Jackie Peppers recently suffered a massive concussion during his last match with Abigail Monroe.

We see Jackie sitting on a love seat next to Bob Whiskey. Jackie's head is all bandaged up, and Bob is busy digging through a bag of potato chips. He looks inside the bag before reaching in each time, probably looking for the best candidate. You know the type; the chip that's not all busted up, still looking whole, the appropriate amount of dusting of whatever flavor is on there. It's a habit among fatties.

Woah, Bob, I feel kinda funky.

You got your bell rung.

Jackie rubs his noggin, and flinches.

I have a concussion?

Bob, who has just crammed a fistful of chips into his mouth, looks at Jackie and shrugs.

I ainf no otter.

Bob, insisting he isn't a doctor with his mouth full, spews moistened clumps of pulverized Sour Cream and Cheddar chips all over Jackie, who seems oblivious to them until he feebly swats away at his own face. Bits of chip are stuck to his mug.

No, Bob. Finish eating then speak.

Black Angus, Jackie's trainer, enters the room.

Wut aar ye doin, lad? Ye need to train fer Scott St. Pierre!

Jackie slowly turns his head towards Angus. His eyes catch up to where his head is pointed after a moment.

I have a concussion.

Aye! Ye need to prepare sos it dunt happen agin, lad!

Angus swats at Jackie's head. Jackie recoils in agony afterward and leans into Bob. Bob gets startled, then puts his arm around Jackie. Bob puts a light beer to his lips to wash down however much potato chip mash he had stored in his gullet.

It's okay, buddy.

Bob starts to rub Jackie's shoulder to console him.

I want to see the doctor.

Nay, lad, nay! Ye need ta train!

Angus presents what can best be described as a bondage gimp mask, only with a straw duct taped into the mouth hole.

Ye wear dis, lad, an' den ye need ta go do the lawn work.

What lawn, it's all gravel?

Nay, ye need ta use da weed whacker. Wearin' dis will simulate havin' asthma, and git ye fit as a fiddle!

Angus, I don't...

Git gewin!

Angus kicks Jackie in the leg. Jackie shoots up to his feet, then stumbles. He braces himself against the wall, and vomits.

Jesus! De carpet, lad!

Angus kicks aside a couple of empty beer cans, torn pages from pornographic magazines, and cigarette butts then points to the latest filth to grace the floor of his houseboat.

Ye need ta clean dat too!

Angus stomps off in ire as Jackie wipes his mouth.

Clean the carpets, got it.

Jackie puts the gimp mask on his head, but only so far that it looks like a really lousy hat, not covering his face. Bob notices. He stands up and slides the mask the rest of the way down over Jackie's face.

Mmph.

There you go, pal.

Bob opens the door to the outside world, and the brightness of the sunshine so stark to the darkness inside the houseboat causes a temporary dimming of the screen as the camera adjusts. Bob then spins Jackie around and boots him in the butt, kicking him to the outside world. Bob slams the door shut and goes back to sitting in a love seat and drinking beer. He then points and laughs at the TV, which is entirely snowed out with static.

---

Outside, we see Jackie Peppers standing and holding a weed whacker. The head of the tool is a garbled, tangled mess of line. Drool is dripping out of the tip of the straw on his face. He pulls the cord to start the device a few times. When it won't turn over, he starts swinging it at some long strands of overgrowth at the edge of the gravel lot where Angus has his house boat parked.

Mmmph.

After a third swipe, Jackie collapses on the ground. The screen goes completely white. It fades back in to show Jackie, now maskless, lying on a beach. He opens his eyes, blinks, and sits up, looking around. He's dressed like a pirate in a super frilly loose drawstring shirt, some pantaloons, and cuffed boots that come up to his knee.

Woah, where am I?

Jackie gets to his feet and rubs his now unbandaged, unmasked head. He looks up and down on the beach. He sees, as we do, a girl headed down the beach towards him, jogging. Not super fast.


Jackie's eyes go wide as he watches the girl jogging slowly toward him, decked out in a very modern bikini compared to his period Pirate garb. The girl stops in place in front of Jackie, looking at him, smiling, and jogging in place.


Uh, hi...

Hi, Jackie.

Jackie blinks.

Sorry, I'm a little confused, you know me?

Of course, sweetie! You're the hot piece of dick I ride like some kind of water slide roller-coaster every night. You're the best in bed, Jackie, the best in the world!

Jackie starts to blush as he sheepishly looks away.

Now, that's why you're going to the volcano!

The girl points up away from the beach, and sure as you're born, we see a volcano. As she does, smoke billows out from the top of the volcano as there's a distinct tremor.


It's about to blow, Jackie. Do you want it to blow?


I don't understand...

You're going to beat Scott St. Pierre.

You're going to go into Warfare and beat that entitled, arrogant shit into paste. You're Jackie Peppers, extra violent when you need to be, and he's Scott St. Pierre.

Do you think Scott St. Pierre can move me the way you do?


N-No!

I'm going to kick Scott St. Pierre's ass!

Then I'm going to touch your boobs!

You sure are, sweetie!

The girl grabs the underside of her bikini top, and with a flick of the wrist she flips the top up, but just as you think you're about to see the final 7% of her tits that you hadn't seen yet, a massive wave comes in and crashes into both Jackie and the girl! We fade to white, and when we fade back in, we see Angus and an empty bucket standing over Jackie, who is laying on the ground, his left hand fondling the strands of weed whacker line that are tangled at the head, his right hand buried down the front of his pants, probably gripping the massive erection we see poking from the front of his drawstring pajama pants.

Stop slackin'! Git back to werk, fer Christ's sake!

Angus reaches under his kilt and pulls out his trusty handle of rail whiskey and slugs it. He reaches out and offers the bottle to Jackie. Jackie takes it, sticks the straw struck to his mask in the bottle and takes a swig.

Now ere's a gewt lad.

Jackie removes the straw and nods at Angus. He props himself up on the weed whacker and starts to swipe it at the scarce growth on Angus's property. Bob Whiskey opens the door to the house boat and disembarks onto the gravel, holding the bag of chips he was working on upright, almost like he's chugging every last particle in the bag to really get his money's worth. Angus taps into his reserve of cheap booze. As he does, a swarm of hummingbirds show up and lift Bob and Angus off the ground. Jackie starts to swat at them with his weed whacker; the hummingbirds, Bob, and Angus.