((“Loverboy” Vinnie Lane is sitting in the bathtub of his posh hotel bathroom in Liverpool, England. Piles of fluffy, white bubbles gather around him in glistening peaks and valleys. As he sloshes away happily in his bubble bath, Loverboy also fiddles with his smart phone, holding it up over the surface of the water like Rafiki holding Simba out for the world to see. Reaching over to the bottle of whisky he has sitting on the nearby toilet, Loverboy calls to the other room.))

Roxy! Dude! Get in here!

((Almost immediately Roxy Cotton appears in the doorway to the bathroom, wearing a tiny satin bathrobe.))

Yeah babe?

You’re never gonna believe the kinda crap Theo is up to, man. I can’t get enough of it.

What do you mean?

Dude, like, the way me, Pete and Morbid have been trashing them all week, staying focused, concentrating on the match we have coming up, you’d think they’d learn.

It’s not another fat suit is it?

What? Fuck no, you think John Samuels kept that tented piece of shit out of the costume shop longer than he had to? That broke jew’s wallet is tighter than a nun’s asshole, and about HALF as likely to have anything worthwhile in it.

Ooooh, that reminds me, I want to do it in a one of those really old churches while we’re over here! Like Notre Dame!

Roxy, Notre Dame is in Indiana, come on. Even I know that and I spent all of geography class banging the third string cheerleader from my study group.

Third string? Yuck.

Yeah, well, the varsity squad was busy. But listen, dude, first, Theo’s been sent off to Russia or Transylvania or wherever to go on some CIA mission, like he’s Dennis Rodman acting as the ambassador to North Korea or some shit.

That doesn’t make a lot of sense… why send a pro wrestler on a secret agent mission?

Yeah, exactly, unless you’re just sending him over there to die, right? So, that’s all good and everything, he can go over there, get tortured to death by some Bond villain wannabe, and hen the Universal Title can be vacated for yours truly to snatch up. You ever fucked a World Champion, baby?

Ummm….

Don’t answer that. So anyway, around this time that Theo is supposedly some sort of secret agent man big shot up in Langley, that’s when Samuels was doing the shit with the suit, you know? And eventually Madison piped up crying like Griffin MacAlister’s mother when she finally got to see what her son had grown up to be like last night on Madness. You know, a loser. Anyway, Maddy begged Gilly to let him gargle his balls for a little while, and all of a sudden – BAM! All three of them are in Mexico to see a donkey show!

Like a road trip?

I guess, I don’t fuckin’ know. They did some Mexico-like things and ran around down there like they were the god damn A-Team trying to rescue - AW SHIT!

((Loverboy, who had been attempting to reach the back of his neck with a bar of soap, watches with chagrin as the soap bar squirts out of his wet hand and plops into the soapy water between his knees.))

Can you believe that shit? I dropped the soap! Good thing Theo’s not here right now, huh? He’d be expecting me to mimic Samuels’ version of the Ed Norton pose from American History X. They REALLY like that movie.

Everyone likes that movie, babe. The acting was great, and it was full of intense drama!

That’s not why Madison and them like it, baby, they just like seeing little black kids’ heads get splattered on a sidewalk. They’re racist as fuck around here, haven’t you noticed? Hell even Swagmire hates blacks, and he is one. Talk about self-loathing. BUT I –

Baby, don’t…

DIGRESS… could you reach in there and grab that soap for me?

((Roxy purses her lips in a playful smirk, then slides the purple sleeve of her robe up over her elbow and reaches her arm into the frothy, warm water, searching around the tub for Loverboy’s soap.))

Oh, I think I got it…

((Loverboy’s eyes roll back in his head as he laughs.))

That is definitely not the soap baby, but don’t stop what you’re doing now.

Oh, Vinnie! I’ve got to finish painting my toenails… you know I hate when they start to chip! Here…

((Finally, Roxy fishes the bar of soap out from the abyss of bubbles and water between Loverboy’s thighs. She hands it to him and kisses him on the cheek, leaving a perfect set of lipstick lips on his skin, then stands and starts to leave the room.))

I’ll come back when my toes are all dry, baby. We can play then.

But I’ll be all wrinkly and pruny! My whole body will look like Theo’s shriveled ball sack!

Oh it’ll only be a minute you big baby…

((Roxy blows Loverboy a kiss and leaves him alone in the bathroom. Sulking, Loverboy grabs at the liquor bottle again. This time, though, as he leans his head back for a sip, the bottle slips from his moist palm much in the same way the bar of soap did previously. The bottle arcs upward into the air, then crashes down onto Loverboy’s forehead with a hollow thud. As his eyes go blank and he starts to slide down under the water, Loverboy thinks to himself:))

I’ve got to stop dying in bathtubs…

((In his unconscious state, Loverboy begins to dream… ))

"In 2012 a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn't commit.

