The shot opens on a close up of the above sign, which is presently being hammered to a wooden post. Slowly, your view pans back to disclose that the person putting up the sign is....Lux?! She considers the sign for a moment before nodding her head with satisfaction and getting back in her nearby car, dropping down in the driver's seat and turning on the ignition.

Hello Donovan. You know what, I may have been a bit unfair to you. Recently a little bird told me that you have recently been under a bit of stress because your mother has gone missing. And after I took a moment to process the fact that the little bird went on to tell me that he was actually your long lost step-brother who was turned into a bird by a witch doctor, I realized that that COULD be the reason you've been shirking the Television championship so badly. So, because I'm all about being a solid emotional support for my co-workers, I've been putting up signs all over town to try to help and find your mom.

The shot cuts to another sign Lux has recently posted.



And another.



And, yes, one more.



Suffice it to say, the signs have not been as effective as I had hoped, but I assume, given the nature of your family, your mother is some kind of shape shifting monitor lizard so maybe I shouldn't be so hard on myself. Of course, missing family doesn't quite absolve you of all your rhetorical sins. And yes, I AM going to talk some more, so if you start feeling some kinda way the National Suicide Prevention Hotline is 1-800-273-8255. I don't like you but I don't hate you enough to hope you take a cement swan dive. I'll give you a moment while you put that in your contacts list.

We good? Ok.

Lux throws the car in drive and pulls away from the curb.

Look, I get that you're under a lot of stress. But it still doesn't justify all that pointless meandering about how I have the same name and kinda, sorta, but not really look like your father's previous identity. Although, I'll allow that I'm not surprised I remind you of your father's past alter-ego. You have like a billion family members, supporting cast members, and various sundry bits flitting in and out of your life at a moment's notice. It's like the whole “would an infinite number of monkeys working for all eternity eventually produce the collected works of Shakespeare” concept writ large and applied to your ever expanding, ever stranger, sphere of influence. I would be more shocked if I DIDN'T have the same name and bear a passing resemblance to your alien father's alter-ego (one of many I gather).

Speaking of your enormous weird ass family, I'm picking up a couple of them right now to help in the search for your mom.

Lux pulls up to a bus stop shelter, where we see a bizarre sight. Engy clambers into the back of the car wearing a black trash bag around him and a patently fake scraggly beard. He's holding a shoe with big googly eyes on it. Lux gestures towards the back seat. World, I'd like to introduce you to yet two more members of the Blackwater clan.

Engy leans forward, fake beard puffing in and out with every breath he takes. Hey everybody, I'm Uncle Orsik Blackwater, a sentient garbage bag full of angry bees, shaken repeatedly and brought to life by an ancient sorcerer who was actually somehow just trying to find the cure for Lyme disease.

The shot then focuses on the shoe.



“I am Shoe Blackwater. A shoe with googly eyes. That is all.”

Holy shit, Shoe's voice is the distinctive brogue of classically trained Irish actor Kenneth Branagh! How much did that cost?!

A lot. Lux sighs. She pulls away from the bus stop now, and continues on. A bit of a trigger warning for you Donovan. I have at least one more of your family members to pick up and quite a bit more promo time to fill, so you may want to get a bag to breathe into....

...and put over your head. Make it plastic you smarmy FUCK! Engy/Uncle Orsik shouts from the back.

Now, now Uncle Orsik, none of that! Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, about to address your bullet points. You see Donovan, when it comes to the question of “Should I care about my title?” any bullet point in excess of ONE is probably a solid indicator that you don't deserve to lick the years of accumulated flop sweat off said title, much less continue to carry it. Because any decent champion worth their salt knows that there is only one possible bullet point that matters when it comes to the matter of “should I defend and care about my championship?” And it sounds about like...


Because all that stuff you said was really just a bunch of gloss you painted over the fact that you're just a capricious dipshit on the level with Kid Kool. “Oh I decided it might be neat to be TV Champ until I got bored with it, and then I thought well I'll just drop it to Thad Duke until half way through the match I decided I didn't want to anymore, but now maybe I might want to drop it to you and....”

**FAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRT** Engy/Orsik pushes the palms of his hands up against his face and makes a bronx cheer.

Yeah, basically. Do you, on any level whatsoever, realize how dumb all that sounds? I mean, if you're that desperate to drop the title why are you even still talking? Why hype this match at all? Is it because you're a total windbag who masturbates feverishly to your voice on replay and you desperately needed some more material? Or is this some kind of post-modern promo style you're taking for a whirl? “hey everyone, the new in-thing is to promo like you don't give a shit! It's the new black!” Promo wars are eventually going to devolve into two opponents just rolling their eyes and sneering vacuously, while buy rates plummet and poor Vinnie Lane locks himself in a bathroom stall and forces himself to choose between death by Ketamine overdose or snoo-snoo.

