A knock came at the door of Casa de Luca. Which, of course, was actually the house of one of Luca's "cousins", a squat, fat man by the name of Hector. Luca's eyes popped open as soon as he heard the first knock and he groggily threw his legs over the edge of the couch he fell asleep on fifteen minutes prior. Rubbing his eyes, he pushed himself off the couch and stretched for a second before shuffling, half asleep, to the door. Undoing the chain, he threw open the door, only to be taken aback by the figure standing in the doorway.

"Lazarus Arzegotti. Always a pleasure," said Emily Crawford, almost gagging on her own words.

"And to what do I owe this honor, having the 'El Presidente' of El Salvador show up on mi doorstep like a pissed off ex? Oh, wait. You ain't in that position anymore eh? You got fuckin' replaced and what? You're mad at me for that?"

"A few things. First, El means the so you literally just said 'the the president'. Second, what's with the fucking Spanish? And third, I'm here as a representative for the XWF."

Cue laughter from Luca.

"Hahahahahahahaha! The XWF sent you to find me? What, how bad are the ratings now? Seriously, I swear every time I try to enjoy a nice retirement with mi familia one of you has to always bug me, and beg me to come back like I give a shit about how far down the drain the shithole is heading without me there. So, please. Humor me, puta. You're the third person this week who came trying to convince me to come back."

"This Madness' Main Event is Gator vs. Vinnie Lane."

"Hahahahahahahaha! Funny joke amigo, wait a second you aren't joking."

"Not in the slightest."

"Well yeah, looks like the place took a nosedive into a kiddie pool full 'a shit in my absence. Now, what the fuck is in it for moi if I decide to help you solve your problemos?"

"Moi's French."

"The fuck you know about Espanol, you Jersey tanned gringo puta?"

El Salvador. Also, I'm fucking mixed! White mom--"

"And no dad."

"Fuck you."

"Ey now chica. Ain't no way to talk the mang who you're begging to come back. Now tell me, why the fuck should I get off mi ass and come back to the XWF?"

"Yeah, I don't feel comfortable talking business outside in this neighborhood. May I come in?"

"You talkin' shit about my people?"

"Yes. No. Whichever gets me inside."

"Alright fine, pushy bitch."

Luca took a couple steps back and ushered Crawford into the residence, performing a mock curtsy as she crossed the threshold. She rolled her eyes and made her way to the couch.

"You always get cozy at stranger's casas?"

"Wasn't aware we were strangers. Also, again, the fuck is up with the Spanish?"

"You mockin' me or somethin'? Damn girl it's like you don't want me to magically make the XWF all better with my mere presence or something. Sheesh!"

"Doesn't really bother me either way. I just get a bonus if I get you back. Not like my job's on the line here."

"How fuckin' sad is that? Former President and now here you are, running errands for some higher up cunt like your father's ancestors with hopes of getting a bonus check! My how the might have fallen, huh? Which of the crackers they got you waiting on, anyway? Hicks? Gonzalez?"

"Tigris."

"The fuck?"

"Yeah, apparently they're in bed together now, doing psycho conspiracy bullshit and whatnot."

"So, it's Tigris who wants me back?"

"Yeah, to settle some argument she's been having with her co-GM over things I don't get paid enough to care about. They're recruiting teams and you were on her shopping list. So, here I am, trying to bring you back."

"That's a nice story, chica, but you're forgetting the part where you make me some kind of offer that would make going back worth it in anyway whatsoever."

"And I'm supposed to know what'll get you to come back?"

"Hey, you're the one tryin' to convince me, chica. I'd expect you to think of somethin'. I shouldn't be doin' all the work here, eh?"

"And this is work?"

"Dealin' with you? Ya best fuckin' believe so."

"Riiiiiiight. Fine, you tell me. What'll convince you to come back?"

---

Awwwww, you guys actually thought I'd air the part where I said what it is I wanted? Hah, yeah right amigos! Nah, I would on any normal occasion but since I'm dealing with a bunch of pansies with entitlement issues, I figure it'd be best to can it with how much the XWF is willing to spend in order to get my Mexican ass back here. Y'know, don't want them weeping into their pretty pink little pillows about how I'm the bad guy for being worth a shit. Cuz, you know, these guys are so fucking underground. That's their name, right? The Underground? Yeah, real fucking Underground when you're latched onto the wrinkly, shriveled up cock of Kirk MacClay, mangs. But hey, they obviously don't care about that, nah they're too busy being held down by the fucking man! While aligning with the man. Jesus amigos, I admit to being a hypocrite and you're out-hypocriting me! What the fuck is that shit?! I mean, you got Knight out there, literally being handed a belt because his talent-less carcass won't ever be able to win one on his own and MacClay's talking like he deserved it. Shit man, I didn't know these titles were fucking participation ribbons! Might as well just hand me all of them in that case, if either of you fuckers are planning on having me here after I kick TJ Wallace's ass on Pay-Per-View.