These men promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underground.

Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune.

If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire

…the B-Team."

As the team runs out from their impenetrable bunker somewhere in Tijuana or Chihuahua or wherever the fuck dumbass Americans go when they want to act like bad asses, they head straight for… their battle van!!1!one!1


Get in the van, suckas! I ain’t never gonna fly in no plane, fools!

Look out Mr. S! There’s a bunch of random drug lords or something on that hill! Since you’re the black guy, you go deal with it while I stand here and try to look pretty.

Great job, Pryceman! Now get over here and suckle on my member like a newly birthed foal.

((Dream sequence Theo does exactly as he is told, and for about five uncomfortable minutes, the entire scene is just him on his knees, swallowing both inches of Shane ’s thimble-cock. Shane strokes his hair lovingly the whole time. Eventually, the entire team starts to notice that water is filling up everywhere around them as if they were in a gigantic aquarium.))

Holy crap! We’re drowning!

It tastes like bath water! And lavender!

Glub! Glub!

That’s not water you’re choking on, boy…

Everything BLACKS OUT!

VINNIE!!!

((Loverboy is suddenly awake, feeling the familiar press of Roxy’s lips against his… but then the swell of fluid rushing up his trachea.))

BLAARP!

((Loverboy spits out a pint or two of bathwater, then goes into a coughing fit while Roxy slaps him on the back while he’s draped over the wall of the tub. Puddles are everywhere along the bathroom floor, and Roxy’s satin robe is soaked.))

Baby, are you okay? What happened?

Dude… the three kings…

What? You aren’t going to try and tell me those fags broke in and tried to drown you are you?

No… they… they…

What Vinnie? Spit it out!

They have… the SWEETEST fucking van!

Oh Vinnie… you must have brain damage or something… you sound like a . Like if someone taught a monkey to speak English. Or like Samuels.

Baby… Let’s make a friendly bet.

A bet? On what? Not the match! You know I believe in you and think you’re going to win!

No, fuck no, not the match, of course I’m going to clean house against those three queers. They have the wrestling ability AND personality of a colostomy bag. What I want to bet is this. If you can make me cum before I can make you cum, YOU get to cut the trash talk part of this promo I need to send in later!

You must be joking, right?

What? Hell no! I’m a cocksmith and you know it! I’ll knock the little man out of your boat so fast he won’t know which way is up! You accept or not?

Um… ok… if you insist.

((Roxy stands and slides out of her sodden satin robe, her tan skin gleaming from the wetness. She steps into the tub slowly and her lips spread wide in a devilish grin.))

Ah, shit.




So, hi fellas.

You might have seen me sauntering to and from Loverboy’s locker room from time to time. You’ve probably also seen me every night right after you close your eyes and start yanking on your little worthless peckers.

I’m Roxy.

Vinnie asked me to do this trash segment for him because he’s fucking bored with it. Seriously. You should see the guy, every day he watches you three trip over your dicks trying to make him scared of you, and he’s just laughing all the way to the bank, in between bouts of fucking a woman hot enough to melt the Viagra pills in your pockets. Doesn’t it ever occur to you three clowns that while you’re down in Mexico paying Tito to let you bang his fat sister, “Loverboy” Vinnie Lane is living a life of luxury and getting to do anything… and everything… he wants, with me?

Look at me, boys. I make money just looking the way I do. I have people send me money in return for sending them lollipops that taste like my pussy. If I turn on my webcam and shake my tits for ten minutes, I make three hundred dollars. That’s probably faster than you can even dig your floppy cocks out of your dirty yellow briefs to squeeze out a prostate-restricted piss after another night of falling asleep fully clothed and alone.

People pay me to pretend to fuck them, and Loverboy ACTUALLY fucks me. For free. Do you see? That’s the difference between him and you guys. He’s a winner. He’s got the girl, he’s got the gold, and he’s got the two best partners he could ask for. You guys don’t have shit except memories and, in the case of you, Theo, a belt that you’re going to lose before you even get it resized to fit your 24 inch waist.

The three of you don’t even actually give a shit about each other, from what I can see. Each one of you just want to prove something to the world – well, sugar, unfortunately the only thing the three of you are going to prove tomorrow night is that you should have stayed retired.

This isn’t really my strong suit, fellas, I’m usually the nice girl who comes along and tells you it’s all going to be alright after you fall and skin your knee… but it’s not going to be alright this time. You’re walking into a disaster. You’re tainting your legacy. A whole new generation of XWF stars is going to see the three of you knocked back and forth like John Samuels being Eiffel Tower’d between two big dicked Zulus.

You should have thought this through better, boys.

But don’t worry… you’ll always have Mexico.

XOXOX