:Lesnar: Somebody doesn't pay attention-

Sebastian and Crimson both glance over to where that voice came from; the voice of THE 24/7 FTW UFO E1999 Champion himself.

:Lesnar: I love the fact that Crimson Deadly accused two other men of humping backstage when if he had been paying any attention at all instead of fantasizing about men humping, he'd know who the true champion is around here.

*!*crack*!* Brock Lesnar had a metal baseball bat hidden behind his back the entire time! He just sent Crimson's own crimson blood spurting out of his FACE and all over Duke's broken body.

:Lesnar: And I just adore how Duke here was still too dazed and battered after my assault on him to even inform Crimson that he doesn't hold this any longer- producing the 24/7 belt by unhooking it from around his own waist.

Duke's glazed over eyes can barely focus on the belt as Brock dangles it in front of his face, but then-































smashes it into the face of the oblivious, ignorant, slightly homosexual looking Crimson Dong wannabe; further opening up the already gaping wound on Crimson's face! Crimson Deadly smashes back into the wall behind him from the force of that shot and gently slides down into a crumpled mess like a slinky -- a bloody slinky, and we all know how nasty those are, right?

RIGHT?

:Lesnar: I'll give you a big hint as to who you should have been trying to pin, and why everything you just tried is completely useless and pointless now.

He's doing it! Brock easily plucks Crimson Deadly up from the ground like a fresh daisy and throws him up into the air, catching him across his shoulders. Sebastian Duke starts trying to get up -- but instead all we see is the F-5 that sends Crimson Deadly's bloody body down into Sebastian Duke's fragile, broken shell.

Brock picks his title back up, spits on Crimson Deadly and Sebastian Duke, and then forgets to laugh. If only these men knew how to put up a real fight this might have actually been amusing. Instead? It was simply pathetic and a waste of the champ's time. No kickout even necessary here; that's all, folks.