Accidentally worked above the annual hours allowed by a wrestling journalist, by interviewing…
Some… Guy.
Some Guy?
Yes, him.
The U.S. government fined the XWF half-a-million dollars for Sayors’ man-hour snafu.
XWF took that bill.
And passed it directly to Sayors.
Legal?
Who knows? Sayors can’t even afford to hire that pop-up attorney that looks like a mustachio’d Mark Flynn.
Now, Steve Sayors. A man who sometimes gets paid in wooden nickels, and other times gets paid in notes that say ‘IOU wooden nickels’...
Owes the X-Treme Wrestling Federation half-a-million dollars.
…
Sayors tried. He really has.
He’s been on a mission to raise the money and clear his debt.
He sold blood.
He bought BarnCoin.
And after all that efforts…
Months of desperately toiling to chip away at his debt…
He’s close…
…
Okay, no. Actually, he’s $5,000 deeper in-the-hole than when he started.
Selling blood sent him to the emergency room.
And, turns out, Theo Pryce got all XWF superstars A-Plus Health Insurance… by cutting costs and getting Steve “negative health insurance”.
Thus, hospitals charge Steve EXTRA.
AND In-network doctors spit on Steve if they see him on the street.
…
But, this?
THIS is the solution.
THIS will be what gets Steve out of this hole.
…
Feet pics!
That’s right! Steve’s making an anonymous foot-fetish OnlyFans!
Steve sits down on a sectional couch (Market value: $479).
Yes, Steve nods to himself as he removes his orthopedic socks! This is the moneymaker!
…Steve squeezes his camera against his jaw, as he color-contrasts a jet black carpet ($18 per square foot) under his alabaster white tootsies.
He leans against the button …CLICK!
…
Steve’s index finger spins his 90s disposable camera.
Good News: The disposable camera was $2.
…
Bad News: he’s gotta swing through a Walgreens to develop this film…
“Sir.”
Steve looks up…
At an employee…
Hovering silently over Steve…
As he does his barefoot photoshoot…
In Office Depot’s furniture section.
“Sir, you’re going to have to pay for…”
…
“EVERYTHING you’re touching right now.”
…
“NEEEEEEEH!”
Steve breaks into his trademark weeping sprint for the exit!
Miraculously, Steve made it to the exit.
Inconceivable, considering his max running speed is 2 miles-per-hour and he gets winded thinking about the sun.
Fun Medical Fact: Steve’s lungs actually collapse if he breathes too much air. Hence, why he wears noseplugs to bed. If he ever relaxes his nostrils, his respiratory system could explode.
Regardless, he made it! All the way to the Wal-Greens! Film developed and in an envelope! (Cost: $15.99 plus tax).
Steve sits on the stoop outside, reaching into his bag to retrieve his company-issued laptop… (Free Wi-Fi at select Wal-Greens) to turn his piggies into a piggy bank!
Steve flips open the env-
“HAHA! STEVE! FANCY RUNNING INTO YOU HERE!”
Steve spins around.
And there is…
Some Guy.
Y’all-Know-Who.
“NO! GET AWAY FROM ME!” Steve screeches! “EVERY TIME YOU COME NEAR ME, I LOSE MORE MONEY!” He swipes his hand, terrified! As he swings, the envelope flies out of his sweaty grip! And falls…
NEAR a sewage drain!
Steve sucks in enough air to collapse his terrible lungs…
…
BUT THE PHOTOS CLINCH THE EDGE!
…
Steve sighs, relieved!
“AHA!”
Steve glances up!
That Guy, in a flash, has snatched up Steve’s computer, scrolling through his OnlyFans website!
“WHAT’S THIS? PICTURES OF LUSTY, SCANTILY-CLAD WOMEN! INPUTS FOR CREDIT CARD NUMBERS! WINKY FACE EMOJIS!”
…Steve blushes. He’d intentionally chosen not-face-showing-feet-pics so no one would discover it was his account!
That Guy strokes his chin, with a 100-megawatt smile on his face.
“OF COURSE, I UNDERSTAND COMPLETELY!”
…
“Please don’t tell anyone I sell pictures of my fe-”
“YOU’RE ONLINE DATING, STEVE!”
That Guy affably boxes Steve on the shoulder.
“I GET IT, STEVE! I’VE BEEN ON THE MARKET MYSELF EVER SINCE MY ONE BILLION GIRLFRIENDS LEFT ME FOR ANOTHER MAN...'S FOOTBALL TEAM.”
Steve clears his throat.
“...Uh, no, actually. I haven’t dated since…” Steve sighs. “Since years began starting with two. Y’know, dates cost… money.”
“STEVE? DON’T MAKE ME LAUGH!” That Guy chuckles. “OBVIOUSLY, YOU ALREADY KNOW THE TOTALLY-FREE SECRET TO DATING WITH 100% SUCCESS!”
“...What? What secret?”
“THE ULTIMATE LINE, STEVE. THE KEY TO OPENING ANY WOMAN(-or-man)’S WITH A SINGLE QUESTION.”
“YOU LOOK DEEP INTO HER(-or-his) EYES.”
“TAKE HER(-or-him) BY THE HAND AND ASK ONE QUESTION...”
…
“Sorry, to be clear… The first question you ask on a date is ‘What’s your relationship with your dad like?’”
“FIRST AND ONLY QUESTION! LADIES-(or-men) ALWAYS LOVE IT!” Y’all-Know-Who smiles cheerfully as he turns the screen around! “CHECK OUT THESE RESPONSES YOU’RE GETTING!”
Steve’s eyes widen!
“WH-WH-WHAT DID YOU DO?!?”
“HAHA! STEVE, I MESSAGED ALL YOUR POTENTIAL LOVE INTERESTS WITH THAT BURNING QUESTION! FOLLOWED BY YOUR NAME, PHONE NUMBER AND WORK EMAIL!”
“What!?!? That account’s anonymous! No one can know that I’m Feeter_Fettigrew!” Steve panickedly fumbles for the laptop! ““Undo it! Take it back!”
Steve’s anxious feet accidentally step backwards!
Kicking his photos down the drain behind him!
“NOOOOO! MY TOOTSY BANK-ROLLS!” Steve desperately dives for the photos!
Forgetting that the sidewalk is… y’know…
WHAM!
Concrete.
“Hey Steve!”
P’toooooooooo!
Doctor Yang’s loogie hits Steve in the face…
Waking him up from his head injury stupor…
Oooh, everything hurts…
A major headache from a minor concussion.
Sayors rubs his skull… And feels something on his chest.
A note pinned to his tweed jacket.
Quote:GOOD LUCK, STEVE! YOU HEARTBREAKER.
…What could *that* mean…?
And that’s when Steve sees it.
His laptop on his groin...
Open to his work email inbox.
In the last hour, Steve’s had 77 identity theft attempts…
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