Engy leans in again. Once more, that “don't kill yourself” number is 1-800-EAT-SHIT. He looks out the window. Oh, hold up. We're here.

Lux pulls the car over to the side again and Engy opens the back door. HELPER glides into the back of the car. Someone has drawn two angry looking downturned eyebrows on his face, and a little black goatee on his “chin”.

Greetings flesh sacks! I am SCARETRON BLACKWATER, an evil scantron machine trained to kill! For years I falsified student's test results, taking sadistic glee in their impotent tears as I crushed little Skyler and Brittanie's chances of ever getting into Dartmouth! HAHAHAHA! I was rebuilt into my present weaponized form by Azrael Erebus during his sixth dissociative fugue, of which he conveniently remembers nothing at all. But during that episode he looked like award winning writer and poet laureate Toni Morrison for some reason.

Still a saner back story than Azrael's!

Hey, easy now. We're cool with him. Let's stay focused on the task at hand. Lux throws the car into motion again. Now Donovan, it HAS occurred to me that what you're doing is some kind of clever ploy to get me to drop my guard, and that you actually DO care about the Television championship and are planning to fight for it at Savage. Mind games, hmmmm? Is that what we're doing? Could be. You definitely took your swing at it, that's for sure. Trying to get into my head with Corey's feelings for me, or lack thereof. So let me ask you this Donovan, if it didn't completely destroy me to hear that from Corey himself (who I actually care about), on what plane of existence did you think your retread of it was going to do me any real harm? I mean, yes, absolutely, what Corey said HURT. I love Corey, and I have to accept that he doesn't feel the same way for me. But your blatant attempts at rutting on my sub-conscious were as clumsy as they were ill advised. And honestly, all they've done is make me want to grind my heel into the bridge of your nose until that sweet release of cartilage and bone even more. I'm not shook Donovan, but you sure as hell will be on Savage. “Dropping my guard” is not even in my lingua franca, and all you've managed to do is guaran-damn-tee that I keep kicking you to death well past the point you've decided to take your ball and go home.

Suddenly, a figure darts out in front of the car. Lux curses and slams on the breaks, drawing the vehicle to an abrupt halt. Thee figure, hands cast in front of his face in a defensive posture, slowly brings them down only to reveal.....DONOVAN BLACKWATER?!

Ugh GAWD not this guy!

Okay, well maybe not quite THE Donovan Blackwater but at least a reasonable facsimile played by actor Andrew Scott, who some would say bears a stunning likeness to everyone's least favorite Television champion. Anyway, he tosses open the passenger side door and slumps down in the seat next to Lux, taking a moment to dab some sweat off his brow with a hankie.

Oh my God, Donovan was right, there is someone else out there who looks just like him!

I've been chasing your car for two miles and screaming, how could you miss me? “Donovan” chastises.

I noticed but didn't say anything.

“Donovan” shoots Uncle Orsik a daggered look. Lux still looks perplexed. Wait, so are you Donovan Blackwater or what? I am so, so, confused right now.

Donovan let's out a beleaguered gust of frustrated breath, pinching his face like he just smelled a truly rancid fart. Or, his usual resting bitch face in other words. I am A Donovan Blackwater.

You're going to have to elaborate.

There's like 43 of us hidden throughout the Milky Way. Azrael made like a whole bunch of clones of Donovan because he figured it would make for a cool plot device one day.

Do any of you give a shit about the TV title?

I think number 27 would, but he's pretty busy running a space brothel in the center of Pluto that caters exclusively to abasiophiliacs.

Do I want to know what that is?

Maybe? I mean, it could be sooooo much grosser. “Donovan” waves his hands in front of him like a frustrated cataleptic. But we're wasting time! Donovan Prime's mother is still out there somewhere, no doubt on the verge of causing some kind of world ending catastrophe. We need to find her right.....

Just then, “Donovan's” phone starts to ring. His ring tone is the sound of him clearing his own throat in a really annoying condescending way. Hold up, I got a call. He pulls out his phone and brings it to his ear. Hello?

Yes, hello indeed lovey.

Donovan's pinched resting bitch face gets even more pinched and bitchy. Who the hell is this?

Oh, I'm not sure I like your tone, precious! Maybe you should fix that considering I have your family with me.....

My family? What the bloody hell are you on about?

Uhhhh....”Donovan”! Scaretron Blackwater calls out from the back of the car, his voice tinged with trepidation. That phone call is coming from INSIDE THE CAR!

**dun dun DUUUUUUUN!!!**

Wow, you traced the call already Scaretron?!

No, Uncle Orsik is talking to you on his phone and aiming a gun at us. HELP!

