Leading up to the December 20th edition of Shove It Weekend with its Christmas theme, “Loverboy” Vinnie Lane has made the decision to call a press conference for the event. Hoping to strum up some added publicity for the company, for the event, and for himself as well heading into his much anticipated clash with Frodo Smackins.

As various reporters file into the room, XWF’s own Steve Sayors walks to the dais and introduces himself, as well as the duo of Loverboy and his fiancée, Roxy Cotton, both seated behind the lectern and waiting for the event to begin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming to our Christmas Shove It press conference. I’ll be your MC for the day, obviously, since I was clearly born to rock the mic…”

There are a few audible groans from the gathered press members, balking at Sayors’ attempt at chest thumping. Clearing his throat, Sayors quickly moves on to the real reason the reporters have all come.

“Well, alright then, no need to beat around the bush – something I learned from my good friend and colleague in the XWF, the man of the hour, the one and only “Loverboy” Vinnie Lane!

Sayors extends an arm toward Loverboy to a few scattered claps, and Loverboy and Roxy then head to the podium, soaking in a smattering of flash bulbs from photographers and paparazzi. Roxy looks like a screen queen in her long length purple dress, though she is wearing considerably heavier makeup than usual to cover the bruises from her recent assault at the hands of Pest. Loverboy, as usual for public appearances, is wearing his lucky silver wrestling boots, tight vinyl pants, his favorite Faster Pussycat t-shirt and rhinestone bedazzled denim jacket.

Straightening his pink bandanna and removing his aviator shades as he approaches the microphone, Loverboy leaves Sayors’ attempted handshake hanging as he sidles up behind the podium, placing a hand on the hip of his beloved and tapping the mic in mock roadie fashion.

“One two… testing… one two… sibilance, sibilance…”

A few chuckles from the crowd and then Loverboy smiles from ear to ear, raising his free hand palm out to the crowd and waving over his mass of blond hair.

“Thanks for coming everyone, I know it was short notice… me and Roxy wanted to drum up a little attention for the upcoming Shove It show, since it was probably going to get poor ratings otherwise. Let’s just get right into it with the questions… you there, the bald guy in the front?”

A small man in a brown corduroy suit stands in the front row and taps a pencil onto a notepad.

“Loverboy, I’m Harry Ballsonya, from Kayfabe News. Can you expound on why you feel like the show won’t be getting the attention you feel it deserves?

Loverboy smiles quickly and then leans down over the mic, a quick throat-clearing cough and then he begins to speak.

“Well, it’s really pretty simple, dude. Although I think my match with the little guy is one of the more anxiously anticipated matches of the year, or maybe ever, honestly, the show’s being hosted by Maverick. Now, Maverick and I don’t really get along, but he’s smart enough to know a real main event player when he sees one and he practically begged me to have the match with Frodo on his show. I’m thinking he wants to sit on his ass and let the card do all the work for him so he doesn’t have to do any real promoting or work of any kind, you know?

Thing is, I’m a megastar. As such, I don’t like playing to half-empty houses and seeing subpar ratings for any show I’m on. And although my good buddy LH Harrison AND another great friend of mine, Gator, are both making their returns to the ring on this show, which should be good enough to get people interested in seeing it, there’s still curtain jerking ratings killers like Ghost Tank versus Caroline Burchill happening, and the black hole of audience interest, Jet Frost. Hopefully Xavier Swann can take him out, I think that dude’s pretty cool.

Long story short, my match with Frodo needs to get the attention it deserves. So, I’m promoting it. I did my part, and if Maverick doesn’t do his? Well, I guess he gets put on the naughty list, right?”

The crowd chuckles and murmurs some more and a few other pictures are taken, then Loverboy points out another reporter near the rear of the group.

“Alright alright… you there, beardo. What’s up?”

A hugely fat man with a curly beard stands up and wheezes through a question.

“Thanks again Mister Lane – Buster Knuts for WithSpandex.com here. What we smarks are all wondering is, what’s up with you and Kirk MacClay? You spent most of Madness before your loss to Justin Sane hanging out in his office with him and Johnathan Heartsford. What gives?”

