“Come on you stupid piece of shit! Work! Come on!”

“We are beginning to regret our retrieval of you. Can you not silence your foul mouth for more than a moment? You are disturbing our concentration.”

“Fuck you, you cinnamon faced oaf! I’ve gotten your ass out of how many jams? The very least you could do is drive this goddamn tin can and let me try to watch TV in peace.”

“You’re not watching anything.”

The camera opens to the inside of the stolen camper. Titan is at the wheel focused on the road while the woman sits at a table in the back, slamming her hand against the side of a small television.

“Well, I’m trying to find out if that that piece of shit pixie fuck had anything else cute to say, but it looks like he tucked his tail in-between his ass cheeks like a little bitch! Fucking fairy, I needed something to listen to while I take a shit and you’re not exactly the most talkative of travel companions, Big Red.”

“We would be more inclined to speak if you were not constantly drowning out the silence with your incessant babbling. Have you not yet met a word that you did not let escape your foul mouth? For as much disdain as you hold for Frodo, you two share similar verbal diarrhea.”

“Oh no the fuck you didn’t! Do NOT compare me to that panty-waist. I may be a lot of things, but I’m no fucking coward. You think a couple of unkind words would shut ME the fuck up!? You’re outside of your goddamn mind. What do you think that sniveling bitch is doing? Probably crying in some rundown roach motel and using a shit-filled, frozen condom to perfect his anal masturbation techniques. Why doesn’t he film that shit? That’d be much more interesting than any of the stupid bullshit he rambles on-and-on about. Or maybe a dark, gritty, introspective look into the life of the useless asswipe that he is. He could call it: Frodo Faggins: Or how I learned to cope with getting my ass kicked by Peter Gilmour. Sounds fancy, right? Now that is something that Frodo could do that wouldn’t bore people half to death.”

“We would not watch such garbage. As far as we are concerned, losing to Peter Gilmour is reason to end one’s life, not document it. Perhaps the small one has finally realized that his new position as XWF’s laughingstock is one that will he will not soon graduate from. He has no absolutely no claims to greatness, despite being here much longer than we. He claims to be annoyed by us in only the small amount of time that we have graced the XWF with our presence, and it is obvious that his reasoning is one of jealousy. In a matter of mere weeks, we have already dethroned a king. We have dismantled a man in a manner that Frodo could never wish to emulate. We have joined with the most powerful mind in the business. Frodo is annoyed because in the two weeks, we have accomplished more than he can ever hope. His disgustingly low amount of potential has been reached, there is no growth left for him. We, however, we have yet to even show what we are capable of.”

Fed up, the woman throws the television out of one of the side windows, prompting Titan to simply shake his head. She groans and begins pacing around the camper.

“This is bullshit! I’m tired of waiting! Can’t you just punch that pedal really fast and speed up time!? I want it to be Monday so bad! I can’t wait to see you smash this little twerp. What kind of excuses do you think he’s gonna make up when you whip his ass? I bet he tries to pull the ol’ ‘my ass was too semen logged to move around at my normal speed,’ card. You should kick him in the stomach! See if you get him to squirt that nasty man juice out of his ass like the world’s most vile Super Soaker. You’re gonna need a fucking bath after this one. I mean, being covered in semen isn’t terrible, trust me, but look at that little fucker--he just looks like he rummages around in garbage cans. I bet he smells like the inside of Barney Green’s old spit cup. And while you’re at it, you need to wash that fucking mask off. I’m not going to keep hanging out with you if that fucking thing gets Frodo stank on it.”

“Perhaps we will not wash it then. Frodo’s unpleasant odor may be minutely better than your constant chatter.”

“Is that your idea of a fucking joke!? You honestly think you’d rather live with the constant nostril-rape from Frodo’s nasty ass musk? You couldn’t go more than an hour without puking. Me? I’m pleasant. I may be a little loud, sure, but hey at least I keep things interesting! Frodo could use one of me, people might actually start giving a shit about those stupid little vignettes showcasing that teeny little weeny of his. I want to rip that nasty fucking thing off!”

The woman, suddenly enraged, begins kicking at the drawers of the kitchenette. She pulls open all the cupboards, spilling their contents out onto the floor. She stops to briefly survey the damage, then picks up a large skillet and begins bashing it against the stove.

“FUCK THAT LITTLE !”

“I just…”

“It’s… I can’t even…”

“FUCK HIM AND HIS STUPID FUCKING FACE!”

“You harbor such rage. Perhaps you would like to face him yourself?”

“Fuck yes I do! But, y’know, it’s your turn and all so I’m just gonna let you sort that one out yourself. But believe you-me, if I didn’t like your big, dumb, ass I would take this match from you in a heartbeat and smash that little fucker into oblivion.”

“We will handle Frodo without aid. He poses absolutely no threat to us, other than the assault on our visual and auditory senses when he graces the cameras to deliver each of his redundant and pointless messages.”

“What?”

“The vision of the midget and the words that come from his mouth… they offend our senses.”

“Oh yeah! And he makes me have to shit. What a fucking prick.”

“Indeed.”

“Speaking of shits, I guess I’m gonna have to do this one solo. Let me know if you hear anything from that dipshit, I could use some verbal laxative.”

“You broke the television.”

“Oh yeah. Well, fuck.”

The camera cuts to the exterior of the camper, zooming away. The television hangs out the window by it’s power chord. The camper heads over a hill and the scene fades to darkness.

1X - GOAT.