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Xan Xavier Xander · **03-29-2016, 08:54 PM**

The camera zooms in on a feather in an ink well, with Zan Xander walking towards it out of focus in the distance. As he approaches, he is seen with his patented walking stick, a glass of port, and a bottle of whiskey. Oddly enough, given the announcement of his latest match, Zan doesn't appear so eager. Could this be a ruse? Zan grabs a chair, sits down, set his whiskey down and takes one last sip of wine, The camera pans down on the sheet of paper as Zan dips the feather and begins to pen a letter to his opponent.

Dearest Alice,

These bookmakers 'ave elevated th' levels o' audacity to symphonic heights arrangin' this match. 'ave they no decency? 'ave they no sense o' morality? I should have known upon me arrival in XWF me would be treated wit' such disrespect. But, argh..they've gotten me confused, y'see? I..am NOT him, and yeah, it be true, I be known to manhandle a wench, but to 'ave to drop her wit' a Port City Powerbomb in front o' thousands o' scallywags jus'....

TURNS ME ON!

X

Zan shreds the letter he was writing, grabs the camera man and tells him to make sure this footage gets to Alice....

Make ya no mistake or bones about it, I plan on droppin' ye like a used condom. Ye wouldn't know much about that? England be a hub fer prideful yet snobbish quacks wit' naught good t' come from them since th' middle ages. I thrive upon thar ships 'n cargo loads, pilferin' me riches whenever I want . Then one day, Sleepy 'n I, awoken in th' night by armed merchant marines, seekin' t' destroy me 'n me shipmates. Panicked as we were, I managed t' get out a few o' me brethren 'n faced th' blood suckers meself. Well, me 'n Vernice, but he ain't around anymore fer reasons I care nah describe now. Labeled a pirate, I turned t' me rum 'n port 'n found comfort here in Wilmington, when 'tis all o'er, 'n ye've paid yer inevitable price fer havin' been forced t' go fisticuffs wit' yers truly, perhaps I'll give ye a tour o' th' alleyways 'n transient hubs. Maybe. We'll see wha' Sleepy has t' say about it.

Just then, a rap at the door. Marvin, a debtor to Zan from some business dealings gone wrong, has finally made his way to try to make amends. Sleepy starts going crazy, flying off his perch and ruffling his feathers. Zan, becomes absolutely enraged and as he walks over to answer the door, he brings along the feather and ink well....

Well, if it ain't Marvin, th' biggest piece o' shit on this side o' th' Cape Fear River. Ahoy thar Marvin, good t' see ye! 'tis been, way too long. Fer instance, by me count, ye've missed three payments t' me accumulatin' interest o' about, oh I dunno, 40%? Tell me why I shouldn't make it 50 Marvin, tell me.

Marvin, who is visibly shaken, almost can not stand the sight of Zan. As he stands there, frozen, he's reminded of the time Zan returned from sea and was having a rough poker night, and made him deal him a winning hand or he would wrap his silver chain around his neck until he did. Luckily, that night, the next hand was a winner and he got off without as much a pee stain. He's heard the tales of the beatings, and worse. There's no precise headcount, as Zan would deny any wrongdoing, and silence those who would wish to testify against him. Marvin musters up the courage to reach into his pocket, and pull out a sweaty wad of cash. A criminal in his own right, there was no telling what Marvin had to do to get this money. Marvin then musters up the courage to speak....

Zan, here's the final $5000. That should cover any of the interest, I'm really sorry it took me so long to get it to you. I would appreciate it if we could call a truce and work together again....

Well, now would you look at that? I plum forgot me writing papers! Say Marvin, shoot if Sleepy wasn't so shaken by you showing up at me d'or step without coon-sultation, he'd be nice 'nuf to fetch me one, let's just shake hands and call it square, eh? Ya old sailor, you!

Marvin reluctantly reaches out to shake Zan's extended hand. Upon grasping, Zan pulls Marvin's hand into the pump handle position and powerbombs him into his flower mound! Discombobulated, Marvin lay there motionless as Zan dips the feather in his ink well, reaches down and signs an "X" on his forehead. As he ridicules him and shames him, he pulls in close to whisper something in his ear...

I want you to tell Alice what I've got in store for her...make her KNOW how you feel right now for having cros'd me. For weeks and moons I waited on 'ye and 'ye neva showed up. Be it that type of swain you take me 'fa? The Port City Powerhouse doesn't stand for this DISRESPECT! Broad or no broad, me cares not if she's coming or going, when she step in t' ring wit the likes o' me, BLIMEY! Davey Jone's roll over in his grave for what I do t' the landlubber! Have ye got me, Marvin? Have I made meself CLEAR? Marvin?

Marvin has since urinated himself, and remains there, motionless, with a big fucking "X" on his head, outside of Zan's home on the flower mound of dead daisy's. Impressed by his work, Zan peels himself from atop the heap and realizes he's not managed to get any of Marvin's urine on him.

Seems as if me escaped wit' no pee on me....the same can't be said for Marvin. Same won't be said for Alice. The plan? Complete and utter.....

HUMILIATION!

Shiver me timbers and blow the man down, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum, ha, I've traded me rum for whiskey here in New Liverpool! I never did like me much that ditty, ole' Marvin...Haha! Alice in Chains, sounds good to me eh Sleepy? Sleepy? Bird! Where ye' be? There's pockets needing pilferin'! Wake up ye ole bird!

Camera fades to black.

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