“Hey, great question fat boy. I just gave a speech about the upcoming Shove It and whhyh we should talk about it, but yeah, let’s go back in time and discuss a show that should have never happened instead. Awesome.

Listen, Kirk MacClay is a cool guy. I mean, he’s not as cool as I am, but who is, right? Kirk came to me when he took over at Madness and said he wanted to get some guys together. You hear that? He came to ME first. Not Theo Pryce or Eli James or even Peter Gilmour. Me. I recommended Heartsford to him and said he deserved a shot… now, I didn’t tell him just to snatch Gator’s title from him the way he did, but that’s Kirk. He’s a loose cannon. He knows how to make things happen and get attention, and he totally did that. The TV Title is all of a sudden a big deal again, and the Knight is making it look easy out there week after week.

Now, like I said, MacClay knows when to make big changes. He knows the Universal Title is around the waist of a pretender, and that it needs to change. He knows that the only reason Theo Pryce was even in the conversation was due to a briefcase and the fact that he has John Madison in his back pocket. Maybe in his back door too, who knows with those guys. Shane is too busy playing with his own shit-ridden starchy tubers to give a damn what goes on around him and Madison just does whatever suits him best. Kirk MacClay levels the playing field. He’ll watch my back and make sure I get treated like the big time player that I am, that I won’t get booked in ridiculous Warfare matches or be subject to stupid stipulations like you’ve seen recently.

Now it may seem like some sort of epiphany to most of you guys out there in the press, but you’re looking at the number one draw, the number one megastar on the XWF roster. Kirk knows it, and he’s making the play. I told all of you for months that I was going to be the man to take that title from Theo, and you’re about to see it happen. Next? You, with the stupid hat.”

Loverboy jabs his jaw towards someone in the middle of the crowd, and they stand up wearing a stupid hat, as described.

“Loverboy, I’m Bill Apter, 1Wrestling.com. Let’s talk about this week. Tell us about your thoughts moving from a loss to Justin Sane to a huge match with Frodo at Shove It.”

“Nice to meet you, Bill. I prefer Meltzer, but whatever.

The thing about Madness is simple. Me and Sane’s match isn’t the story. The story was what happened to my beautiful bride-to-be, Roxy Cotton. Look at her. Look at her flawless figure, her beautiful face, her exquisite body. The way she was treated by Pest this past Monday was disgusting, and he got what he had coming to him during his tag titles match on Warfare. I only wish he could have also lost the match, but what can I say? Jack carried him to the finish line and gave him the time he needed to recover and make a quick flash pin. Kendall Sawyer never had a chance to retain those belts without Azrael there to watcher he back, and Pest is probably the best opportunist in the federation. Or not in the federation. Whatever his employment status is, I don’t know.

So was I pissed when Pest ran in and did what he did Monday? You’re damn right I was. My mind was all messed up and I ended up being pinned by a guy who didn’t deserve to be in the ring with me in the first place. These things happen though, dude, I’m not sweating the loss. I’ve beaten bigger and better stars than Justin Sane, he’s barely a blip on my radar. Frodo is the next step in a ladder, the LAST step, before I get the recognition I deserve and get named the number one contender to Theo Pryce’s title.

Here’s what you need to know about Frodo Smackins, or Swagkins, or whatever he’s decided his name is these days. Frodo’s just a loud mouthed little person with way, way too much time on his hands. The dude is a living, breathing YouTube comments section, and he only exists to get a reaction. When he’s not setting up whatever ridiculous nonsense he and his freakshow family are involved in that week, he’s furiously masturbating to 4chan and 9gag internet memes and looking up new phrases on Urban Dictionary that he can beat into the ground by saying over and over again even when he isn’t sure what they mean. How many times did the guy say “stunned mullet” a few weeks ago? He’s Gretchen Wieners trying to make “fetch” happen, only in real life.

