Robbie Bourbon recently took to the streets of a small town in Virginia to get the pulse of his lifeblood, the people. His opponent, Steve Davids, has gone on record as speaking out against the CCWF and their actions as well. Davids, a former Universal Champion and X-treme Champion, will be nothing for Robbie to sneeze at this Wednesday night. Can Robbie take the fight to the King Slayer in an X-treme rules bloodbath?

For his sake, I hope so, else I'm out of a job.

JUST LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE

We open scene to see Robbie sitting at the desk at his empty lot. Masked Bourbon Men in the background move about, getting on with whatever business they feel they need attending to at the grounds of the Robbie Bourbon Empty Lot of the Competitive Arts.

Well, looks like Davids is on the up and up. I guess it's somewhat comforting that he'll be able to flex those X-treme tendencies come Wednesday night. That's good ole' me, for you. Giving the people what they want. Well, Davids wanted a title match against Game Girl, but she shrugged him off like, um, well, a joke. I wonder if that's what Steve Davids is, some goofball comedy act, while some of us are going out saving the people, being the God damned voice of their generation. Anyhow, I picked up the option, I mean I did promise to fight every Wednesday. Then I teamed up with Trax and now I have to fight on Monday Night Madness much to Lux Lyden's chagrin, but I reckon I get to wreck up some CCWF shit kickers, so life is okay I guess.

So, Steve Davids, the King Slayer. Well, there's a tell tale sign right there. Last I checked, there were so many kings floating around the XWF some folks might take it for some creepy ass role playing game. Seriously, so many dudes running around ruling with iron fists, what's the fucking point of being a king if you're still sitting at the long side of the table with a bunch of other crowns and no autonomy? As if that's not zany enough, this special brand of idiot goes around proclaiming to be the guy who's going to kill them all. Stud, your campaign is a joke, your name is a lie, and the era of needing King Slayers is gone, because the proletariat uprising of the XWF is just getting started.

Now, I get what you're thinking.

"But, hey, Robbie Bourbon, don't beat my ass raw on Wednesday night, I'm not like those other guys! I didn't provoke you! I'm not a Hatriot!"

Flat out dude, I hold one truth to be self-evident, and that is all men are created equal. As crazy as it sounds, and I know nobody here is going to understand so I'll explain, it wouldn't be fair to Ellis Bolton or even Wyatt Reynolds if I didn't decimate and devastate you like I was some humanoid typhoon. See, Bolton and Reynolds were bad men, make no mistake. There was a significant catharsis and justice to seeing my happy big ass up and clobber the snot out of them on national television, in clips on the XWF website, and even in syndication. I can't disavow that, speaking first hand. However, I'm not a judge, I'm not a jury, I'm not due process, and I alone will not be the deciding factor of who can walk and who can not. That, Steve, is up to the people. Their will be done, their judgment be final, your ass is next on the fucking chopping block.

The people decided that Glisten was getting a little out of hand with people, and the people, averse to some kind of harassment law suit, put me to work. What happened? He took his paint off and went and played detective. See, I get fucking results, Steve.

The people decided that Game Girl needed a run for her money. I gave her one. Now we know what universe she comes from, and moreover, we know of a sad man with his golden game. I honestly feel I learned too much, and wish I could put that beast to rest for him.

The people have decided against you, Steve, not me. I honored your request for a fight on Wednesday night. You sir, are definitely people, just like everybody else. Why you would do that to yourself, well, it's not on me to ask. I didn't put you here, stud, and I ain't wasting time on pity on a man who owns his own destiny. It's hubris, and shallow, and witless. Not even Shane booked himself in a match against Robbie Bourbon on Wednesday Night Warfare, no sir. That's just a hospital visit waiting to happen, and it will happen to you too.

Now, I'm no fool, I recognize that you're the biggest competition I've faced yet in the XWF. In fact, you're bigger than me. That's not an issue, though. I'm not going to be cliche and say that the bigger they are, the harder they fall, no Steve, not whatsoever. I'm going to be revolutionary and point out, the bigger we are, the harder we fall. You're not just facing some other big body who's a slug like Morbid God damned Angel.

My name is Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon. You're going to remember it; it's the name of the man who let a failed King Slayer ride off into the sunset, slumped on his horse, empowered with the knowledge that as useless as he was that a true man of the people has arrived to lead the way for the downtrodden, the less privileged, the suffering, the tired, the hungry, and the huddled masses to stand up and not just fight for, but take back their dignity, their liberty, and their universe.