Bobby sits at a table, looking forlorn. Fuschia, rockin' space babe, comes and sits at the table.

Hey.

Hi.

What's wrong?

Nothing.

No, something's wrong.

Well, it's my ongoing feud with North Korean War Criminal.

Oh, you mean the goofy guy that gives Mark Flynn any kind of humanity or semblance of relatability?

Yeah.

Well, I mean, hon, that guy and his partner asked where you were for six weeks.

I know!

Well, where was he for six years of your supposed ongoing feud? I mean, you've taken on all comers, including a Universal Championship reign and losing to the Alias for the Uni on a technicality. He's been, well, farting into a bag while listening to a Walk-Man and perpetrating that North Korea is a thread even though now is the time for evil Russians to come back into vogue.

Bobby looks back at Fuschia and smiles. She kisses him.