[PLAY]

[We see Christopher set the camcorder on top of a drawer in his guest room. The room looks terribly plain with absolutely no noticeable features making it stand out. He then sits down on the bed and begins to roll up a joint. He then starts to pat his pockets in search for a lighter, but he can't seem to find it in his pockets anywhere. Seemingly embarrassed, he looks over to the left towards someone we can't see, presumably Dustin.]

Christopher: You got a light brah?

[Dustin chuckles amongst himself off-screen. What's so funny about this is unknown.]

Dustin: Sure thing.

[His hand is seen holding a lighter with his index finger and his thumb. Christopher doesn't find it as funny as his friend does, if at all, but he takes the lighter and proceeds to light his joint. Dustin is heard chuckling to himself before Christopher has a chance to put it in his mouth.]

Christopher: You're usually not laughing this much when I'm around, dude. You sure you're feeling alright there?

Dustin: Trust me, brah, I'm fine. I just didn't think you were out of lighters already!

[Chris rolls his eyes. Dustin just keeps on laughing at Chris' lack of lighters.]

Christopher: Well maybe if you stopped borrowing them and keeping them in your little vault, I wouldn't have to ask you, would I?

[Chris then puts the joint between his lips and inhales as much as he can. When he takes in the amount his lungs can handle, He motions for Dustin to hand him something else. Dustin hands Chris a deflated balloon, which he more than happily takes. Dustin chuckles to himself, either as a comment about how awesome his trick is going to be or for no reason whatsoever. Chris then shoves the joint into a nearby ashtray that Dustin 'made' in ceramics class and stretches the hole of the balloon. Chris blows what he inhaled into the balloon and a little more for good measure.]

Dustin: Come on dude, let me have it!

Christopher: I dunno, dude. I think you've had enough.

Dustin: Bullshit, brah! I haven't had a smoke all day today!

Christopher: Alright, brah. If you insist. Open wide.

[Dustin is more than happy to oblige. He opens his maw as Chris turns the balloon towards his friend. Chris then lets go of the lip and lets off all of the smoke he just exhaled, shooting it straight at Dustin. Since all the smoke is being blown straight into his mouth, he has no time to inhale what's coming, so he responds by coughing everything out vigorously. As Dustin tries to get some oxygen, Chris responds like any best friend would, and laughs at him.]

Christopher: Amateur.

[As Dustin is coughing everything out, Christopher's phone begins to ring. He stops laughing and proceeds to look at his phone to see who exactly is calling him. It's his mother, much to his chagrin. Before he answers the phone, he grabs the camera and turns it off, mostly because Dustin's coughing is getting bothersome and he doesn't want to be in the same room with him just in case he asks for weed.]

[STOP]

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[PLAY]

[The camera is recording a red shirt as Christopher talks to his mother on the phone. It's not hiding him or anything else very well, as we can see him on the couch talking to his mother.]

Christopher: What part of me storming out of the house didn't you get, mom?

[Obviously, the conversation isn't going very well between the both of them. Chris has his hand and arm resting on the arm of the couch, just barely acting as a rest for his head. He also looks like he's about to pass out from stress or something. Chris sighs before continuing to talk to her.]

Christopher: I wasn't fucking kidding, mom! I meant what I said!.... No, I'm not at the fucking store, mom, I'm at Dustin's.

[Chris pushes himself up and rests his back against the couch.]

Christopher: No, I will not grab you a beer, mom! Besides, I just told you that I wasn't at the store!

[Beat.]

Christopher: I am not going to ask Dustin to grab beers for you!... I don't care if you're out! If you're out, that would be a good thing, because you can stay sober for longer!

[Chris then stands up and walks towards the refrigerator. Possibly to grab a soda to drink.]

Christopher: Headaches are the first step of recovery, mom. I know it sucks, but it will end up helping you in the end.

Chris grabs a can of Coca Cola and makes his way back to the couch.

Christopher: Don't bother trying to find your secret stash, I asked Mrs. Ebony to toss it.