All he’s gonna do for the next week is come out and try to think of creative new ways to work “” into every sentence he says about me. Kinda ironic, though, since he goes home and fucks a man every night and I go home to the hottest chick in the world, isn’t it? He’ll tell you I get shit wrong because he doesn’t know the difference between people not knowing and not caring, and he can’t tell when he’s being intentionally baited. If I say I saw him listening to his iPod in the locker room you’ll get fifteen minutes of him telling you I must be gay and because he would never touch an Apple product. As if I don’t KNOW that already and wasn’t just trying to get under his skin.

The truth is, Frodo’s been pissed at me since day one, because my debut match got more attention than his fake fucking wedding to his husband. You know, the non-legally binding bullshit that he insists is real despite mountains of evidence to the contrary? Like the fact that he married a man, which is not at all legal for residents of Michigan, where he lives. Even though it happened in Chicago, it’s still not legit. He’ll tell you he did it in Belize, which is also impossible since homosexuality itself is illegal there. Sorry, Frodo, you’re gonna die alone just like we always knew you would. He’ll probably turn around and try to claim he lives somewhere else or that he and Sarah secretly eloped somewhere where it’s all good. I couldn’t really care less, to be honest, but that’s the way the dude operates. If he likes you, he thinks you’re right all the time, of course, he only likes the people he knows he can’t beat, like Azrael or Theo. Everyone else? They’re just wrong, period. All the time. No matter how right they are, they’re wrong to the little bastard.

Frodo’s got no friends. You think the Asylum are his buddies? They’ll take anyone. They have an anthropomorphic cat or some shit as a member now. He couldn’t get in with the Heyman squad, and he’ll say he quit because they didn’t make a sincere enough effort to “rescue” him from his honeymoon, but the truth is they never wanted him there in the first place. There’s no one in the XWF that considers Frodo a friend, including his own flesh and blood. We all just tolerate him, because the first lesson you learn when you’re old enough to log on to the internet for the first time is “don’t feed the trolls.”

Frodo is in for the beating of his little, tiny lifetime come Shove It, and it’s the best thing to come under my Christmas tree since I did three days ago with Roxy in the downward dog. Face it, he has no chance. He’s three feet tall and I’m six-foot-fine. He’s shorter than my hair. He’s more full of himself than he is of his wife’s cock, and he’s got his head so far up his own ass that his breath smells like her sweaty ballsack. He thinks he can go about his daily routine, fighting guys barely scratching the surface of “talent” like Burchill or Hawkins or Woe… but when it comes to step for real challengers? Like Gator or Doc D’Ville or the Kings? He gets beat. Every time.

You don’t see me stepping down my level of opposition week after week to make my stats look good, do you? You don’t see me acting like king shit of turd mountain over beating scrubs, do you? No. You see me going from beating guys like Azrael and Duke to beating guys like Luca and Gator, then to beating guys like Pest and MacAlister, and guys like Gilmour and Morbid Angel. I take my losses from time to time, for sure, but it’s the way the cookie crumbles. Frodo though? Nah. He’ll pretend he hasn’t lost every big match that’s come his way and try to say his body double was good enough to beat me at War Games and that’s all that matters, right? Hide behind a group effort that someone else did for him and say it means something. No, Frodo, you weren’t good enough to beat me. Your clone was good enough to beat Zeke Carter. Different story there, isn’t it?

This isn’t a rap battle with whatever scrawny wigger you think is the god of nerdcore at the moment, dude. In a week, Frodo has to get in the ring with his physical, mental and spiritual better. He’s gonna be the first ever “differently-incapable” to be awarded a second handicap sticker for his shitty Kia Rio after he comes face to face with glass ceiling that is the bottom of my right foot. After he runs his mouth and simultaneously praises himself for his masterful “trash game” for the next seven days, he’ll have to actually back it up – and that’s where it always goes to hell for the little trolls of the world isn’t it? When people like Frodo have to stand their ground they end up shitting themselves and getting knocked unconscious in a pool of their own piss and sadness. That’s exactly what Christmas is going to be like for the Swagkins family.

I can’t wait, dude. Seriously.

Any other questions?”

Looking around the room, Loverboy sees that no one else has their hands raised and he’s seemingly answered all of the applicable questions for the day. Raising his hands over his head, as well as Roxy’s, Loverboy bids the press farewell and leaves the stage to a round of applause.