"Well, well, well. Fate seems to adore playing cruel, cruel tricks on me, huh? One week, Tag Team Champ, on top of the world, the next, name shamed, beaten by two rookies due to underestimation, and now vying to gain contendership status against ten others in what is known as the Kirk MacClay Classic. Round 1, Battle Royal. Round 2, 8- Man Tag Team Match. And then, Round 3, a Gauntlet Match inside a steel cage. Just simple, basic stuff, no? Well, shall we begin and go through each of these clowns?"

"I might as well start off with my 'leader,' Pest. I have to wonder-- why are you in this match? Your name is not on the card! Need proof?"

JACK - vs - Morbid Angel - vs - Mastermind - vs - Coriolanus - vs - David Mosier - vs - Aerial Knight - vs - Thunderbolt X - vs - Karl Cross - vs - Goat Faced Killa - vs - Maverick -Step 1: Battle Royal until Top 8 Are Left- -Step 2: 8 Man Tag Team Match- -Step 3: The Fielder Frenzy (Gauntlet Match in a Steel Cage with Timed Intervals Entering, One Fall)-

"Now, unless if my eyes happen to be failing me, the word 'Pest' does not happen to show on that list. So why? Why drop a promo for a match you were never booked in to begin with? Yeah, yeah, punish me for insubordination or whatever tricks you've got, but really, dropping that promo was just incredibly... stupid, even."

"And for fuck's sake, if you're going to drop a promo for a match you're not even in, at least get the damned facts right!"

Quote:Pest:Then I will. Mastermind cannot count. If he looks at the list of names in the match, and he counts Eleven, then he must be unable to count, or he is stupid and counts himself twice because he is twice the failure. Failure in defending his masculinity, and failure in counting. I have nothing else to add until the fool can learn to count. I wonder if there is a single person in this match who can count. Continue.

"Is anyone else seeing the problem here? I'm looking at you here, Pest, I'm starting to become worried if you can count or not. Replay the promo and look at the card again, since you seem to be counting yourself, that's eleven people. Need proof? Then I'll count this really slow for you."

The names of the competitors shoot on- screen one by one as Maverick counts.

Quote:JACK

"One."

Quote:Morbid Angel

"Two."

Quote:Mastermind

"Three."

Eventually, all the names appear on- screen rapidly, leaving Maverick to talk at a fast pace.

Quote:Coriolanus
David Mosier
Aerial Knight
Thunderbolt X
Karl Cross
Goat Faced Killa
Maverick

"Fourfivesixseveneightnine- and ten. And then, eleven since you seem to be counting yourself. So no, Pest, you were wrong, and Mastermind was right. Note that. Mastermind, a goddamn pussy who refuses to go ahead with the sex change that he was contractually obligated to do managed to show more brain power than a goddamned god."

"Now then, I'm addressing the rest of you bottom- feeding fagtards that were thrown into the match for no reason other than to eat each other's asses. Coriolanus. David Mosier. And Goat Face Killa. Don't even bother. All your jobs are that you just go over the top rope, the cannon fodder being tossed out like the trash that you are."

"Moving on now to some names that might even be borderlining on mentionable by any sort of standards other than trash- talking them for a match. Starting with Mastermind. Well, it looks like we're in the same boat now. We were both beginning to reach the upper echelon of the locker room- you were placing so much hype on your Hart title match- radio shows, daily messages showing a countdown- you name it, more than likely, you were doing that to hype up your match. Now, you may be scratching your head, and for good reason. I never did a countdown in my life, other than counting a New Year's Eve Ball Drop at home. Well, the similarities are that I had a big match myself- the Tag Team Championships. And unlike the outcome of your Hart title match, I was walking out the victor."

"Then, in a matter of two short weeks, we both fell from grace. In the first week, I was felled by JACK and Game Girl in a match that was inside a game that was practically my entire childhood- a Super Smash Bros. Match, in which I was ousted early. Damned Poison Mushroom. And then, I was felled by Brick Squad the following week, all due to underestimation. Whereas on your side of the coin, the only match I can think to mention was how you squirmed out of getting your sex change after getting bitch slapped by Morbid Angel like the pussy you are."

"So what are you going to do, Mastermind? Huh? Same old crap you usually do with me, huh? Call me a pig, tell a story to some random kid talking about the Three Little Pigs? Sounds like you, in that you just spew the same goddamned crap each and every day, and I'm sick of it. Unless, of course, you want to actually try something unique and say how I tried to worm myself out of that match with Brick Squad. I only told them no because I thought they weren't. They really hadn't beaten anyone special. Lo and behold, I was wrong. I underestimated them, and that was my downfall. You wanna go on about how your opponents can use lines you yourself pointed out? Well, if we're playing like that, then you can't call me a pig or say how I'm a pussy!"

"Earlier, I mentioned JACK, and now, I'm getting to him. Hey there, Mister TP Mummy. Enjoying that fancy, psychotic world you live in? I mean, fuck, the way you were just stalking the kid that lived in the house during that last promo, I'd say you were about to molest him. Hey, everyone! I found the new Pest! It's JACK!"

Crickets begin chirping in the background.

"Hear that, JACK? Nobody's coming, because they don't care. They didn't care about you before the match, and they won't care about you after the match when either I throw you over the top rope in the Battle Royal, or pin you in the Gauntlet or in the 8- Man Tag Match."

"Oh, I almost forgot! You still can't count. You say that there are thirteen goddamned people in this match! What the fuck? Jeez man, you're trying too hard to be the new Pest. I mean, shit, you think you stand a chance at winning this match, at overthrowing the management hierarchy system is you can't even count to eleven properly?"

"Alright, the next person I choose is... Oh shit, what time is it? Fuck, I gotta hurry to the airport! This WILL be continuing soon!"

Maverick immediately rushes out the door, as the camera pans over to a ticking clock as the scene fades to black.