[We fade in on the duo and Chris' mother in front of the Aegis Treatment Rehabilitation Center in Fresno, California. Chris' mother is seen trying to fight out of both of their clutches on her, but they're holding her arms much too tightly for her to run off. Dustin and Chris appear to be exhausted after driving for five hours with her. This might be either due to her never shutting the fuck up during the trip or how she might've caused problems that weren't filmed on the camcorder.]
Mom: Let go of me, you motherfuckers!
Christopher: Not until we get inside the building, mom!
Dustin: I'll have you know, I never fucked my mother once in my life, chick.
[Chris glares at his friend for saying that. Dustin looks back at him, apparently unaware that what he said was bad.]
Dustin: What?
Christopher: It's times like these when I'm surprised you're not the one in rehab.
Mom: Where did ya take me, ya shitheads? Rehab! No! I ain't goin' ta rehab!
Christopher: We can and we already have. I already made that choice for you, mom, and it's about fucking time you did, too.
Mom: Ya can't handle me anymore, ya pussy?
Christopher: I've handled you for ten fucking years! You want to know something, mom? I helped you for five years because I had no one else to go to and another five because you were family. That's me being kind! If you were anyone else and you hit me over the head with a bottle, your ass would've been on the fucking curb begging for scraps! Just be thankful I didn't do it sooner!
[They are almost at the main building by the time Christopher finishes his tirade. Chris' mother tries to pull away from the both of them one last time. She manages to force Chris to release his grip on her for a brief moment before he manages to grab her arm again, only tighter this time.]
Dustin: Did you just try to run away, dude? Chris knocked you out with one punch before, I'm sure he'll have no problem doing it again.
[Chris' mother looks over to her son. He has a look on his face that basically says, 'he's right'. She then has a brief moment of clarity and calms herself down a little and lets the both of them lead her inside without another fight. This leads to a scene transition after they enter the vicinity.]
[We now see the trio sitting in a very dull looking room. The only source of life can be seen with the plant in the far right hand corner and the painting of a very unassuming landscape on the left. Chris is seen looking up at the ceiling while Dustin keeps a close eye on the sleeping woman, making sure she doesn't wake up and suddenly try to kill everyone. Just then, two knocks can be heard on the door as Chris and Dustin turn their attention towards it. Without any invitation to enter, a nurse enters the room and makes her way towards a burgundy desk square in the center of it.]
Nurse: Hello, you three, I'm Randall Martin, and I'll be filling out an application sheet for whoever might be staying with us. Which one of you might that be, exactly?
[Chris and Dustin bob their heads towards the only woman in the room.]
Randall: I see. What is her name?
Christopher: Patricia Lloyd-Isles
Randall: Date of Birth?
Christopher: March 30th, 1962
Randall: And what exactly is she suffering from?
Christopher: Not being able to put down the bottle.
Randall: Alcoholism?
Dustin: Basically.
Randall: For how long?
Christopher: Ten years.
[The nurse stops typing and looks over at Chris, looking stunned after hearing that he didn't take his mother into rehab sooner.]
Randall: And why did it take you ten years, exactly?
Christopher: For one, I didn't have a mode of transportation. That, and I was stupid and thought I could help her heal by myself.
Dustin: At least you admit it.
[Randall exhales rather loudly and continues to type everything up on the computer.]
Randall: When was her last drink?
[As if on queue, Dustin opens her mouth and takes a whiff of her breath. Chris and Randall shoot some questioning glances at him as he puts his nose in her mouth. When he pulls it out, he looks over to Randall with a straight face.]
Dustin: Seven hours ago.
Randall: And you know this...how?
Christopher: That's his way of finding out if someone's too drunk to drive.
Dustin: Takes one to know one, ya know brah?
[Randall raises an eyebrow.]
Christopher: Don't worry, he came here before to deal with it after a car accident.
[The nurse doesn't question it and proceeds to keep on typing. We then fade to a completely different scene, leaving the rest of the questions unknown to the viewers.]
Christopher: Well, this feels familiar. I'm in the main event for a shot at the Intercontinental Championship again. Not only that, I also have to fight Robbie Bourbon again. You know, the very same jackass whose nose I outright demolished in that ladder match not too long ago. The only difference this time? He gets to choose what to fight in. So tell me, Dustin, what exactly did he issue to me?
Dustin: Apparently the match he issued to you is a Cutthroat Cutlery match.
Christopher: Okay, I have no idea what the fuck that is, brah. Explain it to me real quick.
Dustin: You and him have to cook three food stuffs for the judges in the XWF. By him, I mean all of his students that will undoubtedly cook they best dish they possibly can.
[Chris has arched his eyebrow rather high after hearing exactly what the match is.]
Christopher: That's probably one of the dumbest things I've ever heard. If it's not the worst, it's up there. Why the hell do I have to cook in order to beat someone's ass? It's like giving money to an old person before mugging them to get it back. It's just unnatural.
Dustin: At least the dishes are simple. I mean, you only have to cook a cheeseburger, some French fries, and a pie.
Christopher: I can get all of those things at a fucking Burger King! Why do I have to make it by myself?
Dustin: For Muay Thai Deathmatch gloves, a barbed wire bat, and a pizza knife or something. The gloves supposedly made out of gravel and glass.
Christopher: He can have those, then. I don't want my grip to be ruined by gloves I can't remove while the match is going on. If he wants me to at least make one, I'll probably burn the hell out of it and piss on the buns. Besides, when he wins all the food shit, I can just take the bat and knife from him when the fucking bell rings.
Dustin: It sounds like he didn't think all of it through, did he?
