((Houston, Texas… Monday Madness has been off the air for several hours, and “Loverboy” Vinnie Lane still sits in his locker room, hanging his head and staring at the floor between his feet. He has yet to shower, the sweat and dirt from his grueling match with Doctor Louis D’Ville still evident on his body, as well as some significant bruising. Next to his silver booted feet lies his open duffel bag, replete with the three golden Trios belts sticking halfway out of it. Apparently Loverboy is not feeling in the mood to wear them as he usually does.))

Knock knock knock

((As Loverboy slowly unwraps the tape from his wrists, the door to his locker area opens just enough for the head of Steve Sayors to pop in. Loverboy doesn’t acknowledge him immediately but continues to remove the wrappings from his hands and wrists.))

Sayors: Loverboy? Vinnie?

((Eventually, Loverboy turns his head in the direction of Sayors’ voice. He gives a weak half smile and then turns back to the floor, leaving the unraveled tape hanging from his right wrist.))

Sayors: Hey… Loverboy, listen. I know you’re feeling pretty down right now, but I want to get a few words with you before you leave for Australia. The XWF travel department says you’re booked for an early flight so I doubt we’ll have another chance before show time in Perth.

((Loverboy looks up at Sayors again. He seems uncharacteristically resigned.))

Loverboy: Yeah, Steve. It’s cool, dude, come on in. Take a seat.

((Sayors walks in and closes the door behind him gently, trying not to attract any undue attention from the last of the stragglers from the show earlier in the evening. Steve Sayors walks to the bench where Loverboy is sitting and settles down next to him.))

Sayors: So, Vinnie, let’s get it out of the way. This was the first time you’ve been pinned on XWF television. You had a hell of a match with Doc D’Ville. Last week you took a loss you weren’t directly involved in pretty hard. What are your thoughts right now?

Loverboy: You know… it’s not that bad.

((Sayors looks taken aback by Loverboy’s apparently serene outlook.))

Sayors: Really? I mean, last Monday you threw a hell of a fit after the triple threat with Mosier and Luca.

Loverboy: I did. And you know what, Steve-o? I'm pretty tired of hearing about it, honestly. I let myself get out of control. I lost my cool and I was wrong to do that. That’s not something I say lightly, man, because being all introspective and shit isn’t really my thing, you know? But I screwed up last week, and I screwed up this week too. Honestly, dude, I didn’t deserve to win tonight and Doc D’Ville was simply a good enough competitor that he was able to capitalize on my shortcomings. I’ve got nothing but respect for the guy.

Sayors: That’s a really mature way to look at it, Loverboy. When you say you screwed up, what exactly do you mean?

Loverboy: I’m spreading myself too thin, man, I got a little full of myself and it’s catching up to me. I don’t have to be a rocket surgeon to see that.

Sayors: You do have a lot on your plate.

Loverboy: I wasn’t done, Sayors. I’m spread thin, but that’s what megastars do, man. I came here to give it my all and that’s what I’m doing. I had a chance to main event on Madness and I took it. Pest challenged me for a specific date, and I took that too. I’m not a man who backs away from a challenge, I’m here to prove I deserve the championships I have. I’m no hypocrite, man, and when I say it pisses me off to see part-timers and hangers-on from yesteryear holding down the young guys, I mean it. I’ll put myself in three matches a week to prove it. Look at tonight, man. Me and Doc both weren’t even here three months ago, and we tore the house down.

Sayors: You did have a little help from 1995.

Loverboy: Diesel? Come on man, he’s a puppy. The guy’s harmless, doesn’t even know what’s going on around him. He hindered me more than he did anything to D’Ville.

Sayors: How so, Vinnie? He did some real damage to D’Ville.

Loverboy: Did he? It sure didn’t seem like it to me. That jackknife probably wouldn’t have squashed a butterfly sleeping underneath it. But Diesel’s a good guy, man, I like having him around… it’s nice to have someone watching your back, you know? Especially around here, especially with guys like Pest roaming the hallways.

Sayors: Great segue, Loverboy.

Loverboy: Thanks, man, I took journalism in High School.

Sayors: Nice. Now, speaking of Pest, your highly anticipated match is in two days in Australia. It’s an X-treme Deathmatch, as stipulated by Pest’s… well, what would you describe Peter Gilmour’s relationship to Pest as?