[He opens the can as he sits down, spilling a little of it on his shirt, but nothing serious.]

Christopher: Look, mom, I gotta go. I think Dustin's waking up and he might need me for something alright? Okay, bye.

[Christopher hangs up as he takes a quick sip of Coke to ease his own headache. Dustin is seen putting on his jacket and heading out to the front door. Concerned, Chris raises an eyebrow as his friend proceeds to walk past him without uttering a word.]

Christopher: Where the hell are you going?

Dustin: I'm going to get some booze for your jabberwocky of a mother.

Christopher: You're doing what!?

[Chris jumps up after hearing what his friend is going to do.]

Dustin: Yeah, dude, if that woman is just going to yell at you like that, I might as well get her something to make her stop, ya know?

Christopher: Dustin, I swear, if you walk out that door, I'll have to force you back inside until the cops come.

Dustin: No you won't, brah, I know you.

Christopher: You knew the me that was trying to save her. You don't know the me that gave up and left her by herself.

Dustin: You know if I don't get it, she will, right, brah?

Christopher: I fucking drove her car here, dude! You're her only source for beer if you're serious!

[Dustin exhales harshly after hearing what Chris said to him.]

Dustin: Damn, dude, I didn't know you were so serious about this. I was only joking with you anyways.

Christopher: You were joking?

[Dustin nods. Not very happy about his friend's antics, Chris splashes some Coke on him as a response to his stupid joke.

Christopher: That's not fucking funny, dude! Get your shit together!

[Chris storms out of the camera's field of vision, leaving Dustin alone with a wet coat. He stands there in shock after a while, wondering what the hell just happened.]

[STOP]

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[REC]

Christopher: DMX! Brah! Where are ya, dude!? You're a musician, and by extension a performer, you should be exuding in confidence for this match! You have a chance to beat the shit out of Peter Gilmour, the man who admitted that he hasn't been good since 2013! Why aren't you using this opportunity to fuck his world up with sick beats and mad rhymes? There's no time to hide when you have a chance like this!

[Chris lowers his head and shakes it in disapproval.]

Christopher: Hey, if you want your ass kicked in that ring on Wednesday, I guess you don't have to say a goddamn thing. If you think otherwise, then speak now, or be put to death in the middle of that ring. Your choice, brah.

Dustin: You think he'll have a response for that?

Christopher: Playing the quiet game gets no one nowhere. No idea if he'll speak up in time, but I can't discredit him yet. He still has a day left. Peter, on the other hand, spoke up after I fired some shots his direction. Thank God, too. I was about to blast some awful music in the hopes to get you to speak. Eddie Murphy was on my mind, too, so you know it was going to be bad. Hey, Dustin, you have his promo loaded up on your phone?

Dustin: Yeah, brah. I had to skip an advert that appeared on the screen before I could play it, though. That loss against Morbid hit his bank account quite hard, after all.

Christopher: Well with some of the purchases he's made, it was a miracle it didn't happen sooner.

[Dustin plays the promo and skips all the bullshit about hiking. We end up skipping about a minute of footage before Dustin lets the promo play out.]

Some Fat Guy Said:I had that motherfucker beat-

Both: No you didn't.

Christopher: Morbid kicked out time and time again after you hit your finishers. If there was such a thing as two count matches outside of high school, maybe, but this is pro wrestling, brah. Whole 'nother caliber, this is.

Some Stupid Motherfucker Said:-but she had to piss me off and count like a ]

[color=#87CEFA]Christopher: Hey, it's better than not counting at all, brah. If she suddenly forgot how to count to three, then you would've had a reason to spit on her and I would've sided with you on that low blow of hers. Besides, dude, I've seen referees in this company count slower than she did. Seriously, it's snail on top of a turtle slow.

Dustin: He goes on to say that Jessie was in Morbid's back pocket and called his finisher shitty. He doesn't really have the right to call if shitty since it put him down and out.