Because, hey! For once it ain't my fault that a title's lost all meaning! Granted that pisses me off a little bit because there's nothing I love more than making a title meaningless but still. That's all on your jizzpuppet, MacClay. Thank you, mang. Fucking thank you. But, this ain't about the team. Not yet, anyway. Loverboy's so convinced everything's a conspiracy against him that he can't take the fact that in the most recent of our matches, I won. Knight's busy being handed relevance oh wait he still isn't relevant. And Swann, who the fuck is Swann?!

No, let's focus on TJ Wallace. The mang, who after I signed myself up for Team Tigris, I challenged. Why? Well mangs, because he went and sold out like a real fucking house nigga. And in selling out, he hasn't done shit! Fuck, if I had a peso for every time TJ Wallace went and fucked up every chance he got, I'd be swimming in fucking pesos! But still, despite all of his shortcomings and trust me, there's a fucking mess of those things, he insists on calling my brown (and proud) ass out like he's got shit to say to someone like me! So, let's talk about him amigos. Let's give him our full, undivided attention.

I'm thinking I'm Mexican? Nah mang, I am Mexican. Shit, you're really that that you can't see that shit? Come on mang, I mean I knew you were fucking stupid but I didn't think you were blind or deaf and shit. Jesus. Ey! Jesus Christ beat you, didn't he? Shit man, good to see his crazy ass up and about after Sebastian "HAHAHAHAHA" Duke crucified his ass. Mang, tell me, did he pull himself off the cross before he whooped your ass or after? I ask this for science and because if so, I want to know so I can laugh harder! Again, he thinks he has any room to talk shit at me even despite that shit. It's cute, mang. Real fucking cute but I ain't no homo so your fucked up ways of showing how much you fucking love me ain't workin'. Try an actual queer , there's plenty of 'em here.

But hey, why be open with your own sexuality when you string together a bunch of words, meaning be damned, and vomit them at me smiling like a little kid who finally learned how to shit in the toilet. A "fucking asseating shitfalcon that sucks bloody tampons from Miranda Tigris’ pussy," eh? So, is this the part where you admit to having Tourette's or something? How badly were you twitching when you said that little string and better yet, do you actually think you said anything fucking clever in this shit? Hell, that extends to everything you said in your entire promo mang. Not just to me, do you actually think you got this trash talk thing down? Because I want to hit the shit you're on if you do. Gotta be some real reality altering bullshit. Fuck me.

No homo, that ain't no invitation. Don't get your hopes up.

And, even though I'm pretty sure it's obvious now why I'm back here, let me explain it to your ass. I came back because I was fucking begged to. Too bad no one will ever think highly enough of you to beg you to bring your ass back when you're retired. So, I guess it makes sense why that thought never crossed your mind. Because you can't fathom it because you know you'll never be good enough to reach that point. Cry about it some moar. That's the reason you sold out, right mang? You want to be something? Too bad between you and Knight, you have the least amount of talent. Actually no! It isn't too bad at all, it's fucking hysterical!

But hey, while we're on the subject of you sucking more than a vacuum cleaner, I feel like I need to let you know that the purpose of trash talk is to talk about your opponents, not yourself. I mean, seriously? What was it, you said? Oh, right! "You’ve been walked over, stepped on, and came on by everyone who’s passed through here, and you did it with acceptance." What, did someone hold a mirror up to you while you recorded this or are you that desperate for attention and have such low standards that you'll settle for telling yourself the reason for your own existence? Hahahahahaha! Amigo, you need some fucking help.

Oh, right. You were insulting me. Well, love to break it to ya mang, but you're so far off the mark you fired your arrow into the fucking stands. And, for the record, yeah I lost a match where Lane couldn't even pin my rusty ass. Then, I beat him. Hey, if he's going to act like the match didn't even exist, I'm just going to say I beat him over and over again, seeing as he did the same to me. And he got this little buying into him. It seriously gets funnier and funnier every second, learning just how mentally this guy is.

Oh, and stuck in the closet. He's that too. C'mon, how else do you explain his fucking wet dreams about me shoving dildos into my ass? Dude's thirstier than his fucking Ethiopian ancestors.

Fuck me, mangs.

Still not an invitation, Wallace.