Sid Feder tosses the remote control onto his coffee table as he leans back, putting his feet up on the table and his hands behind his head. He has somewhat of a smirk on his face as he reclines.

:3 x Better: I saw some footage of yours recently, Tony, and it looks to me like you misunderstood several things. I'm going to focus on three of them--

First of all let's focus on what should matter most to a wrestler, and that would be the European Championship. Did you really spend time talking about that title when I've already explained to you that you've got a shot anytime you please? Remember when I walked right into your match and took what in all actuality already belonged to me? I told you to just speak up anytime you want a shot and I'm a man of my word.

Second of all, you brought up some Lethal Lotty history when you mentioned my winning of last year's tournament. You point out the obvious when you state it was something you never could have accomplished but you failed to point out just how different our paths were. Listen up, Tony! Might do you some good to know who you're talking to before you say something that might be taken as stupid. When I won the Lethal Lotto tournament last year I was given nothing but BULLSHIT from the very first round. You spent an entire tournament bouncing around like a ping pong ball and having additional chances and advantages handed to you while I on the other hand faced setback after setback in MY Lethal Lotto adventure last year. Fuck, man; I got teamed with Barney Green of all people during that tournament -- I got teamed with Peter Gilmour during that tournament -- and some might say worst of all I got teamed with Hank Lane in round one of the tournament. Then, in the last goddamn round I got teamed with CYREN!

That's right; Cyren.

And I still: won. it. all. I won a fucking tournament that was set to a difficulty THREE TIMES HARDER than this joke of a tournament you allowed a chicken and a bitch who belongs in the sex trade to win! How the fuck--??

You fail to realize how much of an accomplishment my victory was last year even with you being the one to bring up that you couldn't do the same. You thought my job was a lot easier than it really was and you already knew you couldn't do it. What would have happened to you if you had been teamed with guys like Barney Green, Hank Lane, Peter Gilmour and Cyren this year? You know, INSTEAD of having everything on your side and still fucking it up in the end?

Lastly, Mr. Santos -- You do not have the option of delivering your answer to me early. Maybe you misunderstood me when I clearly fucking stated that you will hand me your answer face to face on Monday?

You will see me face to face, Monday.

You will have an answer for me, Monday.

Think hard about that, Tony. Think it three times over.

You might not hold a candle to me when it comes to tournaments, but I still chose you for a reason; you're still damn good and you have a way of staying afloat when others would have sunk long before you. Resiliency matters in a group that's going to run the world. We'd run shit together, Tony.

Or I can run you out of the fucking federation. Your choice, really. I'm fine either way.

Clock's ticking, Tony. Stop thinking about Peter Gilmour and act like a fucking man. I gave you an invite to greatness. We'll see Monday night just how great you really want to be.

Sid smiles at the camera with his pearly whites glistening, just in case a closet homosexual wants to envision his lips and mouth on Peter Gilmour's penis. I'm looking your way, Tony. Don't let Sid find out you're a pole smoker; he's not a big fan of . Narration out.