Ophelia is resting comfortably on a sofa, sipping from a can of Miller, as he watches the past two promos from Star and Trax. He finishes off a large gulp of beer, before setting the can atop his glass table. He flips the TV off, as his cat Gibby hops up onto the couch and snuggles upon McVeigh's lap. Ophelia speaks without gazing into the camera's lens... his eyes set directly before him. His expression is blank as he pets the big, fat orange tabby.

Ophelia: Rebel... what if Riot were you? As in, what if you were in Riot's shoes that night? How would you have responded THEN? Not quite the same, eh? Didn't think so. Just because something IS a certain way? That doesn't mean it should be. WWE can suck a monkey's nipple, as Dwayne Johnson used to say before the PG era cut his and Austin's vocabularies in half. But the fact remains that... well, allow me to put it this way; there was once a fed that knew how to do Extreme the right way. XWF is no ECW. CZW? Maybe. But that's most certainly not a compliment. ECW had taste, ECW knew how to tell a story without gratuitous, unwarranted sexual overload. They knew how to put together a five-star classic without C4 or cacti or dildos. In short? The XWF of today is a joke. And the two of you are its punchline.

Ophelia: Bring on Frodo. The more he sticks his nose in my business, the more fire he adds to the furnace. I didn't cry the first two times I've lost here because each loss is a lesson. A lesson in tuning up my gears so that the next time I step between the ropes, I'm more prepared than the last time. Some people, like say, Tommy Gunn, would probably pack their bags and claim they WANTED to lose when they knew their number was up. But that just isn't the way I operate. I don't cry, I don't complain, I don't make up excuses. I fight. I adapt. I overcome. And in the end, when it counts? I win. And when I begin to win, I shall learn from that as well... how to keep that momentum flowing. And believe me... I will.

As he says these last two words, Ophelia turns his eyes toward the camera, his cat fallen asleep and softly purring.

Ophelia: The two of you seem to misunderstand my point. We're all sinners, and if you think I live my life in the slow lane, if you think I fly right and live by the code of the politically correct, then you just aren't paying attention. We all should strive to be what we aim for instead of what we are today. A writer by the name of Jennifer Stone once said; "Why do we settle for mediocrity when greatness is right there underneath"? Vice. Again, my friends, vice is the key. For it is only in freedom from the shackles of #normalocracy that we can find the Truth. Live and love to excess. Because if you don't experience all that the world has to offer, you will be forever confined to a tiny box, four walls, and no escape.

Ophelia: My point, in laymen's terms? Death is inevitable. Live for the moment... but never, EVER, take one for granted. Don't waste the moments of your life with petty things such as arguing with a couple of brain-dead nimrods such as yourselves because it's a go-nowhere endeavor. So, I'm done for now. Till the two of you realize the reality of my approach, I'll leave you to ponder over my words, to heed them... or to discard them with the wind. I know what to expect.

"Prove me wrong."

With this, Ophelia and the cat take a nap, readying for Alice to come home with dinner; Stuffed crust pepperoni pizza... her favorite.

~fade~