The screen opens up to an abandoned church in the slums of Los Angeles, The City of Angles, home of the “Hollywood Bad Boy” Peter Gilmour. Most of the pews have been removed, the stained glass windows cracked and destroyed, the altar is half rotted out from termite damage. The only thing still intact is the Crucifix, which is mounted high up on the wall behind the altar. Coming into the scene is Theo Pryce, dressed in a 3 piece black suit, with a light pink shirt and a solid black tie. Theo walks around the altar a bit, the camera following him as he does. He looks up at the Crucifix for a second, makes the sign of the cross using his index and middle finger. He then turns around and looks directly into the camera.


“Peter, I thought about doing a promo and uploading it onto the XWF website for all of the XWF fans to see. For all the world to see in fact but then I thought more about it and realized that what I have to say, I am only going to say to you. That’s right Peter, I am sending this DVD to you, and you alone. Some of what I say might be harsh, it might get you upset, it will most likely make you angry but all of it is true. You need to hear it and hopefully you won’t do what you usually do when someone talks smack about you and try to respond in a witty matter that only makes you look like a dimwitted child, instead, I beg you, listen to my words and then act upon them. That’s why I am sending this just to you. Because I want to help you. I want to help you become all the things that you already believe you are but in reality aren’t even remotely close to, yet.”

“Are you listening Peter? If not, turn up the volume, get closer to the screen, do whatever you have to because you aren’t going to want to miss this. I promise you.”


Theo walks down from the altar, picks up a metal folding chair, unfolds, places it down on the floor and then dust’s if off before sitting down.


“You had a match against my friend Michael last week, surely you remember it, you haven’t stopped crying about it since it ended. Crying about how the XWF screwed you. News flash Peter the XWF didn’t screw you. You screwed you. You thought McBride was some low card scrub like John Black and so you took it easy. And what happened? It came back to bite you in the ass.”


Theo pulls a flask out of his suit coat pocket, unscrews the top and takes a healthy swig before capping it and then placing it back in his pocket.


“Do you know what your problem is Peter? I’m guessing not because it’s the same problem you’ve had since the day I got here. But don’t fret you Hollywood Bad Boy you, the King is here to educate you. While you have been miring in mediocrity people like Mystica are going from up and comer to United States Champion. Wyatt Reynolds, showed up out of nowhere and look, two months later he’s the European Champion. Egyptian Snow Pharaoh, won the Trios titles in her debut match. Steve Davids went from Sebastian Duke’s loyal lapdog to Extreme Champion, the list goes on. Meanwhile what has Peter Gilmour done? Besides lose matches and cry about it afterwards?”

“The answer Peter, is nothing.” A grin forms across Theo’s face as he says it.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Do you know what that is Peter? Why you have been stuck in neutral. You know what, scratch that. You were the X-treme Champ, you no longer are. Do you know why you are stuck in reverse Peter? It’s because you don’t listen to anyone. I’ve offered you advice. John Madison, in his own twisted way has offered you advice. Even your good buddy Sid Feder has offered you advice. And while I don’t exactly subscribe to his way of thinking his advice was sound nonetheless. In fact, it might have been the best advice anyone has ever given you. And what did you do? You completely ignored it. Sure you responded to him, acted like you understood what he said to you, but we all know you didn’t. I knew it. You knew it. Sid knew it. Even told you as much. What was your response to your good friend’s advice? That you will deliver McBride’s barely alive body to Sid’s doorstep? Really Peter? Really? In what part of Sid’s free advice did he ask you to deliver McBride to him? The answer is nowhere. Sid didn’t ask you to do that because Sid doesn’t need you to do anything for him. Unlike you Peter, Sid doesn’t seem afraid to fight his own battles. But back to Sid’s advice.”

“What did he tell you to do Peter? And I’m not just talking about the bit with the baseball bat, that was cute and all, and by all means, go and do that if it will make you feel any better. But that wasn’t what you should have taken away from Sid’s advice. Sid told you to give McBride a beating and then move on. Wash your hands of Michael McBride and move on to the next opportunity. To your next match. In this case, to me Peter. Remember me? The guy you have been stalking around the halls of the XWF since the day I took the crown from John Madison? Here we are a few days from the biggest match of your career and you are still worrying about Michael McBride. He beat you. He beat you fair and square. One on one. There was no outside interference, no quick counts, nothing. Just a regular old fashioned 1…2…3 and McBride’s hand was raised while you cried in the corner like a spoiled school aged child who just had his crayons taken from him.”

“Your good buddy called you an asshole and what was your response to that? Silence. Even the King of Dwarves had the guts to stand up to Sid. Granted her had to stand on a chair to do it, but the point was he did it despite the fact that Sid could and now it looks like will beat him unmercifully for his troubles. Hell, even a two bit crack whore like Ann Thraxx had the stones to open her mouth, though I hear that is sort of her thing, but even Ann went back and forth with Sid. What did you do after Sid called you out? Not a damn thing. Ironic since you seem to have no problem interjecting yourself into every single conversation that takes place around here, even when you aren’t the subject, but here, in this case, when it’s all about you, you say nothing. A mute. Why is that Peter? Are you afraid of Sid? Are you afraid of losing the one guy who sticks up for you around these parts? The same guy who not too long ago wanted to form his own little band of misfits but refused to invite you along for fear of having a perceived “weak link” in the group? Why won’t you stand up to that guy? Instead you will spend your time hounding a guy who just beat you.”

“That makes sense Peter. And that’s the crux of all of this. Why are you stuck in reverse? Why can’t you just move on and focus on the next thing? Why do you insist on bringing up how you killed Barney Green and how you are going to kill this guy and that guy, how you are going to end this career and that career. Sorry Peter but the only thing you kill is the English language every time you open your mouth to film one of your 60 minute promos. And then you have the balls to say everyone else’s promo is lame. Why is that Peter? Is it because it takes everyone else 7 minutes to say what you can’t get across in damn near an hour? News flash Peter, while you are busy digressing the rest of us are making statements of fact. And here’s one last one for you. Enjoy your last few minutes of fame Peter, because come Monday night, a nontitle match with me is the closest you will ever get to the crown, ever again.”


Theo reaches down and picks up a small hand held remote, points it at the camera and then, darkness.