It’s a run of the mill morning in the neighborhood. Birds chirp, dogs bark, and the garbage truck is on the way to take your trash away. Taking it away in terms of trash, as expected, are Them No Good Bastards, but what is little expected is the sight of Thunder Knuckles hanging off the side of the massive vehicle while Bobby Bourbon drives. Obviously, this is the result of some XWF official who has a hair up their ass about Bobby and TK. Call it community service, call it community outreach, or call it community justice, Bobby and TK are doing the dirty work.

“Y’know, TK, I get the suits are trying to punish us with this, but I’m actually having a lot of fun as a garbage man.

“Fuck yeah, Bobby, you found that whole glass coffee table in perfect condition!”

“I know, it was perfectly fine, who would throw that away?”

“The idiots whose house it was in front of.”

“Right, they were idiots, I’m glad we threw away their mailbox.”

“You hit their mailbox with the truck, Bobby.”

“And I cleaned it up! What’s bullshit, though, is what the office has us doing at Anarchy.”

"Let’s talk about this curtain jerking act for a minute. First off, Razor Blade, ya fuck, why the hell are you talking like you’re auditioning for Greasy Strangler 2? You’re out here pacing around like a guest speaker at a middle school. ‘What do you wanna talk about?’ I’ll tell you what I wanna talk about, how you and your partner are as intimidating as a bowl of unseasoned grits. Which is fucking amazing seeing as neither of you possess an ounce of goddamn grit."

Bobby pulls the truck to a stop and flashes the lights as TK hops down and grabs two full trash cans. TK begins to dump them.

“Grit? Razor Blade is as rough and tough as toilet paper, which is no fucking surprise. I use toilet paper to wipe my Razor Blade after taking a massive Latoya Hixx. Christ, the last time we beat the shit out of these two, we knew right away you were a Butter Knife, not capable of cutting wind let alone a coherent promo. When Razor Blade talks it sounds like his dad impregnated his mom by nutting deep in her ass and some leaked out.”

TK kicks the trash cans back onto someone’s lawn, tipped on their side and dented.

"You walk out there like you're about to change the fucking company with your awesome abilities, but all you do is waste everybody’s time with some broke ass, weak minded, regurgitated speeches that don't, and have never, meant shit. ‘Oh, the American Nightmare is coming!’ Yeah? Well, guess what? So is tax season, mother fucker. Let's be frank here, I’m way more afraid of the IRS than I am of your guy's limp dick-ass promotional material."

“I’m more afraid of sounding like Butter Knife because it’d be signs I was having a stroke.”

Bobby pulls the truck forward to the next house.

"Then we got his Slim Fast drinkin’, Ozempic shootin’, Stacker 2 eatin’-ass partner, Latoya Hixx. Last time we faced off against these two, this bitch was a bloated fucking mess. Too goddamn bad it only shed the weight and not the women. Anyway, I'm getting off fucking track. Latoilet, you talk about being ‘The Storm,’ but you ain't even a light rain. You're more like low humidity, a light gust of wind, and that's being goddamn generous. Storms shut shit down, knock over trees and shit. What I’m saying is they cause chaos and destruction. When you show up, people just live their lives like normal. You ain’t no force of nature. You’re when nature calls. Another thing, while I'm thinking about it. What’s with all your goddamn whining? That's all you ever do. ‘They screwed me! They screwed me!’ Girl, if I had a single xbuc for every time a rassler said they got screwed, I’d buy this whole damn company and fire both of you dipsshits on the spot with absolutely no damn remorse."

TK grabs two more trash cans.

“Latoya, look, don’t pay all the negativity any mind whatsoever.”

“Bobby, she’s an opponent, we destroy those kinds of people.”

“I know, TK, but I think Latoya is just misguided and misled by a weak male in Butter Knife.”

“Real women are bosses too, like Atara Raven, Bobby, not helpless needy bitches, like Jenny Myst.”

Bobby looks soured by the mention of the name of Myst.

“TK, mentioning Jenny Myst ruins the ambiance of festering garbage.”

TK dumps the trash then climbs back into the cab of the truck with Bobby.

"I guess my favorite part about you fucking [redacteds] is you worked your names, into a team name. You wanna talk about ‘American’? Bitch, I am America. I was born in a hospital with a bald eagle watching over me, my first words were ‘get me a beer,’ and when I die, they’re gonna play Lynyrd Skynyrd while fireworks explode behind my casket. You don’t become American by putting it in your name idiots. You earn it by winning, by doing whatever the fuck you want and making no apologies for it. That’s why WE No Good Bastards are the walking embodiment of freedom, and y’all are just a bad tag team cosplaying as patriots. That's stolen valor and we're gonna fuck you up for that."

“Fucking right, bro. I am from America. I learned to shoot before I could walk and how to return fire in grade school. My heart beats with the might of the San Andreas fault and my passion is hotter than Death Valley, I’m deeper and danker than the Everglades, colder than lake effect snow in Ohio, and nastier than Flint, Michigan tap water. Hell, when kids get a Happy Meal, they hope they get the TNGB toy, because who the fuck wants the American Storm? You two are like the toy a grandma gets at the dollar store for their grandkids thinking they’re us; a fucking disappointment that makes kids cry.”

