“Train me, Peter Gilmour."

Is this really happening or Is this upcoming Warfare a Twilight Zone themed edition?

Well, yesterday’s promo was likely the first and last time that you’ll hear anyone mutter these words. After all, who in their right mind would enroll themslves in a class taught by Peter Gilmour? Even Peter himself isn’t dumb enough to try to fool people into thinking that he could run a successful training camp. Peter can’t even lace his own boots; we have to designate Maverick to do it for him at all of the shows. This is some Trump University type of shit...

Over the course of many, many years that we’ve been following Mr. Gilmour, how much of that time has he spent training rookies, or in this particular case; a washed up, mentally ill has-been?

We’ve gotten to know Peter pretty well over the years, probably too well with the slew of X rated content that he likes to present to us. But besides the hot sex, the only things we see from Peter are the local weather conditions, all of his ugly girlfriends; and a whole lot of incoherent ranting about his fake cock and of him killing people.

Speaking of which, it’s promo class time here at Gilmour University.

And when it comes to delivering a promo; Peter Gilmour is the Dusty Rhodes’ “Hard Times” speech of wrestling promos. Peter knows how to work the mic like no one else can. It’s almost like the microphone is an extension of his Super Dick ™. His epic delivery of lines that will put fear into your heart, like:

Quote:“Your blood will flow like a river when we're done with you. So sleep with one eye open because you never know when the KILLERS will strike.”

Yeah, pull up a chair, folks because promo class is in session.

It’s Sunday night at Gilmour Towers and we’re standing inside of his theater room. We see John Madison sitting down on a piss stained bean bag as he watches the Peter Gilmour promo and takes notes. Peter is standing behind John, watching along with him. Peter is admiring himself on the screen while John draws pictures of his pet cat Loki Arzegotti. It seems as though Peter is more invested in the promo than John.

“My favorite part is coming up next, Maddy. Watch how I gaze into the camera when I deliver this EPIC line…”

But John doesn’t hear Peter. He’s too wrapped up in his art as he pencils in some light strokes on Loki Arzegotti’s fluffy tail.

“Maddy, are you watching?”

Still no answer from John, but Peter can’t take his eyes off of the screen. He lip syncs along with the promo, reliving his glorious moments on camera.

Quote:“ I will become the man around here and everybody will bow down and SUCK.. MY.. DICK!”

“That was the line, Maddy! I hope you took note of those last three important words.”

Peter looks down at John and catches him doodling the picture of his cat Loki Arzegotti. He flips out and snatches the piece of paper off of John’s sketch pad and crumples it with both hands.

“WHY ARE YOU DRAWING FUCKING CATS DURING PROMO CLASS?!”

“I wasn’t!”

“You weren’t? Oh yeah? Then what’s this…”

Peter rolls out the paper and straightens it out to the best of his ability for John to see.

“Uhh…”

“Well?!”

“…”

“It’s a cat, John! A FUCKING CAT! I’m not taking time out of my day to watch you draw pictures of Goddamn cats when I could be upstairs fucking Mia Yim against the window with her bare ass pressed against the glass!”

“Peter, I was just trying to find inspiration. Creative inspiration! Loki Arzegotti helps-“

“I said no Luca Arzegotti in this house!”

“I didn’t say Luca, I said Loki. Loki is his former cat-“

“No mention of anyone from the Arzegotti household!”

“But Loki doesn’t live with Luca. I adopted him because Luca was an unfit parent.”

“Then you know what? No more cats! The only pussy in this house is the one that belongs to my Mia!”

“You’re being unreasonable, Peter. I’m pretty sure that’s not even a real pussy under there. Last night I walked in on her shaving her balls over the bathroom sink.”

“DON’T TALK SHIT ABOUT MY WOMAN OR I WILL MURDER YOU AND YOUR CAT!”

“Man, fuck you, dawg. Nobody talks about Loki that way. He's the leader of The Union! Fuck it, I don’t need this shit! I QUIT!”

“Oh, you quit huh?”

John picks up his trench coat and starts storming across the room.

“Yeah, I’m fucking done. What’s the point of being here if I can’t even draw pictures of my stepson?”

“Go ahead and quit then, just like your father did!”

John stops dead in his tracks as Peter’s comment strikes a nerve.

“Your father quit and now you are! That means you are just like him.”

“Don’t bring up the past, Peter… My father was a weak man, why are we even mentioning him?”

“Let’s talk about your father, John. What was your father?”

“My father… he was a serial rapist. He raped everything in his path.”

“One of the most notorious serial rapists of all time, right?”

“Yes, for a while…”

“Ah. He let you down, didn’t he?”

“Yes… He was my hero. I looked up to him and wanted to follow in his footsteps. My dream was to be as good as him, if not better.”

“But what happened?”