Christopher: He has the intellect of one of those Scooby Doo villains. Not the ones from the modern show, oh no, I'm talking about the villains from the old show that were so fucking incompetent, they just leave piles of evidence right in the middle of a room. Sure there are some exceptions, but even the ones that were smart enough to hide most of their evidence were insipid enough to get caught in one of the gang's improvised traps.
Dustin: Yeah, I have to agree with you there, dude.
Christopher: Hey, do you have his trash preloaded?
Dustin: Yeah, I have it ready on my phone.
Christopher: Cool. Can ya play it?
Dustin: Sure thing brah.
[Dustin pulls out his phone and hits play, allowing the video to play on his phone. He skips the first half of the video where he talks to two of his students because not much can be made fun of from that.]
Some Failed Hells Kitchen Contestant Said:Well, ain't this just coming up in my favor. The only thing between me and destiny is the shithead that broke my nose after I decided to adhere to some kind of code of honor.
Christopher: Code of honor? When the fuck did you mention that to me, dude? I remember watching all of your videos and not one of them mentioned your bullshit code that you can't seem to follow for one damn minute. Was this during the match and I couldn't hear it because of the rancorous fans and you were on the other side of the fucking ring? Brah, if you told me that you had a code of honor in a no disqualification match, I'd fucking remember that.
Some Balding Guy Said:Heh. Do you ever just look around at the world and realize that sometimes that when things fall in your lap, it's because you've earned it?
Christopher: Like that 20,000 X-Buck bonus and my picture along the likes of our current Universal Champion, Doctor D'Ville, and the Three Kings? Yeah, I've had that feeling before. Hey, give it some time and you'll be on the front page at the start of next year.
The Reason the Cat Cant Has Cheezburger Said:So, how do I exact my revenge? Do you know what an injury is like to someone with a memory like mine? Every time I blow my nose and feel the lump that sits on it now, I think of you.
Christopher: Well that's what ya get for not letting a doctor fix it for ya, brah. Besides, in my backyard wrestling stint, I had to deal with fractured ribs and a fractured shoulder blade. In here, my rotator cuff was torn. Yeah, you have it really hard with your broken nose and remarkable shine on your head. Quit trying to overdramatize your misfortunes and just be happy you still have a shot at fighting the sixteen bit chick. At least for now.
The Human Wrecking Ball Said:See, I reckon a skinny and tight fellow such as yourself doesn't know how to eat quite like I do. Cute picture, by the way,
Dustin: You saved that clip, brah?! I totally forgot about that!
[Chris chuckles at how amusing his friend found that audio clip.]
Christopher: Well I had to whenever someone called my picture something like that, ya know? It just felt like the perfect time to use it.
[Dustin laughs at how well timed that was.]
Christopher: As for why I look the way I do, I don't eat much and the drugs didn't make me look any better. It's amazing what coke does to someone, ain't it, brah? Oh, and the resistant gun fire thing didn't make all that much sense to me, mostly because those didn't sound like words anyone would use when describing themselves. So I take it you're an unchanging gun that still fires old rifle pellets and needs gunpowder to work? Or is your gun made out of grain and it can't be digested? I need to know, brah.
Some Douchebag Said:That's right, Chris! This isn't some sap who's buying into your sob story, of how hard it is to be Christopher Isles, of all the trials and tribulations, and all the drama. Fuck you if you think nobody else has pains, has difficulty, has problems.
Christopher: Hey, Robbie, you know what the word hypocrite means, right dude? Can you tell me why you brought up that Emmy losing speech about you being insulted through Twitter without looking like one? Thought not, but thanks for trying.
Someone Who Doesnt Get How Surprises Work Said:Heh, Chris, you really lost out; you got a grand for trying to disfigure me. I'm going to make millions selling these little guys around the world to fans eager to have a tasty, delicious, home made pizza while watching Wednesday Night Warfare, all because their guy, the one they deserve, and not some sad sack piece of shit chicken dick named Christopher Isles, cut your God damned ear off and threw it into the crowd for someone to have as a souvenir.
Christopher: Are you threatening to murder the current Alpha of the XWF? Shit like that will have your larynx torn out by who knows how many people in the audience. You know, before they give ya a liposuction to remember. Not very nice when your cards are used by the other guy, is it brah? I'm sure it won't be pleasant when I end up pinning the unpinnable. See ya whenever your next video gets uploaded, dude. I bet I won't have to wait too long for that, will I?
The meek are inheriting the Earth, brah. Might was well lose some weight and start looking s scrawny as I do in order to pull that shit off.
[With that, we transition back to the rehabilitation center.]
[Randall is nowhere to be seen in the room as Chris, Dustin, and the mother doing just about nothing. We hear the sounds of Temple Run being played on his Droid. From the looks of things, they've been waiting like this for an hour at most. Suddenly, Chris' phone starts to vibrate in his pocket to break the monotony. Curious as to who it might be, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks at the caller ID. It's an unknown number. Curiosity peaked, he stands up and heads for the room's exit. He leaves his mother asleep and Dustin too preoccupied with his video game to care. After closing the door, he heads into the hallway, where he answers his phone while waiting for the nurse to return.
Christopher: Hello?
[Breathing can be heard coming out of the phone's speaker.]
Christopher: Who is this?
[Again, more breathing can be heard.]
Christopher: Look, either say something or hang up, 'cause I have no time for bastards that eat my minutes.
???: ...Chris?
[Chris quickly falls silent as he realizes just who called him.]
Christopher: ...Alice? Is that you?
[With that, the scene cuts to black.]
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