Christopher: Not just that, how does he know that Jessie took a bribe from someone whose wallet is also on the roids? Was it one of his promos that I didn't watch? Kinda wish I could see a recording of this so we know that Peter isn't pulling another fucking lie right out of his ass to make himself look good.

Dustin: Like him saying that he has 70K in the bank?

Christopher: Knowing how often that dumbass gets put in PSAs about autism, I wouldn't be surprised if it's higher than that. Well now that I've gotten through as much unrelated wrestling sludge as I possibly could, I might as well see just what he has in store for me. It's going to hurt, isn't it?

[quote='Judy Blume's Sibling']You're another newcomer to the XWF and you debuted last week on Warfare against a man called Abaddon.

Christopher: Wrong, I debuted on Warfare two weeks before that against a man who named himself Darth Punisher. I can't believe you don't know about the Star Wars douchebag, brah. I thought for sure he'd leave a lasting impression on that mat after I slammed that head of his on the mat.

Dustin: Maybe his mommy didn't want him to see it because it wasn't made by Disney.

Christopher: Who knows, brah.

Someone Whose Head is Full of Fat Said:You as well put up a decent fight but unlike DMX-Factor. YOU LOST!

Christopher: I lost? Really? I didn't know that! It's like you believe I forgot that I already said that in my first fucking promo! There's a difference between not knowing and not giving a shit. Either way, you're going to give two shits when this rookie spikes your head down for the three count. Good luck trying to kick my ass when you're trapped in Dreamland.

The Only Man With a Vagina Said:You start off by saying you're in a parallel universe and a racist bigot and a man who wants to be respected and not be discriminated by idiots that can't look past their skin.

Christopher: Were those words supposed to mean something, brah? 'Cause they don't. Just sayin'.

Some Humorless Fuck Said:Sadly Chris, this isn't 1885 and Marty and Doc Brown are not here. It's 2015 you fuckhead!

Dustin: Hey, Chris, now you know not to tell a joke when wrestling against Peter Gilmour.

Christopher: I'm still going to do it, brah. No brain dead fuck can stop me and you from cracking a few jokes. Besides, I think it was pretty obvious that I was joking there. But there's always one person that has it fly right over his head.

Dustin: What's even funnier is how he seemed to have the roles reversed somehow.

Christopher: Peter thinks he's a black man?

Dustin: With the superdick claims, are you really surprised?

[Christopher shrugs at his friend's remark.]

Christopher: I shouldn't be. After all, he wants you to fight him so he could make you stop talking.

Dustin: I think I'm good at ringside, dude. Besides, if I wanted to beat up a teddy bear, I'd go to Build a Bear Workshop and absolutely destroy a little girl's creation.

Christopher: That's an insult to teddy bears, brah.

Some Liar Said:Samoa Joe and me meeting. THAT WAS EPIC!

Christopher: I can find any image of Kevin Owens on the internet and say that you did it. Look, here you are meeting a Tapir.


Christopher: Now I know you never met a Tapir because you didn't know what the hell that was until now. Congrats, Pete, you managed to learn something today. Give yourself a pat on the back.

Dustin: He says you drank the Kool-Aid, by the way.

Christopher: Because I called him fat and told him that his goals don't make all that much sense? Damn, everyone must've drank the Kool-Aid if he thinks he isn't fat. It must've been some damn good Kool-Aid too, because I'm still hearing shit like that to this very day. I never said that you worship God and Satan, I said that you hear the voices of God and Satan inside that hollow little head of yours. I don't know how you can mix that up, by the way. Oh wait, you're Peter Gilmour, you're delusional enough to think everything is revolving around you.

Some King of Bullshit Said:Say that I'm going to die by eating lard and donuts. First off, I don't eat them anymore-

Christopher: Yeah, I mean with a body that looks like this;


Christopher: You can tell they're on an all salad diet. Keep lying like that and eventually everyone will have your one digit IQ. Want to know what mine is? 123.

Get used to hearing those numbers, Peter. You'll be hearing them a lot when I'm around.

[With that, the scene cuts to black.]