“He gave up on the rapist lifestyle. It was like he hit an off switch. I couldn’t comprehend what had happened. It was a confusing time for me as a child. I began to rebel against everyone. I’d go into the boy’s restroom at school, smoke cigarettes, and forced the other boys to rape me.”

We notice that Peter is becoming uncomfortable. He probably didn't expect John to share this much information.

“Ok, I’m glad you understand the error in your ways. Let’s move on to a different topic.”

“Then there was the time where I stopped a black hobo who was raping a woman in a dark alley. I saw what was happening and said ‘no sir, not on my watch, not today!’ I ripped my shirt off, pulled down my trousers, pushed her to safety. I then looked her assailant dead in his eyes and yelled ‘HERE, RAPE ME INSTEAD!’ as I bent over a metal trash can. The man walked away.”

“That’s good. Now as I was saying-“

“Or I should I say ‘TRIED’ to walk away, cause then I raised my Glock at him and said ‘look, motherfucker, you better rape me right now or I’ll holster this Glock in your asshole! He then raped me right then and there.”

“That’s disgusting, Maddy. But the moral of the story is to never give up even if the heroes you look up turn out to be cowards.”

“Wow, you’re right. Let’s face it, I can be better than my father if I want to be. I can be a better rapist!”

“Uhh. I’m not here to teach you how to rape people, Maddy. It’s Xtreme WRESTLING Federation. Not he Xtreme RAPE Federation!”

“Are you sure?”

“What? Of course I am!”

Peter pretends to be texting dick pics to his wet girlfriend but he's actually checking the XWF Wikipedia page just to be certain about the name.

“I’m just sayin’, Peter.”

“Huh? What are you saying?”

“That it could be the Xtreme Rape Federation and we don’t even realize it. That Vinnie Lome character seems pretty shady.”

“That’s stupid, Maddy. Vinnie LAME is a reasonable man despite all of his flaws.”

“Hm. So what’s next on the agenda? So far we’ve done nothing but watch eight hours of your promos. You wouldn’t let me eat popcorn for them neither. That’s a pretty Nazi-like thing for you to do to a man, Peter.”

“No popcorn or snacks during training! Your next assignment is to prepare you for the environment on Wednesday.”

“That’s in Rio, right? Oh shit, are you going to drop me of in the hood?”

“Not quite. You’ll have bigger problems than getting mugged by some spics.”

Peter claps three times and in walks Mia Yim pushing a large trash can on wheels, which probably contains Chris Chambers’ Federweight title reign.

“What’s in there? The footage from Chris Chambers' reign as Federweight Champion?”

“Close. It’s full of used condoms and feces. And your plane ticket to Rio is at the bottom of it.”

“Now wait just a damn minute. It’s one thing if Mia creates an unsanitary environment by shitting into the communal trash can like she’s back in China. But she has no business getting my plane tickets involved. Girl, you done crossed the line with this little act.

“Shut up, Maddy. It’s not Mia’s shit… IT’S MINE! I don’t know if you know this, but Shane -“

“SHSNE!”

“Huh? What?”

“SHSNE!”

“Whatever, don’t interrupt me! Shane is going to have used condoms and feces everywhere. He doesn’t exaggerate about this kind of stuff, either.”

“Feces everywhere? Damn him! Fuck. Shit.”

“I know it’s disgusting.”

“No, not that. This is a deeper issue with me, Peter. A personal one. You see I am the innovator of scatological warfare. I am the Excellence of Excrement. Tell me, who was it who first introduced the mound of human shit to XWF television? Barney Green’s shit to be specific.”

“I don’t… Ugh, was it you?”

“Yes, Peter. It was me. No one wanted to touch shit until I loaded it up in a cement truck and poured it out at ringside into a nice, smooth landing pad.”

“Maddy, I still don’t think that anyone wants to touch human shit.”

“And then it was me who held the inaugural Buried in Shit Match with Theo Pryce.”

“Again, that’s something that no one wants to have around besides you, Shane, and Fromo.”

“Peter, the point is, SHSNE is trying to steal my thunder yet again. We wouldn’t have shit matches if it weren’t for me! Why isn’t he crediting me for my contributions to this industry? Goddamn it, I want my face on everything that is related to shit. John Madison toilet paper. John Madison toilet mints. John Madison cups. John Madison plungers. Nobody references shit without my name and face on the front of it!”

“Okay, Mia. Please take away the garbage container. I can see that this was a bad idea. Have the maids dig up the plane ticket.”

“Mia, keep your slimy, gook whore hands off of my trash can! I will eat my way through the shit and condoms if I have to!”

“Let’s go, babe. I’m not going to fight with him over this.”

Peter and Mia leave the room as John Madison dives into the trash can of shit, condoms, and Chris Chambers DVD’s.