Robbie Bourbon recently purchased a lovely card for Vinnie Lane at a local Wal-Mart while waiting for Robbie's trial.

YOU WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER THE NAME

We see Robbie and Blue sitting in the same broad hallway next to their attorney.

Geez, hon, how long do we have to wait?

I don't know. I guess the docket was pretty big today, and with the last name O'Leary, I might be a way down the line.

Are you sure you want to give that card to Vinnie? He woke up and said more shit.

Honey, like I said, Vinnie's a little...

He called me out.

Brain damaged. How the fuck did he call you out?

Well, Roxy said I was flat chested.

Robbie reaches out and puts his hand on his girlfriend's left tit and smirks.

Hyep, Vinnie's brain damaged, and so is Roxy...

Blue swats his hand away.

He also said I was drunk off of your alcoholic semen.

I don't drink, Vinnie can't remember that because it happened over two weeks ago but I didn't drink at his birthday either, but if...

Robbie winks at Blue. Not sadistically, like you thought at first.

No. Not now, doofus.

Robbie rolls his eyes and his smirk turns into a smile.

Are you going to let him get away with this?

Robbie turns to Blue, still smiling.

It's his ass in the squared circle at Savage, babe. Megastar, brain damaged, whatever, and I hit a hell of a lot harder than his sparring partner.

Still, I don't like he'd talk about me like that.

Eh, Vinnie wouldn't know a real woman if one took a dump on his head. Look at Roxy Cotton. Roxy isn't a real woman. Roxy is a fabrication of what Vinnie considers an ideal for what a woman should and possibly could be to him. But, if you check the tape again, you'll probably notice bushy tails, and chittering, because Roxy Cotton is 40 squirrels holding a fleshlight and rubber boobs.

I thought that was Maria...

It is. Vinnie and Peter really aren't that different. They both love to wear a ton of pink, have a preference for high rolling life in the sunnier and warmer parts of the country, and when they get pissed, whew boy, it's funny as fuck. Foaming at the mouth, screaming and throwing a tantrum like the kid in Chuck E. Cheese who didn't win any tickets because they were busy in the pit sticking balls in their mouth. Both Maria Brink and Roxy Cotton are 40 squirrels holding a fleshlight and rubber boobs.

In fact, I'm pretty sure Vinnie has sex dreams with squirrels in them. I don't know that I can prove it, my guys are still working on a device that will view people's dreams, but it wouldn't surprise me in the least if Vinnie has sex dreams with squirrels in them.

Roxy also said you hadn't shown your face all week.

40 squirrels said I hadn't shown my face all week.

Well, shit, you know what I fucking mean.

Well, considering Vinnie went night-night from a bonk on the head from some 2-bit thug and shit his pants all week, I'd say I'd had a pretty hefty workload. Feeding the homeless on Warfare, buying him a greeting card, dealing with a purse snatcher...

Wasn't Vinnie at Warfare?

Impossible. He was unconscious from his sparring buddy.

Then who was that I saw on Warfare?

Oh. Vinnie Lane impersonators. Shane hired a bunch of them because we're never really sure the next time Vinnie Lane is going to be unconscious for a lengthy time around the XWF, so to keep up appearances there are a bunch of fake Vinnie Lanes that show up. Did he wrestle?

Nope. Vinnie Lane impersonator.

Wait, maybe you went to a Vinnie Lane impersonator's birthday!

Robbie nod's his head no.

They're kept in barrels and fed potato peelings and aloe vera gel.

He also said he wished to see you fight Dim, but you're...

Pssht. I've been in the ring with Dim twice, came out the victor, and even proved his brains were grape jelly. Brain damaged. Vinnie couldn't remember because it happened months ago.

Blue's eyes go wide as a bailiff opens a door in the broad hallway.

O'Leary?

Robbie, Blue, and the attorney enter the courtroom and approach their table. A prosecutor is standing at the opposite table as a judge sits at his bench and bangs a gavel.

Mr. O'Leary. You're here on charges of corruption, conspiracy, racketeering, murder, sex trafficking...

The judge rifles through a stack of papers as thick as a textbook.

Mr. O'Leary, how do you plead?

Not Guilty, your honor. I have a licence for all that.

Robbie reaches in his back pocket as the attorney plays on her phone. He pulls out a small card and hands it to the bailiff, who in turn hands it to the judge.

This is a legal document stating you have a licence for ultraviolence.

Correct your honor.

Does the prosecution know about this?

The prosecutor approaches the bench, looks at the card, rolls his eyes, and walks back to his table. He clears his throat.

Your honor, the people move to drop all charges and instead see to it that Mr. O'Leary's license is hereby revoked.

The judge bangs his gavel.

I'll allow it. Mr. O'Leary?

Please, call me Bourbon.

Fine, Mr. Bourbon, do you have anything to say about this?

