the eyes are the prize, I get it, heh, oh sh*t.

The camera hits the pavement. Tony observes it cautiously for half a minute, not sure if he just broke Jeremy's one prized possession.

Santos: Videography clearly isn't my strong suit. Cut me some slack, though. I gave the kid a night off so he could go see some play that the UM kids are putting on for Atlas Shrugged. I tried to read the book once, but I remembered how terribly gay reading is (thanks for reminding me, Heironeous), so I used the 1,000+ page book as a paperweight. Best decision I've ever made!

Anyways, the kid is out having his stupid nerdy kid fun for the night, so you're stuck with me, sitting on a street corner, rambling to you incoherently, for the next few minutes.

In honor of the Heironeous and his wise and innovative ideas, I'm taking his Hour of Light and going just one step further. I'm doing my own segment, but adding some alliteration to it. Everyone loves alliteration! Ready? I'm calling this Sixty Sexy Seconds with Santos Sitting on a Street Stump (I couldn't mess it up and say "curb," after all)!

Actually, wait, sixty seconds doesn't work. I need an hour to really dig in to Heironeous. Sixty seconds won't go. Wait, wait. Boom, got it. Sixty Seconds with Santos Sitting on a Street Stump... Times Sixty! 3rd grade math does matter!

Anyways, time to get focused.

Tony looks down, takes a deep breath, makes a hand motion from the top of his face to the bottom, evidencing that he is bringing down the tempo and keeping calm. He looks back to the camera and gives a smile of relief and satisfaction.

Santos: Okay, much better. I had to take some of your time today to really hone in on my match tomorrow night with Heironeous. Wait, Heironeous? Every time I say your name, I immediately, immediately think of hernia. It's just impossible for me not to. Was Heironeous the name given to you at birth, possibly after your father saw your face, realized how hideous of a child he was responsible for creating, and in the process of his reproductive organs trying to make their way back in to his body, never to make the same mistake again, he suffered a massive hernia, and in the midst of collapsing in immense pain, couldn't quite put the word together correctly, so out came Heironeous? And in your mother's infinite wisdom, she took that as a suggestion for a name and told the nurse, book it, let's get the paperwork filled out! I don't want to name my kid Peter, Michael, John, or any other nice, biblical name, no! My kid will forever be an outcast in society and see himself as a damn paladin. His name... will be... HEIRONEOUS! Genius!

Tony lets that condescending smile show as he shows a surprisingly articulate (and not drunk) side of himself. That Public Ivy air must be rubbing off on Sir Santos.

Santos: It's OK, Heironeous, I get it. You think you're on my level, and that's cute. You think that, because you won a Wild Card against a guy who was knocked out via outside interference, you're all of a sudden on my level? John Madison won that match for you Heironeous, you didn't win it for yourself. That doesn't seem something that a real hero would do, now does it?

You'd think that your accepting that victory at its face would be completely against your core values, but you took it with gusto. Not just that! No, no, Heironeous. You took that win and classified it as legitimate. Legitimate! You're as phony as they come, my sweet paladin. As phony as that hero moniker that you peddle around.

Actually, believe it or not, good sir, you're worse than I am. When I go out, sure, I'm not the nicest, most likable person, but hell, I get results, and sure, I'll cheat when I need to, but I know when I have to win a match on my own merit and when I need to do something a little, well, outside the lines to gain an edge. You? You're supposed to be the beacon of hope for not just this organization, but for society as a whole? What do you do instead? You give our under-18 fans a terrible role model who muddies their perception of true right and wrong. You allow them to believe that it's OK to cheat. as long as you reach your desired outcome and can convince others that what you're doing is right. You're hurting these kids more than you could ever consider helping them.

And then you use homosexual slurs to get a jab in on me? Come on, dude. Don't get me wrong. A 12-year-old can beat me in a math competition. I'd get rocked by a 4th grader in a spelling bee. But I'm not dumb enough to consider that clever, dear boy. Not at all.

Tony checks his phone for the time. He looks down, a bit bewildered, looks away, then back down at his phone again.

Santos: Damn, I promised a whole hour for this thing. It's been like, ten minutes. Ah, what the hell.

Tony looks back up at the camera, a strand of hair draped over his right eye. The bandage being used to cover the stitches to his forehead looks soaked. It has to be sweat, as Ann Arbor hasn't seen any rain all day. How Tony is sweating in 60-degree weather, we'll never know. Quite likely alcohol withdrawal sweats. Actually, almost 100%.

Santos: I've got a few more minutes to stomp you in to the ground and burn your corpse, Heironeous. See, you picked the wrong wrassler to taunt, my boy. As I've shown over my first four matches here... hell, over my last six years of wrestling, I am deadly in that ring. When I lose, I make sure everyone else in that ring, including partners, feel every bit of my pain.

I'm going to kick your teeth in, Heironeous. I'm going to take that Wild Card shot from you and destroy your dreams of getting in the ring with John Madison for a shot at the Crown. As you mentioned on your cute little Hour of Light (which must have gone dark for the other 55 minutes... maybe a power outage that not even our shining light of goodness could fix), I haven't submitted or been pinned, and you damn well won't be the first to do it. Natural Twenty? I'll knock you out for a good Twenty, but all I'll need are three seconds, honey bun. You'll feel my entire 224 pounds fall on your skinny self. It's not often I can crush someone with my weight, but hell, there's a first time for everything, right?

No hokey jokes from me today, Heironeous. I am all business until the bell rings and my music plays in victory tomorrow night. I'm angry and I want more here in the XWF. You just happen to be in my way. I will embarrass you; it's just a damn shame that 107,000 people have to share your humiliation with us.

See you tomorrow night, hero.

The scene fades to black.