Uh oh.

What?

I done turned the boy stupid.


Fairchild: Do you mind? This could be important!

Samuels: Are you kidding me!? This is the funniest damn thing I’ve ever seen! I’ve already knocked this boy !

Fairchild: He could be setting a trap for you. That’s why we need to listen, to see if he accidentally gives something away that can help you beat him this Saturday.

Samuels: There’s no trap here. There’s nothing to strategize. This is just... A sad, yet hilarious, collapse. Are you catching this inane drivel? What happened to the big, eloquent brute that I was supposed to be facing? Apparently he shriveled up and died and was replaced by this self-contradicting, mouth-breather. I get why he wears the mask now! It’s to protect him from injury when he trips and stumbles over his own poorly formed words.

Fairchild: How am I supposed to listen when you’re laughing as loud as you possibly can?

Samuels: I’ll break it down for you: First Nightmare goes ‘Hurrr de durr durr arrogance derrr’ and then his apprentice goes ‘derr what?’ and then they repeat! It’s hilarious! My favorite part is where he says that I don’t deserve to be confident, and then half a second later says that I have a right to be confident. Which is it!? I bet he has no idea. Do you get why I’ve been so relaxed this week, Ms. Fuddy-duddy? Because I knew this was going to happen. He starts out all big and scary and then once the moment draws closer, he fades just like the rest of them. He’s not the smartest crayon in the toolshed, so I can’t really blame him for overlooking it, but I guess he didn’t consider the pressure that comes with being in a high profile title match. He didn’t even consider it, and now he’s officially cracked. Do you think it’s easy to step into that ring as a champion? It takes more than strength and a can-do attitude to survive in this business as a champion, and being the challenger is even harder. I’ve been there once, and the pressure is enough to make your head pop. And that’s what separates champions from challengers. Take a look at what I did when it was my time to shine and challenge for the European title, I raised my game and I took the pressure in stride. Nothing could stop me from winning the title. Now look at Nightmare, see how quickly he’s wilting? That’s a classic case of fear taking over. I didn’t even need to rip the mask off his stupid head to see his true colors. Not only is he a coward, but he’s a big ol’ chicken shit to boot! He even said it himself, that my ability -may- be rivaled by him. Not is, not definitely, not unquestionably, but may. Call me arrogant if you must, but this is a major event for a major title... a lack of confidence is going to leave him bloody and embarrassed in the middle of that ring. I’m confident because I have the skill, strength and know-how to back it up, I’ll concede that to the Elephant Man. I wonder though, what is his excuse for not believing in himself? Surely, you’d figure the mongoloid with his shiny new apprentice would be chomping at the bit to get into that ring with me, but here he stands lurking in the shadows, slowly descending into a world of self-doubt. But no, he’s hanging out with his new little bitch talking about spiders and avoiding what should really be on his mind: A Texan with an attitude and a serious thirst for some payback.

Fairchild: Oh... Oh dear God, you’re right. This is absolute gibberish. Who allowed this guy to have a camera?

Samuels: Gotta love the times, EVERYTHING we do is recorded and available to the public. And unfortunately for him, Nightmare is no exception. I love it. He really thinks he knows all there is to know about me? That’s funny, because he doesn’t seem to know that I’ll be walking out of High Stakes with my head held high and, more importantly, this title belt still fastened around my waist. The only ‘weakness’ I have is that I have nothing to study about Nightmare’s past. He’s seen me in action, which is obviously the reason he couldn’t engage me like a man when he attacked me and stole my title belt. He’s afraid. He didn’t think this one through enough. He thought he could get into my head with his cheap little guerilla tactics, but he failed. And now he’s stuck in a very real, very brutal match against me and the fear in his eyes just keeps on growing. He started this game, but I’m showing him how to play it. And boy am I winning. He can tell all the little stories he wants, Hell, maybe after Saturday he can start writing children’s books and sing-a-longs where he and his little apprentice belt out some tunes on the ukulele. But when the time comes, I’m going to separate narrative from reality for him. And that reality is that I’m the European champion for a reason, just like he’s nobody for a reason. I’ve been at the top of my game for months, and this moment belongs to me. I deserve this! Not some emotionless marionette who drones on about the same thing while putting the boots to a very, very dead horse. The little dog can keep barking all he wants, but come Saturday I’ll show him who his master is.

Fairchild: Speaking of masters, what do you take from all this apprentice stuff? Anything that you might need to concern yourself with?

Samuels: Blind leading the blind, my dear Ann. Apparently the apprentice isn’t even welcome to accompany Nightmare to the ring, which is probably for the best. As if Nightmare could look any worse, imagine him walking down to the ring with another mentally challenged idiot walking behind him with his finger hooked to his belt loop. I’d pay to see that. No, the apprentice is nothing for me to worry about, he’s just a device Nightmare is using to distract the people from noticing that he has no clue how over his head he is. It’s just a smokescreen, but I can see right through it. Nightmare thinks that by parading an even bigger bumbling idiot in front of the screens that he’ll retain some of his mysterious aura, but that’s not the case. It’s just another sad attempt to pull the wool over the eyes of the XWF. I’m going to take such pleasure in beating this delusional whack job down until he’s just an empty husk. And then I’m going take that mask of his, and shove it straight up his apprentice’s ass.

Fairchild: You seem rather relaxed for this one, what’s going on?

Samuels: I just came off one of the biggest victories of my career, I’m one of the greatest champions in the history of the XWF, I’m by far the greatest European champion this place has ever seen--and yet, the questions about my confidence are incessant. If you were me, wouldn’t you have a little extra pep in your step? I’m on a roll, and there’s nobody around here who can stop me.

Fairchild: I hate to remind you, but the only time you’ve lost since joining the XWF was at the previous pay-per-view, aren’t you kind of--

Samuels: Shut up! I was robbed at Gauntlet City! Twice! Don’t you dare try to make me re-live that. Besides, this is different. This is a one-on-one match and I’ve become exponentially better than I was when I stepped into that ring against Ronnie Wilkins and Kinwrathi, and Unknown Soldier later on. I refuse to be cheated again! Not this time. There’s too much riding on this match, and I have too much to lose. Being European champion actually means something to me. I never thought it would, representing a continent full of Godless homosexuals and sissy-boys, but it has meaning to me. It’s a symbol that I’ve shredded all my so-called competition since entering the XWF. Sure, whoever wins the match between Duke and Satellite is going to hold more gold than I will, but does the TV title and the US title combine into something more important than the European title? No, they’re two titles from two vastly inferior shows. And seeing as how Queen Madison won’t defend that cute little tiara of hers, unlike the other sisters of his Bitch Circle, I don’t think the ‘King’ of XWF is anything more than a glamour title. Where does that leave us? With the European championship--MY TITLE--at the top of the hill. I’m the greatest thing this company has to offer and if you don’t believe that you just need to take a gander at this big shiny thing hanging off my waist. There’s no better proof, no better reason to brag, than that. And I’ll be damned if you think I’ve got some kind of Pay-Per-View jinx that’s going to cost me my title. There’s no cheating me out of my belt inside of that cage. With all the pressure on Nightmare, frankly I can’t picture him doing anything other than laying down and sobbing once that bell rings and he realizes that he can no longer sneak up behind me to attack. Face-to-face, I’m the much more dangerous of the two of us, and I’m going to prove that to him. And then I’m going to hold that title up in the air, because I deserve it and he doesn’t. We’re in Vegas baby, the house always has the best odds to win. Always.

1X - GOAT.