Yes, your honor, I do. That license for ultraviolence was always used for the entertainment and delight of my fellow man, the whole world 'round. I was able to do many extraordinarily violent things to so many people as ratings continued to skyrocket and ticket sales just went higher and higher. Hell, today the XWF has the greatest fan base it's ever had in history thanks to performers like myself, Frodo Smackins, and a bevy of others who perpetrate malice and grief on others for the sheer sake of putting a smile on the face of the home viewing audience.

Uh huh. Does the prosecution have anything to say about this?

Yes, your honor. The people ask that Mr. Bourbon demonstrate the usefulness of his ultraviolence in the courtroom.

The people in the court start to murmur to one another as the judge bangs the gavel.

Order! Order!

Mr. Bourbon, will you do as the prosecution requests?

Sure, you betcha.

Robbie turns to those in attendance.

Yo, can I get a volunteer?

A girl approaches. She's very skinny, pale, covered in bad tattoos, and seems to be attending to a runny nose that rests below bloodshot eyes caked with too much eyeliner.

Thank you. What's your name, ma'am?

The girl whispers into Robbie's ear.

Helen! That's a good old fashioned...

She nods no and whispers into his ear again.

With a 'Y'?

Yeah. 'H', 'E', 'L', 'Y', 'N'.

Helyn?

Yeah.

Why are you here today?

Drugs.

Ooh, that's really unfortunate. What kind of drugs?

Heroin.

Damn. Well, I hope you get a speedy recovery. Anything...

I'm also here because I put my baby in a dumpster.

Robbie's eyes go wide, as do the eyes of much of the court.

Damn, that's fucked up. Helyn, I'm going to ask you something very important, right now. Can you be honest with me?

She nods yes.

What were your parents on?

Excuse me?

What were your parents on when they misspelled your name?

I don't think they misspelled my name.

I know they misspelled your name. It's 'H' 'E' 'L' 'E' 'N'. Not with a 'Y'. Are you a stripper?

Actually, yeah.

With a 'Y', your honor. May I continue my examination, your honor?

I'll allow it.

Now, Helyn, why did they misspell your name?

They said it was so I could be special, and stand apart.

Helyn, let me clue you in on something.

How your name is spelled means fuck all. Your parents are if they think spelling your name goofy is going to build character or make you special. Shit.

My name is Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon. And you'll always remember that name. Heh, whether you like it or not.

See, Robbie, or Robert, is pretty common. Nothing outstanding or special about it. I'm willing to bet everybody in this courtroom right now knows a Bob, a Bobby, a Rob, a Robbie, or a Robert. There are even plenty of famous people named Robert, besides me of course.

And Bourbon, shit, that's so common it's served everywhere, from sports bars, to dive bars, to hotel bars, to stadiums, to restaurants; everywhere.

You know what makes my name so special? Me. What I do. What I've done. How I do it. It was a year ago that I showed up in the XWF, told everybody they were assholes, and that they would always remember the name of Robbie Bourbon.

Now the Universal/CCWF/IWGP Champion AND owner of the XWF is calling me out for a match. That is high profile. That is brand building. That is accomplishment.

Not having a fucking 'Y' in your name.

And not throwing your kid in a dumpster.

Robbie grabs the junkie's face and begins to bash her skull against the floor of the courtroom. After three solid whacks, he shucks the top of the skull and pulls out the brain and gobbles it down in front of everyone. The judge begins to bang his gavel again.

Order! Order!

Does the jury have anything to say?

"We do, your honor."

Wow, that was fast.

You work fast, honey...

The jury of six congregate for a moment and come to an agreement.

"Your honor, we the people find that Robbie Bourbon is hereby to have his license for ultraviolence revoked or he be kept in confinement indefinitely for the safety and health of others."

Robbie furrows his brow. The judge looks at him.

Well, Mr. Bourbon, the people have decided. Either you cease and desist from your ultraviolent ways and leave the XWF, or continue to fight from prison.

Robbie looks befuddled, like he doesn't know what to do. Blue walks up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

Honey, I know...

Take the license.

The courtroom murmurs again as the judge bangs his gavel.

Mr. Bourbon, you do realize this means you will no longer be able to compete in the XWF.

Yes, your honor. I'll have to accept my forced retirement from the XWF and instead go to run a successful business and several other philanthropic organizations while maintaining a huge lab intended to create fantastic devices to help me fight crime.

I'll also have my baby.

Robbie puts his arm around Blue's shoulder, and she sinks her forehead into his massive chest.

The judge bangs the gavel.

Well, then the court takes the people's ruling and will revoke your license following your match with Vinnie Lane. And, Mr. Bourbon?

Yes, your honor?

You aren't going to be doing any more of this afterward, do you understand? Make sure you leave it all out there, and if you don't mind my saying, give him hell.

I understood that from day one, your honor.