"Loverboy" Vinnie Lane stands in front of a chain link fence backdrop with an XWF logo placard across the top.

As he grins into the camera with the HART Championship and Federweight Championship belts over his shoulders, he lifts a fingerless-gloved hand and pulls his aviator shades down his nose, peering over them as his sky blue eyes, along with his platinum blond hair and bright pink bandanna, pierce the dark ambiance of the backdrop and his black leather apparel.

With a stilted laugh, he regards the camera.

"As if there was ever any doubt that your girlfriend's favorite wrestler, the rock n' roll megastar, the guy the girls come to see and the men want to be, was the epitome of greatness in the XWF... look at this.

Six weeks. I've been the Federweight Champion, a belt that is supposed to be jumping around like a cat in a rocking chair factory, for a month and a half. Shane and John Madison might as well put my name on the belt permanently, dudes, because I'm not going anywhere or letting go of this thing anytime soon - not unless the talent around here drastically improves, anyway.

I've sent All of you packing. Mini Morbid. Calypso. Scully. TJ Wallace. Tommy Wish. Even the guy I'm going to shut down tomorrow night on Madness, Muddy Waters, got sent running with his tail between his legs when he tried to step up.

I mean... my god... even the undefeatable Doctor Louis D'Ville couldn't get this title off of my waist, dude.

So who's going to bother trying?

Yeah... that's what I thought.

Pussies."

Loverboy then slowly gets down onto the bare concrete floor, his vinyl pants squeaking as he bends his legs. He then fully lies down on the ground and looks back into the camera.

"See, apparently, I was right about the wannabes in the XWF all along... no one here can hang with the megastar. So if I want a challenge, I have to just be like Peter Gilmour and spend my time just beating myself. So here goes."

Loverboy reaches across to his legs and grabs the back of his own thigh, pulling his legs over himself and 'pinning' his shoulders to the ground.

An extremely confused referee shrugs, but drops to the floor when Loverboy shoots him an angry look.


1.........





2.....

Joel takes a picture of the pinned Loverboy, then he uploads it to TMZ. Then he speaks to the man.

Keep on beLIEving that you are an unstoppable force within this Division, Buddy. I hope you learn that you will end up losing that unpinniable hymen of yours as we speak, but I think you should worry about a bunch of paps waiting at the chain length fence to enter and take a bunch of pictures of your own fagetory side of yourself.

Then he opens the fence and swarm of paps are taking pics left and right, and he speaks again.

How does it feel like to have these people take this suggestive photos of yourself to the public, you maybe on top on the world of XWF, but now you are going to be humiliated as Bruce Jenner turning into a tranny. The only reason why those men you listed who never even had a chance to capture this belt, was simply cuz they had no nerve to expliot the fact that you are huge self loathing jack ass who THINKS the world needs to be spun around a three sixty to your knees. Well I hope you enjoy the paps taking pictures of you pinning yourself, jackass.

Joel leaves the area, but comes back when the paps left, and we see Vinny still pinning himself.

Well, since you claimed you want to beat yourself into a pinning predicament, then I will do this shit to you. Better hope you just lay down their like Maria and not even move or else I will beat that face into a dirt, or we can beat one up until we can't stand, Loverboy. Your time will come into a end of even having this championship, you are not going to raYne the Federweight Belt!

Joel stomps a mud hole on his guts, then finally pins him with his foot on his gut, and the ref quickly does a count.

1...

2...

Loverboy yawns and wakes up from his four day long nap, then sees Joel snoring on top of him and kicks out with authority!

Joel what the fuck are you doing, dude? You're words are so incoherent you put me into a dreamlike trance and I nearly slipped into a coma... or... wait a minute... did you roofie me, dude?? Are you trying to get your little worthless boner into my butthole and become Insider Joel???

Fat chance, man. My asshole is hermetically sealed and has an airlock. No way a shit-for-brains wannabe like you is even getting a finger into MY pooper. Freak.

I don't... I don't really even know what you might be talking about half the time, man. The world went around in a 360? So it's right where it was before? Just like every day? That's how planets work, man. Jesus.

As for a bunch of paps at the fence... I'm used to the paparazzi, dude, they don't bother me anymore. When you're as famous as me, they're as much a part of life as eating and shitting - or for you, like delousing shampoo and rash cream.

Seriously, Joel. You're less important than Tommy Wish, what makes you think you have any business in the same room as me, man? You're less significant than the pubic lice on your tiny nutsack. At least they make you itch, you know? All you do is make me roll my eyes and carry on with my day wishing the United States took better care of the mentally handicapped.

By the way, a quick search of TMZ's Twitter reveals your upload of me already has 3,000 retweets and over a hundred favorites. That beats your second most-favorited tweet - the one where you promised you were going to kill yourself - by at least 50. So, just like everyone else in the XWF, you're clinging to the megastar to keep yourself relevant.

Seriously, you're all on my dick so much I'm about to cum. Good thing I've got old mop top Joel here to happily lap up any seed that spills onto the floor. Looks like you're good for something after all, Joel!

Oh, and to answer that tweet I mentioned a minute ago... you can't suffocate yourself with a paper bag, . Use one of those plastic ones you get from the pharmacy when it's your time of the month. That ought to do the trick.

That was free advice by the way, dude, no charge this time!

Later!

Loverboy walks away whistling.