"Look, y’all wanna act like you’re some unstoppable tag team, fine, but I gotta be real with you, this ain’t the main event, this ain’t a big pay-per-view, this is Anarchy and nobody’s calling to tell their buddies about Razor Blade and Latoya Hixx. They’re calling to say ‘Them No Good Bastards lost their last match. You know damn well they’re going to tee off on their next opponents’. For the record, the only thing you two are breaking is my fucking patience. I guess, you're breaking the XWF’s payroll department too, because God knows y’all ain’t worth the damn pyro they waste on your entrances night in and night out. Come to think about it, with how many problems XWF is having with xbux these days, it makes complete sense."

“Oh, hell, bro, these two aren’t worth Monopoly money. They’re worth less than a checkerboard with one color checker. Used condoms carry more worth than these clowns, because if someone could reanimate the dead sperm inside one and get it to impregnate a woman, the baby would have more potential than Latoya Hixx or Butter Knife. As a baby. I would bet my hat, and I own one somewhere, but I would bet my hat that a baby is capable of more than these two.”

"So go ahead, ass-ticks, do your little rah-rah speeches, cry about getting screwed, and pretend like you’re running shit. Oh, but at the end of the day, you two are just the opening act playing dress-up while real tag teams are out here making money, kicking ass, and actually entertaining people.”

“Screwed? SCREWED? THESE ASSHOLES WERE SCREWED BY THEIR PARENTS WHEN THEY FUCKING DECIDED TO BREED. Since then they’ve gotten their asses kicked, week in, week out, somehow painting themselves as the underdog and the foregone conclusion of a victor all in one breath, because they only way these fucking schmucks could lose is by being screwed. Or, more specifically, that one time we absolutely finished them with the most devastating move in all of wrestling, the R.L.D.S.”

“I’ve seen more charisma in guys pumping shit out of septic tanks.”

“How often do you watch that?”

“I went down a rabbit hole on Youtube.”

“Hell of a rabbit hole if it goes into a septic tank.”

“You two talk big, but nobody in France, or anywhere for that matter, gives a single fuck about what you two have to say. Every time either one of you grab a mic, people start checking their phones, scrolling through Instagram, because fuck Twitter, looking for ANYTHING more entertaining than listening to either of you ramble on. Hell, I’d rather listen to an audiobook about the finer points of flies fucking than having to hear either of you talk."

“We’re not listening to that in this truck dude.”

“I think doing this job, we have seen enough flies fucking, so if we wrote…”

Bobby swiftly shakes his head ‘no’.

“Veto.”

“Fair.”

“Besides, I think we both know someone who’s been into trash longer than us.”

“Dominic Strife!”

“Yeah, him, uh, sure. I was gonna say Oscar the Grouch, but people like him.”

TK seems to wave off Bobby bringing up Muppets for what might be the fifth time that day.

“Yeah, you’re right. Hixx and Butter Knife take precedence right now.”

TK nods silently.

"Y’all are looking for a number-one contender’s match? You wanna climb that ladder? That's cute. That's real goddamn cute. We ain’t playing that game. We ain’t, so much, interested in the title shot, ELO rankings, or any other little league bullshit. We’re coming for some good ole' fashioned revenge. If that means we gotta run through you two to get there, then congratulations, you just became collateral fucking damage. Our absolute, without question, agenda here is to get our hands back on Jake and Roger. This match isn't a stepping stone for us. No. We’re running your asses clean the fuck over to get where we wanna go. Now if you’ll excuse us, we got better things to do than listen to y’all talk in circles. Like, for me, counting my money and making fun of losers like you."

“Or for me, watching him count his money and make fun of losers like you while I think about how snapping Butter Knife’s spine on the mat would take a flick of my wrist and destroying his entire career would be just another Thursday for me. It’s while I think about how Latoya could have a better life, where she was not only provided for, but with someone who cared about her.”

“Aren’t you seeing someone?”

“My eyes are open, bro, I see lots of people.”

“I mean…”

“I know what you mean, but Latoya isn’t some object for me to obtain, this isn’t some ploy to woo you, this is one of those things where you should ‘blink twice if you want me to call the police’ because Butter Knife has dragged you to the worst tag team record in XWF history. We can get you to a shelter, to help, to an advocate, and if need be, we’ll even let you point out on a doll where he touched you. Miss Hixx, my girlfriend feels for you, and to be the Tina to Butter Knife’s Nat Turner, to be the Stimpy to his Ren, to be just an object he can try to flaunt to further his own career. I would ruin Butter Knife’s career, on any given Thursday, but that would mean he’d have to have one first.”

Bobby and TK pull the garbage truck into the parking lot of a Wendy’s and empty it there, showing Dave Thomas once and for all. TK and Bobby depart the truck and enter a an Ice Cream truck, probably to do more Grand Theft Auto style side missions because they're awesome like that.