Lux and “Donovan” both wheel around in their seats to see that yeah, Uncle Orsik has some kind of space age laser pistol trained on Scaretron and Shoe, and his phone held up to his face. Took you long **a-ha-HEM**....I mean, took you long enough!

“Donovan” slowly brings his phone down. Lux looks at both of them nervously. Okay, let's not do anything rash. Uncle Orsik, what's this all about?

What's this all about? Oh, I'll tell you what this is all about! Orsik reaches down to the hems of the garbage bag covering his torso, and he clumsily pulls it up and over his head. With the bag gone, and a bit of XWF promo magic, we now see that sitting in his place is none other than....



**COLLECTIVE GASP!**

GORDON SHUMWAY! I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN!

Alf continues waggling the laser pistol wildly at everyone in the car as he speaks. Yeah, bitch, that's right! It's me! “Donovan”, you and Donovan Prime and all the rest of your clones have ignored my calls, tweets, carrier pigeons, and interspace transmissions all these years! And all this time you've all been treating me so cruelly, all I wanted to do was tell you THAT I LOVE YOU! “Donovan”....


…..I'm your mom.

**BIGGER COLLECTIVE GASP!!**

That's not possible!

Oh, but it is! You never found all that course brown hair in your nether regions unusual? Or that massive snout you had cosmetically corrected but didn't want anyone to know about? Or that strange hunger for cats? Where do you think those traits came from, that crazy woman you had locked in the nut house? No, they came from me! YOUR REAL MOTHER!

NOOOOOO! “Donovan” screams in anguish.

YES! And now, I'm here to KILL you for all those years of pain you caused me. A mother's love cannot be ignored!

Lux holds up her hands. WAIT! STOP! Everyone calm down. Gordon, look, I of all people understand just how damaging unrequited love can be. It hurts, it's a hurt that never quite goes away. And no, maybe your relationship with the Donovan's will never quite be everything that you want, but that doesn't mean it has to be nothing. And something is always better than nothing, especially when it comes to people you truly care about.

Gordon's gun dips a bit, and his snout scrunches in consternation. I guess that makes some sense.

“Donovan” jumps in. It makes a lot of sense! And now that I see how bad we've hurt you, it really puts things in perspective. I think maybe we can all try to do better, to BE better, to each other. I'm willing to try.

A tear trickles down Gordon's muppet face. I'm willing to try too....son.

“Donovan” turns towards the back seat and opens his arms. Gordon leaps into those arms, and they share a deep profound hug.

Lux dabs at a tear of her own with a tissue. Still better than anything the real Donovan Blackwater will put out.


LATER...

Lux is still in the car, but everyone else has long departed. She adjusts the rear view mirror and sees Corey sitting in the back seat. So it was pretty good, right? Pretty funny? Engy helped a lot, and you were a big inspiration too.

Corey, who looks a tad healthier than he did before, gives a sort of non-committal shrug. It was okay.

I'll take it. Lux smiles. I was really worried about you, Corey. I'm glad you're still with me. We'll get through this. Your life will go on. It's YOUR body after all. Then, Lux's smile turns wry. And besides, can you imagine how devastated Thaddeus Duke would be if something happened to you?

Corey grins a bit, but tries to conceal it by bringing his knees up to hide his face.

Seriously? That's what gets me the smile?! Lux pretends to look exasperated.

I suppose..... Corey's projection vanishes into the fabric of the back seat. Lux's eyes linger on where he was for a moment before she addresses us again.

Well Donovan, I hope you enjoyed the show. Maybe it'll soften the blow of your pending loss of the title you “maybe sometimes want, but not between the hours of 5 and 11, and not on days ending in “y”

I mean, who honestly knows if you actually want the thing at this point. And luckily for us, it doesn't matter. Your dithering is about to come to an end, and your reign has 24 hours and some change left in it. Maybe it'll take you experiencing a title drought after this to realize just how good you had it. Like most narcissists, your hindsight is 20/20 but your foresight is more on the level with Mr. Magoo.

Savage will have a champion going forward that it can be proud of. And I'm going to do my damndest to make this division the one to watch. Because you see Donovan, Savage isn't a shackle. It's home base. It's the launch pad for some of the most innovative and exciting talent the XWF has to offer. It's a shame you were too far up your own ass to see that.

Now where did my supporting cast get off to?

ELSEWHERE...

At a local bar, the patrons have formed a ring around an interesting sight. Engy is holding a beer funnel above HELPER'S head, while Andrew Scott and Alf pin the poor helpless robot to the bar top. Shoe, well, just sits there.

CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG! Engy starts a chant as beer starts to flow down the funnel.

I'M NOT MEANT TO CONSUME LIQUIDS! HELPER shrieks piteously as the scene fades to sweet merciful black.