[PLAY]

Dustin: Here we are at our local Wal-Mart. I sent Christopher inside about half an hour ago, so I'm about to search the entire store to find him and see what he picked out for us.

[Dustin is pointing the camera through the multiple, seemingly endless amount of aisles that the store has to offer, trying to see if either he or the camera can pick up footage of him as he passes each and every one. So far, he's having no luck.]

Dustin: I swear, if he's at the baseball bats, I'm going to grab one from the shelf and knock him in the head with it. He has like ten of them stuffed in his closet that he never uses.

[Suddenly, Dustin stops moving.]

Dustin: In fact, that's probably where that motherfucker is right now.

[He then breaks into a full on jog towards the sports section to find his friend. We can hear the air resistance blowing into the camera's microphone as he runs towards the baseball bats, having a hunch that Chris just might be there. It takes about ten or so seconds for him to get there, but when he does, he doesn't see his buddy anywhere. He thought for sure his friend would be here, but he's nowhere in sight. Having ran all the way here for nothing, he turns around and prepares to walk around the store a little more. Before he can, however, Christopher is right in front of his face.]

Christopher: BOO!

[Dustin jumps into the air like a scared little pussy cat while Chris proceeds to laugh amazingly loud. Not exactly happy about getting scared by such a simple prank, Dustin responds by trying to punch Chris in his mouth, which he shoves aside surprisingly easy.]

Christopher: Every freakin' time, dude. Every freakin' time.

Dustin: I'll get you back for that shit one of these days.

Christopher: I still won't jump as high as you, though.

Dustin: Shut your ass up, brah.

[Chris is still laughing as we come to the first jump-cut of the video.]

---

---

---

---

Dustin: Okay, I've calmed down a bit and we overheard some people asking if Chris was alright after that stupid joke he pulled.

Christopher: You can't call it stupid if it worked, dude.

Dustin: You gonna keep that mouth shut until we purchase these or what?

[Chris throws both hands into the air and lays off him for a little bit. This gets Dustin to scoff at him, as if he came out of that situation the better man. He then reaches into the cart and pulls out the first item.]

Dustin: The first thing that I saw on top of the cart was a cookie sheet. Why the fuck do we need a cookie sheet, brah? Your grandma coming over or something and you want to make cookies for her?

Christopher: No way she's going to come over while I live with my mother, brah. You know she doesn't like to see her daughter drunk as hell all the damn time.

[There is a brief moment of silence.]

Christopher: Besides, it makes a great sound when it hits someone. Go ahead and give it a punch.

[Not one to pass up an opportunity, Dustin holds the sheet in both and smacks himself in the head with it. A very loud bang echoes throughout the building, making many people turn their heads in the duo's general direction and wonder what in the fuck made that noise. Chris is trying to contain his laughter after watching his friend hit himself that hard.]

Christopher: I said punch it, not headbutt it! You trying to get us in trouble, brah?

Dustin: You were going to do it anyways, so I thought I might as well do the honors.

[Chris cools down and motions for Dustin to pick out the next item from the cart. Dustin grabs the next item he sees, which has a handle on it, and pulls it out.]

Dustin: You got a frying pan, too? Are you planning on bringing the kitchen sink in next?

Christopher: Nah, I'm just grabbing what I think could work as a weapon. And I know that cookie sheets and frying pans can fucking hurt if you swing hard enough dude. Go ahead and pull out some other weapons from the cart and let's see what I plan on using.

[Dustin rummages through the cart and pulls out a variety of 'weapons' and briefly shows them off to the camera. Such objects include some plastic chairs, not yet assembled billiard sticks, small flower pots, some florescent light tubes, and who knows what other kind of messed up shit Chris managed to grab off the shelves.]

Dustin: Damn, dude. With weapons like these, I might think you were taking this seriously or something.

[Chris remains silent as Dustin continues chuckling to himself for a little while longer. After turning to his buddy for a second time and seeing his expressionless face, he realizes that our center of attention isn't joking.]

Dustin: Seriously brah? You really want to make a career doing this shit? I mean, I understand wanting to do this for fun, but as an actual career? Think about this, dude.

Christopher: I have and I already decided that I wanted to. I don't want to stay at home just listening to my mother bitch me and her ex husband out while downing bottles all the damn time. I want to make this more than a hobby. I want to get out of the house and stay the fuck away from her.

[Dustin, understanding where he's coming from, says nothing and goes back to rummaging through the cart.]

Dustin: Gotta say it, brah, I'm impressed.

Christopher: 'Bout what, brah? Wanting to get out of the house?

Dustin: No, that's just admirable. I'm impressed that there's no baseball bat in sight. Y'know, I thought for sure that you would've grabbed one while I was looking through your shit, but there's not a single baseball related item in this cart. I know it must've been killer for you, right Christopher?

[Absolute silence creeps in.]

Dustin: ...Christopher?

[Dustin turns his head to the right, where he last saw Chris. Surprise, surprise, he's left. Dustin rolls his eyes in annoyance.]

Dustin: That son of a bitch.

[Dustin proceeds to grab the camera and turn it off, leaving us with a black screen.]

[STOP]

---

---

[REC]

Christopher: I'm on a bit of a hot-streak right now with two victories against two people that no one really knows or cares about. Management decided to up the ante by giving me two more nobodies that no one knows or cares about to even out the odds. Well, that's not true. From what I've heard, Tommy Wish is well known enough to be considered a recognizable face, but the other guy might as well be another random Joe Schmoe they found off the streets and said 'you look like a wrestler, so you're now a wrestler.'

I'd talk about Tommy some more, but I'd like to focus on men that had matches less than a month ago and don't wear guyliner, so let's move on to the Showstopper, or in this case, Show-starter. This man has a pretty face that all the women will love until he gets fucking clobbered and bleeds out. Anything goes in a triple threat, dude, and good looks won't cut it. Do you have the skill? I don't know if beating someone's ass during a match you weren't in counts as skill, but whatever floats your boat, brah.

I mean, you can go ahead and play up the crowd as much as you like while singing some country, folk, whatever acoustic shit seems to be topping the Billboard as of late, but that doesn't really tell me how good of a wrestler you are. I've recorded some matches between me and Dustin years in advance, and if you're willing to watch them, I'll be more than happy to show you whatever fucked up shit you want to see me and him do. Honestly, I think we've done it all.

Dustin: That's not true, we haven't done that Jell-O match you said we were going to do a year ago.

Christopher: That would require us to take our clothes off, and you know no one wants to see our junk red and jiggling in Jell-O.

Dustin: Good point.

[Dustin and Chris chuckle to themselves for barely any reason at all.]

Christopher: Where was I again? Oh yeah, Ryan. Well I haven't got much else to say until he fights in a match without any help. And until that happens, I'm just going to sit here and wait for people to say something and not try to give me a demo of their latest mixtape. I mean, seriously, I know that you're musically gifted, but wrestling isn't a fucking musical. I don't care what South Park tells you, this business is hardly anything like the theatre. That goes to you too, 'eternal jobber', don't fucking rap in your promo if you have the balls to make another. I'll end up shoving that mike so far don your throat, you'll be the new lead singer of Pantera.

See ya whenever the fuck you guys give me something to work with.

[The scene cuts to black.]