Loverboy: Pest’s Daddy. Pest is a bitch, and that’s not even me throwing shade, man. He’s an actual, contractually-obligated bitch. Why Peter isn’t doing more with that power is beyond me, but Gilly has a lot to deal with too, what with wrestling a third grader this week and all. If Pest were my bitch, the first thing I’d do is get him spayed. I’d make him come to the ring in women’s lingerie and lay down for every curtain jerking scrub out there. Although, honestly, he’s doing a good job of laying down for everyone as it is. The guy has spent the last month just calling me a , man, that’s it, and dropping more names than a phone book deliveryman. Talking about men out of history books like Sid Feder and John Samuels. Who else you want to bring up, Pest? Tri Bute? John Cena’s Friend Tony? You probably know both of them pretty well, right? The dude talks about me being stuck in the past but can’t claim a single thing of worth for himself within the past year. Yeah, I got beat this week, man. Yeah, I got beat by Blizzard and Luca, too. But you know what? Pest leaves out how he couldn’t last five minutes with any of those guys. Blizzard beat him too, remember? Luca would use him for a human toilet, and Doc D’Ville – who hits a hell of a lot harder than I thought he did, by the way – would knock him out in thirty seconds. Who’s Pest beaten? Clean Lucena. That’s it. In a match that will always have an asterisk sitting next to it, for your information. Look, man, I even ran a Google Image Search on his ugly mug. I got two hits outside of the XWF, you wanna see? Here.

((Loverboy pulls his cell phone out of his bag and swipes at the screen, bringing up a screenshot from a recently created dating profile for Perth, Australia.))





Loverboy: You see that? The dude is already trolling for underage buttlove in Australia. The guy is a menace, and a public nuisance. I’m not even making that up, look at the second GIS hit.

((Again, Loverboy swipes at the phone screen, this time showing the result of a sex offender search.))






Loverboy: See? Pest is a child predator. I’m surprised it wasn’t him that challenged Christian Gunn to a match, but, I’m also totally relieved.

Sayors: It certainly doesn’t seem like you have a very high opinion of your opponent. Are you underestimating him?

Loverboy: Under… listen. I’ve been in the ring with Pest. I know what he’s got, and it ain’t much. This match is a tune up. On October 8th I’m going for Guppy Parsh’s “super mega extreme” title or whatever the hell it is, and judging by Gup’s match with Gilmour last week I’m expecting some crazy shit to happen. This deathmatch with Pest is going to get me right in the frame of mind I need to be in. You hear that, Pest? Guppy Parsh is a 5’3 inch, 130 pound middle aged retired pediatrician who thinks he’s fucking BATMAN, and YOU are a warm up for HIM.

Sayors: I’d still take him a little seriously, Loverboy. He claims he’s a former champion, and I’ve seen some of the damage he can do firsthand.

Loverboy: Right, yeah, all the church business. I saw that whole shtick. Some big production all to call me gay again. Good one. The guy calls me gay over and over again, man, but he’s the one who can’t stop talking about my dick. He’s got my dick on his tongue more often than Roxy does, dude, and that’s a world record level of cock sucking. Someone needs to get Guinness on the phone, stat. Let me make something crystal clear here, Sayors. I’m going to break Pest’s face, and then I’ll make his dreams come true and whip out the Senator for him. I’ll stand over him and work up a good, chunky load for him and toss so much of it on his face he’ll be able to peel off a mask. The dude is gonna have to rename himself “The Orphanage” with so many of my abandoned kids on his lips.

Sayors: You have to admit that does sound a little gay.

Loverboy: Hey, I have to give the guy something to work with, right? For someone who claims I’m so unoriginal he sure does repeat himself a lot, so, why not give him his homo fantasy he’s so obviously hoping for? Then again, Pest’s idea of originality is to strap a bunch of fuckin’ dildos to his face, so, in that case I’m pretty thrilled to not fit his criteria, man. Pest is just gonna keep beating that dead horse until he finally thinks of something new to say anyway, so go for it man. Call me a queer even though I fuck more pussy than a stray cat. Pretend Sasha Grey wasn’t real even though she was right there in the ring with both of us, man. Just like you pretended I didn’t drill you into the ground with the Black Label Driver, exactly how I will again on Wednesday in Perth. Sayors, next time you go visit Pest in a confessional, make sure he gets the memo – “Loverboy” Vinnie Lane is coming to kick his ass.

Sayors: Thank you for your time, Loverboy. Have a safe flight.

Loverboy: Yeah man, I’m just gonna go pick up Roxy from the Hotel ZaZa and head to the airport. After the week I’ve had I’m looking forward to something normal. Nothing weird could possibly happen between now and Wednesday, right?

((The scene fades out under a heavy atmosphere of foreshadowing.))