The camera pans into a dark room. Inside the dark room, much like other previous promos, lies a dim overhead light, and directly under that, a steel chair. After a few seconds, Maverick, with the X-treme Championship on his waist, takes a seat on the chair.

"Now then, my brief little message to X-Pac before I left Warfare aside, now I can turn my attention to my so- called 'opponent,' Dwight K. Schrute. What a shame. It seems like you and Doc Shaw was Soviet and James' bitches in the fatal- four- way match. It's evident you can't hang with the big boys here in the XWF, Schrutey- boy.

"So what makes you think that you, the farm boy who was a bitch in the Fatal- Four- Way match, can have a ghost of a chance in defeating me, the X-treme Championship, in the stipulation that defines my championship? Well, I'll tell you. X-Pac. Yes, X-Pac. I know he hates my guts. I know for sure I hate his guts. I know for damn sure he'll make sure your walking out of there having defeated me.

"So how can I best the special guest ref and farm boy? Well, a wise man once told me, 'When life gives you lemons, make orange juice and leave the world wondering how the hell you did it.' Obviously, my orange juice here? The Insurance Policy. However, like I said earlier, their flight has gotten unfortunately delayed, meaning their not here yet. However, if X-Pac gets involved or if the Kliq gets involved, they'll rip X-Pac's head off. Trust me, X-Pac, you'll be getting your shot at me in only a few weeks time, so just do us all a favor and make sure you call it down the middle, and ring the bell when I make Dwight's ass tap out when I lock him in a Pure Perfection.

"So, now that I got that out of the way again. Dwight. It's evident you can't cut a good promo, and you can't wrestle well, being a bitch in a Fatal- Four- Way match. And, I mean your finisher here. Dwight Clothesline? Seriously? You just take your name, put it in front of clothesline, and expect it to be a good finishing move name? Really? Come on, Pure Perfection and Stinging Nightmare are much better names than frickin' Dwight Clothesline.

"Now then, Mr. Cameraman. Play the video of Schrute's original promo, and I'll tell you why he's a bitch."

The camera then cuts to Dwight Schrute pulling his original promo, with a tiny screen showing Maverick and his reactions down on the bottom right.

SCHRUTE: So, they call this wrestling, do they? In my opinion, "wrestling" is just code for fake fighting. I mean seriously, who would be able to take a body slam without spending 10 minutes on the mat just lying there.

"You'd be surprised how many people would get up from a body slam instantly." the Avatar of Perfection said nonchalantly.

SCHRUTE: In German culture, my papa would hit me with a paddle if I ever did something bad.

"I don't think you heard of that kid who just happens to be the son of a huge star who got spanked with a switch. Trust me, a paddle is a blessing compared to a switch."

SCHRUTE: But that's beside the point. The point is how I'm going to kick my three opponents' asses in my match five days from now.

"Oh, you think, do you? Trust me, whenever I boast that I'll kick someone's ass, I don't think, I know."

SCHRUTE: So how did I get into the wrestling business, you ask? Well, I'll tell you an interesting story about how I, Dwight K. Schrute, decided to take on this worthless sport.

"Oh, trust me, I'm more than curious why you decided to take on a sport even though you call it 'worthless.'"

SCHRUTE: Well, it all started in late 2012 when Dunder Mifflin closed down the Scranton branch. It was a sad day. At least, for the others, perhaps, because I knew it was destiny for me to do better things. All of us were laid off. We had to find new jobs.

"Ugh, yada yada, boring boring! Can we get to the good stuff here?"

The promo fast- forward a bit to when Schrute wants to become a wrestler.

SCHRUTE: Then, it came across my mind. I should become a pro wrestler!

Maverick perks up at this.

"Wait, whoa, whoa, whoa. Pause the damn promo."

The cameraman heeds Maverick's words and pauses the promo.

"Okay, Dwightey- boy here isn't making any sense here. So, he calls wrestling code for fake fighting and worthless earlier on in his promo, yet later on, he's all ecstatic about it? Let that sink in for a minute, because Dwightey- boy just contradicted himself. Now then, get back to playing the promo."

The cameraman presses play again.

SCHRUTE: It took a lot of paperwork and training before I finally enrolled into a minor wrestling promotion in early 2013. It was there that I learned all the moves. The techniques. Even, the right DIET. In fact, I was so devoted to my wrestling career, that I closed down Schrute Farms in mid 2013. It was all worth it though. I won a lot of my matches. Even the ones I lost, I still counted it as a victory because I was just that damn good.

"Obviously you're not if you are a bitch in a Fatal- Four- Way match, doing next- to- nothing except for hitting your opponents with your stupidly named finishing move."

SCHRUTE: Then, in early 2014, I decided I should take my wrestling career to the next level. So I tried to enroll in a major wrestling promotion, but nobody would accept me.

"Obviously those major companies heads are complete geniuses since they didn't take a complete bitch in the ring like you."

SCHRUTE: Then, one fateful day, the XWF was lucky enough to recruit me.

"Nah, Shane must have been looking for someone else, and mixed up that guy's name with yours by mistake."

SCHRUTE: And that's how I'm here now. I'm not afraid to let anybody know who I am. That's because Dwight Schrute is a beast. An animal. Those other three can't stop me from absolutely destroying them. Dwight's coming. And he will take you down.

The window containing Dwight's promo closes, leaving the only screen left on Maverick. At first, the Avatar of Perfection is silent. However, much like when he was on the train after seeing Hot Todd's promo, he started chuckling, which turned into a guffaw, which turned into a full- on laugh.

"Oh, this is rich! Farm boy here thinks he's some hot stuff, even though he got his ass handed to him on a silver platter in a Fatal- Four- Way match, bwahahahaha!"

Maverick finally calms down, then faces the camera.

"Okay, Dwightey- boy, since I'm so confident either X-Pac will call this one down the middle, or my Insurance Policy will cut his ass down if he gets involved, and I'm damn sure I can beat you one- on- one, how about we... raise the stakes a bit, per se? If you agree to this, then you better be ready to get your ass handed to you again on a silver platter. What I'm saying is, that, we put my new title on the line. Choose, Dwightey- boy, the ball is in your court." the Avatar of Perfection said with a sinister smile on his face.