Poof.

Purple and gray smoke blow away, Father Slathe and I appear from the shadows. I am in a haji squat position with my neck shackled to a tow chain that rests over Father Slathe's right shoulder and grasped by his right hand. His old redwood walking cane in his left hand he is smiling, my eyes stare at the ground. Even more now so after losing my shot for the Hart Championship a third time. Father Slathe treats me like a feral dog, can't say I blame him. The discipline and skill he has taught me. Hasn't stained my soul yet. Father Slathe takes a few steps forward. I follow on all fours like an ape. He then stops slamming his walking stick into the ground and resting my chain through it like a post and chain.

Father Slathe: "Well well, look what we have here some good old fashioned dick dogs? So who's throwing the party and why weren't we invited? Just teasing. My pet and I were just on a little shadow stroll and well I sensed a little fun in this area right here. So what are we getting into Gentleman?"