Chris Chaos recently came out with some kind of promo, and Peter Gilmour supposedly got Maria Brink knocked up.

Neither of those will matter come Wednesday Night Warfare, in a cage, against a duo so fearsome, the Motherfuckers to be exact.

Hey, did you just respond to me?

Yes, yes I did.

How?

Well, you're a pretty solid narrator and all, but you do know I can hear you, right?

Oh, I didn't.

No sweat. Just get to what you do best.

What I do best?

Yeah, that whole "we open to see" something, and you're describing whatever it is I'm doing at the time.

Well, I'd like to, but why are you holding that shovel?

Oh, this?

Robbie holds up a shovel.

See, there you go, you just described me holding this shovel up.

I did. Why are you holding it up?

I usually talk with my Bourbon Men to describe that kind of exposition.

Right.

Well, do your job.

Okay.

We open to see Robbie Bourbon holding a shovel. Having broken the fourth wall to an extent, he's now just kind of standing near an open stretch of highway somewhere, nothing to be seen for miles save for that one narrow two lane road. Nothing save the massive Bourbon holding his shovel. The wind blows, causing his now quite bushy beard to wave a bit, along with the overgrowth on either side of the highway and the smattering of trees here and there in the distance. The sun beats down on Robbie.

Well, I guess it's time to bury a couple of corpses. Dead men walking, the prideful march on toward annihilation.

Chubby Pete and Chris "Hard As Tofu" Chaos, the Gaggin' 69ers, sure love to preen in front of the camera like they were the greatest thing on TV.

They aren't.

For starters, Chubby Pete playing at having a kid with Maria Brink. He says being a father is like riding a bike.

Robbie starts to shake, chuckling as he rolls his eyes.

Look, Chubby Pete, I have ridden a bike before. When you fall off a bike, well, yeah, you get back on. But, when you wreck a bike, like the way Pig and me are going to, taking turns wrecking the shit out of you and Chris "Wet Noodles With No Sauce Just Limp And Flavorless" Chaos like it was a couple of kids playing the XWF videogame against a pair of computer opponents set at 'tutorial' difficulty, well, you gotta replace the bike.

You can not replace a child.

Now, I'm no father, I don't have children of my own. I work with them daily at the Dojo, and to some of those kids, I'm the only grown up in their life they get to spend time with. Sure, their parents love them, but they have to scrape and scrimp every penny, working sixty hours a week to provide for them, to give them opportunities at a better life, and I won't let them down. It takes a village, so it goes, and me, well, I can acknowledge that.

So, for the love of God, keep your seed out of Maria Brink's babymaker. Not only would the world be worse off with another one of you running around, but as you pointed out, you and whatever you think you're talking to when you play pretend and speak with Maria Brink wouldn't be anywhere near that kid's life.

And I'd be the one to wind up raising it.

Daddy going off to swinger parties, talking about his super dick, ignoring junior's grades just so Chubby Pete can go get his ass whooped by whomever the current Universal Champion is.

Chubby Pete procreating would only contribute to devolution.

Chubby Pete procreating can only yield negative results.

If Chubby Pete did knock someone up, they'd give birth to fucking giant frog.

On that note, how's it been for you getting John Madison preggers?

Fuck, Chubby Pete's spawn would be akin to Chris "Autism Awareness Month Every Month Star Of The Month" Chaos.

Weak, neglected, entitled, but ultimately harmless and stupid.

Chris "The Cactus In The Arctic, Needy And Out Of Place" Chaos sure does like to bitch, moan, whine, and complain. Unsatisfied I didn't talk about his past, unsatisfied I did talk about his past, unsatisfied, unsatisfied, unsatisfied. A Pokemon reference, sounding super, SUPER jealous of my long standing, concrete relationship with Blue, slinging insults at an actual beautiful woman, ten kinds of defense mechanisms all unleashed at the same time, all confusing one another.

Chris "The 11-Year-Old Girl Having Her First Period" Chaos and his flappy, sad body, built like a wind sock, thinking I'm here to entertain him for some reason.

I am pleased as punch you think I'm a dick.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Because I'm here to make it clear and fucking evident that I'm going to hurt you in that cage come Wednesday.

Not make you feel all bright and shiny.

I'm the bright and shiny one here, Chris "Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret" Chaos, I am the light. I ain't nothing more than just one big fucking ray of sunshine.

I don't cast shade, it just happens when something gets in my way.

Right now, you're in my way.

Not for the Universal Title. No, no. Not in the least. I'll cross that bridge if and when I come to it. If and when the opportunity is earned by myself.

I'm partnered up. Me and Bearded War Pig. The Motherfuckers. We're coming for the XWF Tag Team Championship. Not some fruity Double Championship, which is a statistic, semantic bullshit, and moreover, a statistic that will fade after you eat about ten pounds of chain link cage wall then get force fed another ten pounds by me and Pig. Not your TV Title, which I don't need. I can be on XWF TV any fucking time I want. Not your goofy ass Golden Corral Championship, a Burger King Crown, a Dairy Queen Blizzard, or even a Hardee's Five Dollar Big Bag.

Chris "I Wanted To Eat Jared Fogle's Five Dollar Footlong But Was Too Old" Chaos, thinking I give a fuck if someone takes me seriously. Don't. Don't take me seriously, Chris "I Didn't Taste The Mayonnaise I Just Swallowed It" Chaos. That ain't my problem. Right now, heh, I'm having fun, I'm in front of the camera, the people are watching, and they're tuning in.

Come Wednesday, that changes. Don't take me seriously when I pick ole' Chubby Pete up and use him as a weapon to break your legs. Don't take me seriously when I grab you by your thirteen inch neck, lift your waif like body, and just turn your head around on your shoulders a couple of times like I was replacing a busted light bulb. Chris "I Still Fit In OshKosh B'gosh Dress Clothes" Chaos, the dainty, fragile little girl he is stepping into the dance floor with Chubby Pete like it was the 8th Grade social. A head full of nonsense, believing they're the special one. Strong winning streak, Chris "Belle Of The Ball Has No Balls" Chaos, the world should laud you for it. Bravo.

But, me and Pig are back. The Motherfuckers.

Real men.

You Gaggin' 69ers just aren't up to snuff.

You were awesome playing peewee league, the both of you. Us? We're on scholarship.

Robbie taps the ground with his shovel. As he does, he pulls his phone out and gawks at it for a moment.

As for me being broke, well, I've been investing in cannabis for quite some time, and Canada just went legal, so...

The thunder of a rotating set of blades is heard as a helicopter decends and hovers above Robbie. The front of the chopper is painted to look like it's wearing a Robbie Bourbon mask. Robbie swings the shovel up and hooks one of the landing skids. In an incredible act of athletecism, Robbie climbs up the shovel handle and into the chopper, currently piloted by Blue, Robbie's Girlfriend and Handler. In the cabin waiting is Bearded War Pig.

BWP: Nice shovel!

Thanks, bro. Let's go fuck up two rejects and get our titles.

Did you explain to Chaos I would never fuck him since I only fuck men?

No, hon, but I think he got the picture.

BWP and Robbie each light up a fatty as Robbie lobs the shovel out of the open door of the helicopter, which lands in the middle of the road. The cutting edge sinks itself into the pavement, and the shovel sets upright. The helicopter flies off into the distance.